by Starla Night
Her soul glowed with a bright, fierce energy.
His strokes elongated. It became easier to cross the distance.
Her feelings made such a difference. She must know this was the feeling he meant. Too bad humans couldn’t see their own soul lights. But she must feel her power now.
She was silent for a long time. Her soul light fluctuated as thoughts crossed her mind.
He didn’t comment. It seemed best to let her think.
“It was really stupid to go into the trench just the two of us, wasn’t it?” she asked finally.
He stroked her hair. “You did not know.”
“I feel irritated.” Her chest flared brighter with her anger. A bright, strong blaze of furious justice. “I nearly got us killed. And we still didn’t find the Life Tree, except maybe a glow.”
“The fragment was dashed by the same riptide that destroyed your dive computer.”
“We would know for sure.” She rubbed her forehead in frustration. “As it is, going in again would be suicide.”
His pulse beat thickly in his temple.
Could the Life Tree have survived? Queen Elyssa brought blossoms back to life with her powers. Aya could have the same powers. She had pressed up against the Life Tree fragment in the claw. Her special connection could be keeping it alive.
If the fragment was the only reason he hadn’t collapsed — if the fragment was the only thing keeping Kadir alive, and Atlantis floating, and the warriors healthy—and if he ignored Aya’s observation and left it behind…
He’d damn the city to death all over again.
Curse it. “You are certain you saw the Life Tree?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I saw a glow.” Her soul fluctuated radically. “It kills me to act on incomplete information.”
His limbs loosened. His belly swung between illness and hunger.
A terrible idea was dawning in his mind. One that could not be denied. It was so strong, so right, so necessary, it terrified him.
Like the realization he had dishonored himself. Like the knowledge of what he had to do to redeem himself, if redemption of even possible for someone like him. Like the discovery saving Kadir meant storming the unassailable prison in the darkest trench.
He knew.
“There is one possibility to re-enter the trench ourselves,” he said.
She stilled. “Which is?”
“The currents change direction. The change sweeps the predators from their hidden places for a short time.”
“So they’d still be swimming around in the trench, but we’d be able to see them?”
“Yes.”
She shivered. “For how long?”
“Long enough to enter the trench and swim to the place you indicated.”
“And out again?”
He remained silent.
She swallowed. “Okay. When do we have to decide?”
He stopped kicking. The current reversed their progress, pushing them back toward the trench. “Soon.”
“Ah. I see.” She rubbed her forehead with her palm. “What are the odds I saw something other than the Life Tree fragment?”
“You know its glow.”
“I’m not sure.”
For something this important, he trusted her connection. “I would rather stand with you, uncertain, than with a hundred warriors who were sure.”
She dropped her hand to his shoulder. “You say nice things.”
“But true.”
“We’re going back to the trench.” She noted their drift and sighed. “What’s the plan?”
“I will investigate. You wait at the mouth.”
Her chin dropped. “That’s your plan?”
He nodded.
She rubbed her forehead. “May I remind you there are giant squid?”
“No. They were eaten by the trench fish.”
“Right, they were eaten. It’s not the safest place to wait.”
“I will show you the dangers.”
“But I can’t make my fins. You can show me whatever you like, and I’m going to be stuck watching the danger catch up and eat me.”
He had no response.
“This is a terrible plan.”
“It is better than going into the trench without your powers.”
“I’m sorry!” She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped her hair. Her light burned hot. “I don’t understand the feeling you mean. It’s like being told I can wiggle my ears. Some people can do it but I can’t. What muscle is that? I don’t even know where to start.”
He did know where to start.
“Embrace your power,” he urged. “A queen of Atlantis can use the Life Tree’s power. Accept my claim and become mine.”
Her eyes flew open. Her blue eyes searched his face desperately. What was she seeking? Absolute terror transfixed her features.
He dropped to a barren plateau. A rock had recently broken and new life had not had a chance to move in, so he landed on it. The sky of the ocean revealed schools of slender fish and the larger hawks that hunted them, but they were far away. He hunkered down with Aya.
Soren slid his hand around the back of her neck. “Be my bride.”
She jolted and shot up her hand between them. “No! You told me at the surface. You would never choose a bride.”
Aya did not want him.
“I do not do this to claim you for myself. But you glow brilliantly when I touch you.”
She rubbed her chest and grimaced. “I told you. That’s not personal.”
“I know.” But he would exploit it. “Embrace your power, Aya.”
“I can’t! I can’t feel anything!”
“You will. Give in. Your power will blossom inside as desire wraps you in chains.”
Shock flashed across her features.
Yes. He would exploit her weakness. Her body was starved for affection. He would feed her hunger for a male with his own body.
It was not because of any special characteristic of his. He did not have any special skill. Any male who gave her pleasure would be treated to the same brilliance.
The question was whether he was strong enough to give her pleasure without drowning in his own.
He crushed her to him. To guide her to her power, there was only one way to find out.
Chapter Eight
Soren’s kiss consumed Aya’s bitterness and burned away her sadness in a hot pulse of fire.
