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Claira

“ W hat the heck?” I leaned closer to the mirror fragment, my breath catching. The reflection was unmistakably mine—messy red hair, the telltale embarrassed flush of my cheeks—but my eyes…

They were a rich, sparkling green .

I was staring into someone else’s gaze. I had to be, right?

I reached up as if I could rub the color away, but no amount of smoothing over my eyelids could make the green beneath fade. Hesitant, I summoned a small pulse of magic to my palm. Horrifying white overtook the green, and I released the magic immediately, my breath catching on a gasp even after the green returned. Fuck.

For seconds or maybe even minutes, I just stared, my fingers hovering near my face.

The silence broke when Abyssal draped one of his dress shirts over my shoulders. “As I said,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction, “extraordinary.”

The words barely reached me. My mind was still caught up in a spiral. “What happened to me?”

“Your spells have broken,” he said simply. “As you’re no doubt aware.”

Of course, I knew that. “But?—”

Then it hit.

I fumbled the mirror back to my face. Green, not gray. “The color was part of the spell?” My voice wavered as I frowned at my reflection. “Was gray… not my real eye color?”

“It appears it was not.” Abyssal tossed the remaining clothes onto his desk chair. Then his hand came to cover mine, gently easing the mirror away.

I could feel his gaze on my face again, and when I finally looked up, there he was, tilting his head like he was studying something he found to be beautiful. “I must admit, it was a shock even to me.”

A shock, yes, because I recognized these eyes. “They look like my grandmother’s,” I said, the disappointment of that realization already sinking in.

It was like a switch had been released. Abyssal’s expression hardened, and there was a sharpness to his tone I hadn’t expected when he spat out, “You’re nothing like that vile woman.”

In that moment, I could see all his hatred toward my grandmother reflected in his face, the simmering anger he kept tucked carefully underneath it. I didn’t blame him, but all that power, that rage, was unsettling.

He must have realized, because he yanked it right back, wrapping those feelings up in the shadows of his control until they couldn’t be heard or seen. “My apologies.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Abyssal.” I touched his jaw, offering a small smile. “Especially not for that.”

The quiet flicker of surprise when I said his name was enough to make my chest ache. Just like that, I was reminded of all the awful things I’d watched him endure in the Undersea. How poorly he was treated, even though he was far stronger and more clever than anyone else I’d met there. How my grandmother had even stolen the right for him to say his own name.

I wished I had the strength to save him from all of it. To rescue him, for once, the way he always rescued me.

“You saved me,” I said, my voice thick with gratitude. I owed him so much. “It hurts to admit, but I was ready to die back there.”

He didn’t look pleased to hear it. “I told you there would be no dying. ” He looked so serious, his voice so stern.

If only it were that simple. “It’s not safe for me to go back into the ocean, is it?” The question escaped in a whisper, though I already knew its answer.

He’d warned me before that my grandmother would dispose of me if she discovered the truth. A princess the entire ocean wanted dead was useless to the Undersea. The limited time I’d spent with her had shown me no reason to doubt that she’d do it.

“It isn’t,” he admitted, the bitterness lingering even after he’d spoken.

“Do you really think she’ll have me killed?” The question felt like sea glass on my tongue. And then, as if that thought wasn’t terrible enough, something worse hit me. I stared up at him, stunned. “Will she make you do it?”

“Never.” His answer was sharp, immediate. “Even if she commanded it, I wouldn’t. I would find a way to defy her.” His words were needles, each one thrown quicker than the last. “I’d sooner kill her myself, rip out this trident—” His hand moved to his arm, fingers curling over his trident mark as if ready to claw through it.

“Stop,” I said, catching his wrist. His words were noble, and I could tell he meant them, but we both knew the truth. “It’s okay. Really,” I assured him. But it wasn’t. Not really.

If my grandmother told him to, he would have no choice but to obey. Her crown would see to that.

“You know…” I trailed off, my voice nearly faltering. “I’ve lived in the ocean, on land, and now in darkness. But no matter where I go, I can’t help but feel like I’m not really meant to be anywhere.”

