I bit my lip, feeling a wave of conflict wash over . I wanted to reject him, to tell him my life was already crowded enough with three jealous predators and three cubs, but the words died in my throat.
"I feel you do not hate ," Thalor whispered, the crest on my wrist pulsing in sync with his words. "Through the connection of the crest, I feel... You are enchanted by . So why do you hesitate?"
I looked down, asking myself if I really was enchanted by him. It was crazy. I definitely liked his body—the broad shoulders, the shimring tanned skin—and there was no denying he was handso. Beautifully so.
But adding him to my harem?
Noah, Fenric, and Damar were already a handful, and Thalor hadn’t even ntioned my scent, so that ant he wasn’t a fated mate... right?
As I stood there conflicted, Thalor suddenly went down on his knee.
"What are you doing?" I asked, startled.
He shook his head, looking up at with those swirling violet eyes.
"I do not know the customs of land folks. But under the sea, to show sincerity, one has to sever their most precious scale."
My breath caught again. My hand instinctively flew to the scale necklace I wore—Damar’s scales. I knew this custom; it was the ultimate gesture of devotion for sea-dwellers, the sa as with the snake beastn. Severing their precious scales, which they were so proud of.
I never imagined I’d be on the receiving end of it from a rman prince.
Thalor brushed his hand over my feet, his touch causing a tingling discomfort that shot up my legs. I wanted to move back, to retreat to the safety of the dark, but I stood still, paralyzed by the silver light of his gaze.
"Your legs are pretty," he admitted, his voice a low, vibrating hum. He brought his lips closer, his breathing ghosting over my skin until the hair on my body stood on end. "The prettiest I have ever seen."
And just how many legs has he seen up close?
When he saw I didn’t pull away, he brushed his lips gently against my leg—a touch so light it felt like a bubble bursting.
Then, he began to tie sothing around my ankle. It was an accessory made of purple, shiny scales that shimred like jewels under the moon. They were soft, pulsing with a faint light of their own.
Ah, weren’t those... from his tail?
I rember clearly how his tail, despite being on the verge of death, shimred. There was no mistaking it.
Thalor looked at the accessory, his gaze holding a profound longing, and his wavy translucent hair dancing gently to the sudden wind.
"Thalor, this is..."
"Your beautiful legs needed an accessory," he said, finally looking up at with that longing gaze. "I can get you all the pearls in the sea, bathe you in splendor, and I know you still won’t look at with the sa gaze you have for your spouses... but I shall not give up."
He finally stood up, his height looming over once more, regal and heartbreakingly sincere.
"You, Arinya, are my soul mate."
I stood there, paralyzed by the shimring purple scales wrapped around my ankle. The weight of his sincerity was suddenly a physical force, washing over in a wave so thick and genuine it made the air feel like water. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was coming from my left wrist.
"What is this really?" I whispered, lifting my arm. The crest was no longer just pulsing—it was radiating a soft, steady heat that mirrored the ache in Thalor’s eyes. "What is the crest doing to ?"
Thalor didn’t look away.
"It is connected to my soul, Arinya. Everything I feel—my devotion, my longing, my truth—you will understand it. The land-n use words and scents, but the sea uses the heart’s rhythm."
I swallowed hard, the sand shifting under my bare feet. A realization hit , one that made my stomach flip.
"Then tell ... did I really co out here because I was thirsty? Or did I co here because your ’silent song’ was pulling ? Because you wanted to see in the dead of night?"
The silence that stretched between us was heavy and salt-thick, making the heavy thumping of my heart more profound.
I studied his face, looking for a flicker of guilt, a sign of a trap, but his expression remained as unreadable as the deep trenches of the ocean. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t seem guilty.
Finally, he turned his head slightly, the moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw. He didn’t answer the question and instead changed the topic.
If guilt did not make him change the topic, then I don’t know what did.
"You ca here because you were thirsty, did you not?" he said, his voice dropping to a low, smooth chi. He raised his hand, and the crystalline vial shimred into existence on his palm. "Instead of drinking from the well, you should drink from this. It is the purest water in all the realms."
I looked at the vial, my throat feeling like it was made of dry parchnt. I gulped, my gaze darting from the glowing blue liquid in the vial to his ethereal, moonlit face.
I was so caught up in the conflict—the guilt of the tent, the jealousy of my husbands, and the sheer magnetism of this man—that I didn’t see him move.
In one fluid, predatory motion, Thalor closed the space between us. The scent that rolled off him wasn’t just salt; it was sothing far more ethereal—the crisp, biting freshness of a midnight tide, the sweetness of crushed lilies that only bloom in the dark, and a hint of cold, ancient ozone that slled like a storm gathering over a glass-still ocean.
It was a scent that felt like a dream you couldn’t quite rember, drowning out the lingering musk of the tent and the heavy, earthy warmth of the land.
Thalor did not wait for my hesitation to clear before he leaned in.
"I want you to drink from my lips, Arinya," he whispered.
What?
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