"Bolt," I say, turning to the copper cage. "Turn the ship around."
"I hate the pair of you," Bolt grumbles, the coils in his cage beginning to glow a brighter yellow. "The Silt District is filthywater. The smog is going to clog my pristine filters, and I am tired."
"Bolt!" I snap.
"Fine. I require a nap first. Wake my coils when we hit the lower smog layer."
Bolt's bright light dims, dropping the mechanical hum of the cage to a whisper in the water. The shell goes dark, leaving the faint green glow of the ceiling moss as our only illumination.
We are alone.
The adrenaline of our reckless choice burns in my veins, a fizzing carbonation of danger and desperation. I cant remain still on the woven nets. I turn my head to look at Kael.
He watches me, his dark eyes reflecting the green moss-light like twin pools of abyssal water. He looks at the wicked glass dart I still clutch in my trembling fingers, then returns to my flushed face.
He swims closer, his body displacing the water with deliberate grace. He reaches out, his scarred fingers wrapping around the dart. He takes the weapon from my grasp and places it on a high salvage shelf, far from Mira's rigid body and far from our reach.
Turning back to me, he invades my space. He doesn't touch me, not yet, but his presence is a heavy weight in the warm water, a gravitational pull I can never resist. He remains silent, but his eyes speak a primal hunger.
"What is it?" I whisper, the sound barely stirring the water between us.
He offers no signed response, his scarred hands still at his sides as he comes closer. He closes the distance until his broad chest brushes against my torn mesh vest. The intense friction of his rough shark-skin against the delicate fabric sends a jolt of heat straight through my core, a lightning strike of sensation that steals my breath.
His hands find my hips, resting heavy, territorial, and possessive. He pulls my body flush against his solid frame, forcing a gasp from my throat at the sudden, overwhelming contact.
"Kael," I manage, my voice a breathless rush of air. "We need to plan our way to the witch."
He shakes his heavy head, a slow, deliberate motion.No.
He leans down, pressing his solid forehead against my own.
Frustration vibrates off his rigid muscles in chaotic waves. He has a powerful voice trapped deep in his throat, desperate words he can't say, a primal roar he can't release into the water. A lethal predator with his mouth sewn shut by dark magic, he needs to scream his devotion into the crushing dark.
He kisses me.
This is no gentle exploration. It's pure, starving desperation. He devours my mouth, his lips scorching hot as his sharp, serrated teeth lightly graze my sensitive lower lip. He kisses me with the terrifying energy.
My fingers dig into the rough, scarred skin of his broad shoulders. I pull him closer, my body arching into the raw heat of his.
I pour all my lingering fear, all my boiling anger at Mira, and all my desperate hope for the magical antidote into the friction of our mouths.
A low, frustrated groan starts in his chest, the heavy rumble vibrating against my own ribs. He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting my body up from the sand.
My tail leaves the floor as he pins my back against the curved calcium wall of the shell. The cold stone presses against my spine while the scorching heat of the shark presses against my front.
I wrap my arms around his neck, his name a moan against his open mouth.
He pulls back a single inch, his dark eyes wild and blown wide. He can't tell me his desires, can't speak the words of love, so he chooses to show me the truth.
He grinds his heavy hips against my own, creating a raw, shocking physical friction. His hands roam over my flushed body, rough and demanding. He traces the fine line of my spine, grips the curve of my tail, mapping my body in the dark, claiming my soul for his own.
I arch my spine into his heat, a desperate plea whispered into the charged air. "Yes. Yes."
I want this consumption. I want the crushing silence of the Wastes filled with this specific heat. If we're sailing back to the treacherous Reef, if we are going to die in the smog of the Silt District, I want to know the feeling of absolute surrender. I want to be his.
He kisses the sensitive curve of my neck, sucking at the soft skin under my jaw. A gasp tears from my throat as my head falls back against the cold wall.
His scarred hand moves lower, finding the frayed edge of my tunic and slipping his rough palm inside the fabric. The touch against my bare skin is pure lightning. I open my mouth to beg him to take more, to take everything I possess.
