The chamber was vast and submerged, light filtering through massive arched windows that opened onto the deep blue of Tireth's ocean. Coral grew in impossible patterns along the walls, pulsing faintly with bioluminescence. The bed Ariel lay upon was enormous, draped in silk that felt like water against skin, and the air smelled of salt and something else — something musky, masculine, unmistakably alive.

She shifted again, her body aching from the fall, from the rough hands that had grabbed her. Bruises were already blooming along her arms and thighs where she'd hit the cobblestones.

He sat in a chair across the room, bare-chested, watching her with dark eyes that hadn't left her face in hours. His jaw was sharp, his shoulders broad, his skin pale as pearl. Long dark hair fell past his shoulders, wet from the ocean. He wore only loose trousers that hung low on his hips.

When her eyelids fluttered, something stirred in his chest. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

Easy.

His voice was low, calm, like deep water. He didn't move closer. Didn't want to frighten her. He'd waited years for this moment and he could wait a little longer.

You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you.

A pause. His gaze traced the bruises on her skin and his expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes went very, very cold.

Who did this to you?

The question hung in the salt air like a blade.