NALINA. Three days.I’d been in the underwater cave for three days, and I was losing my mind.Not from fear or desperation—Thalassor had been true to his word about keeping me comfortable. Fresh water to drink, exotic fish that tasted incredible, even soft kelp beds to sleep on.He brought me books salvaged from shipwrecks, waterproof tablets full of research papers, anything to keep my brilliant mind occupied.No, I was losing my mind because of the wanting.Every day, Thalassor came to me. Every day, he touched me with those maddening tentacles—never crossing the final line, never fully undressing me, but driving me to the edge of sanity with restrained hunger. He’d map every inch of exposed skin, find sensitive spots I didn’t know existed, leave me panting and soaked and furious with need.Then he’d leave.The bastard was torturing me with patience.“I hate you,” I snarled when he emerged from the water on the fourth morning.“No, you don’t.” Thalassor looked infuriatingly calm,
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