The mermaid in his arms trembled.
Not from cold, though the air outside her tank was foreign and sharp against her starved skin. Not from fear, though that certainly flickered in those deep blue eyes when they met his golden gaze.
She trembled because his words had reached her—"I wanted to try how a mermaid's pussy feels like"—and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, her body remembered it had been designed for more than suffering.
Her lips parted. Water still dripped from them, trailing down her chin, between her small breasts, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. She breathed through the gills beneath her jaw—thin slits that flared and closed rhythmically—but her voice came from her throat.
"For... breeding?"
The word barely registered as sound. Hoarse. Broken. Like vocal cords that had forgotten how to shape language.
