Eryshae

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Vael
The Cavern of Lost Ships

The cavern air clung to her skin like cool breath, tasting faintly of salt and something older; metal and algae and the ghosts of storms. The glow from the algae-streaked walls painted Sam in shades of green and gold, his features caught in shifting shadows that made him look carved from something far older than the world they'd left behind. They stood close. Too close. Not by accident.

Sam's voice was low, speaking of the ships as if they were relics worth worship, but she barely heard the words; only the rhythm of them, the subtle rasp in his tone, the way his breath warmed the narrow space between them. She could feel the heat of him even through the loose Roman tunic she wore, the thin linen doing nothing to hide the press of her body when she shifted closer. Her arm brushed his. The touch should have been nothing; an accident, a passing thing; but it was like striking a flint.

He noticed. She saw it in the brief stillness of his jaw, in the way his eyes caught hers and didn't let go. Vael's pulse stumbled. She could hear her own breathing; too quick now; as if her lungs had forgotten their pace. Sam's hand came up, slow and unhurried, his fingertips grazing the line of her jaw. His thumb stroked once over the hollow beneath her cheekbone, a feather-light pass that made her toes curl inside her boots. The scent of him; salt, damp linen, and something faintly green, like crushed leaves, slipped into her head and stayed there.

She leaned in before she thought better of it. Their lips met, tentative at first, testing the shape of the moment. His mouth was warm and steady, coaxing rather than demanding, but the heat in it ran deeper than patience. Her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric as if to anchor herself. His arm slid around her waist, drawing her in, his palm splayed against the small of her back.

The kiss deepened. His lips moved against hers with a slow, unhurried certainty, and the world beyond the two of them began to dissolve; until the faint plunk of water somewhere behind him broke the spell.

They didn't part immediately. He lingered, brushing his mouth against hers once more, softer this time, before they both turned toward the sound. The water between the ships lay still in the gloom. Sam's arm didn't leave her waist.

He stopped just short, letting the moment hang between them, a tangible hum of desire. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached for her, his fingers brushing along her sides before resting on her waist. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into him. Her back pressed against the firmness of his chest, his arms wrapping securely around her, grounding her while sending a shiver of anticipation through her.

"Is this… okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His voice was low, intimate, carrying both question and certainty. Vael's fingers pressed into his shoulders. "Yes," she whispered, breath catching in her throat. "It's more than okay." Sam's hands moved with deliberate care, lifting the hem of her tunic, easing it up her body over her arms. She shivered, the fabric slipping over her skin, exposing the soft curve of her waist. Every touch was gentle, consensual, coaxing her toward the closeness she already craved.

Her hands slid along his forearms, tracing the warmth of muscle beneath the damp cloth. His lips found hers again, slow and consuming, and she leaned into him, melting against the steady strength of his hold. With a careful, mutual rhythm, he loosened the ties of her makeshift top, leaving her covered only by the barest linen beneath. Every motion was an unspoken conversation, a shared agreement of trust and desire. Vael's fingers threaded into the damp strands of his hair, tugging slightly as she pressed closer, her body aligning perfectly with his.

The dripping of distant water, the smell of salt and age, and the soft gleam of algae-lit walls became a private world for just the two of them. Every heartbeat, every gasp, every brush of skin against skin was amplified in the cavern's hush. Even as the ancient ships and silent waters surrounded them, they existed only for each other; tethered, intimate, and alive.

Sam pressed deep into Vael, feeling a rush of warmth and an almost dizzying flood of sensation that seemed to ripple through every nerve. Every heartbeat, every breath, every subtle touch between them sent waves of exhilaration and intimacy, leaving her flushed and breathless in the quiet glow of the cavern.

The water between the ships gave a soft plunk as something dropped into it. The sound seemed distant, almost dismissible; just the cavern settling, maybe; but the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

They moved slowly. Sam's hand found hers without looking, his thumb brushing against her knuckles as though to reassure her. The warmth of his touch pushed against the cool damp in the air, and she found herself squeezing back. The quiet between them shifted, thickening; not awkward, but charged. Her breath hitched. She didn't pull away.

Sam noticed. His gaze dipped for just a heartbeat before returning to hers. His hand shifted, sliding along her forearm, roughened fingers trailing over her skin with a feather-light touch that felt more deliberate than casual. Her pulse kicked up, pounding in her ears.

Something moved in the water again; closer this time. A subtle disturbance, almost like the lazy flick of a tail.

She glanced toward the pool between the ships, but the bioluminescent glow barely reached its surface. Sam didn't take his eyes off her.

For a suspended moment, the cavern might have been holding its breath with them. His hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it without thought, the warmth of his palm grounding her even as the faint splash came again; this time sharper, more deliberate.

The water exploded. Figures erupted from the pools; sleek, fast, and wrong. The first mermaid surged upward in a spray of droplets, her beauty almost too sharp to be real: flowing hair, luminous eyes, the shimmer of pale scales along a long, muscular tail. The illusion cracked the moment Vael saw her mouth open; rows of small, predatory teeth glinting in the light.

