Page 91 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

Everything inside was a blend of mortal luxury and divine grandeur. The floors were cut from sea-glass crystal, shifting in colour with the light: pale aquamarine one moment, deep sapphire the next, as though the ocean itself moved beneath my feet.

Furniture gleamed in dark woods and brushed metal, softened with throws of deep sapphire and seafoam silk. A great sectional couch, big enough for a small army, curved around a low glass table. It was all pristine, untouchable—exactly the kind of place where I’d manage to spill wine on the silk throws in under five minutes.

The walls weren’t cluttered—no paintings or bookshelves—but the ocean itself served as art. Floor-to-ceiling glass framed predators prowling in the distance, manta rays gliding past like silent shadows.

I glanced up at the glass-like dome arching above me, where the navy-blue vastness of the ocean stretched; Genesion was… breathtaking. A school of iridescent parrotfish swept past in a hypnotic dance, their scales flashing green, pink, and sapphire as they twisted in perfect synchrony. A heartbeat later, a bloom of jellyfish drifted by, their translucent bodies glowing faintly as they pulsed through the water like living lanterns.

The kitchen was something out of a design magazine—sleek black counters shot through with silver veining, appliances in brushed steel, and a vast marble island long enough to host a banquet. Ocean light poured through the glass walls, scattering blue across the polished stone, while the barstools were inlaid with abalone, a quiet nod to the god who owned it.

His bedroom was something else. A massive bed dominated the space, its frame wrought from dark driftwood polished to a satin sheen, dressed in linens of white and deep navy. Above it, a vaulted dome of glass looked directly into the sea, so whoever lay there would fall asleep beneath drifting currents and the slow ballet of glowing jellyfish. That bed was clearly built for sin, not sleep. I caught myself wondering how many women he’d pulled into it before me—and shoved the thought away before it could dig its claws in.

Even the bathrooms were a study in indulgence—gleaming marble sinks, deep tubs with a pearlescent sheen, and showers so vast it felt like stepping beneath a private waterfall, warm streams cascading from every angle.

It was beautiful. Powerful. Every detail whispered of the god who owned it: tempests, salt, and endless sea.

And standing there, I couldn’t shake the thought—this wasn’t just where Poseidon lived. This summed him up perfectly.

I pressed a hand to the cool glass, staring out at the infinite blue, the light fractured into ribbons of silver and green. Walkways of glowing crystal connected the domes around me, stretching into the distance—constellations strung across the ocean floor. Towers of coral and pearl rose within them, glittering spires that seemed alive, thrumming faintly as though the city itself had a heartbeat.

Pressure built behind my sternum, sharp and unyielding, as clarity hit me. I’d thought I understood what it meant for him to be a god, but this… this was Poseidon. A kingdom as vast and untameable as the sea itself—much like him.

It was beautiful, terrifying, and infinite, and standing there, in the heart of it, I realised that to be with him wasn’t just to want him—it was to belong to all of this too. To his storms, his tides, his kingdom of impossible wonders.

Could I really do that?

Perseus left me ruminating and unpacking, then afterwards I wandered into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. I paused after the first sip, frowning—how did they even have water down here?

Drawn to the view, I laid my palm against the cool glass, staring out as a vast shadow—something ancient, leviathan-sized—slid lazily through the blue depths. The sheer immensity of it pressed down on me, making me feel impossibly small, a fragile mortal standing in the heart of the sea god’s domain.

‘Cordelia,’ Si murmured, his voice low, laced with smug satisfaction at the wonder in my eyes.

I jumped, nearly spilling the glass, then shot him a glare over my shoulder. ‘Do you practice stealth, or is that just a natural perk of being a god?’

His mouth curved in that infuriating half-smile, the one that made heat lick up my spine even as I scowled. I rolled my eyes, pretending annoyance, while inside I thrilled at the sight of him.

His mouth curved into that slow, maddening grin. ‘Not sneaking, Little Red. You’re just too easily distracted.’

‘Distracted?’ I scoffed, setting the glass down a little harder than necessary. ‘Sorry if your oversized fish tank caught my attention.’

‘Oversized fish tank?’ he echoed, mock offense warming his tone. He stepped closer, so close the heat of him wrapped around me, his gaze dark as the depths outside. ‘That “tank,” as you call it, is my kingdom.’

I arched a brow, but my pulse fluttered. ‘Well, congratulations. It’s basically an aquarium for the fish to stare at us.’

His laugh rumbled low, and gods help me, it lit me up inside. ‘Some of our people are sea creatures once they’re in the water. Ever think maybe you’re the one on display, Little Red?’

Liquid heat curled low at the way he said it, like I was a prize already claimed. I rolled my eyes, pretending not to care, though my chest constricted at the thought. I shoved the feeling down at once. I wasn’t a prize to be claimed—I told myself that firmly, even if some treacherous part of me wasn’t so sure.

I stared up at the dome, and frowned. ‘How does this place not… implode? There’s an entire ocean sitting on top of it.’

He huffed a soft, amused sound. ‘You think I’d build my city out of glass?’

I shot him a look. ‘Physics is having a breakdown, Si. Don’t mock me.’

He leaned in, voice brushing my ear like velvet over danger. ‘Ancient wards,’ he murmured. ‘Older than Olympus. They don’t hold the water back, Cordelia… they command it.’ His fingers traced the glass, and the tides outside curled around it obediently, drawn to his touch. ‘The sea bends for me. It always has.’

My breath caught. ‘Show-off.’

His hand slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him, voice dipping to a rough whisper. ‘Let them look all they want,’ he said. ‘But you’re mine to touch.’