His Aya was looking down on him with partially lidded hunger. Her pink tongue touched her full bottom lip in teasing invitation. She shifted, rubbing her soft, feminine folds against his trembling abdomen.

She would be his undoing.

Soren stroked her long, silken thighs. She was gorgeous and no longer running from him.

Yes, she delayed their marriage. But she considered him. She accepted his claim.

And she feared her power. She couldn’t analyze it, couldn’t direct it, couldn’t control it. She was uncomfortable with feelings. With closeness. He’d seen how she pulled away from Queen Elyssa. How she used to pull away from him.

She did not pull away any more.

He wanted to thrust into her now and empty his cock in her feminine heat. Make her his so she would never get away again.

He skirted her smooth buttocks and traced the soft planes of her body up her back. She closed her eyes and hummed. The sound vibrated in her chest, and her position highlighted her small, pert breasts. “That feels so good.”

His cock hardened.

He slid around her soft belly to her front. Her lashes fluttered. She allowed him to map her body, tasting and owning her adorable belly button, her flat belly, and the valley between her breasts.

Her lids parted and she gazed down on him. Her heart was beating loud enough he could feel her heat. Would she run from him if he made demands? Her soul light burned hot, urging him on. She was beautiful. Achingly desirable.

His cock throbbed. He slid his hand up to her neck, stroking the fine vertebrae with his thumb. She sighed with pleasure. He tightened on the back of her neck and dragged her down to his kiss.

She collapsed like a wave, rushing against him. Their mouths meshed and her lips parted, yielding to him before he could demand entrance. Her tongue met his, thrust for thrust, parrying. She tasted like purity and heat. He couldn’t get enough.

He worshiped the ivory luminance of her satiny-smooth skin. Her determined jaw, the elegant curve of her neck, the glimmering brilliance lighting her twin globes. She was more than he deserved. Smart and focused, determined and strong.

She braced her hands against his cheeks and rubbed her breasts against his chest. “Mmm.”

It lit him on fire.

He grabbed delicious handfuls of her buttocks and crushed her against him. Her little moans increased. Hunger, desire, need. She wanted him. He wanted her. He wanted to drag her back and spear her on his throbbing, hot cock.

She tore her mouth free and pressed kisses to his jaw. “Mmm, Soren.”

His name in her hungry voice sent shudders through him.

He was going to lose it.

“Marry me.” He growled in her ear and bit the lobe. She moaned. “Now. In front of the Life Tree. Become my bride.”

“I…” She gasped and kissed his neck down to his chest. Swirling his hard nipple with her delicate tongue, she brought another lance of desire to his throbbing cock. Her soft folds shifted down, to the edge of his shaft.

He gripped her. Her hip bones made a perfect handle. If she got any closer, he was going to take her like this. “Accept.”

“I want you.”

Her response shot fire through him.

He released her hips and arched with a groan. “Aya.”

She wiggled. The tip of his cock nudged her soft folds. “Take me.”

He forced her off, shifted to human feet, and tensed to push off the floor.

She stiffened and stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“The Life Tree.”

She blinked, frowned, and began trying to smooth her non-existent clothes, to get control of herself. “No.”

Hadn’t she just instructed him to take her to the Life Tree to be married because she also wanted him? He fought his instant reaction of pain. “You want me to take you.”

“Here.” She rested her hand on his knee and pleaded. She could see his pain and struggled to alleviate it. “Take me here. I want to feel you against me. Inside.”

“You want me,” he repeated. His heart slammed hard against his breastbone. “But not to marry?”

“Isn’t being engaged enough?”

No. It wasn’t enough. Not at all.

She begged him.

“Yes.”

She gave in with relief. Her kisses were just as sweet and desperate as moments ago. She was so relieved not to marry him.

He couldn’t do this.

But he needed to. He needed to go at her pace, to love her deeply when she was ready to be loved. At least she still wanted the pleasure she wrung from his body.

He couldn’t kiss her. He was going to break — or break down.

Soren thrust her away.

The shock in her face, followed so swiftly by rejection, showed him why he was going to continue. Soren stitched over the ridges of new scar tissue forming on his heart, yanked her close, and turned her. He locked her soft derriere against his hard cock.

She moaned. “Soren?”

He blew her hair out of his way and kissed her neck, savage in his need to possess her. She gasped and moaned. He kissed down her shoulder, curved his arms around, and cupped her breasts. Squeezing the soft mounds, he teased and pinched the pearly nipples.

She moaned again. “What are you doing?”

This time, he did not shy away. “Pleasuring you.”

Her soul light glowed red hot.

He licked her neck and kissed her again. Burning to have her. Truly have her. Forcing himself to be satisfied with only this.

She wiggled. “I want you. Pressed against me. Your cock. Please Soren.”

It was dangerous. Impossible.

He had to do it.

Letting go of one breast, he gripped his cock and threaded it between her legs. Her thighs slicked with her own juices. Being squeezed between them felt like a prayer. He pushed. His cock slid through and emerged on the other side, sliding against her hot nub.

She gasped and shivered.

This was torture.

Laying her soft body bare to him, she staked her love. Her truth shone with her beauty.

