Chapter eight
KRAK’ZOL
The adrenaline of the fight fades, leaving behind a raw, throbbing awareness of Imoogeen.
Her scent, heightened by exertion and the strange, electric energy that still crackles around her, fills the water.
It is a heady mix of human and Leviathan, of defiance and a burgeoning power that calls to something deep within me.
“Come,” I rumble, taking her hand.
“There’s a place within my private chambers where the waters accelerate healing. It will help with the lingering effects of the venom…and the changes.”
She doesn’t resist as I lead her through a labyrinth of corridors, each turn spiraling deeper into the heart of my palace.
Here, the stone gives way to living coral, sculpted by centuries of growth and the ebb and flow of Abyssian tides.
Bioluminescent creatures throb within the walls, painting the passageways in hues that shift with every pulse.
It must be a stark contrast to the cold, metal cage of her ship, and I watch her, searching for a flicker of recognition, a spark of understanding in those wary green eyes.
My little warrior.
She has endured horrors, stared down death, and accepted a transformation that would shatter most.
Yet, here she walks, her emerald eyes absorbing this alien world with a blend of wariness and burgeoning curiosity.
The sight of her stirs a fierce pride within me, a possessive satisfaction that thrums in my very marrow—she is becoming, and she is mine.
We reach a hidden alcove, veiled by a curtain of shimmering, bioluminescent kelp.
I push it aside, revealing a chamber unlike any other in the Abyss.
The walls are lined with crystals, massive geodes that thrum with a gentle, internal light.
The water here is warmer, infused with minerals that swirl and shimmer like liquid starlight.
It is a sacred place, a sanctuary where Leviathan rulers have retreated for centuries to heal, to meditate, to connect with the ancient power of the Abyss.
“What is this place?” Imoogeen breathes, her voice hushed with awe.
“A refuge,” I answer, watching as she runs a hand through the water, mesmerized by the way the minerals cling to her skin, making it glow with a faint, otherworldly luminescence.
“The waters here possess properties…restorative properties. They will ease your transition.”
She looks at me, a question in her eyes.
“Transition? You mean…becoming more like you?”
I nod, unable to resist reaching out to trace the emerging scales along her arm.
They are more pronounced now, shimmering with a faint iridescence that echoes the colors of the crystal cave.
“The venom accelerates the process, but it is also harsh. These waters will soothe the discomfort, help your body adapt. You will not become a monster, Imoogeen, but…more. More than human, more connected, more powerful. Yet, still you.”
She shivers at my touch but doesn’t pull away.
The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, attraction, and the undeniable pull of the bond.
It is a dangerous combination, intoxicating and volatile.
“Undress,” I command, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her eyes widen, and a spark of defiance flares.
“Whoa, hold your seahorses, Kingy. I may be all bonded up, but I still call the shots when it comes to my wardrobe—or lack thereof.” She crosses her arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“Besides, after that little sparring session, I think you owe me a striptease.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, a chuckle rumbles in my chest.
“A tempting offer, little warrior, but time is of the essence. The waters will accelerate your healing. And besides…” I step closer, my voice dropping to a husky murmur, “I suspect I’ll have ample opportunity to see you…unburdened…later.”
A blush creeps up her neck, but she doesn’t back down.
“Fine,” she concedes, her gaze challenging.
“But don’t think this means I’m going all docile queen on you. I get to pick the music next time.” With a playful roll of her eyes, she unfastens the unfamiliar human clothing she wears slowly, hesitantly, revealing the curves and planes of her body.
The sight of her, bathed in the ethereal glow of the crystal cave, steals the breath from my lungs.
She is magnificent—a warrior’s strength tempered by a delicate beauty that makes my claws ache with the need to touch, to protect, to possess.
She steps into the water, the shimmering liquid rising to encircle her waist.
The effect is mesmerizing.