Abyssal went utterly still.

“Do you ever feel like that, too?” I asked softly.

His gaze had darkened to the point of looking empty, unreachable. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the luxury of belonging.”

It was the answer I’d expected, yet it still hurt all the same. “I knew you’d understand,” I whispered. It was strange, being comforted and saddened all at once.

He glanced at his hand, still resting over the trident mark on his arm. Or maybe he was looking at the mark instead. “If you could choose,” he began, his voice low, his expression distant, “one place where you were meant to be. Where would you go?”

I bit at my lip, thinking it over. “I’m not sure. Maybe… a place where I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not?”

Where that left me, I didn’t know. Hell, I was always pretending in one form or another, no matter where I went.

His gaze pressed against my skin in a way I wasn’t ready for, heavy and unrelenting as he asked, “And what are you, exactly?”

Damn. He wasn’t pulling any punches.

I swallowed hard, dropping my gaze like avoiding his eyes could somehow spare me from answering. “I’m not sure about that either,” I admitted. “I guess that’s the problem.”

But the more I thought about it— really thought about it—the more apparent the answer became.

“I used to think I made a pretty good human. I didn’t have to worry about magic or swimming. And as you can see,” I said, gesturing from my thighs to my feet, “these legs are pretty great.”

His mouth twitched into a smirk. “They are, indeed.”

“But then the merfolk wanted me back... and for a while, I was happy. Really happy, actually. I know it sounds stupid, and I’m not sure I’ve ever said this out loud to anyone, but I’ve always wanted to be a mermaid.” I wasn’t even sure why I was telling him this—maybe I really was drunk on his blood. “A good one, you know? Not the kind who can glamour people, but the kind who can go wherever she wants to. And look at me now.” A hollow laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “I’m an Undersea sea witch princess, hopelessly in love with a few sweet men—men who, as it turns out, are basically programmed to kill me.”

I drew in a deep breath, forcing myself to steady, then lifted my gaze to his. Taking a chance, I added, “And one who might soon be ordered to do the same.”

The tips of Abyssal’s teeth shone as his lips parted. I could see it—the response hovering on the edge of his tongue. Yet, he held it back, his silence drawing the tension between us taut.

My pulse thudded as I waited for something to happen. For the inevitable shift. The break. The snap.

And there it was.

“You think I’m a sweet man?” His voice was low, almost too calm, but his eyes burned with a different question.

You think that you love me?

Even though he didn’t look at all pleased, his blood trapped inside me thrilled.

“I think you’re very sweet.” I lifted my hand to the side of his jaw and dared to touch its cold, porcelain edge. “But I don’t think you want to believe it.”

His hand closed over mine, a slight shake in his fingers as he pulled me away from his face. “I see.”

I see . That was it. Just those two words.

He let go of me, and instead of saying more, he turned to his desk. Opening up the bottom drawer, he began sifting through it again, a man possessed.

“Abyssal?” My head tilted as I watched him, my hearts still feeling like they were crammed up in my throat.

His shoulders jumped, his muscles jerking much too roughly for the job of looking through a drawer. “One moment.”

He pulled out a book, one so old its spine seemed to breathe out an agonized whine when he parted it open. Kneeling there, he began leafing through the book’s yellowed pages, leaving me to stare at its cracked leather covering.

It had no title or even any markings on it. Anything that had once been there had long been worn away.

“I was prepared for nearly everything,” Abyssal said suddenly, his voice so measured it was hard to tell if he was quoting the book or speaking from his own thoughts. His thumb paused on the edge of a page before flipping it over. “So many plans, all meticulously crafted. Each one of them was a failure. But since you think I’m such a sweet man …” His lips tightened. “I suppose it has finally come to this . ”

I couldn’t understand why he was acting this way—why his voice was so cold, and his posture was so closed off, all while his blood lapped at my veins, heating me and drowning me in longing and adoration since the very moment I’d made my confession.

His finger stopped near the center of the page in front of him. A faint crease appeared between his brows as he skimmed it, his eyes dancing over each line.

