Somewhere west of Isla de Muerta, aboard the Obsidian Tide...

The storm hit at dusk, waves slamming the hull like angry fists. Rain lashed the deck, turning wood to glass. Ziyu stood at the helm, coat flapping open to reveal a chest crisscrossed with old scars, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the crew scramble. Weakness amused him. Fear turned him on.

Then he saw her. A flash of white amid the gray—fabric, not foam. Hair fanning like a dying jellyfish. A girl, floating face-down, limbs splayed as if the sea had grown bored of her.

“Man overboard,” he barked, voice cutting through the wind. Not a question. An order.

The crew moved fast, ropes flying. But Ziyu was faster. He kicked off his boots, diving into the frigid water before they could lower a boat. She was colder than the waves when he reached her, her body limp in his arms. He hauled her to the surface, teeth gritted against the chill, and laughed when her eyelashes fluttered. Still alive. Good.

They dragged them aboard, the deck slick with seawater and something heavier—anticipation. Ziyu dropped her roughly on the planks, kneeling to rip the soaking dress from her shoulders. She gasped awake then, eyes flying open—violet-gray, like storm clouds—and he saw it: the silver-gray hide tangled around her waist, scales glinting faintly even in the dark.

“Selkie,” he purred, tracing a finger up her thigh until she flinched. “The sea’s finally given me something worth taking.”

Her hand shot up, nails sharp as claws, but he caught her wrist mid-air, slamming it down beside her head. “Don’t,” he warned, pressing his knee between her legs. “You’ll only make this hurt more.”

The crew averted their eyes. Smart. Ziyu didn’t share his toys. He grabbed the hide, yanking it free from her body—and froze when it shimmered, threads of moonlight woven into the fur. “Your skin,” he realized, voice lowering to a growl. “Mine now.”

He forced her onto her stomach, pressing the hide against her bare back. She screamed—a sound half-pain, half-magic—as the fur melded to her skin, leaving red welts where his fingers dug in. When he flipped her over, her eyes were black with rage and something else… something that made his cock twitch.

“Captain,” she spat, “you have no idea what you’ve done.”

Ziyu leaned down, nose brushing her throat, and inhaled. Salt. Fear. Want. “I know exactly what I’ve done,” he murmured, nipping her collarbone until she whimpered. “I’ve claimed my property.”

Outside, the storm worsened. Inside, something more dangerous was brewing—something that started with a selkie’s scream and ended with Ziyu’s promise: “You’ll learn to beg for this, little seal.”