Page 10 of Guarded By the Vodnik

I looked at him expectantly, waiting to finally hear him speak. He made a low sound, and a faint movement at his throat caught my eye. But the sound was more like a gurgle than a word. It broke off, and the vodnik glanced at me before looking away.

He seemed… I didn’t know. I was not used to reading vodnik facial expressions, and he didn’t give me anything to go on since he had yet to speak. His expression didn’t change much. He mostly looked angry and hostile, only now, even more so. But what did I know? This might have been the vodnik default look. Or even their equivalent to a cheerful smile.

I suppressed a stupid giggle at the ridiculous thought. It was obvious there was nothing friendly or inviting about his expression.

But there was a savage beauty to him. His face was proportional, flat-nosed and chiseled into a distinct shape, his bone structure prominent. Covered in emerald scales, finer than on the rest of him, it was also decorated with a web of golden lines, like a stunning piece of art. I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my fingers itching to explore those lines.

I shivered, remembering how it felt when I wrapped myself around him during my panic attack. It was completely illogical, but at that moment, I felt so utterly alone and abandoned, I latched on to him with far more familiarity than was proper. I couldn’t help it. It felt like I would sink and get lost in the enormous lake, forever trapped until I died, and my panicked brain decided the vodnik was my only chance of survival.

Pressing against him made me feel safer at once. He was strong, his body hard yet alive under my touch. I knew vodniks ran cooler than humans, which allowed them to thrive in low temperatures, but through my suit, I couldn’t feel that. All I felt was how solid and real he was, and that was exactly what I needed.

And when I tried to pull back and he pressed me closer with a harsh sound, my body went haywire with heat and relief.

Because he held me, too. That meant I was completely safe—not only when I gripped him, but when I let go, too. He wouldn’t let me get lost in the deep.

I knew I was being needy and helpless, and it disgruntled me. Normally, I was pretty independent. I was single, had a fulfilling job and a well-rounded life filled with wonderful friendships and volunteer work that gave me purpose, just as my job did. I dated sporadically these days after almost burning out on relationships in my twenties, and I wasn’t devastated when things didn’t work out. I didn’t need anybody else to thrive, just myself.

Or, I hadn’t needed that—until Matthias Carver. Now, my old life was gone, and here I was, thirty feet under water and utterly dependent on another person. It was humbling.

Even more so because he wouldn’t even look at me for longer than a few seconds at a time. Almost as if I wasn’t there. It was odd. At first, he stared with vicious intensity that unnerved me, and now, he barely spared me a glance.

He didn’t say anything to my question, just gave me a curt nod and worked his tentacles slowly, stirring the water around us. We sank lower.

One of his tentacles was still in my grip, and I tried not to make any embarrassing sounds as it tugged me lower, pulling me through dense water. I squeezed the muscular flesh with both hands, terrified it might slip out. This was my anchor down here, my lifeline in the infinite depths that pressed me from all sides.

And I knew it was my bodyguard’s limb that I gripped and bet my sanity on. It felt a bit like hand-holding, and I was deeply ashamed that I needed it, but there was nothing for it.

It was either this or another panic attack, and I’d had too many of those already.

Vodyan stopped when we dropped enough and looked away, staring into the distance. I had no idea if he saw anything in there, because all I saw was water, endless masses of it. It was murky, dark, and impenetrable. Everything was so uniform and bleak, I wasn’t sure being able to see was any better than being stuck in complete darkness.

The only solid, real thing in the depths was my bodyguard.

“So you’re, uh, Vodyan,” I said, the silence getting to me.

I was usually a talker and the extroverted one in most of my friendships. My two best friends were massive introverts, and they joked we’d only become friends because I talked at them until they felt comfortable enough to talk back.

The vodnik’s narrow eyes flicked to me. He nodded and looked away, his jaw working. Okay, fine. So he was an introvert, too. Probably. Or maybe vodniks just didn’t talk much, but that wasn’t a problem. I could fill the silence all by myself.

“My name is Zoe,” I introduced myself, jokingly shaking his tentacle.

He flinched, shooting me a quick look, his eyes widening until I glimpsed their color—a flash of bright blue.

“Sorry,” I said, loosening my hold as much as I could without letting his limb slip out completely. “It was a handshake. Uh, a tentacle shake? Let’s go with a limb shake. Nice to meet you.”

He nodded again, but this time, he didn’t look away. His eyes settled on my face with intensity that made something flutter in the pit of my stomach. I cleared my throat and took a slow breath, doing my best not to get overwhelmed again.

Because even though he was currently the only reason why I wasn’t freaking out, he also made me nervous.

His size was definitely a part of that. God, that torso alone was of hulking proportions, all of it naked and sculpted with solid muscle and covered with emerald green scales that shimmered, even though it was dark down here. I could only see thanks to the filters in my goggles that amplified the available light, but they shouldn’t make things look shimmery.

And the tentacles. I had known they were long and strong from my research, but knowing wasn’t quite the same as seeing them with my own eyes—or feeling those muscles corded around me or flexing in the grip of my fingers.

I held on at the thin end, his tentacle almost stretched taut with the distance between us, and still, my fingers didn’t fully wrap around it.

The tentacles were deep green, lighter on the sucker-covered inner side. They got thicker the closer they were to his body.

The word that came to mind to describe it was girth, and somehow, it made me feel hot and uncomfortable. Also, my fingers itched to explore the suckers on the tentacle I held, and I had to keep that instinct in check all the time.

---