Chapter 337: …make my body yours as well

Thalor’s gills gave a quick flutter, and a faint, dusky lavender hue crept up his neck and across his cheekbones. He looked away for a split second, his webbed fingers nervously tracing the surface of the lake.

“Usually… we mark closer to the gills,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a shy, melodic hum. “On the shoulder or the base of the throat. It is the most common way.”

“Then why my ankle?” I asked, drifting closer until my soaked top brushed against his.

He looked back at me, his blush deepening until his face was nearly the color of the sunset.

“I… I like your legs, Arinya. They are strong, and they have carried you across the world to find me. I think they are very pretty.”

I blinked twice and then laughed, the sound echoing softly around the lake. The solemnity of the moment broke just enough for a bit of my old self to peek through.

“You’re impossible,” I murmured, feeling the heat rise to my own cheeks.

It was such a simple, honest logic—biting my ankle just because he thought my legs were pretty.

So, my legs must be his favorite part of my body. It’s no wonder he’s always trying to kiss my feet while disguising it as a tradition.

“Do you have a feet fetish, Thalor?”

He tilted his head, his damp, violet hair sticking to his neck. His expression was one of pure, guileless confusion.

“A… fetish? Is that a type of land-spirit?”

I burst out laughing again, my hand splashing the water slightly.

“No, forget it. It’s fine. It just means you really, really like them.”

“I do,” he said, his voice dropping into a serious, melodic hum.

He didn’t look embarrassed anymore; he looked certain. He reached out, his webbed fingers grazing my knee beneath the surface.

“They are strong. They carry the weight of the Land-Mother. I wanted my mark to be where you stand.”

The laughter died in my throat, replaced by a thick, heavy pull in my chest. That’s kinda hard to just laugh over.

I leaned closer to him, my hands sliding up his wet, corded arms until I could feel his shoulders. The blue crest on my wrist was pulsing in a frantic, rhythmic heat, syncopated with the new mark on my ankle.

“Well, now that the mark is here,” I whispered, my lips hovering over the pulse at his throat, “shall we continue?”

His gills gave a sharp, sudden flutter, and his hands gripped my waist with a strength that made me gasp. The water around us seemed to simmer with his sudden, intense focus.

“Arinya…” he breathed my name in a way that sounded sacred, like a prayer.

“Let us consummate this, Thalor,” I said, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart.

The water of the lake felt like it was beginning to boil, though the temperature hadn’t changed. It was the sheer intensity radiating from Thalor.

“You are my mate now, and I carry your mark, so… make my body yours as well.”

As soon as those words left my lips—as soon as I gave him the permission he’d been starving for over the last month—his restraint snapped like a brittle twig.

He didn’t pull me into a frantic, messy kiss. Instead, he moved with a slow, agonizing deliberation. His webbed fingers, cool and smooth, slid from my waist up to my jaw, cradling my face as if I were a piece of fragile coral.

When his lips finally met mine, they tasted of the cold mountain spring and the salt lingering on his skin. I felt his tongue sweep against mine, a soft, slick intrusion that made my knees go weak in the water.

“Arinya,” he groaned against my mouth, the sound vibrating through my chest.

I clung to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the firm, wet muscle. Beneath the surface, I could feel his tail brushing against my legs, the scales smooth and slightly abrasive at the same time.

The mark on my ankle was throbbing in a way that seemed to be pulling my blood toward him.

Then, Thalor moved his hands from my face. He drifted them down, trailing fire over my soaked top.

The fabric was a nuisance, a barrier that he was no longer willing to tolerate. With a deftness that surprised me, his fingers found the hem, and he didn’t even have to ask.

I lifted my arms, letting him peel the wet cloth away and toss it toward the shore, but it didn’t make it to the shore and floated on the water.

My chest was bare, save for the silver scales that reflected the moonlight.

I felt… exposed, standing in front of him like this, but I didn’t cover up.

Thalor’s breath hitched. He stared at me, his violet eyes glowing with a brilliance that was almost blinding.

His gaze traveled from the scales, over the marks of my other husbands—the snake, the wolf, the tiger—and finally settled on my eyes. There was no jealousy there tonight, only a profound, quiet awe.

He reached out, his long, webbed fingers grazing the underside of my breast. I gasped, my back arching as the sensation shot straight to my core.

His touch was different—lighter, more sensitive, as if he could feel every nerve ending through the thin membranes of his hands.

“You are so warm,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Like the sun trapped in a drop of water.”

He began to explore, his fingers dancing over my skin with a motion that was almost too precise, like he had done this before, or rather, like he had practiced it in his mind so many times that doing it for real now felt so normal.

Just how many times had he fantasized about putting his hands on me and exploring the way he was doing now?

Then, his hands finally found the sensitive dip of my hip, and I shivered, my breath coming in short, jagged bursts.

“Ah, that…” I didn’t have an excuse for my shivers.

Not even saying it was due to the water could cover up what I was feeling.

Thalor stripped out my skirt as well and then leaned in, his lips trailing a hot path from my collarbone down to my breast, his mouth swallowing up one of my nipples and sucking on it.

The sensation made me shiver even more, and I was sure, after feeling him gulp a few times, that he was drinking my breast milk.

“Why are you…?” I asked, unable to finish my words when he lifted his gaze, not letting go of my nipple in his mouth.

“It tastes just as good as I imagined,” he said, and I shuddered, feeling his teeth graze the sensitive skin around my nipple as he spoke.

“Don’t… don’t talk with it in your mouth,” I said, but he found this delightful.

He wrapped one arm around my waist and then grabbed my second breast with his free hand, kneading as freely as he wanted.

My breast was soft and plump, I know, but I didn’t think he’d love the feeling of it in his hand so much.

They all do.

They all love to knead it, feel their fingers dip into the soft, swollen skin, and then pinch the nipples.

Perverts. All of them.

“Haa,” I moaned, barely able to contain myself as my sensitive spot in the water began to tingle.

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