More followed. Men with the scaled legs of deep-sea predators and the upper bodies of hardened warriors, their heads grotesque and fish-like; bulging eyes, gill slits opening and closing at their necks, teeth bared.

Tridents flashed. Sam reacted instantly, pulling her tight against him as one of the scaled men lunged. His free hand snapped out, and green vines erupted from him, whipping toward their attackers. The first trident strike skidded off a thick coil of vine, splintering wood and sending the weapon clattering to the stone.

Vael clung to him, her senses caught in a wild tangle of adrenaline and heat. Even in the chaos, her awareness of him; his strength, the way he shielded her body with his own, the steady grip of his arm at her back; burned bright.

One mermaid dove low, tail flicking up a spray of cold water that plastered Vael's hair to her cheek. Another vine lashed out, curling around the attacker's arm and yanking her away before the trident could drive home.

Sam didn't slow. He half-lifted her, moving them between the ships, his vines striking like living whips in all directions. She could hear the heavy thump of his heartbeat against her chest, feel the power in every stride, even as they dodged the stabbing gleam of steel and the snap of teeth too close to her face.

It was terrifying. And yet, absurdly, her thoughts kept circling back to him; the heat of his body against hers, the fierce way he held her, the raw, unshakable certainty that he would get her out of this.

Another merfolk warrior lunged from the side, blade raised, and Sam's vines slammed into his chest with bone-jarring force, sending him sprawling into the dark water with a splash.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Vael tightened her arms around his neck, breathless from the speed of their flight. The glow of the algae streaked past in fractured flashes, their reflections bending over wet stone as Sam carried her toward the far side of the cavern. Behind them, the water churned with movement, the sound of tails slapping against the surface, the hiss of angry voices in some language she didn't recognize. Sam didn't look back.

The cavern pulsed with motion. Every shadow seemed alive, every drop of water magnifying the sound of their heartbeats. Sam moved with uncanny coordination, weaving Vael around the wrecked ships, each vine-strike precise, devastating; but never losing a beat in the rhythm between them.

Vael's fingers tangled in his damp hair as he carried her, the fabric of her makeshift top brushing against her ribs, exposing skin in fleeting arcs. Her chest pressed against his, the warmth of him searing through the fabric, every thrum of his heartbeat echoing in her own. Even in flight, her body reacted to the brush of his muscles, the firmness of his arms around her, the way he adjusted his hold mid-stride to keep her safe. She gasped as a trident whistled past, splitting the water beside them. Her chest pressed tighter into his, and the sensation sent shivers down her spine, pooling in her core. Her breath hitched, half in fear, half in the intoxicating closeness of him.

Sam pivoted sharply, swinging her behind him as another mermaid lunged. His vines snapped out, lashing the attacker across the chest. The force of it flung the mermaid back with a wet crack, and Vael felt the vibration of impact through Sam's arms, through the muscles under her palms, through the entirety of her being. A surge of heat rolled through her, leaving her breathless.

"Hold on," he murmured, voice low in her ear. The timbre of it, roughened with effort, sent another spike of warmth down her spine. She clutched him tighter. Her hands roamed over the broad planes of his back as he adjusted her weight, the sensation of him under her fingertips making her core tighten and pulse. Her mind swam with the absurdity of it: being carried through an ambush, the threat of teeth and steel mere feet away, and yet, every brush of his skin, every thrum of muscle beneath her touch, ignited her senses.

Another merfolk man rose from the water, grotesque head glinting in the dim light, scales rippling as he thrust a jagged harpoon. Sam's vines intercepted it midair, wrapping the weapon in green coils and yanking it downward, shattering the tip against the cavern floor. Vael gasped, the force sending a jolt of sensation through her grip on his shoulders. The thrill of danger; fear, arousal, exhilaration; coiled together in a knot she couldn't untangle.

Sam adjusted, spinning them both to avoid a snapping trident. The motion pressed her back against him, the heat of his chest flattening hers, every sinew beneath his tunic taut and controlled. She shivered. Her lips brushed the side of his neck, almost instinctively, a reflex to the intensity of it all. Sam stiffened briefly, then exhaled and tightened his hold on her, sending another pulse of warmth through her, raw and alive.

A sudden splash to their left made them pivot. Sam's vines whipped outward, thrashing against another pair of attackers with a wet, crackling snap. Vael's hands found the small of his back, trailing downward as he spun them, keeping her centered against him. She moaned low in her throat, the pleasure a steady undercurrent to her fear, a pulse in tandem with his strength and proximity.

"Keep moving," he murmured, planting his feet on slick planks as he launched another vine to deflect a lunging mermaid. Vael's breath came in shallow, hot bursts, the heat of him pressed against her, the strength in his arms, the sinew in his legs, overwhelming in a way that blurred the line between fear and desire.

Every near-miss, every whip of water against her skin, every snap of a trident just inches from her face, heightened the electric pull of him. Her fingers traced his shoulders and back, memorizing the tension in his muscles as he twisted and dodged, every move protective, every reaction fluid.

A mermaid lunged at them from above a submerged hull. Sam twirled them both, flipping Vael so she clung to his front, her body pressed to his. She gasped as he adjusted his grip, the warmth of him immovable, comforting, intoxicating. The sensation pooled between her thighs, the thrill of touch and danger mixing in a dizzying, overwhelming haze.

