Page 89 of Of Song and Scepter
“Do you want to talk about it?” I settle behind her, pulling her into my chest, and work to clean her stomach.
She nods, sucking in a breath, and then her words rush out. Enna recounts her life in the Drink, her miserable guppy phase, then her parents’ murder. Odissa and the oath bound in blood. 2,747 kills. How she can remember the face of each one. Then, finally, the deal they made with Tephra.
My pulse quickens. I lift her arm, wiping her clean. Moving the towel down each leg, threading between her toes, I then reach between her thighs.
“Soren, there’s one more thing… I killed your princess.” She grows still in my arms, waiting for my reaction.
I consider her words for a moment, the impossibility of it all, the violent twists of fate that brought my Enna here, into my arms.
“You killed her,” I say, testing the words aloud as the reality sets in—I’m in love with an Abyssal death-dealer.
She straightens in my arms. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice suddenly cold. She leans away from me, ready to stand. “If you no longer want anything to do with me, I understand.”
“She didn’t deserve to die.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back into my embrace. “And you didn’t have a choice.”
She shakes her head.
“Tell me, what was she like?”
“You’re not mad?”
“Humor me, Wicked.”
Enna thinks for a moment. “Gentle. Soft. She didn’t even fight me in the end. A real princess, worthy of your hand.” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat.
“I’m sure she was.” I trace the curve of her arm, her muscles flexing under my touch. “But that doesn’t make you less worthy of me.” Her spines lift, and I trail my finger along their sharp edges. I nuzzle into her neck, nipping at the skin that covers her gills.“Mine.”
She shifts, and her ass presses against my growing erection. I reach around her, unhooking the clasp of her belt and freeing the loincloth.
“Soren,” she moans.
“Let’s get you clean, Wicked,” I whisper into her hair. “Care for a bath?”
She twists in my embrace, and her hands loosen the tie on my shirt. “That depends, Your Highness,” she says, a note of humor in her voice. I sigh in relief at the sound of it. “Will you be joining me?”
“Get in the water,” I whisper, shoving her. She splashes into the pool, transforming from the plunge. I strip out of my pants and dive in after her.
We circle, devouring each other with our eyes. She traces the walls with skirting fingers. Her black tail flicks lazily, turning her at the corners. I flex my muscles, and her eyes note the movement, missing nothing. I get the sense I’m caught in a cage with a predator.
With each turn around the pool, the world shifts and clicks into place. I understand Enna with clarity. The skillful flex of her fins, the shift of her weight to glide, soundless—each movement with a fluid grace she’s mastered over her life in the Drink. Not as a royal handmaid, not as a shadow-guard, but as a lawless killer.
Why does that turn me on?
My cock strains against its scaled sheath, desperate to bury in her heat. Her nostrils flare as she scents my arousal.
“Do you want me, pretty prince?” Her voice drops low, blooming with seduction.
I shudder. “Yes.”
With a growl, she launches herself at me. Her fingers knot into my hair. Her mouth meets mine in a battle of tongue and teeth. We ravish each other thoroughly while our gills do the hard work of breathing. We moan in unison as she presses her body against the length of mine. The tips of our tails twine together, soft and smooth. Her scales glides against my hidden sheath and my cock stiffens to attention.
I groan, and she angles herself, teasing me with the touch of her slick slit. In this form, every nerve ending is a live wire.
My cock slips through the thin membrane of my sheath, hard and ready for her. It’s longer and thicker in my tail form, curved and coated in hard scales to reach deep inside her. She eyes it with wonder, and her fingers find the velvety tip. She strokes over the scales there, her careful touch a shocking contrast to the fire in her eyes.
Her fangs prick my bottom lip. “Claim me.”
I position myself at the entrance of her slit, growing harder when I brush against her heat. She’s soft and ready for me, already slick with need. I slip inside, filling her to the brim. Her channel in this form is deep but narrow, and the soft walls clamp down tight around me.