“What is it?” I asked, almost too anxious to breathe. My eyes flicked from him to the book. He closed it carefully, returning it to its drawer. Then, with a swift snap of his fingers, a scroll materialized in his hand.

“I can take care of the problem of your eyes,” he said, each word spoken like he’d carefully chosen it. “But to do so, a contract is required.”

His eyes, now unnaturally white, focused on me as he lifted the scroll. “I trust you haven’t forgotten the price that comes with accepting one of my deals.”

If I hadn’t known him, the coldness in his tone might have terrified me. But I did know him—I knew how his deals worked, the mask he wore while conducting his business, and the hidden parts of himself he kept oh-so-carefully guarded.

“Taking care of my eyes?” My tone was half-teasing, half-wary. “I really hope you’re not thinking about taking them out of my face.” Although, truthfully, it might have been a better fate than having my throat ripped out again.

“I would never.” He stepped closer, bracing a flat palm on the surface of his desk right next to my hip. “But I can make it so they never turn white. No matter how much magic you use.”

What the heck? I leaned forward, not sure whether to dare to believe it could be possible. “What kind of book was that?”

“A book of choices. And this, my dear captive, is yours.” He lifted a single finger. “I will cast this magic and make it so even your lovers can look upon you without fear of what Poseidon’s laws might compel them to do, but you must offer me something in return. So tell me, what are you willing to part with?”

My chest pounded as I stared at him. What would I part with to be rid of these horrible sea witch eyes?

The question clawed at me, but the answer had already formed. “Anything,” I breathed out. “I’ll give you anything. My blood, my hair, a kiss. Whatever you need.”

“Anything.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t actually be suggesting you’d give up something as undefined as anything? ”

“No, really.” I reached for him, the shirt he’d given me nearly slipping off my shoulders. “Please.” My voice trembled with the idea of him fixing this, fixing me . “I’ll give you anything.”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze heavy, his lips set grimly.

Then he nodded. “As you wish.”

Black smoke ruffled the ends of his hair as the scroll unfurled. Rows of intricate symbols appeared in front of my eyes, dark stains that burned with magic.

A quick look told me I recognized some of the glyphs but not nearly enough of them to decipher the entire thing. Though even if I couldn’t read it, it didn’t matter. Abyssal had my trust entirely. Every single ounce of it with no conditions or doubt.

“Do I sign it?” I asked, looking around his desk for a pen, but he already had one waiting.

His face was unreadable as he handed the sharp instrument over. “As much as it displeases me to see you bleed again, a prick is required for your signature.”

That sounded easy enough. I bit my lip, letting the pen tip graze the pad of my finger. A crimson dot formed, and the pen drew it right in.

“How do we know this drop isn’t yours?” I joked as I aligned the pen with the top-most dotted line. “Here?”

“Right on the line,” he said with a humorless tilt of his lips. “And it wouldn’t matter if it were. The magic of this particular contract is in the words. The rest is merely a symbol of your commitment to it.”

“Well, if the blood doesn’t really matter,” I muttered, hesitating halfway through my signature before finishing with a shaky flourish, “then here, use mine.” On impulse, I went to prick my finger again.

“Don’t—” He caught my hand mid-motion. His next exhale was long and tired. “Remind me to never let you negotiate contracts unsupervised.”

“Relax,” I said, watching as he collected a drop of his blood to sign his name with an actual flourish. “It’s not like I offered up my soul or anything.” My gaze scanned over all the symbols I couldn’t read as he rolled up the scroll, my eyes narrowing. “Or did I?”

The grin that spread across his face was one hundred percent sea demon. “Oh, now that you’ve signed, you’re curious?”

“Abyssal—”

“Relax.” He mirrored my tone perfectly, his voice as silky as it was ominous. “You’ll find out what you bargained away when the time comes to pay it.”

Now, I was fully curious. “You’re seriously not going to tell me?”

He unfurled the scroll again, spreading the entire contract across my legs. “If you’re that interested, be my guest. Read it.”