The minerals cling to her skin, highlighting the subtle changes already wrought by the venom: the faint shimmer of pale scales, the elongated curve of her neck, the way her eyes seem to glow with an inner light.
She is becoming something more, something…
other.
I follow her into the water, the warmth enveloping me like a lover’s embrace.
I watch as she closes her eyes, her head tilting back, her expression a mixture of apprehension and…
something else—something that makes my heart pound in my chest like a war drum.
“Relax, Imoogeen,” I murmur, moving closer.
“Let the waters work their magic. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She opens her eyes, her gaze meeting mine.
There’s a vulnerability there that I haven’t seen before, a raw honesty that strips away her defenses.
It is intoxicating, terrifying.
“God, I don’t know,” she admits, her voice barely audible over the crystal’s hum.
“It’s just…a lot. One minute I’m fighting aliens; the next I’m sprouting scales and practically married to a sea king. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
The admission pierces me, a sharp pang of guilt that cuts through my possessive instincts.
I brought her here, forced this transformation upon her.
Yet, I can’t regret it—not when the bond sings between us, a vibrant, undeniable force that binds us together.
“You are not losing yourself,” I say, my voice firm, reassuring.
“You are evolving, Imoogeen. Shedding the constraints of mortality, embracing a legacy intertwined with the very fabric of this Abyss. You are becoming something…magnificent.”
I reach for her, my hand hovering over the curve of her shoulder, hesitant for once.
It is a strange feeling, this uncertainty.
I am used to taking what I want, to dominating, to controlling.
But with Imoogeen, there’s a different impulse: a need to protect, to cherish, to…
earn her trust.
She meets my gaze, her green eyes searching, questioning.
And then, she nods, a silent invitation that sends a surge of heat through my veins.
I touch her, my fingers tracing the line of her collarbone, the delicate curve of her neck, the faint, shimmering scales that now adorn her skin.
She shivers but doesn’t pull away.
Her pulse quickens, a rapid flutter that echoes the frantic beat of my own heart.
“You are beautiful,” I whisper, the words raw, honest.
It is not a compliment, not a seduction.
It is a statement of fact, an acknowledgment of the profound effect she has on me.
Her eyes darken, her pupils dilating until they almost swallow the green.
She reaches for me, her hand hesitant at first, then bolder, her fingers tracing the contours of my scaled arm, the ridges along my spine.
“Show me,” she whispers, her voice a husky murmur that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Show me what you really are.”
She asks to see the monster, yet I fear showing her the beast I truly am.
What if the sight of me, fully unleashed, drives that spark of defiance from her eyes?
What if she turns away?
But the request, the vulnerability in her voice, unleashes something within me.
The control I’ve been maintaining, the careful restraint, shatters.
I let my form shift, revealing more of my true Leviathan nature.
My scales darken; patterns of glowing scales emerge across my skin, dazzling with an intensity that rivals the crystals surrounding us.
My tail lengthens, becoming more serpentine, the tip twitching with barely contained energy.
Spines unfurl along my back, sharp and dangerous, and my fangs lengthen, fully visible now, even with my mouth closed.
It is a monstrous transformation, a display of raw power that should terrify her.
I watch her closely, my silver eyes searching for any sign of fear, of revulsion.
It is a vulnerability I haven’t allowed myself to feel in centuries, this need for acceptance, for…
approval.
But there’s no fear in her eyes—only wonder.
She reaches for me, her fingers tracing the glowing patterns on my chest, the sharp ridges of my spines, the smooth, powerful curve of my tail.
Her touch is light, tentative, but it sends shockwaves of sensation through me, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure that makes me shudder.
“There you are,” she whispers, her voice filled with a strange awe that makes my heart ache with a tenderness I never knew I was capable of.
It is not fear she is showing, not a question.
It is like she sees me, the real me, the monster I try to keep chained down.
And at that moment, something inside me just…
cracks.
Everything I keep buried?
It just floods out.
I pull her closer, my arms encircling her, my tail curling possessively around her waist.
