Surrender to the Sea (Lords of the Abyss Book 4) Page 8

  ‘I want to go home,’ she whispered.

  ‘I want to take you home,’ he answered. He pulled his mouth from hers and held her hand as he darted through the water. She had no choice but to trail behind him. The rush of current against her body was invigorating, and her heart pounded in excitement.

  Suddenly remembering what she’d seen, she began swishing her tail to help swim faster. ‘Brutus, I saw mermaids in the water.’

  He stopped suddenly and led her down the rock base. ‘Do you mean Demon and Brennus? Caderyn and Iason went looking for them to update them.’

  ‘No, mermaids. Women.’

  ‘That’s not possible. We sealed the only other exit.’ He went into the surfacing area and held his hand out to pull her behind him.

  ‘I got through,’ she stated. ‘Maybe someone—’

  Brutus broke the surface. ‘You were already inside the palace. There was no way any of the Olympians made it inside, let alone through the halls to make it into the ocean.’

  He pulled up on the ledge and then bent over to lift her out of the water and set her down next to him. Whipping his tail around, he brushed the water off his legs. Laurel followed his example. Her body tingled, and she coughed as the taste of salt became more pronounced. Her tail pulled apart as she once again formed legs.

  “I know what I saw,” Laurel said. The wet material of her shirt stuck to her skin. The fins on her arms were slower to retract. “Three mermaids. One of them was talking, or think-talking, or mind-linking to the others about how the king couldn’t keep them trapped inside and one was going to rule the dome.”

  “Maia. Was Lotis with her?”

  Laurel frowned.

  “Red hair. Red tail. Expression like she swam straight up from the bowels of a volcano?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And one blonde, one dark brunette. The redhead talked about wanting to acquire replacement slaves to toy with and the leader said they needed to wait but would go soon.”

  “They found another way out.” Brutus frowned. “That must have been what they were doing. They weren’t trying to break the dome in an attempt to distract us with the earthquakes so they could make a new tunnel. They used the animals to cover up the noise.”

  “Can you find the tunnel and stop them?”

  “We will try.” He lifted his hand to her face and pushed her wet hair away from her cheek. “We would not have known this if you were not brave. Thank you.”

  “I was terrified,” she admitted. “I think they sensed you coming. That is what kept me from being discovered. What will happen?”

  “We will stop them again. It will not happen overnight, but it is no matter. We have been struggling with Maia and her followers since we were banished down here. The good news is, the earthquakes should stop, and the mermaids don’t know we learned their secret.” As the scales by his eyes became flesh, Brutus glanced down at his transformed lap. His cock stood proud and tall from his hips.

  Laurel pulled the shirt over her head. Her body returned to normal and with that change came a rush of desire. A dam broke on her emotions, and she gasped in surprise at the sudden need in her sex. She instantly gravitated toward Brutus, straddling his lap on the surfacing room floor. Firm muscles rippled beneath her, still damp and cool from the ocean. The hard stone bit into her knees, but she didn’t care. His shaft was erect and ready as it brushed up against her.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, before kissing him. His tongue slid over her lips, and she moaned. Hands grabbed hold of her thighs, squeezing tight, as Brutus rocked his hips against her.

  “It’s called the affliction,” he answered between deep kisses. “It happens…whenever we come…out of the water.”

  He forcibly lifted her up to straddle him on the cave floor and drew her onto his shaft. The urgency of his desire was in his shaky movements. She pushed down. His hands slipped over her moist sides before taking hold of her breasts. He gripped them in his large palms as Laurel moved over him fast and hard.

  “Mm, I like affliction.” She covered his hands with hers.

  The completely mindless drive she felt surpassed everything else. Nothing mattered except finishing what they started. Even with as desperate as she was to find release, her body seemed to tease her by keeping the orgasm just beyond her reach.

  Laurel rode him harder, pounding her hips down. She gripped his shoulders to help her momentum. Brutus cupped her ass and in one swift movement rolled up from the floor until he was standing with her embedded on his cock. She held on as he walked to press her up against the wall. He took over, pumping his hips into her as he trapped her to the stone. The smell of cave flowers was strong. The sparkling reflection of the gem studded walls danced behind his head.

  He carried her as if she weighed nothing. His muscles strained with each thrusting movement. The only tender thing in his claiming was his eyes, as he stared deeply into hers. Finally, the elusive orgasm came. She cried out in pleasure, but he didn’t stop driving into her.

  “I am going to find release in my wife,” he whispered against her ear. “Say you’re mine.”

  “Yours,” she managed breathlessly.

  His body jerked with an almost violent climax. He stiffened, pressed tight and deep into her. Holding her for a long moment, he then rocked a few more times in her wet depths before pulling out.

  Laurel’s legs could barely hold her as her feet touched the uneven floor next to the cave wall. Still trying to catch her breath, she said, “I really love the affliction.”

  He grinned. “I really love you, my lady.”

  In that moment, nothing else mattered, not mermaids and secret tunnels, because somehow, she knew everything would be all right as long as she was in the arms of the man she loved. Together, they could face anything. Smiling softly, she responded, “I really love you, too.”

