A Bride for the Water God (Divine Dragons 1)

My people had no water. Our rivers were dry, and the ocean was unforgiving. We’d had no rain in months, not since the last drop of the spring showers ran dry. Our crops shriveled and families were dying.

The elders of my village released a skiff that could barely be called a boat to the clutches of the sea near where a dried riverbed once quivered in fear of the power of the ocean. An ocean that my people abandoned me to in the hopes of something better for themselves, because across the ocean there was a god—the Water God.

And I was to be his bride.

A sacrificial bride only, I thought.

Chosen at random from a lottery of surviving young women, the elders had dressed me in the most expensive white fabric available. Pearls and iridescent shells were threaded into the bodice and a veil was tied into the tight brown ringlets of my hair.

As the choppy waves of the sea pulled me further from land, I glanced back over my shoulder. In the distance, the villagers had begun dispersing, trudging through sand back to their homes. Their heads hung low, and hands were steepled, praying that their chosen god accepted their sacrifice.

Most of them assumed I would die, but if it meant the god sent rain, it hardly mattered.

Through the haze of the white veil, I saw the figures of my parents and younger sister standing at the lip of the sea. Father was holding Mother as she keened and wailed. My little sister was holding Mother’s apron with her favorite doll tucked under her arm, too young to comprehend what was happening.

I remained twisted around the swaying boat until their figures were nothing more than dots. Chest tight, limbs weak, a single tear slipped from the corner of my eye and trailed down my cheek. Turning back around the narrow boat, I faced the rising waves of the treacherous sea and the heavy gray clouds on the horizon.

Those clouds were full of rain. The fact they lingered away from my island was a mockery. What had my people done to deserve the wrath of the Water God? Why did they deserve to die?

A surging wave slapped the front of my little boat. On instinct I lurched for the oar near my feet, although I knew it was too thin, too worn, to save me from what lay ahead. It was as sturdy as a hollow stick and not enough to keep the boat from keeling over if the wrong wave crested toward me.

Violent gusts of wind whipped the sea into towering walls of salt water. The force of those gales tugged at my veil and the strings of pearls crisscrossing over my bodice. I gripped the oar close to my chest, hugging it as if it would provide the measure of safety I needed.

The thunderous, crashing roar of the sea grew louder—so loud that I wondered at how water alone made such a ghastly noise. Waves leapt higher, salty spray dampened my dress, and the howling wind tore at the world around me as if the ocean and the clouds were living beasts.

At any moment, the wrong wave might crack the boat apart and deliver me into the briny depths.

Something hit the boat from below, knocking a gasp from my lips.

Making it through the malicious waters was one thing, but there was more in the water to be afraid of. If I wanted to make it to the god and to save my people, I also needed to survive the rusalka; malicious, man-eating she-beasts of the water.

I dared a glance over the side of the unsteady boat. Something surged through the heaving waves like undulating monsters, twisting like hulking limbs through the frothy, white-tipped waves. Serrated frilled spines of sinister creatures that churned the sea into dangerous tides.

Another rolling beast crested the surface near my boat. A second later, something struck the side of the boat.

The rusalka had found me.

Their laughter cleaved through the blustering wind. Theirs was a horrid cackling sound that mimicked the songs of dolphins and twisted it into a herald of death. Anyone who heard the siren song of the rusalka was marked to die.

I couldn’t die—not yet. I had to face the Water God and demand salvation for my village, my friends, and the family I’d left behind.

More snaking, frilled she-beasts rose from the water, clicking and hissing. They were gray creatures covered in fins and scales. While they had the almost pretty faces of women, from the waist down they sported tails that they smacked into my boat.

The little skiff could barely withstand the angry waves licking at the wooden sides. The force of the rusalka slamming into the sides made the meager vessel rock and teeter dangerously.

My fingers gripped the oar until my fingers ached, and the spray of water mixed with the layer of perspiration on my brow. The waves soaked my dress and plastered the veil to my face. My heart rate kicked up as panic flooded through my veins from my hindered vision and the monsters on the water.