The contrast between us is stark—her soft, human flesh against my scaled hide; her delicate curves against my massive, powerful frame.
Yet, it feels right, perfect.
“Imoogeen,” I growl, my voice a raw, guttural sound that vibrates through the water.
“Mine.”
It is not a question, not a plea.
It is a statement of fact, a primal claim that echoes through the centuries of Leviathan history.
She is mine, bound to me by the venom, by the bond, by a force more ancient and powerful than anything in the Abyss.
She doesn’t argue, doesn’t resist.
She meets my gaze, her eyes holding the same intensity as mine.
“Yours,” she whispers, the word a promise, a surrender.
And then, I kiss her.
It is not a gentle kiss, not a tentative exploration.
It is a claiming, a fusion of two beings, two souls, two destinies.
My fangs graze her lips, a deliberate reminder of the power I hold, the bond that binds us.
But there’s tenderness too, a reverence that surprises even me.
She returns the kiss, her arms tightening around my neck, fingers sinking into my damp hair—fierce, demanding—a challenge that ignites the leviathan in me.
This isn’t tender; it is a battle, a dance between what she wants to yield and what I need to claim.
The water whips around us, reacting to the storm inside.
The crystals throb, their song rising, vibrating through the very bones of the Abyss.
Everything bends to the heat between us.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue claiming hers, tasting the salt, the sweetness, the metallic tang of my venom now coursing through her veins—addictive—a constant reminder that she is changing, that she is mine.
My hands roam, staking my claim: waist, hips, the delicate line of her spine.
Her skin is soft, so incredibly soft, yet beneath it, I feel the subtle shift, the scales emerging, the hum of power building within her.
She moans, a soft sound that drives a spike of pure lust through me.
I drag her closer, crushing her against me, feeling the frantic thrum of her heart against my chest, echoing the beast inside me.
Without thought, my tail wraps around her ankle, a possessive act.
I don’t even realize I am doing it until I feel the faint tension in her muscles—primal—a need to bind her, to possess her, to protect her from everything.
I lift her, her legs clamping around my waist, her softness a shock against my scales.
Every inch of her body pressed to mine is a brand.
The thrill of it is a jolt—raw and possessive.
She gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders, nails scraping my skin.
A primitive part of me wants her to draw blood, to leave a mark as permanent as the one I left on her neck.
I can feel her resistance breaking, the fight leaving her.
This isn’t surrender; it is an acceptance.
She knows, on some primal level, that she is mine.
“Krak’zol,” she breathes, my name rough and needy on her lips—a plea and a challenge, all in one breath.
I move within her, slow and deliberate at first, savoring the feel of her body surrounding me, the tight, delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure through me.
She responds in kind, her hips meeting my thrusts, her body moving with a natural rhythm that seems to anticipate my every move.
We find a rhythm, a dance of pleasure and surrender, of dominance and submission, of two souls merging into one.
The water around us swirls, shimmers, responding to the intensity of our emotions.
The crystals in the walls pulse with a brighter light, their gentle hum deepening into a resonant chord that seems to vibrate through the very fabric of the Abyss.
I don’t waste words.
I answer the unspoken demand, my fangs dragging against the sensitive curve of her neck, right over my mark.
She arches, offering herself—giving herself, finally.
And then, I slide inside her.
No gentleness, no prelude—just a deep, possessive thrust that steals her breath and makes her cry out, a sound that fuels the leviathan in me.
I fill her completely, stretching her, claiming her.
She is so tight, so hot, it is almost unbearable.
It is a joining, a merging, a violent fusion of two beings into one.
The water around us churns, the crystals pulse, the very air crackles with energy.
It is raw, primal, intense.
I grip her hips, holding her still as I pump into her, each thrust deeper than the last, making her mine, branding her soul with my touch.
I whisper Leviathan words against her skin, ancient claiming rituals that haven’t been spoken in centuries because no mate has been worthy.
