She follows his touch like a magnet, demanding nearness even when he might have put distance between the. It does nothing to dim the banked fire of his hunger, and nor does the way he reaches out to her as she wades past him, running the sharp points of his canine teeth harmlessly along her piebald back. The kelpie does not follow her right away, and instead watches her path out into the darker water with no attempt to hide the hunger in his gaze.

Her admission that she has been his all along brings a smile to his face, though small laugh that follows is equal parts satisfaction and amusement.

“So you say,” Ivar replies as he joins her in the deeper water. Kylin has always been in touch with her emotions in a way that baffles the grey and white kelpie. He does not care much for emotions, or for any sort of possession that is not physical. Intangible declarations, useless sayings like ‘you have my heart’; they’ve always seemed meaningless. What use might a kelpie have for a heart after all, save perhaps as a filling meal?

“Don’t forget me again,” says the kelpie, pressing his chest against her left shoulder as he wraps his neck over her. The lapping of the waves disguises her heartbeat, but
ivar traces the line of her throat with his pale lips and feels it beating there. The slope of her neck is sleep and unscarred, a marked contrast to Isobell, who he has marked so thoroughly that she will never forget him.

Ivar is rather sure she’ll protest, claim that she had never forgotten him. And while she might feel that to be true, the same is not so for the tobiano stallion. If she hadn’t forgotten, there wold be no child in her belly, no slim chance that another might reasonably claim possession of her. No, she is his now. Perhaps she had not been before, but the kelpie wants to make sure she knows it.

It would be easier, if he had not made that promise those years ago. It would be simpler to simply force the knowledge into her subconscious mind. Ivar is accustomed to that method, the hypnosis had yet to fail him. It had brought him the princess of Nerine, after all, and had drawn in the queens of Sylva and Loess. Why would it not work on a titleless mare in Ischia?

Because he had promised, he remembers.

No magic for this then, at least not the supernatural sort.

Ivar has always been very gentle with Kylin. He teases her now and again, but he has never given her a reason to fear him. That is not his intention now, even as he bends his head and genelt closes the sharp points of his teeth below her jaw. Ripping her throat out would be easy, he knows from experience - it would not be the first time he has done this. It would be nearly painless, and she could slip into the sea and pour crimson into the black sea around them.

“Mine,” he says again, the words hot against her throat as he replaces his teeth with a press of his lips. Ivar had meant only to quicken Kylin’s heartbeat, to plant the seeds of desire that will wipe the memory of Klaudius from her memory. Instead, he feels it rising in his own chest, the wordless echoing of the proclamation:

(mine)


making those promises that i could not keep
in my dark times, baby this is all i could be

‘You’re doubting my words?’ she asks, and Ivar answers only with a noncommittal hum and a playful tug at the salt-encrusted strands of her mane. He knows that she means those words, knows that to her they are true. He might feel the same, but feelings are less important physical proof. Still, he does hold her now, and disturbing that satisfaction with semantics would be a waste of time.

Ivar would rather live in the moment.

The caveat that she makes is unexpected, but it startles a laugh from the piebald stallion. “No,” he disagrees, resting his muzzle for a moment on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure you won’t forget.” Even if he leaves again.

He doesn’t plan to, of course, and can’t fathom a reason why he might. There is far better hunting here than in the open ocean after all, and Ivar had grown tired of the monotony. He knew the hiding places of the fish too well, and while he had never wearied of Isobell, he finds now that the way Kylin’s breath catches in her throat provides an entirely new sort of thrill.

She would break so easily, he knows. She is so fragile, so soft. She is the kind that would smile as she slipped beneath the water, smile as the light faded from her lovely hazel eyes. If only he hadn’t made that promise. Without hypnosis, they all resists, and Ivar does not enjoy the struggle. There is no fun in it; it does not sate the hunger.

Kylin leans against him, warm even in the tepid water, and the tobiano stallion resumes his mindless affection. His pale lips trace the lines of her shoulder and chest, and continue even after she has asked a question of him.

“Is it so hard to imagine I came back for you?” asks the kelpie. The rising tide sends wave across his dark back and he shivers, glancing back up at the beach. It remains empty, filled only with shadows from the waving palms. He had phrased his answer carefully, interspersing the words with the gentle caresses that he trails down her spine. The water is growing higher, and the need to

(take her)

wars with the need to keep her protected. They have played in the water countless times before, but Ivar remembers the delightful way that she had frozen at the threat of his teeth. The kelpie would very much like to feel that again, perhaps even find out how still she could be while distracted in other ways.

“We need to get out of the water,” Ivar tells her mildly, even as the kelpie runs his muzzle around the curve of her croup and nips teasingly at the curve of her thigh. He pulls away to move around her, and in the darkness misses a step on the sandy floor beneath them. Ivar catches himself against Kylin, his scaled chest pressing firmly against her hindquarters.

(now. now. she wants it. the water is deep. mine. leave no trace. take her)

Ivar drowns a groan in the water and bumps her forward, as though he has been teasing and only means to drive her back to the beach.

“Go on,” he says with a laugh and a nip to her haunches that he must fight to not use to pull her back to him. “Before I do something I regret.” His tone is as light and playful as his expression, but there is no denying the hunger in his eyes. It is more than lust - though that is there too - but he has kept Kylin alive this long, and is not ready to ruin that for a few moments of pleasure.

The kelpie knows she would look lovely, lying still on the ocean floor with an eternally satisfied smile, but Ivar would prefer her alive and on the shoreline.


making those promises that i could not keep
in my dark times, baby this is all i could be