He held her in place so he didn’t accidentally slip and thrust inside her. He would not bind her with a young fry until she became his queen. This was as much as he could give. He held himself against her hot nub and thrust again and again, following the rhythm of her cries. His cock slipped hot and fast between her legs. He gripped her hard.

Aya cried and arched. Her body tensed. Her soul light shone brighter than the Life Tree. Again, just as before, her beauty washed over him. She was all he ever wanted. As a warrior, she was the fire he longed to rest near.

His balls clenched.

Curse it.

He shot backward, free of her luscious release, and clamped down on his own. He would not explode. He would not explode. He would not explode.

The unstoppable urge faded. His will prevailed. He contained himself and did not explode.

Aya rested in front of him on her elbows and knees, her buttocks still thrust beautifully up, revealing herself to him. She rose and stretched, curving her back sinuously. Her gills flared with a sigh.

She was so beautiful.

He nearly lost his control again.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. A lazy, powerful expression transformed her face into confidence. An orgasm did not make his Aya feel small or vulnerable. It made her invincible, shining brilliant as the sun, which was how she should always be.

“Again. I got all the good stuff and you got nothing.” She pushed off the bare floor and tackled him, pressing his shoulders into the bare castle floor. “I could at least finish you off.”

He did not need finishing. But he accepted her nearness and tugged her against his shoulder where she had fit against him. “Rest.”

She traced the tattoo swirls on his pectorals. “These are so intricate.”

“Honor markings.” He stroked her head and shifted to a more comfortable angle against the subtle curve of the floor. “All honorable warriors have them.”

“Oh?” Her tone teased him. “Why do you?”

He snorted. “I was honorable once.”

“Very honorable, if all of these tattoos stand for different accomplishments.” She trailed down to his ticklish belly.

He clasped her hand to stop her. “They are arranged in groups. Some are accomplishments. Some are battles. Some are deaths.” He regretted those.

She seemed to sense his sadness. Her voice lowered. “There is no choice on the battlefield.”

“Yes, it is rare to kill on the battlefield. Warriors who invade my city and attack my young fry or injure my elders, ask for death. So, I answer.”

She tapped the ink over his heart. “Soren. Why do you call yourself dishonorable now?”

He kept his eyes closed. He did not want to see her expression when she knew.

She waited.

He could not tell her this.

“I betrayed my city,” he said roughly, settling on a true but easier answer. “They put their faith in me and I abandoned them to join Atlantis. And I failed Kadir.”

Soren had been battling in another sea when Kadir was imprisoned. Kadir was one of the few who had never seen him as a monster, but always as a loyal friend. And Soren had done nothing to help him. Not until he had been recalled from the battlefront. While home, he had committed his dishonor, and only then had he sought to assist Kadir. Only then, when it was nearly too late.

“Failed?” Aya frowned. “Didn’t you raise an army and break him out of the impenetrable prison of the All-Council?”

“He almost died of starvation. And under my protection, the Atlantis Life Tree was severed. I betray everyone I serve. Atlantis is no different.”

She stroked him softly. His chest, clenched tighter than a fist, released under her quiet soothing. With her, he could relax.

Her soft voice nearly startled him awake; apparently he had soothed to the point of falling asleep. “Is that why you don’t want to sleep with me?”

Huh? He frowned. “I want to sleep with you very much.”

“No, I mean.” She swallowed and lifted on an elbow so he could see up into her blue eyes. She couldn’t hold his gaze, and kept skating away to study his forehead or cheeks. Anywhere but his eyes. “Sleep together like have sex.”

Ah. His heart thudded in his chest. Why was she asking? Did she wish for it too? “I want sex together very much.”

Her swift question framed her face. “But?”

“Until you choose me for your husband, I will not risk binding you with a young fry.”

“Risk binding…” She tilted her head, tracing his tattoos. “Is that what happened? You bound a bride who did not wish for you?”

“What? No!” How could she imagine such a thing? “Humans are fickle and take more than one lover. Mermen do not.”

Her face blanked in surprise. “Oh. That’s right. No, I was thinking in Dragao Azul maybe you had a bride.”

“Never.” There was only Aya. They were bound, for him, forever. “My mother did not wish for me. She did not love my father.”

“That’s not your fault.” She stared over his shoulder as though picturing the events of this past, and then she focused on him again. “You’re honorable.”

Ah, she was still trying to heal him.

“I don’t have any memories of my mom at home,” Aya continued. “She was always working. My dad left when I was three.”

“I had my father,” he said. “He raised me in the ways of honor.”

“At least you had one parent.” She stared out at the castle with a frown. “It’s one of the reasons I’m stuck. All my life I’ve been missing the special ‘thing’ that makes me able to connect with people. If you skip out on the critical attachment-forming step in childhood, it’s impossible to make it up later. And I worry about kids. Elyssa wants me as godmother to hers? Who knows how I’ll screw them up?”

He cupped her cheek. “You will be a great godmother.”

She softened, then stiffened. Her skepticism, natural self-preservation, refused to let her accept a compliment. “What makes you say that?”

He did not mind giving his reasons. “You have a fierce soul. You protect what you love. You are careful. When you meet Queen Elyssa’s young fry, you will protect him also.”

She swallowed hard. Her eyes reddened with emotion. “I don’t know.”

“Believe, Aya. And when you believe, your power will grow and you will become the queen Atlantis needs.”