Chapter seven
IMOGEN
“Again.”
Krak’zol’s voice rumbled through the water, a low, resonant command that vibrated through my very bones.
I grit my teeth, pushing back the wave of exhaustion that threatened to consume me.
We’d been at this for hours—or at least, what felt like hours in the perpetual twilight of the Abyss.
My muscles burned, my lungs ached, and every inch of my skin tingled with the unsettling awareness of my own transformation.
“I’m trying,” I snapped, my voice tight with frustration.
“It’s not exactly like learning to ride a bike, you know.”
We were in a secluded training chamber, a vast cavern carved into the heart of the living coral.
Finned creatures with bodies like liquid starlight pulsed softly in the walls, casting the space in an ethereal, ever-shifting glow.
The water here was still, undisturbed by the treacherous currents of the open Abyss, but that didn’t make this any easier.
Krak’zol circled me, his massive form moving with a grace that belied his size.
His eyes, those silver pools of predatory intensity, tracked my every movement.
I could practically feel his impatience radiating off him in waves.
“You rely too much on your human instincts,” he said, his voice echoing strangely in the enclosed space.
“You fight the water instead of becoming one with it. Feel the currents, Imoogeen . Let them guide you.”
Easier said than done, fish-face.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the subtle shifts in pressure against my skin, the faint tug of the water around me.
It’s like trying to grasp smoke—elusive, intangible.
I focused, trying to sense the pressure, the subtle give and take of the water molecules, the faint electrical hum that Krak’zol said was the key.
He mentioned a gland, newly formed near my gills, that secretes a pheromone—a chemical signal that interacts with the water’s own energy.
I tried to feel for that gland, to consciously activate it.
“I don’t—” I started, but he cut me off.
“Less talking, more feeling,” he growled, his tail lashing in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
It wasn’t entirely fear, though.
There was a thrill mixed in, an awareness of his raw, untamed power that I hated to admit—even to myself.
Is this what Samantha is going through?
This.
.
.
surrender?
I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of everything but the here and now.
I focused on the sensation of the water against my newly scaled skin, the faint, almost musical hum of the living coral around us, the rhythmic pulse of Krak’zol’s presence beside me—a steady thrum that seemed to echo in my own bones.
Slowly, tentatively, I reached out with my senses, not just physically but.
.
.
mentally.
It was a strange, almost disorienting sensation, like trying to flex a muscle I never knew I had.
I imagined the water as an extension of myself, a fluid limb that I could control with my will.
A faint flicker of movement.
A ripple in the water before me.
I opened my eyes, staring in disbelief at the small vortex I’d created, swirling gently in the otherwise still water.
“There,” Krak’zol said, his voice losing some of its harshness.
“You begin to understand.”
He didn’t praise, didn’t offer empty encouragement.
But the subtle shift in his tone was enough.
A spark of pride ignited within me, pushing back the exhaustion.
“Again,” I said, my voice firmer now.
We continued the drill, over and over.
I tried to replicate that first, tentative success, to control the water with my mind, to shape it to my will.
It was frustrating, exhilarating, and utterly unlike anything I’d ever experienced—like discovering a new sense I never knew I possessed, a muscle I was only just learning to flex.
Slowly, I started to get the hang of it.
The small vortexes grew larger, stronger, swirling with a faint, iridescent shimmer that matched the new scales on my arms.
I learned to create currents, to push and pull the water around me with increasing precision.
It wasn’t just about brute force—it was about finesse, about understanding the subtle interplay of pressure and flow, feeling the water’s resistance and yielding in a way that was almost.
.
.
intimate.
Krak’zol watched me, his silver eyes narrowed in that way that made my pulse quicken and my newly sensitive gills flutter.
He didn’t offer much in the way of verbal instruction, but his presence was a constant, palpable force, a gravitational pull I couldn’t ignore.
I could feel his gaze on me, assessing, judging, and.
.
.
something else—something that made my skin prickle with awareness, a heat that had nothing to do with the water temperature and everything to do with him.
He was so close I could smell the salt and iron tang of him, feel the subtle vibrations of his low growls that seemed to resonate directly in my bones.
It was distracting as hell, but in a way I was starting to crave.
Fantastic.
A familiar wave of sarcasm washing over me.
Now I’m addicted to being scrutinized by a giant, possessive fish-man.
“Better,” he rumbled at one point, his voice a low purr that vibrated through the water.
“But you still hesitate. You fear your own power.”
He was right.
I did.
Every time I felt that surge of energy within me, that sense of connection to the water, I also felt a flicker of fear.
It was a power that felt both exhilarating and terrifyingly alien.
I used to rely on my training, my reflexes, my human limitations.
Now, I was becoming something else, something more.
.
.
and a part of me mourned the loss of the woman I once was.
