The coin was heavier than it should have been. Two of them, pressed into her palm, and she set them on the merchant's counter with a click that made him look up from his sorting. His hands stilled over the lacquered box — dark wood, sealed with a thin strip of silk, no bigger than a bread loaf but three times the price.

"Lady Knight," he said, voice catching. "That's — that's enough for a month of bread."

Elise didn't blink. "Is it enough for the sushi?"

The merchant swallowed. Nodded. Pushed the box toward her like it might burn him. She tucked it under her arm and felt the weight of every shopkeeper's stare as she turned. The baker's wife, the spice merchant, the old woman who sold dried herbs — all of them watching. The princess's favorite knight, buying expensive sweets for weeks, and now sushi. Rare sushi. Sushi that only arrived twice a month and cost more than most soldiers made in a season.

She walked fast. Kept her chin up. Let them wonder.

Her friends caught her at the barracks gate. Serai, tall and dark-braided, falling into step beside her with that look — the one that meant she'd been waiting. "Elise."

"Serai."

"You've been spending a lot." Not a question. Serai's voice was soft, careful, the voice she used before she pushed. "Coins. Time. You disappear after dusk and come back smelling like wet stone and something sweet."

Elise kept walking. "I have duties."

"You have secrets." Serai caught her elbow, gentle but firm, and Elise stopped because Serai was her friend and she didn't want to pull away. "Who is it? A noble? A merchant's son? Someone from the lower city?"

The other knights had slowed too. Corin, pretending to check his sword strap. Mira, leaning against the gate with arms crossed, trying to look casual. They all wanted to know. The princess's favorite knight, who never blushed, never stammered, never lost her cool composure — spending like a lovesick fool and sneaking out every night.

"It's not your business," Elise said. Quiet. Final. She met Serai's eyes and held them until Serai let go.

"Fine." Serai stepped back. "But if whoever it is hurts you — "

"They won't." Elise's voice cracked on the word, just a little, and she hated it. She turned before anyone could see her face and walked toward the stables, the box cold against her ribs, the sushi inside wrapped in seaweed and rice and hope.

She waited until the castle was quiet. Until the torches burned low and the guards changed shift and the moon climbed high enough to silver the stone. Then she slipped out, the box tucked inside her cloak, her boots finding the old paths she'd memorized — through the kitchen garden, over the broken wall, into the forgotten wing where the floor crumbled and the shadows ate the light.

She checked behind her three times. Stopped twice to listen. Nothing but wind and the distant clank of the night watch.

The archway loomed ahead, ivy-choked and sagging, and beyond it the air changed — cooler, damper, thick with the smell of moss and still water. Her heart was already beating faster.

"Azure~" she called, soft, the name a song she'd learned to sing. "Azure~?"

A splash. To her left. She turned — nothing. Dark water rippling in the moonlight, rings spreading wide and slow.

Another splash. Behind her. She spun, and the water was still again, and she felt her mouth curve into a smile despite herself. "Oh? Are we playing a game now, brat?"

She set the box down on the flat rock. Straightened. Walked toward the water's edge, her boots squelching in the damp moss. "Where are you, cute creature?"

The water broke. She looked — and then hands caught her ankles and pulled, and she was falling, the world tilting, cold shock against her legs and then her hips and then she was in the water, sputtering, and his mouth was on hers.

“MMPH—”

Soft. So soft. His lips pressed against hers, needy and trembling, and she felt his arms around her waist, holding her above the surface, her feet dangling in the cold while her body stayed warm against his chest. He was stronger than he looked — his grip steady, his arms locked, and she was too stunned to do anything but kiss him back.

His mouth moved against hers like he'd been thinking about this all day. Like he'd been waiting. A small sound escaped his throat — a whimper, almost — and she felt it vibrate through her lips and into her chest and she was melting, drowning, not caring which.

He pulled back with a soft mwuah, breaking the seal slowly, and she saw his face in the moonlight — flushed cheeks, wet lashes, eyes so full of affection they made her chest ache. A string of saliva held between them, thin and bright, and she was panting. Panting. Like she'd run a league.

He carried her back to the edge, set her down on the mossy stone with surprising gentleness, and watched her with that same adoring gaze. She sat there, dripping, dazed, her legs weak and her lips tingling.

"You're so..." She trailed off, because she didn't have words. Beautiful. Impossible. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with teeth or claws. She looked away, heat flooding her cheeks, and reached for the box. "Here. I brought you something."

