Page 44 of The Kraken Games

Panting, she wheezed, “I’d rather die!” Jerking her jaw out of his grip, she lunged for his hand and sank her teeth into it.

He let out an expletive in Kraken, deep and guttural. His grip loosened and she somersaulted away again, landing with an unctuous splat in the thick mud.

And then he was on top of her, pinning her down.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Out the corner of her eye, she could see the dungeon getting closer.

Luna felt like she was wrestling to the death now, arms and leg and tentacles all writhing, contact points beyond acceptable. She punched and pummeled and gouged a finger in his eye. He grabbed her hand and twisted it.

She bit him again. He cursed and yanked her arm back. She kicked at him with the heel of her foot and heard him curse. She was sure she’d got him on a damaged tentacle. But he didn’t give—not a fucking inch.

The crowd was hysterical as she used every move in her repertoire, kicking wildly, squirming, wriggling to free herself.

Kai’s tentacles tightened, all of them around her now. She karate chopped at scar tissue and felt him flinch, recoil, cursing.

But still he managed to edge her toward that trap door, until they were teetering on the edge of the dungeon.

There was no breath for words, but inside her head she cursed him.

He looped her up as if she weighed nothing, slamming her against his chest, both of them panting hard, his face raw and covered in sweat, eyes fiery bright.

Like when he kissed you.

She spat in his face. “I fucking hate you.”

For the briefest of seconds his features contorted. “Feeling’s mutual,” he growled. “You—are—going—down.”

The sound of the drum roll, the squeak of the trap door pulleys, it was like she was heading to her execution.

Luna wheezed in a breath. Not enough.

Somehow, somehow, she had to take a bigger breath to sustain her down there, it was her only chance… But as they plunged into the icy water, Kai squeezed her chest so hard that what little remaining air she had was punched clean out of her lungs.

Kai saw horror dawning on her face as they went down, knowing he’d pulled a dirty trick on her. To steal the air from her lungs as he dragged her into the dungeon would give her less than a minute before she needed to take a breath.

But when she told him she hated him…hatedhim, with such venom, the rage he’d felt in that moment had made him want to hurt her back.

As they sank lower, lower, he knew she didn’t have the energy to free herself. It was all going on maintaining homeostasis.

He felt her heart’s staccato beat against his chest. Soon she would give the sign that she needed to be released, and he’d return her to the surface, defeated.

Only she didn’t.

She kept holding her breath, her eyes popping, veins standing out on her temples, staring at him. Locked into some crazy game of wills, they stayed bound together.

Thirty seconds, forty seconds, then fifty.

A minute. More. Much more.

Alarmed, he noted the rigidity of her body changing. She started to go limp, the fight in her eyes replaced by haziness, and then they suddenly rolled upward, exposing only whites.

Oh gods, she was about to lose consciousness.

The water would gush into her lungs.

It hit him with sudden clarity. Hell, she’d meant it. Shewoulddie rather than give up. All the anger and hurt drained from his body, and suddenly he knew he had to give her this chance. Whether she hated him or not.

He had to help her find out the truth.

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