Page 105 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

He pushes up onto his elbows, eyes cutting toward me with that maddening blend of command and amusement.

Is something wrong, Snapdragon? His voice is a low cadence of confidence. You want this. You think about it constantly. You whisper the most sinful things in your mind, pretending I cannot hear them.

My breath stutters. “Orion, it’s not that I don’t want you. I do . . .” The confession slips out before I can rein it in. I don’t even know where I’m going with it, only that fear is tangled tightly with my need for him.

He rises from the bed in one smooth motion, muscles rippling beneath his pallid skin as he rakes a hand through his dark hair. Each slow step he takes toward me is purposeful . . . predatory.

“But I just don’t think I'm what you want,” I rush out. “Or need.”

I push off the table and scramble to slip past him, but he moves faster. So much faster. In a heartbeat, I’m backed into the corner. His arm braces above my head, caging me in place while his body blocks every escape.

“Orion, listen to me.” Panic and want war in my voice. “You need someone born of the sea. Someone who can match your strength . . . your power. Someone—someone meant for royalty. I’m not meant for royalty.”

He studies me with a hunger that makes my knees weaken. His gaze drags over my body, lingering on every exposed secret. The pale blue fabric the Echo Cavern has placed me in is thin, too thin, and the dim light does nothing to conceal how my nipples strain against it, betraying every lie my mouth tries to tell.

You're my mate, Sarah. His voice drops, rich and possessive. That means you are mine, chosen by the sea herself. He pauses just long enough for the words to sink into my bones. I'm not asking you to be royalty. Not yet. I only want you to be the female who trembles for me. The one who has thought of my hands when she believes I'm not listening.

The hunger in his eyes spikes. Before I can breathe, his restraint snaps. His hands seize the delicate frill at the top of my slip, and with one sharp, fluid motion, the thin fabric rips down the center. Cool air spills over newly bared skin as the ruined dress pools at our feet.

My mouth closes. Heat rushes up my chest, not anger, but the scorching awareness of how completely he sees me.

I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze, too exposed beneath it . . . Too afraid he’ll see how badly I want him.

A low grunt escapes him, a sound of pure approval that vibrates through my chest. A glistening heat rushes between my thighs, humiliatingly obvious to both of us.

His fingers ghost over my breasts, circling each peak with slow, aching precision. My breath hitches, traitorous and needy. He drags his touch lower, swirling once around my belly button, teasing the place where nerves and desire collide.

Panic flares, not because I don’t want more, but because I do.

I catch his wrist, trying to hide the trembling in my voice. “Orion—” It comes out hoarse, desperate, nothing like the refusal I wish it sounded like.

He looks at my hand on his and something hungry flashes in his eyes.

In a single smooth movement, he lifts both my wrists and pins them above my head, his body caging mine. My pulse leaps, wild—fear tangled thick with want.

His thumb glides over my lower lip, slow enough to steal the ground from beneath me.

You think you're afraid of me, he murmurs, darkness circling his gaze. But what you fear . . . is how badly you crave this.

I shake my head, breath uneven.

His lips brush my ear, his whisper igniting heat deep in my core. By the time I am done, Snapdragon, he purrs, you will beg me to keep going.

My mind struggles to grasp his words, distracting me from his next set of actions. I’m on my feet one moment, and the next, he lifts me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. The world turns upside down until the soft give of the bed catches me with a muffled thud.

Orion towers at the edge of the mattress. His broad body appears as if it was carved from shadow and light. The air between us thickens—my pulse pounds so loud I can almost taste it. Every inch of me is aware of how exposed I am, how easily he could undo me.

Why does this feel like a nightmare when it’s everything I’ve secretly wanted?

The Echo Cavern hums, its unseen current wrapping around us, urging surrender. It isn’t trying to frighten me, it’s forcing me to see what the bond truly means. Denying it would be denying Mother Ocean.

The words slip out before I can stop them, soft but reckless. “I want you.”

His gaze breaks open with raw, primal instinct. His breath roughens, and he strips away his torn shorts, the last barrier between us, letting his length spring free.

My eyes trail down his chiseled abs until they meet his stiffness, a bead of precum forming at his tip. The cavern’s light catches on him for a suspended heartbeat, as if he is under a spotlight. All I can do is stare, every sense flooding with want and awe as the dream tightens its hold.

Hunger burns behind his eyes, but every movement is deliberate, drawn out like ice surrendering to warmth. He sinks to his knees at the bedside, fingers curling around my thighs; the sheets rustle, and the air tightens as he drags me to the edge. I don’t break his gaze now. Instead I invite it.