She unsealed the silk and lifted the lid, and the smell hit her first — vinegar rice, fresh seaweed, the clean salt of raw fish. Azureus's head tilted, his nostrils flaring, his pupils blown wide in the dark. She picked up a piece — white rice, a strip of orange fish, bound in a thin ribbon of dark green — and held it out to him.

"It's called sushi," she said. "It's — well, it has fish in it. Raw fish. I hope you like it. I was worried it might be... you know. Your family. Or something."

He blinked at her, uncomprehending, then looked at the sushi. Leaned in. Sniffed it.

Then he opened his mouth and took the whole piece, and his eyes went wide.

She watched his jaw move, his cheeks puffing as he chewed, and then he made a sound — a low, pleased hum that rumbled in his throat — and reached for the box with both hands. He grabbed three pieces at once, stuffed them in his mouth, and made the same sound again, louder, his tail thrashing in the water behind him.

"Slow down — " She laughed, startled. "You'll choke — "

He didn't slow down. He ate like he'd never eaten before, like every piece was a revelation, like this was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Rice stuck to his fingers and he licked them clean. A grain clung to his cheek and he wiped it off with the back of his hand and licked that too. When the box was empty, he picked up every crumb, every loose grain, licked the lid, the sides, the silk wrapping — and then frowned when there was nothing left.

Elise stared at him. "I thought fish were your family or something..."

He looked up at her, confused. She shook her head, still laughing under her breath.

"Are... you still hungry?"

His eyes drifted down. To her legs. To the space between them. And she felt her body tense — not from fear, but from memory. From the last time. From the way his mouth had nuzzled there, curious and warm, and she'd run.

"Don't you fucking dare — "

He grabbed her. Pulled her down onto the moss with a strength that made her gasp. She pushed against his chest — he didn't budge. His face pressed against her thighs, nuzzling, kissing, his breath hot through the leather of her pants.

"Azure — Azureus! Azureus!" She cried his name like a prayer, her hands pushing at his shoulders, her hips squirming. He ignored her completely, his mouth working against the leather, his fingers fumbling at the ties. She grabbed his wrists. He didn't stop.

He found the buckle. His eyes lit up — literally lit up, the jewels in his hair catching the moonlight — and he pulled at the leather with his teeth. She felt the waistband loosen. Felt the cool night air against her skin. And then he was pulling them down, her trousers sliding over her hips, her thighs, and she was bare beneath him in the moonlight.

His breath caught.

He stared. His head tilted, curious, reverent. His pupils dilated until his eyes were nearly black, and she felt herself flush under his gaze — the soft mound of her sex, hairless and smooth, the lips beneath glistening in the dim light, already wet. Already wanting him.

He reached out. Touched her with one webbed finger, feather-light, and she gasped. He drew his finger back, looked at the slickness on it, and put it in his mouth.

His eyes rolled back.

He dove forward and his tongue pressed flat against her, licking from bottom to top, slow and deliberate, tasting her like she was the sushi. Like she was the prize. She moaned — a raw, broken sound that echoed off the stone walls — and his hips pressed against the rock in response, his tail lashing water everywhere.

He liked that sound. She could feel it in the way his mouth pressed harder, the way his hands gripped her thighs and held her open, the way his tongue circled her clit with increasing urgency. She tangled her fingers in his wet hair, grabbed fistfuls of it, and he moaned against her — the vibration making her arch her back and cry out.

He sucked her. Gently at first, then harder, drawing her into his mouth like he was drinking. Her hips bucked against his face and he held her down, pinned her, kept her exactly where he wanted her. His tongue flicked, circled, pressed, and she was gone — lost in the wet heat of his mouth, the way he groaned against her, the way he moved like he'd been made for this.

"Azureus — I'm — I'm going to — "

He didn't stop. He pressed harder, sucked deeper, and the world went white.

She came with his name on her lips, a broken cry that faded into a sob, her body arching and shaking, her hands gripping his hair so tight she might have hurt him — but he didn't stop. He kept licking, lapping, drinking every drop like it was nectar, like it was ambrosia, like he'd been starving and she was the first real meal he'd ever had.

When she finally collapsed, trembling, gasping, he pulled back with a soft, wet sound. His lips were slick, his chin glistening, and his eyes — gods, his eyes — were bright and wild and full of something that looked like worship.

He licked his lips. Smiled. Opened his mouth and showed her the taste on his tongue before swallowing.