If I died on the sea, so did everyone and everything I’d ever cared for.

The first brave rusalka clutched her talons into the boat. She raised from the water, dragging herself into my boat. But there wasn’t enough room for us both, and her heft made the ship tip forward, threatening to send me overboard.

My muscles went taut and shot out as some instinct to survive coursed through me. Moving on their own accord, my arms swung out, whipping the oar around in a mighty swing. The paddle smacked into the rusalka’s face and sent her flailing back into the hungry, dark waters.

That pissed off her sisters.

More of them leapt at the boat. Although blinded by the soaked lace clinging to my face, I swung the oar around, beating them back into the black waters.

“You want a piece of me?” I hollered at them, bristling with a newfound energy to survive. “Come get some, bitches!”

I snatched the veil from my face, hating how the pins tugged at my hair. The damp lace fluttered away before sinking into the bubbling, choppy surface. The writhing bodies of rusalka made it vanish in seconds.

With my vision free, I rose from my seat. Though the boat was small, I had enough space to brace myself in a defensive crouch. When the next water-bitch soared from the waves, I was ready to strike her away.

Distracted by the struggle for my life, I didn’t notice the snaking creature rising from the water behind me. I was hollering and smacking rusalka left and right as they tried jumping and climbing into my boat. More water was getting in, and I nearly lost my balance from the saltwater soaking my slippers.

A pitch-dark shadow, larger than any mountain, rose from the ocean, casting me entirely in darkness. A deep, bellowing growl thundered over the waves, sending liquid fear into my aching muscles.

Whistles and clicks echoed from the dozens of rusalka thrashing in the surf. When the thing behind me bellowed again, loud enough to shatter my eardrums, the water-bitches floundered and twisted back under the waves.

I twisted around, facing whatever monster had risen.

“You want some of this?” I screamed through the thundering splashing, raising the oar over my head.

My neck arched back, and I craned my head up, and up, and up. The beast blended in with the backdrop of rolling dark clouds and turbulent black water. Brutal strikes of lightning illuminated the most ruthless, dangerous, beautiful beast I’d ever laid my eyes on.

A sea serpent had swelled from the depths of the ocean, bursting forth and stirring the already wild waves. Midnight blue scales glinted under the flashes of light from the storm clouds. Massive frills and fins flared out, wavering and rippling in the wind.

Two enormous wings rose from the water, causing the tide to sweep toward my vessel. A scream lurched from my throat as that wall of water slammed into my boat. Losing my balance, I stumbled back onto the narrow bench again and dropped the oar.

Despite the fear, for some deranged reason, I froze in place. After fighting off the rusalka, I suddenly couldn’t move. The narrow, striking blue eyes of the long serpent trapped me in place.

His eyes were dazzling, like silver moonlight reflecting on the rippling surface of the sea. The monster’s scales shone brightly, like sapphires from the deepest places in the ocean. Three sets of curving horns and serrated frills jutted from his head, crowning him as a king of sea beasts.

Wings that were an amalgamation of blue-silver bat wings and fish fins stretched out, large enough to cast my entire village in shadow. The slavering maw of that monster slashed open, revealing rows of teeth as long and as sharp as swords. Another eldritch, sonorous cry tore from his mouth as he rose ever higher from the waves.

“Oh, shit,” I gasped.

That was no mere sea monster. The being before me was greater than the measly rusalka, and more divine than any sea snake slithering beneath the waves. He was glorious, alluring, and utterly frightening.

He was the King of the Ocean, Ruler of the Seas and Rivers—he was the God of the Water.

And his gaping, cavernous mouth was spearing directly toward me. I knew with certainty that the Water God was going to devour me whole.

The flood of adrenaline in my blood mingled with the exhaustion of battling rusalka crashed into my system. Pure fear and shock seized me, and every ounce of fight or flight flushed from my body as the God’s mouth converged on my boat.

As snapping jaws aimed for my vessel, a white crested black wave barreled toward me. The wall of ocean water rammed into my boat, tipping the ship over and sending me flying into the hungry surface of the sea.