Page 38 of Heart of the Deep

All Larkin could do was hope he was safe, just as she’d hoped for Randall.

She carried the armful of water-laden reeds back to camp, standing them in small holes she’d dug to prevent them from tipping over. That done, she busied herself by collecting wood and kindling for their fire. During her search, she found several piles of krull dung, and gathered them in large leaves; they would burn longer and cleaner than wood.

After collecting adequate fuel, she picked up the stick she’d used to kill the vorix and followed the stream toward the sea. When she finally stepped onto the beach, she tilted her head back and let the cool ocean breeze flow over her. Her skin was already sweat-dampened, her clothes already sticky, and she was grateful for the relief.

She scanned the shore as she walked along the soft, dry sand. Still no sign of Dracchus.

“Where the hell are you, kraken?”

The waves continued teasing the land, flowing over the sand and receding back in an endless game as old as time. It was a beautiful sight, and the constant sigh of the sea was surprisingly soothing. She’d been too distracted in The Watch to appreciate the scenery.

She climbed onto a large, flat rock, which stood about a meter over the sand and stretched into the water. Several depressions on the rock were still filled with seawater, and small sea creatures had sheltered in the many nooks and holes to await the high tide. Empty shells and the remains of Halorian lobsters were scattered amidst drying stalks of seaweed.

Larkin moved to the edge of the rock, kicked aside a broken shell, and sat down. Water rushed around the stone below, nearly flowing over her dangling feet. She drew her knife, laid her stick over her lap, and began sharpening the points of its fork end.

Her thoughts strayed to the large kraken as she worked. She could still recall his weight pressing lightly over her, the feel of his skin, the closeness of his thick arms, and the way his voice had dipped an octave when he spoke. She was getting wet just thinking about it.

“Ugh!” She squeezed her thighs together, but that only seemed to worsen her discomfort.

She glared out at the open water. How could she be attracted to him? He wasn’t human, and his kind had taken her brother and likely killed the other rangers.

But Dracchus had said Randall was betrayed by his men. If that was true, they’d deserved any punishment the kraken had inflicted…

She found herself glancing up from her task repeatedly, anticipating a glimpse of his dark, damp skin glistening in the sunlight as he rose from the surf.

* * *

Dracchus spread his tentacles wide, slowing his forward momentum. He’d spent half the day swimming along the coast, searching for a familiar feature by which to determine his current location. Despite the comforting embrace of the sea, it was too much time away from Larkin. She was tough and capable, and he no longer doubted her ability to survive in the jungle, but he did not trust land or the creatures dwelling upon it.

He scanned his surroundings. The coastal cliffs to his right gave way to a gentle, rocky slope at their base, which in turn flowed into patches of seagrass, towering stalks of seaweed, and large, colorful chunks of coral. He wasn’t far from their camp, and the abundance of life in this area would likely provide a meal with minimal effort. He’d not yet hit his physical limits, but lack of food pushed him closer that much faster.

He smiled as he sank toward the bottom. Larkin would want to cook anything he brought back. Though it wasn’t his preference, he’d eat cooked meat without hesitation just for the opportunity to share her company.

Warm, gentle currents flowed around him, and he drifted into one, letting it carry him forward.

The feel of Larkin’s body and its increasing warmth beneath his had not faded from his mind since the night before, and his skin tingled with the remembrance. He’d nearly claimed her then and there — the perfume of her arousal, though faint, had swept over him and made him dizzy with lust.

Dracchus dropped out of the current, changed his skin to match the sand, and crept along the bottom.

Such distractions were unlike him. He’d always been able to disconnect himself from worries — even through the turmoil his people had faced over the last year — and focus on the task at hand. Food was anecessity. That meant setting aside everything else to fulfill the more pressing need.

He acknowledged all of this, understood it, but couldn’t shake Larkin from his thoughts.

Larkin’s brother had proven himself an excellent hunter and a trusted companion, and Dracchus had no doubt she would be the same. He longed to see her skill at work in his native environment. Female hunters went against the traditions of the kraken, but what did that matter? Human females were not like kraken females — they weren’t nearly as rare and weren’t designed to have difficulties reproducing. That didn’t make human females expendable, but one putting herself at risk would not endanger the existence of her species.

Larkin was a worthy mate. She’d not back down from any challenge, and she’d never accept a place in the Facility amongst the females and younglings even if he commanded it.

Dracchus turned slowly onto his back, spreading out his tentacles beneath him, and lay still. Gradually, the surrounding creatures seemed to decide the new mound of oddly-shaped sand wasn’t a threat.

Did humans ever lay in wait like this to ambush their prey? They seemed relatively clumsy and conspicuous in the water, so obviously out of place that Dracchus couldn’t imagine them using such tactics, even on land.

Then he recalled the silent ease with which Larkin had moved through the jungle, and he knew he was foolish to doubt their abilities in any way. Humans were nothing if not surprising.

Thoughts of her movement led to thoughts of her backside and legs, which in turn summoned images of her peeling her pants off to reveal her pale, lithe limbs. Dracchus longed to slide his tentacles over her bare flesh, to peel the scrap of cloth away from her slit and taste her there. His blood heated, pulsing into his shaft.

He clenched his jaw against a wave of desire and discomfort.

Only a massive surge of willpower forced his attention back to his surroundings. The thumping of his hearts had grown louder than the ever-present sound of water, and heat gathered low in his gut. He resisted the urge to dig his claws into the sand and thrash his tentacles restlessly, but his limbs itched with the need to move, to release some of his sudden tension.

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