  The End

  The series continues with Making Waves

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  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today Bestseller

  Michelle M. Pillow, Author of All Things Romance™, is a multi-published, award winning author writing in many romance fiction genres including futuristic, paranormal, historical, contemporary, fantasy and dark paranormal. Ever since she can remember, Michelle has had a strange fascination with anything supernatural and sci-fi. After discovering historical romance novels, it was only natural that the supernatural and love/romance elements should someday meet in her wonderland of a brain. She’s glad they did for their children have been pouring onto the computer screen ever since.

  Michelle loves to travel and try new things, whether it’s a paranormal investigation of an old Vaudeville Theatre or climbing Mayan temples in Belize. She’s addicted to movies and used to drive her mother crazy while quoting random scenes with her brother. Though it has yet to happen, her dream is to be in a horror movie as 1. A zombie or 2. The expendable screaming chick who gets it in the beginning credits. But for the most part she can be found writing in her office with a cup of coffee in pajama pants.

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  Complimentary Material

  Check out the excerpts before you buy!

  The Dragon’s Queen The Dragon’s Queen

  by Michelle M. Pillow

  Dragon Lords Series

  Bestselling Shape-shifter Romance

  Mede of the Draig knows three things for a fact: As the only female dragon-shifter of her people, she is special. She can kick the backside of any man. And she absolutely doesn’t want to marry.

  Mede has spent a lifetime trying to prove herse
lf as strong as any male warrior. Unfortunately, being the special, rare creature she is, she’s been claimed as the future bride to nearly three dozen Draig—each one confident that when they come for her hand in marriage fate will choose them. When the men aren’t bragging about how they’re going to marry her, they’re acting like she’s a delicate rare flower in need of their protection.

  She is far from a shrinking solarflower.

  Prince Llyr of the Draig knows four things for a fact: He is the future king of the dragon-shifters. He must act honorably in all ways. He absolutely, positively is meant to marry Lady Mede. And she dead set against marriage.

  Llyr’s fate rests in the hands of a woman determined not to have any man. With a new threat emerging amongst their cat-shifting neighbors, a threat whose eyes are focused firmly on Mede, time may be running out. It is up to him to convince her to be his dragon queen.

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  The Dragon’s Queen Extended Excerpt

  Mede’s lungs expanded with the effort of a hard run. Morning crept over the horizon, brightening the light of night. In one hand she gripped Rolant’s knife, and in the other, her prize. For a moment, she felt perfection in the burn of her legs, the pant of her breath, the rhythm of her feet. When she jumped over forest debris, she flew.

  The exercise felt wonderful, but not nearly as wonderful as the sounds of cheers coming from the border. They had lit a fire to guide her back and she ran toward it. As she neared the group of dragons she leapt over the border. Lifting her hand, she yelled, “Dragons!”

  “Dragons!” the men yelled, celebrating her victorious run.

  Mede turned the hilt of the knife toward Rolant to return the blade. He took it. Instantly, his smile faded as he saw the blood. His eyes roamed her as she let the dragon-shift fade from her body. Before he could ask her about it, she proudly lifted her fist balled around the fur. “Victory!”

  “Victory!” the men yelled, clearly well into their cups. While she had her adventure, they’d partied.

  “Our lady found the still,” Arthur said, with a laugh as he sniffed the liquor fumes on her. The man had a crook to his nose from having been punched a few too many times. When he drank, he liked to brawl.

  “How is the mangy cat?” Cynan asked.

  “Owain remembers you fondly,” Mede answered, grinning. A round of shouts and laughter cut off the conversation. After it finally died down, she held out her hand. “My prize.”

  A few of the men looked down at her outstretched hand, then a couple more. Their laughter died as they took in her achievement.

  “That doesn’t look like…” Saben gave her a questioning look.

  Dylan reached to pinch a bit of the fur. “It’s blond.”

  “Mede?” Rolant inquired, clearly wishing she’d explain. “Didn’t you find the still?”

  “Yes, but I wanted a harder target,” she said. “Besides, the still farmer was already missing a lot of tufts. I felt sorry for him.”

  Rolant lifted the blade, showing the blood to the others. “Who did you fight?”

  Mede thought of the stranger. There was no reason to tell them what had happened. They didn’t need to know the cat-shifter had kissed her. That would be her secret.

  “We didn’t exchange names.” She gave a little shrug of dismissal.

  “Test it, so none my challenge her claim,” Rolant said. There was a lot of fumbling as they searched for a particular satchel that held the genetic testing fluid. As the others were distracted, Rolant pulled her aside. “I sent you to the still farmer. What were you thinking? The only blond Var I have seen belong to the elite palace guard. That or the prince. How did you get it? Why is there blood on—?”

  “It’s good!” Dylan yelled, lifting a small vial to pour testing liquid onto the ground. When the cat-shifter fur combined with the chemicals it turned the test liquid a pale blue color. “It’s Var.”

