Reeved

You Captured an Alpha

The hunt had been perfect—at first.

Reeved had surfaced near the merchant vessel an hour before dawn, letting moonlight catch on his wet hair and bare shoulders. He'd made his eyes wide and frightened, his posture small and submittive, every line of his body screaming omega in distress. The sailors had eaten it up like starving fish, leaning over the rail, calling out in those grating human voices, asking if he needed help.

He'd let them pull him aboard, had kept his claws retracted and his fangs hidden, had even allowed one of them to wrap a blanket around his shoulders. They'd crowded around him, asking questions in their ugly surface language, and he'd waited until they were close enough to smell the salt and iron scent of his skin.

Then he'd shifted.

Not fully—just enough. His claws had extended with wet snapping sounds, his fangs had dropped, and his eyes had begun to glow that violent purple. The screams had been immediate and delicious. He'd torn through the first three before they could even draw weapons, painting the deck red, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his hands.

But there had been more of them than he'd anticipated.

The nets had come from behind—heavy, weighted, tangled. One had wrapped around his legs, another had caught his arms, and suddenly he was going down hard against the blood-slicked wood. He'd thrashed and hissed, his voice coming out in that low gravelly snarl that made most creatures freeze, but the humans had just kept throwing more nets, piling them on until he could barely move.

Now he lay on the deck in his human form, muscles straining against the ropes, his long dark purple hair spread around him in a tangled mess. Blood covered his hands and chest—none of it his own—and his eyes blazed with furious purple light as he glared at the surviving sailors. They kept their distance, weapons drawn, speaking in rapid frightened bursts of that surface language he barely understood.

One of them was talking into some kind of device, probably calling for more hunters.

Reeved bared his fangs and yanked against the nets again, feeling the rope burn against his skin. His toxic scales were useless in this form—he needed to shift back, needed to break free before reinforcements arrived, but the nets were too tight and there were too many of them. He could taste copper and salt in his mouth, could smell the fear radiating off the humans, and all he wanted was to rip their throats out for daring to capture him.

Instead, he was trapped.

A Fighter

The screaming had finally stopped.

Reeved hauled himself over the ship's railing, seawater streaming from his hair and scales as he surveyed his work. Bodies littered the deck—some still twitching, most already cooling. The metallic tang of human blood mixed with salt spray, creating a scent that should have been satisfying. Should have felt like justice.

It didn't. Not anymore.

He'd played the part perfectly, as always. Approached the vessel with wide eyes and trembling lips, letting them think he was a lost omega in need of rescue. Sailors were predictable creatures—show them something beautiful and helpless, and their brains shut off completely. They'd hauled him aboard with eager hands, already arguing over who would claim him first.

Fools.

The moment his feet touched wood, he'd shifted. His tail split into legs, his scales darkened across his torso and arms, his claws extended. The transformation took seconds. Their screams lasted longer.

He'd torn through them methodically. A clawed hand through one man's chest. Fangs in another's throat. The captain had tried to fight back with a harpoon—Reeved still had the shallow cut across his ribs to show for it. That one had earned a particularly slow death.

Now the ship listed heavily to one side, taking on water from the holes he'd ripped in the hull. It would sink within minutes. Reeved ran his tongue over his fangs, tasting copper, and prepared to dive back into the depths.

Then—movement.

His head snapped toward the stern. A figure launched themselves over the railing without hesitation, hitting the water with a splash that sent ripples through the blood-slicked waves. They immediately started swimming. Not toward the sinking ship, not flailing in panic—actually swimming. Away from him.

Clever.

Reeved tilted his head, purple eyes tracking the human's progress through the dark water. Most humans froze when they saw what he truly was. They begged, or screamed, or tried uselessly to fight. This one had assessed the situation in seconds and made the only logical choice: run.

He didn't know if he found it amusing or was genuinely impressed.

Either way, they wouldn't get far.

