Page 30

Her expression shifts with complex emotion, but her scent carries no fear—only contemplative assessment and lingering arousal. "Good," she says simply.

The single word carries weight beyond its simplicity. Not mere acceptance of protection but active preference for my claim over alternatives. A choice made with clear understanding of limited options but choice nonetheless.

As my knot gradually subsides, allowing physical separation while maintaining the bond of my seed inside her and our matching bioluminescent rhythms, I recognize an irrevocable transformation in our relationship. The ghost smuggler is becoming my true mate, not merely claimed omega or strategic asset but essential counterpart.

And the recognition creates vulnerability I never anticipated when hunting the infamous human who defied the Oceanic Sovereignty for a decade. A vulnerability no rival must ever discover—that I need her now as much as she needs me.

Which is either the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me, or the most dangerous. Possibly both.

CHAPTER 13

FERTILE GROUND

Isla's POV

Biology, as it turns out, has a wicked sense of timing.

"Breathe deeper," Neros says, his cool palms settling against my bare abdomen like he's reading my body's secrets through his fingertips.

I obey, drawing water into lungs that shouldn't be able to process it but somehow do. My body has become a traitor of the most creative variety—abandoning every human limitation I once counted on while embracing adaptations I never asked for. The examination chamber feels smaller today, its curved walls pulsing with bioluminescent organisms that respond to our presence like an audience I definitely don't need.

The glowing patterns beneath my skin flare where he touches me, a light show that betrays how thoroughly my flesh recognizes him as its... what? Owner? Mate? The categories blur more each day, leaving me adrift in a relationship that defies every label I once understood.

These blue-green traceries have completely replaced the black venom marks that once proclaimed me as the ghost smuggler. One form of captivity traded for another, exceptthis prison comes with benefits my traitorous body seems to genuinely appreciate.

His tentacles emerge as he examines me—not the casual two or three I've grown accustomed to, but six of them, each thicker than my wrist and undulating with the kind of fluid grace that screams apex predator. Two coil around my thighs with deceptive gentleness, spreading them wider while another traces the luminescent patterns across my abdomen like he's reading braille written in light.

The remaining three hover in the water around us, creating currents that caress my oversensitive skin with what feels disturbingly like intentional seduction. Every movement sends ripples of awareness through nerve endings that have been rewired for purposes I'm still discovering.

"You're healing faster than I expected," he murmurs, fingers drawing careful circles across my lower belly while his tentacles continue their independent survey of my transformed flesh. "Your body wants to adapt."

The satisfaction in his voice carries a scent I can actually detect now—another delightful new ability courtesy of my ongoing metamorphosis. My nose picks up emotional nuances that should be impossible for human senses, reading his feelings like an open book whether he wants me to or not. Even this small invasion of his privacy feels like justice, considering what he's done to mine.

"How spectacularly lucky for you," I say, clinging to sarcasm like a life raft in an ocean of unwanted sensation.

But the bitterness tastes forced even to me, a token resistance that grows thinner every day. The warmth spreading from his touch doesn't care about my attitude—it just spreads anyway, turning my body into a solar collector for alien affection.

Neros doesn't rise to the bait. "Lucky for both of us," he says, golden eyes holding mine while a tentacle traces my collarbone with casual ownership. "The venom would have killed you within months. This way, you live."

And there's the knife twist that makes resistance so difficult—he's absolutely right. The black patterns spreading through my system meant slow, agonizing death as poison accumulated beyond my body's ability to process. What's replacing them might be alien and unsettling, but it's life instead of death. Life transformed beyond recognition, but life nonetheless.

"Today we start new treatments," he announces, multiple tentacles coiling and uncoiling as he moves toward shelves lined with containers that glow like captured stars.

A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the water temperature. "I thought the daily marathon sex sessions were covering that territory pretty thoroughly."

His tentacles ripple with sudden motion—a tell I've learned means he's feeling something intensely but keeping it leashed. The ones still wrapped around my thighs tighten just enough to remind me of the inhuman strength coiled in those deceptively graceful appendages.

"Our joining creates the bond," he says, three tentacles selecting different containers while his humanoid torso remains perfectly controlled. "These treatments heal the damage the venom caused to your reproductive system."

He returns carrying a shallow bowl containing something that pulses with deep blue and green light like a captive aurora. The smell hits me before he's halfway across the room—primal, oceanic, utterly alien—and my inner muscles clench hard enough to make me gasp.

It's raw elemental power in liquid form, a scent that bypasses every rational thought and speaks directly to parts of me thatdidn't exist before my capture. Parts that apparently have very strong opinions about glowing sea magic.

"What exactly is that nightmare fuel?" I ask, pressing my thighs together against the sudden aching emptiness between them.

The tentacles holding my legs apart make resistance pointless, but my body tries anyway—a reflexive defense against magic that clearly knows exactly how to manipulate my newly sensitive biology.

"A mixture from deep-sea vent creatures," he explains, one tentacle stirring the luminescent substance while another traces lazy patterns along my inner thigh. "It accelerates healing and makes your body more receptive to breeding."