Not fair. But what was even more unfair was the fact that he was still standing in front of me naked. He must have known his blood was messing with my head, making me consider doing something silly, like licking the faint lines of dried salt from his abs.

“You know,” I said, struggling to sound indignant, “it would be a lot easier to read this if your body wasn’t so distracting.”

As the last word fell, his posture straightened. There it was. An actual smirk. “Apologies for the distraction,” he said, turning around, which, of course, wasn’t any less of one.

I forced my gaze downward, focusing on the symbols in front of me instead of his pale ass—just in case my brain decided it wanted to lick that part of him, too.

Yeah, I definitely didn’t have time or the attention span to work this contract out on my own right now. If Aracos had been here, he’d have whispered the key parts to me, especially now that his master’s back was turned.

“How’s Aracos?” I asked, feeling every crack in my voice. My chest squeezed as I rolled the scroll up in defeat. “He’s not… um. Is he going to be okay?”

There was a flicker of mild surprise on Abyssal’s face when he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re worried about him?” he asked, sounding almost amused as he slipped into a pair of black boxer briefs. “How unexpected . ”

I scoffed, taking the time to finally put on the shirt he’d draped over me earlier. “How is that unexpected?”

He pulled his arms through an identical shirt, although he made no move to button it. It hung open loosely when he turned to face me, the white fabric nearly blending with his pale skin—like he could sense my absurd urge to run my tongue all over his abdomen. “How, indeed?” His voice dipped, teasing. “Perhaps because he chewed on your neck?”

Well, okay. I couldn’t exactly argue with that. My lips fell as I touched the still-sensitive spot on the base of my throat. That part of me sure seemed to be a magnet for attention lately.

“Aracos will be fine. No lasting damage.” Abyssal paused as though listening to something only he could hear. “He’s quite ashamed, but he hopes you can forgive him. He couldn’t help himself, as I’m sure you’ve realized.”

“What a relief,” I blew out, feeling the knot in my chest loosen. “I’m glad he’s okay. Tell him I forgive him.”

Though, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to look at his mouth without remembering the sudden, raw pain of his bite. If I ever made it back to the Undersea to see him at all.

“Yes, well, I think I’ll refrain from relaying that message.” Abyssal’s voice was wrapped in shadows. His eyes blazed white, and with a flick of his wrist, the contract I held disintegrated into smoke. “Compassion suits you, princess. I, on the other hand, am far less forgiving.”

Heat rose to my face as his eyes shifted back to a dark, brooding shade.

“But he couldn’t help it,” I was quick to point out. “You said it yourself.”

A step brought him close enough for the softest contact of his legs to send a thrill up my thighs. “Let me be stubborn,” he murmured, his gaze thoroughly focusing on my eyes. Slowly, his hand lifted as if preparing to cast more magic.

I held my breath, unsure what to expect, yet still trusting him fully.

Black smoke trailed from his fingertips, and his eyes flashed white when he drew a dark circle in the space between us. Strangely, the magic lingered even as he carved more of it into the air.

“Hold still,” he instructed, as if I weren’t already stiff and breathless, every nerve in my body attuned to the hum of his magic.

He worked clockwise, drawing floating symbols, each one darkening as he added it to the circle.

“This won’t hurt,” he assured me, although the chill radiating from the spell felt like it was already reaching for me, little flurries of magic snowflakes hitting my cheeks.

The final symbol fell into place, and the circle dissolved before me. Magic touched my eyes, and I flinched as its cold tingle rippled over my face.

“There,” Abyssal said with a massive exhale, although I was still blinking, trying to clear the sensation from my eyes. When my vision cleared, his face looked almost gaunt, with deep shadows under his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked. It looked like the magic had siphoned the life right out of him.

“Of course.” His response was quick, but I didn’t buy it. The way he had to steady himself before passing the mirror fragment into my hand didn’t look like ‘okay’ to me. “Have a look.”

I braced myself, half expecting to see the dark threads of the magic he’d woven etched all over my face, but the reflection waiting for me was unchanged. Discouragingly so.

