Swept Away: A Krinar Story

H
er heart pounding
, Delia watched the naked god emerge from the sea. Water droplets glistened on his bronzed skin, and his powerful muscles flexed as he strode out of the surf, impervious to the violent waves crashing onto the shore. It was as if the storm meant nothing to him—as if the sea itself was his domain.

Was he Poseidon? Delia had never believed the gods were flesh and blood, like in the stories, but she knew the stranger couldn’t be a mortal man. The storm was raging, the wind howling outside her rocky shelter, yet the strongest waves couldn’t seem to budge him from his path. Ignoring the battering of the deadly surf, he walked out onto the dry strip of beach below her cliff and stopped, raising his hand to push back the black hair plastered wetly to his forehead.

As he did so, he tilted his head back, and Delia saw his face. Her breath caught in her throat, and whatever doubts she had about his origins disappeared.

The stranger was inhumanly beautiful. Even with the clouds darkening the morning sky, she could see the flawless symmetry of his features. His jaw was strong, his lips sensuously curved, and his cheekbones high and noble. It was as if an artist’s steady hand had molded his face, leaving no room for nature to add its imperfections.

With piercing dark eyes, straight black eyebrows, and a warrior’s broad-shouldered build, the stranger made the most handsome men in Delia’s village look like lepers.

A crack of thunder startled her, making her jump in her small, cramped cave. The man outside, however, remained calm, turning to look at the angry sea with what seemed to be interest rather than worry. Delia followed his gaze and saw something silvery shimmering far out in the water.

A ship? Several ships, perhaps? The object was certainly big enough—maybe even too big, given how visible it was from far away. Is that where the god-like man came from? That mysterious silvery something?

Thunder boomed again, and with a flash of lightning, the skies opened, sheets of rain coming down with savage force. Delia shrank deeper into her narrow cave, but it was too small to shelter her completely, and cold drops pelted her skin. Below her, the sea churned harder, the waves growing taller with each moment, and she fought the urge to scream at the stranger, to warn him to get to higher ground. She could see the swells rising in the distance; the waves would be taller than two men when they reached the shore, and the narrow strip of land where the man was standing would be completely swallowed up by the sea.

In fact, she realized with growing dread, her tiny cave at the top of the cliff might not be safe either. When she’d taken shelter here an hour ago, she hadn’t counted on the storm becoming so violent. If the waves approaching the shore turned out to be as tall as she feared, they could reach the top of the cliff. She’d never witnessed the sea rising that high, but the old fishermen had told stories about surging waters, and she couldn’t take the risk that they were true.

Coming to a decision, Delia scrambled out of the cave onto the rocky ledge below. Instantly, the rain soaked her dress, and a gust of wind nearly pushed her off the ledge.

Gasping, she managed to turn around. Bracing herself against the wind, she began to climb, determined to get away from the fury of the sea. She knew the stranger was somewhere below her, but she didn’t dare look down. The rain was blinding. Even with lightning flashing every few seconds, she couldn’t see farther than an arm’s length in front of her, and her bare feet kept slipping on the wet rocks, her soaked dress tangling around her legs as she climbed with growing desperation.

Just a little more, she told herself. Another reach, another push, and she’d be at the top, on flat ground. With lightning striking everywhere, it was far from safe—Delia had hidden in the cave for a reason—but it was a smaller risk than drowning at this point. Squinting against the rain, she reached for the top outcropping, but instead of cold rock, her fingers encountered something warm—something that curled around her palm with unbelievable strength.

A man’s hand.

Gasping, Delia opened her eyes wider, and through the blur of stinging rain, saw the stranger from the beach looking down at her.

The god had somehow made it up the cliff and was holding her hand.

T
he human girl
seemed so shocked to see Arus above her that she froze, stopping her climb for a moment. Below her, a giant wave crashed into the cliff, spraying them both with salt water. There was an even bigger wave behind it, so Arus bent lower and grabbed the girl’s other arm with his free hand.

“The water is going to reach here,” he explained in her language, pulling her up as he rose to his feet. The wave was still cresting, so he swung the girl up into his arms and leapt back a dozen feet, holding her securely against his chest. A moment later, the wave hit the top of the cliff and spilled over, the water swirling around his ankles before receding back into the sea. Had the girl still been hanging over the cliff, it would’ve washed her away, possibly causing her to drown. Arus wasn’t certain of that last outcome, but from what he’d seen of her kind, it was entirely likely.