His powerful hands cupped her cheeks, holding her head in place for his total domination. His wide lips sucked at hers, his long tongue stroked the inside of her mouth, and his teeth nibbled hot promises.
God, what was he doing? He didn’t even like her.
She pushed against his iron shoulders. Every piece of him was hard and unyielding. He was a rock, a mountain, a holy shrine.
She wanted to wrap her legs around him and cling.
Why did she always want the things she couldn’t have?
He kissed her with the determination of a warrior riding into battle. Her resistance flagged. He pushed the advantage, stroking one rough palm down the curve of her back to claim her hip.
She embraced his fierce possession.
He lifted one thigh and wedged it around his waist. This was what she needed. His form, his hands, his hardening cock under her squeezing-tight thighs. Him.
Soren’s barrel-sized body rolled on the rock like a thick wedge of dynamite. She straddled the corded muscle braiding his sides. Her nub rubbed against his taut belly.
The pleasurable ache intensified.
His hands spanned her hips, allowing her to rise and look down on him. A good, hard, delicious look this time.
His pectorals flexed beneath her hungry palms. She measured the breadth of his six-pack in her small hand-spans. He was magnificent. What about lower? His tapered waist pleased her too. And lowest yet? She found his thick cock head and gripped his long, hard shaft.
A rumble of pleasure emerged from his chest. He liked when she gripped him? She did so harder, a
nd he moaned. Yum.
Her touch inspired his exploration. His rough hands rubbed down her body, cupped her ass, and squeezed. Her throbbing point ground into his shaft. Yes. That was what she needed. She, who had rarely gotten naked with a man before, now rubbed her aching sex over every bit of this hard, virile male.
She wanted to possess him. She wanted to mark him. She wanted everyone to know he belonged to her. He might enslave her, but she wanted more to enslave him.
His fiery, dark eyes snapped open and he jerked her off his shaft. She wriggled with dissatisfaction. No fair. He looked as though he had been about to shove her off, but the sight of her still reaching for him snapped something and his expression changed. The fierceness returned. Her dark demon drew her breasts to his mouth and sucked one pointed nipple into his hot, wet suction. Sweet torture sizzled through her veins.
The ache of need became unmanageable. She writhed against him, giving up her pride to bring his hot cock to her hungry channel. She wanted him to ram into her, fill her to the brim, and make her orgasm so hard she could hear her own pleasure-soaked scream echo from the trench.
He forced her off his hard body and switched his mouth to her other breast, bringing her once more toward shattering orgasm, and then he licked between them, sucking first one, then the other, into his mouth. She dug her nails into his scalp. Her hips bucked for the completion she craved.
He was going to drive her insane.
She couldn’t allow that.
“Why are you doing this?” she moaned.
“Give in.”
“Why?”
“Give in to me, Aya.”
Soren grabbed her waving ass and gripped her femininity. She stopped, recognizing the grip of a master. This male would not be the fumbling, apologizing, tripping-over-himself excuse for her first boyfriend, or the too-selfish-to-care-about-her cold intellectual she had wasted her heart on at Harvard. She titled her hips to open for him.
He growled, low and pleased, in his chest. His large hands moved carefully, deliberately. He rubbed the needy nub, giving her a small taste of satisfaction. Then, he dipped into her sweet honey and coated her own sex-lips. The liquid oil smeared his large fingers. Her breasts suspended over his mouth.
Oh god. Pleasure throbbed in her body. She gasped and stopped him. “You can’t.”
“Do not fear me.”
“I don’t.”
He blinked. Did that surprise him? He never frightened her. Infuriated, yes. His hard intensity was only dangerous to her heart.
“But this, what you’re doing, you can’t.”
“You hunger for a male’s caress.”
Desperately. Not for any male. For Soren.
“No,” she said. “Don’t force yourself.”
A devilish smile tugged at his lips. “To help you, I will.”
His mouth closed over her pleasure-swelled breast as one long finger speared her channel. He went slow and long and deep, and in the same way, his tongue rolled over her hot nipple nice and methodical and oh-so-sweet.
Dual peaks of pleasure drove her to the edge. She opened herself to him completely.
His other hand found her unattended breast and the pleasure tripled. His finger slid in and out, thrusting into her. The pleasure rose higher and higher. He sustained her rhythm like he saw into her body and played her soul with his hands and tongue.
She reached the top.
He paused.
No. He couldn’t stop. After all he’d promised. She was going to kill—
His finger pressed her hot pleasure spot and she clenched. This was it. The thumb on that hand swiped wet honey across her hot nub.
Pleasure broke over her like a dam collapsing, wringing her body in mind-blowing release. She shuddered. This was everything she had dreamed about in an orgasm. Everything she had dreamed about sex. Everything she had dreamed about a man.
Everything she had dreamed about Soren.
He watched her, holding her steady as the shudders calmed. He disentangled them and rested her against his body. The gaze he turned on her, and the softness of his lips pressed against her forehead, was all she had ever wanted.