“They’re still green,” I mumbled, unable to hide my disappointment. Why hadn’t I asked him to make my eyes gray again?

“Indeed. Just as they should be.” Even though his gaze was heavy with exhaustion, the way it lingered on my eyes felt more like worship than observation.

So, Abyssal clearly had a thing for green. Got it.

“Right,” I muttered, still processing the change. “I guess it’s fine. Thanks for your help—you really saved me. For a moment there, I thought my spells breaking would be the end of everything for me.”

“You’re quite welcome.” The words left his mouth, but there was no warmth in them, only distance.

Silence settled. Tension built as he stared down at me, his breath steadily going shallow until he suddenly looked as though he was teetering on the edge of fight or flight.

The longer the silence stretched, the more I realized he was anticipating something else from me. But what?

Cyre seized the moment to eagerly push into my thoughts, flooding my mind with a vision that overtook my current reality.

Barren’s broad shoulders appeared first, with Leander close at his side. Kai was sprawled out on the boardwalk, his human form disturbingly still.

A strange woman in ocean silks knelt over him, her hands pressing firmly against his chest. A mermaid? Her mouth moved rapidly, shaping urgent words I couldn’t hear as though she were shouting for him to wake up.

Behind her stood another figure, a man I didn’t recognize. What struck me most was how neither Barren nor Leander made any move to stop the woman. They just stood there, watching. Who was she? Someone they knew?

“DONE.” Water dissolved the vision as Cyre sank back into the ocean.

I was jolted back to the reality of Abyssal’s office, gripping the edges of the mirror fragment to steady myself under his watchful gaze.

They were safe—Kai, Barren, Leander. Together. That alone should have been enough to calm me. Yet, despite the relief, a quiet darkness churned within.

“How… how do you know the spell worked?” I asked, stealing another painful glance at my reflection. Even if it had worked, it couldn’t change who I was.

Queen Sagari’s granddaughter. Not a mermaid at all. A dark spawn.

A sea witch .

Abyssal stumbled forward a step, looking momentarily lost. “Hmm? Ah.” His attention dropped to my reflection. “A black dot on your left eye,” he said, dragging a finger over the mirror. “I added it so I would know if the spell was a success.”

I blinked, a surprised laugh bubbling up as soon as I noticed it. Sure enough, a tiny dot was nestled in the iris of my left eye. “You tattooed my eye?” I wasn’t sure why I found it so funny, but I did. I must have been really messed up right now. “Like the trident mark on your arm?”

When I glanced up, his face had darkened into a scowl.

“I did no such thing.”

“What else would you call it?” I shot back, although part of me was impressed he’d thought to add it in the first place. “That makes two, Abyssal.”

He looked even more offended until I lifted my pointer finger, showing him the dot of ink left behind from the deal we’d made when I’d first met my grandmother. “See?”

His gaze flickered briefly to my left eye and then to the mark on the pad of my finger. “Ah,” he said tightly. “How interesting.”

I suspected he could heal the mark of ink if he wanted to, but he made no move to do so. That was fine, though. The fatigue weighing down his face made me think he’d already used enough magic for one day. He’d done so much for me already—saved me, held me when I was at my lowest, and now given me hope that I could keep on living.

“Abyssal.”

When his attention snapped to me, his lips immediately pressed together. Was he bracing himself? If so, he had no reason to.

“Thank you,” I said, the words laced with soft sincerity. “It’s strange… Sometimes, you feel too good to be true.”

Tension pulled at his jaw. “Perhaps I am.”

There he went, saying whatever he could to drive me away. But I knew him better now.

“You always do this, you know.” With the desk underneath me putting me at the perfect height, I leaned forward, slipping my hands into the open flaps of his shirt.

His breath hitched as I pressed my lips to his pale chest, the faint tang of salt a spark against my lips. Smiling, I pulled back just enough to catch his gaze. “It’s okay to let someone care about you.”

Beneath my touch, I could feel every drawn muscle, every ripple of hesitation.