She lay there, half-naked in the moss, her trousers around her ankles, and stared at the ceiling. The stones swam in her vision. Her heart hammered — no, it didn't hammer, it was too wrecked for that. It just... shuddered. Like a bird after a storm.

Azureus crawled up beside her, pressed his wet face against her neck, and nuzzled. His arms wrapped around her waist, possessive and tender, and she felt his heart beating — fast, wild, the same rhythm as hers.

She let her hand fall to his hair. Stroked the damp strands. Felt him press closer.

"You're impossible," she whispered.

He didn't answer. He just held her tighter, and she could taste herself on his breath when he kissed her neck, and somewhere above them the moon kept moving, silver and silent, indifferent to the fact that her entire world had just rearranged itself around the weight of a merman's mouth.

She felt it before she understood it — the shift in his body, the way his arms tightened around her waist, the way his breath changed against her neck. He pulled back just enough to look at her, and his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, that same wild hunger flickering beneath the surface.

He kissed her. Not soft this time. Not gentle. His mouth pressed against hers with a need that made her gasp, and she tasted herself on his lips — salt and musk and something sweet, her own body on his tongue. He licked into her mouth, sharing the taste, showing her what she'd given him, and she moaned against him, her hands fisting in his wet hair.

When he broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting them, his breath came fast and ragged. His eyes never left hers. And then his hand moved — sliding down her stomach, over her hip, between her thighs — and she felt his fingers press against her entrance.

She didn't have time to brace.

He pushed one finger inside her, and she cried out — a sharp, broken sound that echoed off the stone walls. His finger was slick and wet, but not smooth. The scales on his knuckles dragged against her inner walls, rough and textured, and something hard — a gem, a pearl — pressed against her as he pushed deeper. She felt every ridge, every jewel embedded in his skin, and her hips bucked against his hand.

He watched her face. Mesmerized. His pupils tracking every micro-expression, every flutter of her eyelids, every parted breath. He pulled his finger out slowly, watching her mouth fall open, then pushed back in, harder this time, and she moaned — long and low and helpless.

"Azureus — "

He added a second finger. Her vision went white at the edges. The stretch was too much and not enough, his fingers filling her in a way that made her feel split open, the jewels pressing against her from inside, the scales scraping pleasure out of her with every thrust. She grabbed his wrist but didn't push him away — she held on, fingers digging into his skin, riding his hand as he worked her.

His eyes never left her face. He watched her come apart like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She felt the peak building, coiling in her belly, tight and hot and inevitable. "Ngh — Ah — Ah! A-Ah, I'm going to — "

Her mouth went slack. Her back arched. And he pulled his fingers out and buried his face between her legs.

His tongue pressed against her clit as she came, drinking her through the wave, lapping at the flood of it with a desperate, hungry sound. She heard him moan against her — a low, pleased rumble that vibrated through her entire body — and she shook, trembling, her hands gripping his hair as he drank every drop.

When she stopped shaking, he pulled back. His lips were slick, his chin wet, and he looked at her with those big blue eyes — and made a sound.

A soft, plaintive whine. Like a puppy. Like he was sad.

Sad that it was over.

She stared at him, still gasping, still trembling. "What — "

He dove back in.

His tongue found her clit again, pressing, circling, and she cried out, oversensitive, her hips trying to squirm away. He held her down with his hands on her thighs, pinned her open, and ate her like he was starving. She felt the second orgasm building before she was ready for it, climbing too fast, too soon, and she sobbed his name as it crashed over her.

He didn't stop.

He lapped her through it, through the aftershocks, through the desperate way she pushed at his head — and then he made that sound again. That sad, hungry whine, like she wasn't giving him enough.

"Azureus — I can't — "

He looked up at her, his chin glistening, his eyes bright and wild. And then he lowered his head again.

She lost count.

Three — she came with his tongue inside her, her hips grinding against his face, her hands tangled in his hair.

Four — she came with his lips wrapped around her clit, sucking gently, and she screamed his name into the night.

Five — she came with barely a touch, so oversensitive that the brush of his breath made her shudder and break.

She lay limp on the moss, her body trembling, her thighs slick, her voice hoarse from crying out. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. The world had narrowed to the wet heat of his mouth and the endless, relentless way he kept going.

"N... No more..." she whispered, her hand finding his head, pushing weakly at his face.

He pulled back. Looked at her. His lips were swollen, his chin soaked, his eyes soft and worshipful. He took her hand — the one pushing him away — and pressed a kiss to her palm. Gentle. Almost apologetic.

And then he smiled.