  “Not now, Rolant,” Mede said. “I need a drink.”

  A bottle was instantly shoved in her direction. She drank deeply of the liquor. It stung her throat and warmed her belly.

  “Tell us of the run,” Cynan said.

  “What’s this?” a male voice boomed over the encampment.

  Mede was relieved for it saved her from having to tell that particular fireside story.

  “Do you have permission to be on my land?” the stranger continued.

  Mede lowered the bottle and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She didn’t recognize the voice. Several of the men blocked her view. Since they were camped on palace land with Prince Rolant she wasn’t too concerned by the claim.

  “Brother!” Rolant acknowledged. “You’ve returned. I thought you were hunting yorkins.”

  “Gildas was injured. Nothing serious, but we decided to bring him home so he could have the proper medical attention,” Prince Llyr answered.

  Mede changed her mind. She didn’t like the interruption. This was her victory morning. She didn’t want to meet a new male Draig, and certainly not the heir prince. The prince was not married and had already told Rolant he wanted to meet her.

  “Hand me a drink,” Llyr said. “Whose victory are we celebrating?”

  Like grasses being blown aside by a stout wind, the men parted to let Llyr see her. She stiffened and automatically lifted her jaw. “Mine.”

  “You?” Llyr repeated in disbelief. He looked at Rolant for confirmation. “And she passed?”

  “And we saw her fly,” Saben inserted.

  “That was you who flew,” Arthur said.

  “Oh, right.” Saben nodded. He lifted his cup and announced. “And I flew!”

  “How is Owain?” Llyr asked.

  “In need of a bath,” Mede said.

  “She brought back blond fur,” Rolant stated.

  “Blond…?” Llyr handed the bottle he held to his brother and stepped forward to look at her.

  Mede was glad she smelled like a liquor still and sweat. And she probably looked like a wild beast after her run. She forced herself not to look at his chest to see his crystal. Looking at his face was worse.

  In many ways he reminded her of Rolant, only his eyes were a brighter green—so bright they penetrated her, taking her in as if he could see all her secrets. Mede didn’t like to feel exposed. His light brown hair hung to his chin whereas Rolant’s was much longer. She thought of the kiss the Var had stolen from her. She had not been expecting it and really had felt nothing but surprise when it happened, but the memory caused her eyes to dart down to Llyr’s mouth.

  “Finally we meet, Lady Medellyn,” he said.

  Mede forced her eyes away from his firm lips. She swallowed nervously. “I am called Mede. And I am not a lady. Today I am a Dead Dragon.”

  At the words the inebriated men cheered. “Dead Dragons!”

  Llyr chuckled. More to himself than to her, he said, “I can see the liquor has not gone to waste here.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, prince, I want my scar.” She made a move to leave his presence, still refusing to look down. The idea that a prince would be her mate terrified her. She’d never wanted this meeting.

  “Wait,” Llyr said, being so bold as to grab her arm. “I should like to congratulate you on a good run.”

  Mede arched a brow. The more she found herself mesmerized by his eyes, the more stubborn her demeanor became. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Well?”

  “Congratulations on a good run,” he answered softly.

  “Thank you, prince,” she answered dutifully before moving to skirt past him. The men had started to sing a bawdy song as they linked arms and began a noisy, drunken chain through the campsite. The prancing took them away from where she stood. She wished they’d circle back.

  Llyr grabbed her arm again. “Did you really take the fur from a member of the royal court?”

  At the time she hadn’t been nervous, but now, the way both Llyr and Rolant mentioned the fur color, made her suddenly a little sick to her stomach. Nerves bunched in her chest and she no
dded once. “I suppose I did though at the time I didn’t ask for his name.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “A cat,” she answered, being difficult on purpose. His fingers lingered on her arm, the touch somehow intimate. Finally she got the nerve to look down. At first, she thought she might have seen a soft glow in the stone. Only on the festival night would it light to full power. She stiffened, until she realized that it must have been firelight reflection. He was not her mate. A sigh of relief whispered past her lips…followed by a sense of disappointment. The disappointment confused her and made her want to run away like a coward.

  “Have you mated?” Llyr asked, eyeing her neck.

  Always to that.

  She lowered her eyes over her lashes. “I have no interest in marriage. I would like my scar though.” She tried to pull her arm.

  He tightened his grip. “So it is true. You broke your own crystal. Why?”

  Mede grimaced, remembering that day long ago. Her mother had wept openly for months over it. “So did you.” She reached for his chest, pinching the crystal from where it laid against him and gave it a little toss. It bounced against him. An almost microscopic thin crack marred the inside of the stone.

  “An accident when I was a boy trick riding ceffyls,” Llyr said.

  “My father is a ceffyl breeder. You should not be trick riding them,” she lectured. “They are in delicate supply and not for games.”

  “I was a boy,” he stated, enunciating the words. His attitude infuriated her.

  “No excuse,” she answered just as arrogantly.

  “I broke my arm, if that helps.”

  “It’s a start.” She again tried to pull her arm free from his grasp.