Another vine shot from his hand, striking a merfolk male in the chest and yanking him backward. Vael's laughter escaped in a short, breathless burst; part fear, part the absurdity of being in the middle of combat like this, part the sensation of being held so completely by him.

"Think they won't let us finish," she whispered, half-serious, half-teasing, as she pressed closer against him.

"Not if I can help it," Sam murmured, his amber eyes dark with effort and something else she couldn't name. His vines whipped out again, intercepting a trident thrust aimed at her, then another, then another. Each time, the impact pressed her tighter against him, and every pulse of his body, every flex of muscle under her hands, sent another ripple through her core.

They moved like a single organism, a tangle of limbs and green tendrils, weaving between ships, dodging, striking, spinning. The mermaids and merfolk were relentless, and yet the closeness; the impossible intimacy of being carried, held, and defended in the midst of attack; kept her senses taut, every nerve alight.

Vael's fingers grazed his neck, then his jaw, then his shoulders, each touch a subtle claim, each brush of skin a spark against the roar of danger. Sam's grip tightened instinctively, and she felt herself pressed against him with a delicious, terrifying weight that made her pulse pound. She let herself moan softly, half in reaction to him, half to the absurd, frenzied dance they were performing together.

One final merfolk man lunged from the shadows, spear arcing. Sam twisted, bringing Vael fully in front of him, and the vine shot out, curling around the weapon's shaft and yanking it downward. The attacker crashed into the water with a heavy splash, and Vael's laughter rang out; a breathless, thrill-soaked sound.

Sam grinned, even as his focus remained razor-sharp, and Vael pressed her forehead to his shoulder, the heat of him calming the last spike of fear, the thrill of combat mingling with the impossibility of the moment. She felt every pulse of him, every flex, every subtle movement, and her body hummed with a deep, heady pleasure, a pulse that carried her through fear and danger alike.

Even in battle, even in the chaos of merfolk blades and snapping tails, she realized she had never felt so alive, so safe, so utterly intertwined with another person. The absurdity of it; being attacked while intimate, the clash of danger and desire; only made it sharper, more acute. And Sam held her, carried her, fought for her, while every touch, every pulse, every movement screamed that she was his, even in the midst of the impossible fight.

The last mermaid sank beneath the waves, her tail flicking in a final, defiant splash. The cavern fell into a tense, echoing silence, broken only by the drip of water from stalactites and the soft groan of the Roman ship under their weight. Sam's vines retracted slowly, coiling back toward him, and his arms tightened around Vael, pulling her close as they leaned against each other, chests rising and falling in unison.

Vael pressed her face to his shoulder, feeling the rush of adrenaline, the lingering heat of danger, and the overwhelming closeness that had built between them. Her heartbeat still thundered in her ears, but beneath it, a deeper current pulsed; a wave of relief, desire, and triumph that seemed to radiate from the core of her being.

Sam brushed a damp strand of hair from her face, amber eyes shining in the dim light. "We made it," he murmured. His hands traced the curve of her back, lingering, grounding, keeping her steady in the aftermath of chaos.

Vael lifted her head, meeting his gaze. She felt every sense sharpened; the cavern, the wrecks, the dripping water, the residual tension of combat; but also the intimate connection that had grown between them. "We did," she whispered, voice trembling, a mix of relief and wonder. "Together."

Sam leaned in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to her lips, their breath mingling, soft, urgent, and unyielding. The warmth of their shared proximity, the lingering thrill of the fight, and the quiet intimacy of having survived together erupted into a single, overwhelming crescendo of sensation. Every nerve in Vael's body thrummed with life, every pulse of contact sending shivers down her spine.

Their bodies pressed together, taut with adrenaline and desire, and the cavern seemed to pulse along with them. The Roman ship groaned beneath their weight, but they barely noticed, lost in the heat of the moment, the relief, the closeness, and the unspoken promise of what had just been survived.

Then Sam tightened his hold, a final flourish of strength and care, lifting her slightly as he spun, his vines sweeping outward defensively for any unseen threats. Vael's breath hitched, a shiver of thrill and intimacy passing through her as he held her aloft, suspended in the aftermath of chaos, both warrior and protector, lover and anchor.

For a heartbeat, time hung still; every danger momentarily suspended, every sense alive, every touch magnified. Then, slowly, they descended back onto the deck, pressed close, trembling, flushed, the weight of survival and intimacy crashing together in one climactic release of shared relief and connection.

Vael exhaled, resting against Sam, feeling utterly, completely, and profoundly alive. "I…" she began, but words failed her. Sam pressed his forehead to hers, voice low, steady, yet full of wonder. "I know. Me too." The cavern around them remained vast and shadowed, full of mystery and danger, but for this one, brilliant, fleeting moment, they had each other; and the overwhelming rush of life, passion, and victory pulsating through every fiber of their being.

And somewhere in the dark water, far below, the faint ripple of movement hinted that the cavern's secrets were far from finished. But for now, Sam and Vael existed at the apex of survival, trust, and desire.