“What do they mean?” she gasps, her voice breathless.
“They bind us,” I admit, nipping at her lower lip, “soul to soul. They are words spoken only once, to the one true mate.”
Her eyes widen—understanding, then a flicker of fear and awe.
It doesn’t matter.
Too late.
She is mine now, bound by something older and stronger than the Abyss itself.
We move as one.
I am lost in the moment, lost in her and the way we fit so perfectly together.
A feeling so foreign that I almost missed the faint tremor in the crystal song, a discordant note that would soon shatter our fragile peace.
Nothing exists but this—the press of her skin, the sound of her gasps, the way she clenches around me.
A primal rhythm takes over, a dance of bodies and souls.
I grip her hips, lifting her higher, driving deeper until she is impaled on my length.
She cries out, a wild, untamed sound that makes my inner leviathan roar with satisfaction.
This is it.
This is her.
I will claim her, body and soul.
Her heat wraps around me, a tightening vise that steals my breath.
I surge again, deeper this time, feeling the slick heat and her answering gasp of pleasure.
I’ll mark her, inside and out, until every inch of her body knows she is mine.
My fangs find the sensitive hollow of her throat, nipping, claiming.
She twists in my grasp, a wild creature caught in my snare, and I can’t help the growl that rumbles in my chest.
She smells of sea salt and arousal, a heady combination that drives me closer to the edge.
Her muscles clench around me, milking me with each thrust.
She is a storm, a tempest of sensation that threatens to drown me in her heat.
I thrust harder, faster, driving her higher and higher until she shatters.
Her cry is a symphony of pleasure and pain, a sound that echoes through the crystal cave.
I feel her contractions, the pulsing waves of her climax tightening around me, and I lose myself in the sensation.
Every muscle in my body tenses.
I can’t hold back any longer.
I surge one last time, driving deep into her core, and unleash my seed.
The force of my climax is like a tidal wave, washing over us both, leaving us gasping and breathless in its wake.
I hold her tight, my body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, knowing that she is now irrevocably mine.
And then, the kelp curtain parts, and Zorath shuffles in, his face etched with worry.
He stops dead, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene: the shimmering water, the lingering scent of arousal, and Imoogeen standing beside me, her expression a mix of defiance and…
well, something else entirely.
Zorath coughs, averting his gaze.
“My king, forgive the intrusion, but Rynor—”
“Must he attack now?” I growl, the pleasure of moments ago replaced by a surge of icy annoyance.
What precious time I could steal with my mate, ruined.
My claws extend, carving grooves in the crystal floor.
I shift, subtly shielding Imoogeen from Zorath’s gaze; she remains wrapped in my arms, still flushed from our joining.
Imoogeen steps forward slightly, her hand finding mine.
Her touch grounds me, pulls me back from the brink.
“What’s happening, Zorath?”
The advisor hesitates, clearly uncomfortable discussing matters of war in such a…
delicate setting.
“Rynor has broken through the outer defenses. He is heading for the Heart of the Deep.”
My blood boils.
The Heart is the source of all our power, the lifeblood of the Abyss.
If Rynor corrupts it…
“How did he breach the defenses?” I demand, my voice a low rumble that shakes the chamber.
“We don’t know, my king. It is as if he knew the weaknesses, the hidden passages…” Zorath trails off, his gaze darting nervously between Imoogeen and me.
“Treachery,” I realize, the word a venomous hiss.
“Rynor didn’t just attack. He knew where to strike. Someone betrayed us, exploited the Abyss’s secrets.”
Imoogeen’s eyes widen, the pupils swallowing the green.
“Then we have to stop him.”
I nod, my resolve hardening.
“We have to go. Now.”
I wrench myself away from her, the loss a physical ache.
Every instinct screams at me to keep her safe, to protect her from the coming storm.
But I can’t.
The Abyss is in danger, and she is the only one who can help me save it.