It was like I was tapping into something ancient, something primal, that I didn’t fully understand.
“What if I lose control?” I asked, the words escaping before I could stop them.
“What if I become... something else entirely?”
Krak’zol moved closer, his massive form blocking out the ambient light.
He towered over me, a creature of immense power and barely contained wildness.
But his eyes, when they met mine, held a surprising gentleness.
“You will not lose control,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate deep within my chest.
“The bond will guide you. It will anchor you.”
The bond.
Damned thing.
It was a tether, a current, a hum of energy that vibrated between us whether I wanted it to or not.
I still didn’t fully understand it, still kicked and screamed against the pull—but I couldn’t deny its power.
It wasn’t just some mystical mumbo-jumbo.
It was real.
I felt it now, a subtle awareness, like my senses were extending outward, seeking him.
It was more than just knowing he was there; I felt the weight of his gaze, the shift in the water when he moved, the rumble of his voice deep in my chest as if I was tuned to his frequency.
And, gods, the way my pulse echoed his, a matched rhythm that both thrilled and terrified me.
It was like he was becoming a part of me, woven into the fabric of my very being.
I hated it.
I craved it.
I shoved him.
Hard.
He barely moved, but instead of being angry, he smirked like I just did something adorable.
Adorable?
Was he mocking me?
No.
.
.
there was something else in those silver eyes, something that made my skin prickle.
“Now,” he said, his voice shifting back to that commanding tone that made my body respond without thought, despite my best efforts to resist.
“Let me see you defend yourself.”
He didn’t give me time to react, to question.
He moved with astonishing speed, his tail lashing out in a blur of motion—a display of raw power that stole the breath from my newly formed gills.
My instincts screamed at me to dodge, but another part, the part that was increasingly his , recognized this as a test.
I threw up my hands, trying to create a shield of water, a desperate attempt born more of hope than skill, but I was too slow, too clumsy.
The water wobbled, offering no real protection, and for a heart-stopping moment, I braced for impact, sure I’d failed.
His tail caught me across the chest, sending me spinning backward through the water.
It wasn’t a full-force blow—he was clearly holding back—but it was enough to knock the wind out of me.
I gasped, struggling to regain my equilibrium.
My body screamed in protest, muscles burning from the exertion and the impact.
But beneath the pain, something else was stirring—a surge of adrenaline, of anger, of.
.
.
something else.
“Again,” Krak’zol said, his voice implacable.
He attacked again, and again, and again.
Each time, I tried to defend myself, to use the water as a shield, a weapon.
But I was too slow, too predictable.
He anticipated my every move, countering my clumsy attempts with effortless grace.
Frustration flared within me, hot and sharp.
I’m a soldier, dammit.
I was trained to fight, to survive.
But here, in this alien environment, I felt like a child, fumbling in the dark.
“Stop holding back,” I snarled, my voice echoing strangely in the enclosed space.
“Fight me for real.”
Krak’zol’s eyes gleamed with something that might be amusement, might be approval.
“As you wish, little warrior.”
This time, there was no holding back.
He moved with a speed and ferocity that took my breath away.
His tail whipped around me, creating a vortex of water that trapped me, spun me, disoriented me.
I struggled to break free, to gain control, but it was like fighting a hurricane.
Panic rose within me, a cold wave of fear that threatened to overwhelm me.
I saw a flicker of something in Krak’zol’s eyes—a brief mirroring of my own fear, quickly masked by his usual predatory intensity.
It was gone in an instant, but it was enough to remind me that even he felt the weight of this situation.
And then, something snapped.
One moment, I was struggling to hold my own against the training current, the next, something clicked.
It wasn’t a conscious decision, not a thought-out strategy, but an internal knowing.
The water, which had been a relentless adversary, suddenly felt like an extension of myself.
A dam broke within me, a torrent of power surging through my veins, connecting me to the ocean’s pulse in a way I never thought possible.
It wasn’t just the water in the training chamber.
It was the water in the walls, in the living coral, in the very fabric of the Abyss itself.
I felt it all, a vast, interconnected network of power, and I was at the center of it.
Without conscious thought, I reached out, not with my hands, but with my mind, my will.
The water responded, obeying my unspoken command.
It rose, formed a swirling shield around me, deflecting Krak’zol’s attack with effortless ease.
The force of the impact threw him backward, his eyes widening in surprise.
He recovered quickly, but there was a new expression on his face—not anger, not amusement, but something closer to awe.
The water around me shimmered, glowed with an inner light.
It wasn’t just the ambient bioluminescence—it was something else, something emanating from me.
I looked down at my hands, at my arms, and saw the faint shimmer of scales, now glowing with a soft, ethereal light.
“What... what was that?” I breathed, staring at my transformed limbs in disbelief.
Krak’zol moved closer, his gaze intense.
He reached out, his webbed fingers tracing the glowing scales on my arm.
