Page 35 of Brine and Bone
"Just breathe," he whispered against her ear. And with a single powerful stroke, he carried them up. Through the chamber's twisting corridors.
Up, into the dark waters aglow with Vorynthar's desperate, strobing light.
Grinding against him with every stroke, Kore keened against his chest. Ribbons of slick painting the current in their wake.
But he did not ascend through the poisoned layers of the Black Sea.
The layers of the Deep were a blade. Brutal, cutting and savage even to him. But for the body writhing against his chest? His precious bride, growing ripe with a potentially unstable pregnancy?
It may well be a death sentence for both.
Delicate.
The word tasted wrong.
Kore was the woman who had taken his venom, his cock and seed. The human female who'd stared into the abyss, glaring at two kings, and declared the child in her womb to behers.
But the pregnancy had made her… fragile. And the shifting pressure, the unstable temperatures, it might well be more than her body could regulate.
Teeth bared, Nyxarion swallowed his pride and turned toward the riptide.
Thalos' riptide.
Thalassari architecture. Brilliant.
A helical current engineered from the surface downward, boring through the thermocline in a controlled spiral that traded the violent pressure for a gradual, rotating ascent.
The water inside was warm. Oxygenated. Fed by the heat of the surface.
Entering, he let the current take them.
The rotation pressed Kore tighter against his chest. Her gills fluttered, drinking in the oxygenated water, and a fraction of the tension left her shoulders.
But the venom was still burning through her blood.
"Nyx," she gasped, fingers reaching between them, searching for his vent. Nails caught at the scaled edge, tracing the head of his cock. Clumsy. "Please, I… I just need… just let me…"
Her palm found the exposed tip, and she squeezed.
Hissing through clenched teeth, Nyxarion's vision whited out. Every muscle in his tail locked rigid, and he caught her wrist. Pinning it at her lower back. "Shhh," he hushed, pressing his lips to hers. "Shhh, my bride. My sweet, burning bride."
"Ithurts."
"I know," he crooned, lips moving against her temple. "I know it hurts. I gave you this, and I will give you what ends it. Soon. So soon, Kore."
It was a promise spoken against her skin while the riptide carried them toward betrayal.
He broke free of the current in the mid-ground.
Where the water was cold and black, but breathable. The uneasy meeting between shallows and abyss.
Thalos.
Suspended in the dark.
Alone.
Silver hair drifting weightless, framing a perfect face carved from moonlight and malice.