Almost.
It was one-sided. She gave in, but he didn’t.
Aya stroked the thick, hard length of his still-turgid cock. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
His length felt good in her hands. She’d never cared much one way or another about the male cock. It gave her pleasure, most of the time, but it had never been something she studied for beauty. Soren’s, swirled as it was with the same black, almost iridescent, tattoos, struck her as beautiful.
She rose and used both hands, gripping him harder. He groaned and his cock trembled. She would own him the way he owned her. The long length slid in and out of her powerful hands. She cupped his balls.
He made a hungry, broken sound. Good. She altered her angle, chasing his pleasure. Soren’s lips twitched, his eyes closed, and his hips thrust his hard cock in and out of her hands. Soon, he would release.
His eyes snapped open. He grabbed her hands to make her stop.
She had done it.
Oh wait, no she hadn’t. He took long, slow seconds to regain his control. She had taken him right up to the precipice of an orgasm, and then he denied her the satisfaction of throwing him over the side.
She felt deflated. And not only because, through what was obviously a sustained effort, he was losing his hardness in her hand.
“No good?” she asked.
“Huh?” He blinked and struggled to focus on her.
“Was it no good?” She squeezed his loosening cock. When the bride pageant idea first started, she had decided two meh boyfriends didn’t prepare a woman to satisfy a king, so she’d boned up on a ton of reading how to pleasure a man. Maybe she should have found a study partner. “The hand job.”
His cock reassuringly hardened.
Oh. Well, if he was still into it, she could—
He gripped her hand to make her motion stop, and when his cock kept growing harder again anyway, he shoved her hand away and pivoted to move his waist out of her reach. “It was good.”
Her empty hand flexed for the missing flesh hardened to sexy rebar. “Then why did you stop?”
“I was going to explode.”
“That was the idea.”
Was she whining?
Well, but, she had exploded. It felt wrong he didn’t. This was the most backward relationship she had ever been in. Usually guys were perfectly happy to get off and forget her. Soren’s refusal to be pleasured by her was different but still a rejection.
“I do not deserve to release.”
He didn’t deserve to come? After the soul-shattering orgasm he gave to her? “Oh, trust me. You do.”
“It is dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“You could carry my — carry a young fry.”
“From a hand job? No way, that’s…” She stopped.
Was she really begging to give a guy a hand job? Apparently she hit a new low in the quest for rock bottom of her self-respect.
“…really unlikely. Usually.”
Soren growled and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed against his hard pectorals.
It would be so easy to lose herself here, against his warmth. Close her eyes and sleep.
But it wasn’t like he’d be here when she woke up. Not if he had any choice about it.
She forced herself stiff. “What are you doing?”
“Rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Your heart is tired.”
That was…well, maybe that was true. She tried to rest her head on his shoulder.
But there was no point in getting comfortable. The sooner an embrace ended, the sooner she could stop worrying about when it would end.
She was cold. Not just her personality, but her soul. That’s why everyone left her.
Her dad. Her mom. Her exes. Old friends.
It wasn’t her fault.
Their rejection wasn’t because of something she did or said. Her light was cold. Like being diagnosed with glass bones, it wasn’t her fault that normal relationship steps left her shattered. There was no point in even trying.
His growl rumbled. “Is resting against me so hard?”
Again, his voice sounded tender. Different from before. Gentle.
Dangerous.
They rested on the rock pinnacle. The vast sky of the ocean stretched above them. It was like being weightless and yet on a grassy hill at the same time, with a light breeze shivering through the birch, and puffy white clouds rolling past an endless blue afternoon.
She pressed her head into his shoulder. If she was going to tense anyway, might as well tense in his direction. “I’m not used to this.”
His large palm cupped her bicep. He stroked once, twice. “You need a male’s touch. It has been a long time.”
“What about you?”
“This is my first time.”
Right. Because he was a merman on the bottom of the ocean where women didn’t exist. “Not even your mom?”
“She, like all brides, was required to leave as soon as I was born.” A muscle in his jaw tightened.
Aya wanted to reach up and soothe that tenseness.
Instead, she allowed her fingers to trace the scrollwork across his chest. “The men I dated weren’t into cuddling. It’s strange. We’ve come this far and you don’t even like me.”
“I do not like you?” He tilted his head to fix her with his dangerous, hypnotic dark eyes. “I have never said that.”
Chapter Nine
Aya’s shock almost forced her eyeballs out of her head.
“You did so tell me you didn’t like me.” She rested an elbow on his chest and poked her elegant finger into his nose. “You say it all the time!”
Closeness with Aya undid him.
Her soft body rested against his trustingly. Her bright blue eyes shone down on him with tenderness. Her white blonde hair tickled his bicep.
He curled his grip around her enticing finger. Even now, he wanted to press her soft cleft against him and thrust in his hard cock. “I did not say it.”
“You did! You said I was the last woman you’d ever choose for a bride.”
“You are.”
