Page 7 of Alien Kraken's Prize

Which is why the last thing I expect is for it to be at the edge of the water.

The strange skins have been shed, and I startle as I realize they weren’t skins at all, but a garment of some sort.

The creature is naked, and as blood drips down both lower appendages, it hits me like a trident to the heart.

My pet is not an it at all.

My pet is a female, and she is grievously wounded.

CHAPTER

FOUR

BRIDGET

Of fuckingcourse I get my period the minute conditions are less than ideal.

Of fucking course!

I’ve stripped my sodden pants off, then pulled off my top as well, because if I’m going to bathe, I’m not going to ruin my only shirt in the salty water. I’m thirsty, I have cramps, I’m hungry, I’m grumpy, and blood is sticky in between my thighs.

Oh, and I’m currently in a goddamned terrarium instead of on my way to the riches of a cushy Starlight Lottery job.

Wallowing in self-pity is the name of the game.

I let out a small whimper as the cold water laps around my ankles, my toes immediately tingling from the frigid temperature.

“Lingering is not an option,” I tell the tentacle, which I’ve left on the shoreline. It humps up like an inchworm—one of the few Earth rarities we had at the shop where I worked, and one Aileen and I marveled over many times. I raise an eyebrow, amused in spite of myself.

“How do you even see where you’re going? Or hear me? It’s weird.” Sighing, I clench my teeth and force my body into the icy water, splashing it all over my thighs in an attempt to get the blood off. At least I will have the ridiculous heat of the lamp to warm me back up.

The thought brightens my shitty attitude, at the very least.

The tentacle continues to hump its way towards the water, and I hold my breath as I scrub at my legs. Goosebumps send all the hair on my body vertical.

The temperature of the water is no longer just cold, but actively painful, tiny spikes driving through every pore of my skin. My jaw aches too, from the force of clenching it to keep my teeth from chattering against each other.

Finally, I fully stand up, racing out of the water, or at least trying to. My movements are sluggish from the cold, and I’ve lost feeling in my feet. Rubbery-feeling and straight-up weird, I can’t quite get them to work right.

It’s not entirely a surprise when I trip over them and land face first on the gritty dirt.

A soft moan comes out of me because it’s so blessedly hot after the gelid water that I don’t mind lying here until the heat lamps dry me into a piece of human jerky.

The tentacle, apparently concerned by the fact that I’m simply lying on the ground, wraps around my calf.

I kick at it feebly, not really caring anymore about the fact it’s inching up my thigh, because at this point, the thing’s gotten up close and personal with my itty-bitty titty committee.

“We’ve been abducted together,” I tell it. “I know I should care about the fact you’re headed toward my no-man’s land, but—” My words cut off with a squeal of outrage as the tip of the tentacle teases at my crotch.

I flip over onto my back, kicking at the tentacle—and then freeze.

My blood turns to ice, and it has nothing to do with the temperature.

The tentacle attached to my leg isn’t my sentient tentacle.

And it’s not just attached to my leg.

It’s attached to seven more fucking tentacles and a huge naked male torso, the owner of which is staring at my naked body with interest that immediately turns the ice in my veins to lava.

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