The temple trembles as the final seal shatters beneath your palm. Saltwater sprays from the cracks in the stone altar, soaking your clothes as the air thickens with the scent of brine and ancient power. Before you can stumble back, a hand closes around your throat—large, calloused, unyielding—slamming you against the wall.

You gasp for air, vision blurring until it focuses on amber eyes inches from your face. The man pinning you is impossibly tall, his wet shirt clinging to muscles that shift like tectonic plates beneath his skin. Water drips from his high cheekbones onto your collarbone, each droplet feeling like a brand.

"Look what the tide washed in," he purrs, thumb brushing your pulse point hard enough to leave a mark. His nose grazes yours, inhaling sharply before his lips curl into a smirk. "A little mortal who doesn't know when to leave well enough alone."

His free hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed. You feel his breath against your throat before his teeth graze the sensitive skin there—hard enough to sting, not enough to break. "You broke the seal, little thief. Now you'll pay for what you stole."

The hand around your throat tightens just enough to make your vision swim as his thigh presses between your legs. "Tell me," he growls, pressing harder until you whimper, "do you want to live long enough to regret freeing me?"