His touch sent a jolt of energy through me, a shockwave of awareness that made my heart race.
“The bond,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very water around us.
“It is stronger than I anticipated. You are tapping into hydrokinetic resonance—a power that allows us to manipulate water on a molecular level. It should not have manifested for weeks, perhaps months. The bond is accelerating the process, weaving our life forces together, amplifying our individual abilities.”
I stared at him, my mind reeling.
“What powers? What are you talking about?”
He didn’t answer, only continued to study me with that unsettling intensity.
I felt exposed, vulnerable, like he could see straight through to my soul.
“Krak’zol—”
My words were cut short as a tremor shook the training chamber.
The glowing fish in the walls flickered, their gentle pulsing disrupted by a sudden, violent surge.
“What’s happening?” I asked, instinctively moving closer to Krak’zol.
His eyes narrowed, his senses on high alert.
“Rynor,” he growled.
“He’s attacking.”
Even as he spoke, a section of the chamber wall exploded inward, sending shards of living coral flying through the water.
A figure emerged from the breach, sleek and serpentine, with scales the color of congealed blood.
It wasn’t Rynor himself, but one of his elite assassins, a scout sent ahead to probe for weaknesses—and, I suspected, to test me.
Rynor knew about the bond; he was trying to gauge my abilities, to see if I was a threat.
Instinct took over.
I threw up my hands, creating a shield of water, just as I did moments before.
But this time, it was different.
The water didn’t just deflect the attack—it exploded outward, a concussive wave of force that threw the scout backward, slamming it against the opposite wall.
The creature recovered quickly, its eyes burning with hatred.
It lunged again, and this time, Krak’zol moved to intercept it.
But I was already moving, too.
It was like we were dancing, a deadly ballet of predator and prey.
We moved in perfect synchronization, anticipating each other’s movements, our bodies flowing together like two currents merging into one.
I used the water as a weapon, creating blades of compressed fluid that sliced through the water, forcing the scout to retreat.
Krak’zol’s tail lashed out, a blur of motion that cracked against the creature’s scales, drawing a hiss of pain.
We fought together, seamlessly, instinctively.
It was like we’d been doing this for years, not minutes.
The bond between us was a tangible thing, a conduit of power that amplified our strength, our speed, our ferocity.
The scout was skilled, powerful, but it was no match for the two of us.
We drove it back, forcing it to retreat through the breach it created.
As the creature disappeared into the darkness, I turned to Krak’zol, my heart pounding in my chest.
My body hummed with residual energy, my scales still glowing with that strange, inner light.
A young Leviathan guard swam past, offering me a respectful nod and a brief, admiring glance at my glowing scales.
Krak’zol’s tail twitched, a barely perceptible movement, but I felt the sudden tension in the water around him, a possessive ripple that sent a shiver down my spine.
The guard quickly averted his gaze, swimming away with a hasty bow towards Krak’zol.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and something else.
.
.
something that made my breath catch in my throat.
“You fought well, little warrior,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
I wanted to retort, to tell him I wasn’t his little anything .
But the words died in my throat.
The fight had changed something between us, deepened the connection that I’d been trying so hard to resist.
I noticed a small cut on Krak’zol’s arm, a thin line of crimson against his dark scales.
Without thinking, I reached out and touched it, my fingers tracing the edges of the wound.
He went completely still, his muscles locking beneath my touch.
His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating until they almost swallowed the silver.
“ Imoogeen ,” he breathed, my name a raw, guttural sound that sent a wave of heat through my core.
I didn’t know what I was doing, what I was feeling.
All I knew was that I needed to be close to him, to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.
As if of their own volition, my fingers continued their exploration, tracing the contours of his arm, feeling the play of muscle and sinew beneath his scaled skin.
His scent, that intoxicating mix of salt and iron, filled my senses, clouding my thoughts.
“You’re healing,” I murmured, noticing that the cut was already closing, the edges knitting together with astonishing speed.
It was another sign of my changing physiology, another step further away from my humanity.
“We heal quickly,” he said, his voice rough, strained.
“Especially when...”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.
The unspoken words hung in the water between us, heavy with unspoken meaning.
Especially when bonded.
Especially when touched by our mate.
I should pull away, should break this spell that was binding us together.
But I couldn’t.
I was caught, trapped in the orbit of his presence, drawn to him with a force that defied logic, defied reason.
My gaze flickered to his mouth, to those full lips that hid such dangerous beauty.
I remembered the feel of his fangs against my skin, the sharp sting of the bond-bite, the rush of his venom flooding my veins.
It shouldn’t be arousing.
It should be terrifying.
But it wasn’t.
It was.
.
.
exhilarating.
“ Imoogeen ,” he said again, my name a plea, a warning, a promise.
And then, he closed the distance between us.