Page 12 of Hunter of the Tide

Ikaros had, after only seven short days, become one of Randall’s truest and closest friends.

Randall’s sister, Elle, had always filled that role before. Thinking about her now made his chest ache; they’d cooked so many meals together, sometimes getting so caught up in conversation that the food would end up a charred mess. She’d been the only one he could ever confide in. And he hadn’t seen her in months.

He checked the time on the wall display. Rhea and Melaina would arrive soon; after they’d visited him in his quarters for four consecutive days, he’d decided a change of scenery would be nice, and had invited them to join him in the mess hall for a meal. He wasn’t sure what he’d found more endearing — Melaina’s excitement at the prospect of eating cooked food, like she sometimes did with Macy, or Rhea’s almost comical reluctance. The kraken had eaten everything raw before Macy’s arrival, and only Jax, Arkon, and Melaina had been willing to sample cooked meat thus far.

His growing appreciation of Rhea’s company was the other component to his change in mood and the reason for his current eagerness. She presented a hard, no-nonsense exterior that would have been welcomed amongst Fort Culver’s rangers, but her personality didn’t stop there — the kindness and compassion beneath her outer toughness were staggering.

After tossing another chunk of fish to Ikaros, Randall seasoned the fillets with a few pinches of the spices Aymee had sent to Macy from The Watch, careful not to use too much — there was a limited supply, and he wasn’t sure how Rhea and Melaina would react to their taste.

Rhea’s advances had been so strong and forward that Randall had been taken aback by them, caught totally off-guard and unprepared. It had been a direct confrontation with the strangeness of his situation and the otherness of the kraken.

Randall was attracted to Rhea. There was no denying that fact, especially after she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes. The silky touch of her hand on his abdomen had nearly sent him over the edge, and only his own confusion had held him back; was itrightto want her? To give in to those urges? To his father, such would be considered bestiality at best, a betrayal of humanity, a violation of natural law.

But the more he learned about her, the more he saw her, the less alien she seemed. The kraken were part human, and their human qualities became more evident to him as time passed. Rhea’s differences — cast in the light of her compassion, of her resilience, of her confidence — were marks of beauty unlike any he’d ever encountered.

Was he even capable of pleasing her? Her anatomy, though similar in its basic form to a human woman’s, was still different, and Randall wasn’t built like a kraken male.

More than anything, he needed to know that theirmatingwasn’t merely a matter of Rhea sating her curiosity. From the little he understood about kraken culture, the females chose males based on their ability to protect and provide.

Randall hadn’t proven himself a capable provider. They all sure as hell knew he couldn’t stand against any of the kraken in a physical confrontation, and he’d never even seen the monstrous sea creatures the kraken sometimes spoke of battling in the open water. He hadn’t given her any reason to choose him; being different, being human, couldn’t be enough.

And he needed to know that it wouldn’t just be an exploration of curiosity on his end, either. He needed to know his interest in her was more than a fleeting lust for the exotic.

Ikaros stood up and spun around, looking through the wide, open window between the kitchen and the mess hall. An instant later, Randall heard the sound of tentacles moving over the floor — usually soft and subtle, but quite distinct from the Facility’s ambient sounds.

“I’m in here,” Randall called, scooping the finished fillets onto a tray.

At the edge of Randall’s vision, Ikaros lowered his stance, swept back his long whiskers, and released a warbling growl. He’d never heard the prixxir make such a sound; the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood.

Randall turned to the window to see Kronus — the most vocal of the anti-human kraken — approaching with a pair of his followers. The ochre-skinned kraken scowled at the table Randall had unfolded and placed near the kitchen, shoving it aside as easily as he might’ve tossed a pebble into a river.

These were the kraken who most resisted change. Who resented it.

The trio moved toward the entryway into the kitchen. Ikaros’s growl deepened, and the prixxir retreated closer to the edge of the counter.

“That’s close enough,” Randall said, dropping a hand to the pistol on his hip.

Kronus stopped and glared at Randall through the window, skin taking on a crimson tinge. “You do not give me orders,human.”

When Rhea saidhuman, it was an endearment. From Kronus’s mouth it was filthy, derogatory, and brimming with malevolence.

Randall unfastened the holster’s retaining strap and wrapped his fingers around the pistol’s grip. Kronus wasn’t the biggest of his kind, or the strongest, but Randall had seen the kraken’s capabilities. Even with a half-wall and three or four meters of distance between himself and Kronus, the danger was immediate.

If the kraken got anywhere within reach, Randall would be dead in a fraction of a second.

“It’s not an order. Just a warning,” he said.

“Shoot, human,” one of the others said, lips spread into a wide, razor-sharp grin. “It will only give us reason to tear you apart.”

“You stay where you are, and I won’t have any reason. But if you have other plans…you’d best ask yourselves if you’re willing to die today. Because I guarantee, one of you will be dead before the other two get here.” Randall slid the firearm from the holster but kept the barrel pointed down. His heart thumped. It wasn’t fear; this was the beginning of an adrenaline high. “If you have business with me, I’m more than willing to talk. I’m sure we can all keep it friendly.”

A brown kraken broke away from the group and moved to the open doorway, filling the space with his muscular frame. He ducked as though to enter the kitchen.

Ikaros leapt to the floor, raising his spine fin and whiskers and growling beside Randall’s feet.

Randall picked up a knife off the table with his free hand and threw it without hesitation. It embedded itself in the doorframe, centimeters from the brown kraken’s head.

Snarling, the kraken bared his teeth and lifted his claws, skin turning red. “The human struck first.”

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