For all their Krinar-like appearance, humans were weak and clumsy, unable to cope with the most basic challenges of their planet.

The girl began to struggle, and Arus realized he was still holding her against his chest. He loosened his grip enough to make sure she could breathe but didn’t set her down. Instead, he studied her, noting her large brown eyes and smooth olive-toned complexion. She was young; he guessed her age to be somewhere in the late teens or early twenties. With her thick dark hair and slender build, she could almost pass for a Krinar female—except her features were too irregular to have been designed in a lab. Her face was shaped like a heart, with a forehead that was a shade too wide and a mouth that was too delicate for true beauty. Still, she was pretty in a unique way.

Pretty enough that his cock stirred, oblivious to the cold water pouring from the sky.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, the girl redoubled her efforts to get free. “Please, let me go.” Her voice held a note of fear, and her small hands pushed at his chest, her palms sliding on his wet skin.

To his shock, Arus felt heat streaking down his spine at her touch, and his breathing picked up.

He was getting turned on by a wet, scared human girl.

Before he could decide what to do about that, he saw another wave cresting over the cliff. The worst of the storm surge had yet to come, which meant his first priority was getting the girl to safety.

“We have to get away from this beach,” he told her, turning away from the sea. She continued to struggle, but he ignored it, holding her tightly as he walked toward the hills in the distance. He knew there was a village to the west—likely the girl’s village—so he headed east, where he would be less likely to run into more humans.

He was supposed to observe the Earth’s residents, not interact with them.

Still, Arus wasn’t sorry he’d saved the girl. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that she would’ve drowned on her own. And that would’ve been a shame, because she was pleasant to hold.

So pleasant, in fact, that he couldn’t help imagining how it would feel if he held her underneath him, his cock buried in her slick, warm flesh.

“Where are you taking me?” The girl sounded panicked now. “Please, I have to get home.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” Arus glanced down at his captive. Her rapid pulse was visible at the base of her throat, and his arousal grew as he imagined the coppery taste of her blood on his tongue. He had tried drinking human blood once before, and the experience had been sublime. He had a feeling that with this girl, it would be even better.

It seemed that his decision was already made.

“Where are you taking me?” the girl asked again, her voice shaking. She didn’t seem the least bit soothed by Arus’s reassurance.

“I’m taking you someplace you’ll be warm and safe.” Surely she would appreciate that. He could feel her shivering; the rough rag that served as her dress was soaked and had to be chilling her. “You shouldn’t be out in this storm,” he added when jagged lightning cut across the sky for the third time in as many seconds.

“I’ll be fine if you let me go.” Pushing at his chest again, the girl tried to twist out of his hold. “Please, let me down.”

Arus sighed and picked up his pace, ignoring her puny struggles. Once he got her warm and dry, he’ll work on calming her down.

He didn’t want her frightened in his bed.

D
elia had never been so frightened
in her life. The god—and she was now sure he was a god—was carrying her without any sign of tiring, his arms like iron bands around her back and knees. Neither rain nor wind seemed to slow him down; holding her against his chest, he was walking faster than a mortal man could run.

“Please, let me down,” she begged again, pushing at his broad chest. It was useless, like trying to move a mountain. “Please, I’ll sacrifice a goat in your honor if you let me go.”

That seemed to get his attention. “A goat?” He looked down at her as he kept walking. “Why would I want that?”

Delia’s breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. “Because you’re a god?” Despite her certainty, her words came out as a question, and she silently berated herself for sounding foolish. “I mean, because you’re a god and deserve to be respected,” she said in a firmer tone.

There, that was better. Surely he would accept one goat. Her family couldn’t spare more—even one would leave them without enough cheese for trading.

To her surprise, the stranger laughed, the sound deep and genuinely amused. “A god?” His dark eyes gleamed as another bolt of lightning split the sky above them. “You think I’m a god?”

Delia blinked the rain out of her eyes. “Are you saying you’re not?”

He laughed again, the sound blending with a boom of thunder, and she felt his pace accelerate from a walk to a run. He was moving so fast the ground looked like a blur under his feet. Delia began to feel nauseated but didn’t dare close her eyes.

She had to see where he was taking her.

