Page 29 of Heart of the Deep

Relief flooded him. It was a small island, its shore covered in pale sand.

With a concrete destination, he pushed hard, straining his weary, battered body. Were he not so worn, he’d have scouted the area before making landfall.

He swam until the water was too shallow for it, and then dragged himself by hands and tentacles onto the beach. Larkin released him and slid off his back, landing in the sand beside him. She crawled on hands and knees to the grass beyond the tideline and collapsed on her back in the shade of a large tree.

Dracchus did not allow himself to halt until he was beside her. His arms finally gave out, and he relaxed his tentacles, laying on his stomach with his head turned toward her.

This was his first glimpse of her in natural light. Her hair was even more vibrant than he’d realized, a deep red-orange, and the sunshine highlighted the little brown spots on her white skin. Her dark pink lips were full, and her delicate features belied the strength beneath the surface.

Her shirt left her arms, neck, and upper chest exposed, and she had several small, shallow cuts on her pale skin, accompanied by blue and purple bruising on her throat and temple.

He growled. His instinct shouted to claim her, keep her, protect her.

Her eyes were shut, her breathing slow and even in slumber. He’d have to wait at least a little longer to see the sunlight make her brilliant blue eyes sparkle.

Dracchus slid closer to her and draped a tentacle over her waist.

He closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached, especially his arms and shoulders, which had spent days in an unnatural position, and the spots where his beating had been particularly intense — and where Neo’s claws had raked his flesh — were still tender. Hunger gnawed at his gut.

Where were they? Where was the Facility, or The Watch?

Dracchus dismissed those questions; exhaustion was the most immediate issue. He’d face everything else after he rested.

He gave into his exhaustion, and sleep claimed him within moments.

* * *

Pain was Larkin’s first sensation as she floated toward consciousness. Her body felt like one giant bruise, and she was sure even her hair would hurt, were it possible.

Her brow furrowed, and her fingers twitched. The sound of waves was immediate and loud. Not unusual on a boat. But where was the steady rocking motion to which she’d grown accustomed?

Larkin’s eyes fluttered open. She squinted against the bright sunlight, and several realizations struck her — she was lying atop soft vegetation on solid ground, not on her bunk in the ship; it was daytime; there was a warm body pressed against her.

She slowly turned her head. Her eyes widened as her gaze settled on Dracchus. His face was close to hers, nearly tucked in her hair, and his large body was curled around her. One of his arms was draped over her stomach and his tentacles were coiled around her legs. His shoulders rose and fell steadily, and his eyes were closed.

All traces of the abuse he’d suffered on the ship were gone; his cuts, bruises, and swelling had healed completely.

Larkin found herself studying him. His features were relaxed in sleep, and the daylight displayed them with a clarity she’d never seen in the brig.

He had a wide, defined jaw and full lips, high cheekbones and a heavy, expressive brow. In the shadows below deck, she’d thought he lacked a nose, but she saw now that it was simply less pronounced than a human’s — it sloped so gently off his face that it was difficult to make out from the front. His face was striking, handsome both because of and despite its differences.

Horizontal, light gray stripes ran from his forehead toward the back of his head. The same pattern repeated on his shoulders, upper arms, and tentacles.

Larkin frowned as her grogginess faded and the events of the night before came roaring back — the storm, the blazing fire, her attempt to reach the smaller boat. She’d been on her way toward it when the line slackened, dropping her into the water…

And the red kraken had attacked her.

She’d stared up at him, water stinging her eyes, as he held her below the surface. He could’ve killed her with just a bit more force, but he’d chosen to make her suffer. He’d chosen to watch the life fade from her eyes. His visage had been hellish, silhouetted by the burning boat behind him.

If Dracchus had been even a few seconds slower in breaking the other kraken’s grip, she would’ve drowned.

Larkin shoved away from Dracchus, untangling her legs from his tentacles. She rolled over the grass until there was some distance between them and then pushed herself to her feet. Her legs nearly gave out; she stumbled forward, extending her arms to either side to catch her balance. The ache and stiffness in her limbs would pass.

What she saw around her was the more distressing problem.

The wind blew hair into her face, and she swept it back. Countless kilometers of water stretched in all directions. Where the hell were they?

“What is wrong?” Dracchus asked. She glanced at him over her shoulder; he was upright and alert, and if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve guessed he’d been awake the entire time.

---