And lowered his head again.

She lost count after ten. The orgasms blurred together, one wave crashing into the next, her body no longer hers to control. She came with a sound that wasn't even a word — just a breath, a sob, a surrender. His tongue was relentless, his fingers pressing inside her again, the jewels and scales dragging against her walls, and she felt herself slipping, the edges of her vision going dark.

The last thing she saw was his face between her thighs, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful, like he was drinking from a well that would never run dry.

She tried to say his name. Tried to tell him to stop. But her mouth wouldn't work, and her body was floating, and the moonlight was fading, and the world went black.

She woke to water. Not the cold shock of being submerged — just the awareness of it, lapping somewhere close, and the strange half-warmth of her own body wrapped in her own cloak. The fabric was damp but not wet, arranged around her like someone had tried to tuck her in. Like someone had lifted her, carried her, covered her.

The thought made her chest tighten.

She blinked. The sky above her was not the broken stone arch of the lagoon's ceiling. It was open. Star-scattered. The faintest grey bleeding at the edges, the deep blue before dawn. Almost morning. She had been here all night. Her hips ached — a deep, hollow soreness between her thighs that pulsed with every heartbeat. She shifted, and the ache bloomed sharper, and she felt it. The oversensitivity. The raw, tender aftermath of being thoroughly used.

Something scaly pressed against her cheek.

She turned her head. Azureus was lying beside her on the smooth stone floor, propped on one elbow, watching her with those enormous blue eyes. Innocent. Patient. Like he had been waiting for her to wake up forever, and now that she had, everything was right in the world again.

He smiled. A soft, shy, pleased curve of his lips — and then he giggled, a sound so light and happy that it made her heart clench even as her thighs throbbed.

She pushed herself up. Her arms trembled. Every muscle in her body felt wrung out, like she had sparred for hours and then fallen off a horse. She looked down at herself. Her trousers were still around her ankles, tangled. Her tunic was rucked up to her ribs. And her skin — her arms, her stomach, her thighs — was covered in tiny flecks of something that caught the fading starlight. Gems. Small, iridescent chips, like someone had shaken jewel-dust over her. From Azureus's skin. From the scales and gems that grew on him, now pressed into her like pollen on a bee.

"My body hurts," she mumbled. Her voice came out hoarse. Raw. She pressed a hand to her throat. She had been screaming. She remembered that now. She had screamed his name until her voice broke.

His fingers found her belly. Soft, hesitant, tracing a slow circle on her skin. She shivered. Her muscles twitched under his touch, oversensitive and alert.

She looked at him. His face was gentle, his eyes soft and worshipful, his lips slightly parted. His chin was still slick. Still wet. She remembered that too — the way he had pulled away from between her legs, his mouth glistening, his expression blissful.

A cold knot tightened in her stomach.

"Did you — " She swallowed. Her voice cracked. "Did you eat me while I was asleep?"

He blinked at her. Innocent. Uncomprehending. As if the question itself didn't make sense in his world.

"Azureus." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "Did you keep — while I was out — did you keep eating me?"

He tilted his head, a few strands of golden hair falling across his face. And then he smiled again. A small, adoring smile. And he made a sound — a soft, contented hum, like the memory of something sweet was still on his tongue.

She whimpered. She couldn't help it. She looked away, her cheek pressing against the cool stone, and found her face resting against the base of his tail. The silver-blue scales shimmered faintly in the dim light. She felt his fingers on her stomach again, rubbing slow, soothing circles on her abdomen, like he was petting her. Like she was something soft and precious that needed comfort.

She was only a woman right now. A woman who had been thoroughly, completely, inexhaustibly eaten out by a creature who didn't understand what he was doing to her.

And he didn't stop.

She felt his weight shift. His fingers left her belly, and then his hands were on her shoulders, pressing her down, guiding her back onto the stone. She didn't resist. She couldn't. Her body was limp, wrung dry, her limbs heavy as iron. He laid her down gently, her head resting on the folded edge of her cloak, and then he settled between her thighs. His eyes met hers. Soft. Waiting. Hungry.

"Azureus — "

He lowered his head.

His tongue found her clit, and she sobbed — a raw, broken sound that echoed off the cave walls. She was so sensitive that the first touch made her whole body seize, her hips jerking away, but his hands held her steady, his grip firm and sure. He licked her slowly, deliberately, tasting the evidence of his earlier work, and she heard him groan — a low, vibrating sound that traveled through her like a current.

