all.
His tail was larger than her own, covered in silvery black scales. The rest of his body was deeply tanned. He held out his hand, waiting until she placed her slender milky-white fingers within his own.
“You haven’t accepted my apology yet, my lady. Was it not acceptable?”
“Oh no, I just… I accept your apology, of course,” she stuttered. She didn’t know how to deal with Damon. He had such an old-world air about him. It made her realize how very young she must seem to him some days. She’d grown up reading the tales of the Greek gods thousands of years after they’d first been written. He’d lived through it.
He smiled at the small body that had crept back up to his side. Phocas peered up at him, moving closer to rub against the man’s scales.
“Are you forgetting about me?” A voice sounded at her back.
Aella tried to turn, suddenly hampered by a set of powerful arms that wrapped around her waist. She caught a glimpse of a strong profile, before Pythias lowered his head. Dark, chestnut brown hair wafted over her shoulder, mixing with her coppery red strands.
He rubbed his cheek along her shoulder, tightening his hold around her waist. His arm brushed against her own where she had it wrapped around her breast, the small hairs grazing her skin. She shivered. He smoothed his palm down her side, brushing against the scrape on her hip. She winced when he probed the area with gentle fingers.
“You should be more careful with such delicate skin. It seems a shame to mar it,” he rumbled.
Pythias released her slowly, caressing her body. Her mouth opened, she tried to speak but her mind was blank. Why were they suddenly acting like they liked her? She’d known them both for years, but they’d never once interacted with her. Or, it might be better to say that she knew about them. Growing up, she always seemed to see them at a distance, never gotten to know them personally. They were like shadows, in a way.
When she was little she used to make up stories, until her father found out about that and told her in no uncertain terms that she should mind her own business and focus on her own self. It hadn’t really been her fault. She’d been born in the modern age, but she was surrounded by people who lived in ancient times. How could she not be curious?
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. If you leave now, I won’t mention it to my father.”
She was trying to regain the upper hand. She had no idea how the tables had been turned so neatly on her. This was her home -- or as near to it as she could get in the ocean -- and she wouldn’t let them intimidate her.
“And why should we be afraid of your father, daughter of Poseidon?” Pythias’ deep voice vibrated the waters around them.
Aella shivered again, trying to move away imperceptibly. Too bad Phocas -- the traitor -- chose that moment to brush up against Damon again, wriggling in pleasure when Damon stroked him with one strong hand. She tried to squash the thought that she wouldn’t be as mad if only he would stroke her like that.
“My father could eat the two of you for breakfast if I asked him. You should be afraid.”
The two men shared a glance, Damon with a smile and Pythias with a fierce frown.
“Careful, little one, you don’t know who you are playing with,” Damon replied with a grin.
Aella sniffed, entirely unimpressed despite her attraction for them. They may be incredibly appealing, but she wasn’t going to be threatened. She was the daughter of Poseidon, and her father would do anything to make sure she was happy.
Phocas swam up to her, placing his nose close to her own. With a snort, he jerked his head up. She nodded.
“I need to go to the surface with Phocas. He’s afraid of the humans around here and doesn’t like to be alone.” She silently cursed, she didn’t owe them any explanations.
Pythias nodded, moving back to allow her more room. She caught a glimpse of his scales. They were a deep
His tail was larger than her own, covered in silvery black scales. The rest of his body was deeply tanned. He held out his hand, waiting until she placed her slender milky-white fingers within his own.
“You haven’t accepted my apology yet, my lady. Was it not acceptable?”
“Oh no, I just… I accept your apology, of course,” she stuttered. She didn’t know how to deal with Damon. He had such an old-world air about him. It made her realize how very young she must seem to him some days. She’d grown up reading the tales of the Greek gods thousands of years after they’d first been written. He’d lived through it.
He smiled at the small body that had crept back up to his side. Phocas peered up at him, moving closer to rub against the man’s scales.
“Are you forgetting about me?” A voice sounded at her back.
Aella tried to turn, suddenly hampered by a set of powerful arms that wrapped around her waist. She caught a glimpse of a strong profile, before Pythias lowered his head. Dark, chestnut brown hair wafted over her shoulder, mixing with her coppery red strands.
He rubbed his cheek along her shoulder, tightening his hold around her waist. His arm brushed against her own where she had it wrapped around her breast, the small hairs grazing her skin. She shivered. He smoothed his palm down her side, brushing against the scrape on her hip. She winced when he probed the area with gentle fingers.
“You should be more careful with such delicate skin. It seems a shame to mar it,” he rumbled.
Pythias released her slowly, caressing her body. Her mouth opened, she tried to speak but her mind was blank. Why were they suddenly acting like they liked her? She’d known them both for years, but they’d never once interacted with her. Or, it might be better to say that she knew about them. Growing up, she always seemed to see them at a distance, never gotten to know them personally. They were like shadows, in a way.
When she was little she used to make up stories, until her father found out about that and told her in no uncertain terms that she should mind her own business and focus on her own self. It hadn’t really been her fault. She’d been born in the modern age, but she was surrounded by people who lived in ancient times. How could she not be curious?
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. If you leave now, I won’t mention it to my father.”
She was trying to regain the upper hand. She had no idea how the tables had been turned so neatly on her. This was her home -- or as near to it as she could get in the ocean -- and she wouldn’t let them intimidate her.
“And why should we be afraid of your father, daughter of Poseidon?” Pythias’ deep voice vibrated the waters around them.
Aella shivered again, trying to move away imperceptibly. Too bad Phocas -- the traitor -- chose that moment to brush up against Damon again, wriggling in pleasure when Damon stroked him with one strong hand. She tried to squash the thought that she wouldn’t be as mad if only he would stroke her like that.
“My father could eat the two of you for breakfast if I asked him. You should be afraid.”
The two men shared a glance, Damon with a smile and Pythias with a fierce frown.
“Careful, little one, you don’t know who you are playing with,” Damon replied with a grin.
Aella sniffed, entirely unimpressed despite her attraction for them. They may be incredibly appealing, but she wasn’t going to be threatened. She was the daughter of Poseidon, and her father would do anything to make sure she was happy.
Phocas swam up to her, placing his nose close to her own. With a snort, he jerked his head up. She nodded.
“I need to go to the surface with Phocas. He’s afraid of the humans around here and doesn’t like to be alone.” She silently cursed, she didn’t owe them any explanations.
Pythias nodded, moving back to allow her more room. She caught a glimpse of his scales. They were a deep
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