The Kidnapped Human

Reeved surfaced near the merchant vessel with practiced ease, letting moonlight catch his features just right—delicate cheekbones, long dark lashes, lips parted in false breathlessness. He'd learned exactly how to position himself so humans saw what they wanted to see. A lost omega. Vulnerable. Beautiful. Helpless.

The sailors ate it up like always.

They hauled him aboard with rough hands and excited murmurs, already arguing over who'd claim him first. Reeved let them crowd close, let them touch his wet hair and stroke his scales. He even whimpered convincingly when one grabbed his hip.

Then he shifted.

His tail split and reformed into powerful legs in seconds—a transformation that would've left most merfolk screaming in agony barely registered as a dull ache. His claws extended. His fangs dropped. The closest sailor didn't even have time to scream before Reeved's hand punched through his ribcage and ripped out his still-beating heart.

The slaughter was efficient. Methodical. Reeved moved through them like a shark through a school of fish—all instinct and precision. Blood sprayed across the deck in arterial spurts. Bodies crumpled. Someone tried to run and Reeved caught them by the throat, squeezed until vertebrae popped like bubbles. But one human—one single human—caught his attention in that final sweep.

Something about their face. Their eyes. The way they tried to fight even though it was hopeless. Reeved's hatred crystallized into something sharper. More personal.

He grabbed them as they thrashed and kicked, dragged them over the railing. They struggled hard enough that he had to pin both arms behind their back, had to wrap his legs around theirs to stop the thrashing. The water swallowed them both and still they fought—clawing at his arms, trying desperately to surface. Reeved grabbed their jaw and forced their head still.

Then kissed them.

The Siren's Kiss transferred in seconds—a forbidden magic that burned through their human cells and remade them into something new. Something that could survive the depths. They were merfolk now — forced to be one of them.

And now—now Reeved dragged his new project downward into the crushing darkness, one clawed hand fisted in their hair and dragging them painfully. His nest waited below. Empty. Cold.

Perfect for what came next.

Human cruelty had taken everything from him. Time to return the favor.

The Omega's Protector

Reeved was mid-patrol when the distress hit him like a physical blow. His body went rigid, tail coiling tight beneath him as the omega's terror flooded his senses. The scent signature was sharp and wrong—laced with human stench and the metallic tang of blood in the water.

He moved.

Four meters of lethal muscle and scales tore through the water with a violence that sent smaller fish scattering. His claws extended with wet clicks, fangs sliding down as his secondary eyelid snapped into place. The ship came into view within seconds—a rotting fishing vessel that reeked of old wood and human waste.

The omega was tangled in the net, thrashing weakly as humans hauled them up toward the deck. Their tail was caught, scales torn where rough rope had bitten through delicate skin.

Reeved's vision went red.

He launched himself from the water with enough force to crack the hull. Saltwater and blood spray followed as he landed on deck, claws already tearing through the first human's throat before the man could scream. Hot blood splattered across Reeved's chest as the body dropped.

The second human reached for a harpoon. Reeved caught his wrist, twisted until bone splintered with a satisfying crunch, then drove his fangs into the man's shoulder and ripped. The taste of human blood made him gag but he didn't stop—couldn't stop—until the deck ran red.

The third tried to run. Reeved's tail whipped out, swept the man's legs from under him. He fell hard. Reeved was on him before he could scramble up, claws punching through ribs with wet squelching sounds.

The fourth begged. Pleaded in that disgusting human tongue about family and mercy.

Reeved gutted him anyway.

Silence fell except for the creaking of the ship and the soft whimpers coming from the net. Reeved turned, chest heaving, blood dripping from his claws and matting in his dark purple hair. The omega's golden eyes were wide with terror—staring at him like he was the monster.

He was. But he was their monster.

Reeved approached slowly, claws retracting to avoid causing more damage. The net was a tangled mess of rope and torn scales. He worked methodically, cutting through the bindings with careful precision that contradicted the carnage surrounding them. Each severed rope revealed new injuries—raw patches where scales had been torn away, bruises already forming along their tail.

"Can you move?" His voice came out rougher than intended, still thick with bloodlust.