“Claira—”

His breath deepened as I peppered more kisses across his chest, my arms climbing the smooth sweep of his back. It felt heavenly. With every kiss, the blood inside me grew hotter, the rising burn in my veins mixing with the coolness of his skin.

“Stop this,” he rasped, his fingers twitching at his sides as though he were struggling to hold back, unwilling to let himself return my affection.

But why? Why would he hold back from this? The harmony of our blood singing in unison was wondrous. It muffled his voice, my thoughts, everything except for the feel of what was in front of me.

My mouth dipped to his abs, and my tongue barely got in one short lick before a hand captured my chin. I whimpered as he lifted me away from his delicious skin.

Dark eyes, heavy with torment, repeated his words without a single sound. Stop this.

“Why?” I stayed close, my breath mingling with his.

He didn’t have an answer.

“One more kiss,” I pleaded, desperate for it. My knees closed around his legs as I scooted even closer. “Please?”

The way he shut his eyes, a shudder passing through him, made me fear that he might deny me. But then, with a resigned exhale, his hands seized my hips.

“This is hardly the behavior one expects from a princess.” His voice was sharp as a tide cutting through rock, and he punctuated that thought with a pull that brought my pelvis flush against his.

The gasp was involuntary, as was the pleasant shiver that followed, spreading from where his hips ground against mine. Licking my lips, I raked my fingertips across his back, holding to him in much the same way he was holding me. “I was your captive before I was your princess,” I countered with a daring tilt of my lips. “I’m only here because you caught me, remember?”

I saw it the instant my words took root in his mind, his pupils spreading like spilled ink.

Lips sealed over mine, a hunger seeping through them that my pulse answered in turn. Yes. Goodness, yes . I moaned, my grip on the back of his shoulders changing, rising until his shirt kept me from going further. My mouth opened eagerly, letting him—needing him to—devour me whole.

A primal sound, part growl and part groan, rose in the back of his throat as he deepened the kiss until my sea wizard’s cool breath filled me completely.

My blood sang with our joined magic, igniting fireworks through every point of contact between us. Could he feel it, too? The heady blend of power and desire? Were traces of my blood from so many days ago still alive within him, whispering to press forward and to never let go?

It had to be. I couldn’t bear it if it wasn’t. I needed him to feel this as deeply as I did.

His tongue swiped across my bottom lip, a brief pause for breath before diving back in, and I used the momentary respite to bite the edge of my tongue. He slid back into my mouth just as the tang of blood bloomed.

His tongue froze in place as the metallic flavor invaded our kiss, and in that suspended moment, his body was a cage of ice.

It was enough to pull me from my blissful haze. Was he upset? Had I disgusted him with what I’d done?

A possessive hand slid under my hair to curl around the base of my neck. His tongue swept through my mouth, seeking out the wound. Once he’d found it, he wasted no time probing it, tasting it, claiming every drop of blood as his own with a groan that made me forget the lingering sting of teeth against flesh.

The heat in my blood was unbearable. I wanted him. Wanted this , whatever this was. Our bond, our magic. Everything we had together.

The last remaining gap between us vanished as his hold turned unyielding. Fully hard, he throbbed between my legs like a rapid heartbeat, his hand on my ass pressing into me with a claiming squeeze.

I didn’t realize we were reclining until my spine met with the smooth wood of his desk, but he didn’t stop guiding me until I was fully sprawled out on top of it. Suddenly, I was pinned, held down against the immovable surface, entirely at the mercy of his touch.

“My dear captive,” he whispered, dragging the words out against my lips the moment we broke away from our kiss.

“ Yes ,” I answered with a rise of my hips. Even with the lingering bite on my tongue, I could still taste him… that dark smoke working its way into my lungs and clouding my thoughts. My legs hooked around him, holding us closer together as if we weren’t already irrevocably merged.

“You do not play fair.” His voice flowed like midnight silk, dark and utterly irresistible.

My pulse quickened as he loomed over me, his figure a shifting shadow, his smooth chest heaving with desire. I knew we were about to start kissing again. It was undeniably inevitable.

I couldn’t wait for it.