After a few minutes, she realized he was heading for the hills to the east of her village. There was a forest there. Maybe he hoped to find shelter under the trees? She knew trees were dangerous during lightning storms, but maybe they weren’t dangerous for him.

Maybe he was as impervious to Zeus’s fury as he was to the waves in the sea.

What did he intend with her? Delia’s stomach churned, and she knew it was as much from her anxiety as her captor’s running speed. The god had said she would be warm and safe, but he was taking her away from her village—away from her family and people who could help her. Delia’s sisters had to be worried already. Eugenia, the oldest, had noticed the darkening sky this morning and told her not to go searching for mussels, but Delia had been determined to gather extra food for their dinner tonight. With five daughters to feed, her family was always struggling, and Delia tried to help as much as she could.

Well, as much as she could without marrying the blacksmith, who’d begun courting her after his wife’s death last month.

“You should accept Phanias,” Delia’s mother had told her two weeks ago. “I know you don’t like the man, but he’s a good provider.”

He was also old, fat, and had beaten his last wife, but Delia hadn’t bothered pointing that out. Her mother didn’t care about such minor things. Her only concern was having enough food on the table, and she believed that Delia—the prettiest of her grown daughters—was the key to achieving that goal. Delia had been trying to delay the inevitable, but she knew it was only a matter of time before her father gave in to her mother’s urgings and made Delia accept Phanias’s offer.

“Here we are,” the god said, startling her out of her thoughts, and Delia saw that they were already at the forest. Stopping under a thick tree, he lowered her to her feet. “We should be far enough from the storm surge now.”

He was still holding her, his large hands gripping her waist, and Delia’s breathing turned uneven as she tilted her head back to meet his dark gaze. She was one of the tallest women in her village, but the stranger was much taller. With both of them standing, the top of her head only came up to his chin, and his naked body was powerfully muscled.

To her amazement, Delia realized fear wasn’t the only thing she was feeling. There was a strange melting sensation in her core, a pooling of heat that made her pulse throb and her insides ache in an odd way.

“Why did you bring me here?” She tried to keep her voice steady as she pushed at his chest again. His flesh was hard under her fingers, his skin smooth and warm to the touch. Even through her soaked dress, she could feel the heat of his palms where he gripped her, and the unfamiliar ache within her intensified. “What do you want from me?”

To her relief, the god released her and stepped back. “Right now, I want us both to get dry and warm.” His voice sounded strained, as if he were in pain. Before Delia could wonder about that, her gaze landed on his lower body, and her breath stuttered in shock.

The stranger was fully aroused, his erection hard and massive as it curved up toward his flat, ridged stomach.

Gasping, Delia took a step back, but he was already turning away from her. Extending one powerful arm in front of him, he said something in a foreign language, and she saw that he was wearing a silvery band around his wrist. She opened her mouth to ask him about that, but before she could utter a word, she heard a low humming noise—almost like a buzzing of a thousand tiny insects.

Startled, Delia looked up at the tree, but the buzzing wasn’t coming from there. The sound was emanating from somewhere in front of the stranger.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, turning to face her again, and her eyes widened as she saw the air behind him begin to shimmer. The shimmer intensified, brightening with each second, and then she saw a transparent bubble rising behind him—a structure that looked like a mushroom cap made out of water.

“It’s a tool I have, not magic,” he said, watching her, but Delia knew he had to be lying. Her knees began to shake, and she backed away instinctively, afraid the bubble would swallow her as it grew. The wet bark of the tree pressed against her back, stopping her, and she turned to run, determined to get away from the god with such frightening powers.

Before she could take more than two steps, his steely fingers closed around her arm, turning her around. “Don’t be afraid,” he repeated, holding her, and she saw that the bubble behind him was no longer moving. It was now taller than him and wide enough to fit five people.

“W-what is that?” Her teeth chattered, and she had no idea if it was from shock or the cold rain and wind. “H-how did you—”

“Shh, it’s all right. Let’s go inside and get you warm.” Wrapping one muscular arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against his side and shepherded her toward the magical structure. “It won’t hurt you.”

Delia tried to dig in her heels, but it was futile. She could no more resist his strength than she could fight a rip current. Within a moment, he had her standing in front of the water-like wall—a part of which disintegrated as they approached, creating a sizable opening.

Delia froze with pure terror, but he was already leading her through the opening. As soon as they stepped inside, she realized there was no more rain or wind.

They were shielded by the bubble the god had created.