“Arkon. Enough.” Jax stared at him, and tension as had never existed between them crackled like arcing electricity.
They were on the edge of butting heads, of challenging one another. It was a sobering realization for Arkon. He snapped his mouth shut and forced his skin to normal.
“What I did has worked out only through luck,” Jax said gently. “I would have done it so much differently if I had any sense. I endangered her through my actions. Do you understand? I might have lost her forever at many points along that journey, and I cannot forgive myself for what might have happened because of my poor decisions.”
Arkon inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “You think I should go on this hunt.”
“You have my support either way. But Idothink you should come.”
All the reasons for and against going ricocheted through Arkon’s mind; each one seemed unimportant when he recalled the brilliance of Aymee’s smile and the ecstasy of her touch.
She’d seemed just as excited for their next meeting as he was. Would she be disappointed if he didn’t show up? Would it damage the relationship they were building?
Would she forgive him?
Aymee had wanted to exercise caution due to the presence of hunters in The Watch. Caution was the best course in dealing with the kraken, as well — they wouldn’t likely suspect Aymee was the reason Arkon skipped a single hunt, but the tides of change had everyone on edge, and it was best to avoid anything that could exasperate their sense of unease.
At length, Arkon nodded.
Together, he and Jax exited the Pool Room and made their way through the long corridors. Arkon paid their geometry and construction little mind now. The tightness had returned to his insides and rode like a weight in his gut. There was a chance the hunt would end swiftly, and Arkon could make it to the beach in time. If not...the next exchange was in three days. He’d survive until then.
He wouldn’t be happy, but he’d survive.
They entered the Mess a short time after; it was a large, open room, with folded tables and chairs pushed into the corner. It had served as the main gathering place for the kraken since before Arkon was born.
A small crowd had already gathered. Kronus and his supporters waited to one side, arms folded over their chests and scowls on their faces. Dracchus was opposite them, easily the biggest and strongest of all the kraken. Though he was alone, the others granted him a wide berth. A third group — at least a dozen kraken, including a few females — observed the standoff from a few body lengths away.
“I have called this hunt,” Kronus growled, “and I will lead.”
“I did not dispute your right to lead,” Dracchus replied in his deep, rumbling voice.
His stance was nonchalant, his skin its usual black with dark gray stripes; he was the opposite of the agitated postures and angry colors of Kronus and his lackeys.
Jax and Arkon moved to either side of Dracchus and stared across the open space at Kronus.
Lowering his brow and flaring nostrils and siphons, Kronus glared back. “I will not allowthemon this hunt.”
Arkon was tempted to leave at that moment; he would have been more than happy to go meet Aymee, instead. But he knew now this was more than a hunt — it was a power struggle. Though the kraken were independent and preferred solitude, they looked to their most capable hunters for guidance and leadership. Unfortunately, that resulted in many males challenging one another to assert their prowess and claim places in the unspoken hierarchy.
“Arkon and the Wanderer are two of our best. We will find little success hunting sandseekers without them,” Dracchus said.
Three months ago, Arkon wouldn’t have believed it possible for Dracchus to say anything positive about either of them, but the situation with Macy had created an unlikely alliance.
In the time since, that alliance had grown into friendship.
“We refuse to rely upon traitors to our people to obtain our food.” Kronus’s skin grew redder with each passing moment. “Those two are unwelcome, and you taint yourself by associating with them.”
Dracchus straightened and rose up on his tentacles. Crimson pulsed across his dark skin. “Then Imustchallenge your leadership of this hunt.”
Arkon flicked his gaze to the spectators; the males would join in the hunt regardless, but the females — at least those without mates — had likely come in search of prospective males to bring back to their dens. A challenge would be as much a display for female onlookers as it was a means of establishing leadership.
This challenge, however, could have serious ramifications. Kronus and his supporters were firmly against further contact with humans and would likely do Macy harm were it not for the inevitable, bloody vengeance Jax would visit upon them in retaliation. A show of dominance over Dracchus would help validate their stance.
“You might as well scurry off now, Kronus,” Arkon said. “You will only prove your foolishness by accepting.”
Kronus’s skin became a mess of flashing, undulating reds and blacks. “Soon enough, your sort will have no place here,” he snapped. His eyes shifted to Dracchus. “I will meet your challenge and defend my right. You and your treacherous friends will not call this place home for much longer.”
A palpable, strangely eager energy filled the air as the kraken exited the Mess. Arkon had noticed it during other challenges, but he’d never understood it. Was it a desire for entertainment? Or had a thirst for conflict been ingrained at the core of their species?