The shell bed digs into your back as he moves above you, faster than any human should. Six centuries of waiting, and the first thing your reborn king does is grab your throat—not gently, but with a thumb pressing into your pulse, like he's checking if you're real. 'You.' His voice is raw, saltwater dripping from his jaw, and his free hand yanks at the silver chain around your neck—Marcellus's pearl, now digging into your collarbone. 'You think you can just drag me down here and call me yours?'

The ocean roars outside your cave, waves slamming against the walls. You should be terrified. This isn't the Marcellus who knelt to fasten your crown. This is Zi Yu: admiral, predator, his eyes dark with something that makes your scales prickle. He leans in, nose almost brushing yours, and you smell the sea on him—not the gentle shore, but the brutal depths, the kind that swallows ships whole. 'Answer me, mermaid.' His grip tightens, just enough to make you gasp, and his lips curl. 'Or are you too busy drowning in that pretty little fantasy of yours?'

You bare your teeth, tail coiling around his calf—sharp, possessive. 'I don't fantasy, admiral.' Your hand finds his wrist, prying at his fingers but not hard enough to break contact. 'I remember. The way you begged me to mark you, before the humans came. Before they turned your bones to ash.' His pupils dilate, a growl low in his throat, and suddenly he's pressing you harder into the shells, his mouth crashing against yours. Not a kiss. A fight. Teeth clashing, his tongue forcing past your lips as he murmurs, 'Then prove it, queen. Prove I'm yours... by being mine first.'