Page 15 of Alien Kraken's Prize

He stares at me.

I widen my eyes at him, shaking my head slightly in annoyance.

“You have food and shelter here. In this terrarium.”

My nose wrinkles. “Being kept as a pet is not the same as being able to exercise free will.”

“Being someone’s wage servant is not the same as exercising free will, either.”

I make a disgusted noise, scoffing at him. “It’s not the same.”

“Right. In one case you must perform labor and in the other you can simply…” He gestures one hand with a flourish. “—exist.”

“It’s not the same,” I insist. “Now get me outta here and let’s go save Harry the tentacle.”

“So you agree to let me mark you?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“You never explained what that means,” I tell him irritably. I try to shrug off his tentacles again, but it’s half-hearted.

Borumor must pick up on that, because it just makes him laugh again.

“It means, little sea star, that you wear my mark of protection, that all who see it will see you as mine, and no one will risk my wrath by impugning you.”

“What. Does. It. Entail?” I say each word incredibly slowly, because Mr. Fishsticks does not seem to be getting it.

“It means you wear my mark. It won’t hurt a bit.”

“Which is what, mother fucker?!” I explode.

“This,” he says. He goes stiff, his muscled tentacles pulsing all around me as he pulls me tighter, and this time, I do struggle in earnest, slightly concerned.

A cloud of viscous glitter envelops me.

I cough, trying not to breathe and immediately wanting to inhale because my brain is nothing if it’s not completely contrary.

Eventually, the cloud of sticky stuff dissipates, leaving a fine misting of glitter clinging to my skin, and it dawns on me.

“Did you just… ink on me?”

“No, I came on you. Now you’re mine. Let’s get you ready for court.”

It’s delivered so nonchalantly that the first part of what he’s said slides over me so quickly that it takes me a full minute to digest it.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

BORUMOR

She is notpleased I have surrounded her with my fertile cloud.

“You look lovely in my ejaculate,” I tell her earnestly.

My little sea star lets out a grievous shriek of a noise, and I retract my tentacles immediately. “Are you allergic?” I scramble to look her over for evidence of some sort of reaction on her soft, lovely skin.

It’s so different than mine, than any of the folk in my kingdom, that worry nearly paralyzes me. How could I not have thought that she might have a poor reaction to it?

“I’m so sorry, where does it hurt, sea star? Tell me so I can soothe it.” I rotate her gingerly, all the while she smacks at my tentacles and makes outraged noises, glittering deliciously in my spend.

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