She came quickly. Too quickly. The pleasure crashed over her like a wave she hadn't seen coming, her back arching, her hands flying to his hair, her fingers twisting in the soft strands as she cried out. He lapped her through it, drinking her release with greedy, satisfied sounds, and when she fell back to the stone, gasping, he made that sound again. That pleased hum.

Then he went back to work.

Tears ran down her temples, slipping into her hair. She couldn't tell if they were from pleasure or exhaustion or the strange, overwhelming intimacy of being devoured by someone who didn't know what devouring meant. He sucked her clit into his mouth, gentle but insistent, and she came again — a smaller, sharper wave that made her whimper and tremble.

He groaned against her. The vibration pushed her over a third time, or maybe it was the same orgasm still rippling through her — she couldn't tell anymore. Her vision blurred. Her hands lay limp at her sides. She was a vessel, and he was drinking her dry, and somewhere in the haze she understood that this was what he wanted. This was what he needed. Her taste. Her release. The flood of her arousal, warm and sweet, like a spring he had discovered and couldn't leave.

He pulled back. His face was wet, his lips swollen, his eyes bright and wild. He looked at her — lying boneless on the stone, tears drying on her cheeks, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths — and he smiled.

Then he lowered his head again.

She came a fourth time with a sound that was barely a breath. A soft, broken exhale that might have been his name. And he drank her, groaning, his tongue pressing deep inside her, his lips sealed around her like he was nursing from a well that would never run dry.

In the faint grey light of dawn, in a cave beneath the world, he fed.

“No… more.. please…” The words fell from her lips like a prayer she didn't expect to be answered. Her voice was cracked, barely there, a thread of sound that dissolved into the grey light. She felt his mouth pause against her, his breath warm on her oversensitive skin, and for a moment she thought he had understood.

Then his tongue pressed inside her one last time.

A sob tore from her throat. Not a moan — a sob. Raw and broken, her hips trying to twist away, but his hands held her steady, his grip firm and patient, and he drank from her like a man dying of thirst who had found water at last. She felt the slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue, collecting every drop of her, and her body betrayed her — clenching around him, giving him more, even as tears slipped from her eyes and ran into her hair.

He pulled back, his lips glistening, his chin wet with her. And then his fingers replaced his tongue — two of them, sliding inside her without warning, and she cried out — a sharp, keening sound that echoed off the stone walls. He pushed deep, and she felt him scooping, gathering, his webbed fingers curling inside her as if he was trying to collect every last trace of her arousal, every bead of slick heat that her body had produced through the long night.

She couldn't breathe. Her vision blurred. She felt his fingers twist and press, scoop and withdraw, and then his mouth was on his fingers, licking them clean with long, slow, satisfied strokes of his tongue. She watched through half-closed eyes — watched him savor her, his eyes fluttering shut, a soft moan rising from his chest.

Then he went back inside her. Again. Scooping. Gathering. Her body was too raw to resist. She lay limp beneath him, trembling, her breath coming in shallow hitches, and he collected every last bit of her — every glistening trace — and licked his fingers clean with that same dreamy, blissful expression.

When he finally stopped, she was panting. Shaking. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, her hips aching, her core throbbing with a deep, hollow soreness that pulsed with every heartbeat. She felt raw. Flayed open. Like he had peeled away every layer of her and drunk her down to the bone.

She sobbed. A soft, broken sound that she couldn't hold back. Her chest hitched, and tears spilled freely down her temples, and she felt so exposed, so completely undone, that she couldn't find the strength to be embarrassed about it.

He made a sound. A soft, worried hum — different from the pleased groans he had made while feeding. She felt his weight shift, and then his hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks, turning her head toward him. She blinked through her tears. His blue eyes were wide, searching, filled with something she hadn't seen before. Concern. He tilted his head, a strand of golden hair falling across his cheek, and he made that sound again — a questioning, gentle trill, like he was asking if she was hurt.

She couldn't answer. She just cried, soft and helpless, her body trembling against the cold stone.

His thumbs brushed her tears away. Slow and tender, wiping the wetness from her cheeks, and then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. A soft, lingering kiss. Then another on her eyelid. Then the corner of her mouth. He kissed her tears away, one by one, his lips gentle and reverent, and she felt something in her chest crack open.

She grabbed him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down against her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. His skin was cool and damp, his hair falling around her like a curtain of silk, and she pressed her cheek against his collarbone and sighed. A long, trembling exhale. Her body still ached — a deep, burning soreness between her thighs that made her shake — but his arms came around her, his hands stroking her back, his tail curling against her legs, and the ache began to blur. His touch was so gentle. So careful. Like she was something precious that might break if he held her wrong.

She sighed again, her breath warm against his skin, and let herself be held.

The grey light grew brighter. The stars faded. The sky above them turned from deep blue to pale lavender, the edges of the clouds catching gold. Dawn was coming. She could feel it in the way the air shifted, in the faint warmth that touched her cheek through the broken arch above them.

She didn't want to move.

She tried. She pushed against his chest, her arms trembling, and managed to sit up halfway before a sharp, aching throb between her legs made her gasp and collapse back against him. Her body screamed. Her muscles refused. She couldn't get up. She literally could not make her legs hold her weight.

She let out a shaky breath. A laugh. Half-mad, half-defeated. "I can't… I can't stand."

He blinked at her, uncomprehending, his head tilted in that curious way he had.

She looked down at herself. Her trousers were still tangled around her ankles, her thighs slick and sticky, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat. She needed to clean herself. She needed to warm herself up. She needed to find the strength to walk back to the castle before anyone noticed she was gone.

She pushed herself upright again, slower this time, gritting her teeth against the ache. Her body protested every movement. She reached down and carefully, painfully, pulled her trousers up. The leather scraped against her oversensitive skin, and she winced, her jaw clenching. She fastened them slowly, her fingers clumsy and trembling, and then she looked at the water.

The lagoon was still. Dark. A few steps away, the water lapped against the edge of the stone platform, cold and inviting.

She crawled to the edge — she couldn't walk, couldn't even kneel properly — and dipped her hand into the water. It was cold. Bracing. She cupped her palm and brought it to her thighs, wincing as she cleaned herself. The cold water soothed and stung at the same time. She worked carefully, methodically, washing away the evidence of the night, and by the time she was done, she was shivering, but she felt more herself. More human. More like a knight again, and less like a woman who had been devoured.

Azureus watched her the whole time. Silent. Patient. His eyes never left her face.

She finished. She sat back on her heels, breathing hard, and looked at him. "I need to go."

He blinked. His expression shifted — a faint crease between his brows, a soft downturn of his lips. He reached out and touched her cheek, his webbed fingers cool against her flushed skin.

"I'll come back," she whispered. "I always come back."

He didn't seem satisfied. He looked at her for a long moment, his blue eyes searching her face, and then he moved. He slid into the water, his tail splashing softly, and turned to face her. He held out his arms. Open. Waiting.

She understood.

She slid off the edge into the water. The cold hit her like a shock, stealing her breath, and she gasped — but his arms were around her instantly, pulling her against his chest, his body warm despite the chill. He held her close, his tail curling around her legs, and then he dove.

The water closed over them. She held her breath, pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, and he swam with a strength she had only felt once before — smooth and powerful, his tail propelling them through the dark water. She opened her eyes. The world was a blur of blue and silver, his hair streaming around them like liquid gold, his scales catching the faint light from above.

They broke the surface. She gasped, coughing, blinking against the sudden brightness. The abandoned castle courtyard. The broken arch. The familiar stone steps where she always sat to catch her breath.

He lifted her easily, placing her on the lowest step, her feet finding the mossy stone. She sat there, dripping, shivering, her body aching in ways she couldn't name.

He didn't let go.

He pulled himself up beside her, his tail trailing in the water, and then his hands were on her face, tilting her chin up. He kissed her. Soft and slow, his lips warm against hers, tasting of her. She made a small sound — a whimper, a sigh — and kissed him back, her hands finding his damp hair, her fingers threading through the golden strands.

He pulled back. Kissed her again. And again. Each kiss soft and unhurried, like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth. She kissed him back, over and over, losing count, losing track of time. His lips brushed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, the tip of her nose. She laughed — a breathless, broken sound — and kissed him again, her forehead pressed against his.

"I have to go," she whispered against his lips.

He kissed her once more, lingering, and then pulled back. His eyes were soft. Sad. But he didn't hold her. He let her go.

She stood. Her legs screamed. Her thighs burned. Between her legs, the ache was so deep and so raw that tears pricked at her eyes again. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sit back down and never move. But she took a step. Then another. Each step sent a pulse of pain through her body, radiating from her core down to her knees, and she bit her lip hard enough to taste copper.

She didn't look back. She couldn't. If she looked back, she would stay.

Behind her, she heard a soft splash. A sound like a sigh. And then silence.