Page 8 of Seducing Scylla
A shiver assaults her frame and I curl her tighter into the planes of my body in an attempt to give her whatever body heat I can offer,as futile as it may be. A different kind of heat curls deep inside me. A mixture of the mate bond and the physical touch I have craved for so long igniting small tendrils of want, no—need, within me. I am desperate to know more of this human, desperate to have her ocean eyes look upon me again.
8
Morgan
Warmth surrounds me, and I am unsure if that’s the cause of my sweating or the nightmare I have woken from. The feeling of hands encircling my waist and mouth feels all too suffocating and real as I jolt awake. I poke my head out from beneath a pile of blankets smothering me, my eyes blinking away the dark. Except the dark doesn’t go away, at least not entirely. Where am I? Fear grips me and I scramble to sit up, my back hitting a rough-hewn stone wall as my blankets slip down my body to pool around my waist. A pit in the center of the room glows softly with the burnt-out embers of a fire, casting an eerie glow on my surroundings and shadows on the walls.
Glancing around swiftly, I realize I am in a cave, and then it all comes back to me. The nightmare is my reality. Being kidnapped and trafficked, the two creatures on the beach, the rising tide that led meto climb into a cave, but not this cave. Someone or something has brought me here.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my now dry and stiff dress practically crunching as I hasten to escape. My foot bumps into something that clatters, the noise startling me. I bring a hand to my chest, my heart thundering beneath my skin. Looking down, there’s a plate of food beside my nest of blankets. Wary, I glance around again. Someone has left this for me, but who? My mind flashes to the creatures on the beach.
Anxiety twists my stomach into knots and then it gurgles loudly, ravenous at the sight of the fruit and cheese before me. I eye the food again, and then my surroundings, before tentatively picking up the plate and moving back onto the bed, stuffing a grape into my mouth. A groan escapes as the burst of sweet and crisp juice floods my mouth, and I quickly shove in more, my stomach twisting in protest at having been empty for too long.
Eat first, escape second. I won’t get far on an empty stomach. What I’ll do when I’m out of this place, I don’t know. I’ll have to find somewhere safe, try to find people, a town, although I’m not sure there is one. I take a bite of the cheese and chew on autopilot,distracted by my thoughts. Getting off this god-forsaken island is my number one priority. But to do that, I’ll need food, water, and shelter. My lips are dry and cracked. I would kill for a glass of water. As soon as I have the thought, it’s like my mouth becomes the Sahara Desert, the cheese in my mouth turning thick and gluggy, threatening to choke my parched throat. I cough as I choke down the cheese that’s trying to kill me, my eyes watering as I force it down my esophagus.
Something stirs in a darkened corner of the cave, so quickly that I almost miss it. I try to stifle my choking, taking a deep breath through my nose, my watery eyes pinned to where I thought I saw the movement. My body locks up, paralyzed in fear and uncertainty. Maybe it was just a flickering shadow cast from the dying embers of the fire? There. My eyes track the fleeting movement in the dark recess. Slowly, long thick octopus tentacles writhe toward me across the stone floor. My breath stutters and my hands grip the blankets around me.
My jaw drops open, eyes wide, my thirst swiftly forgotten.
The creature before me is tall, at least six feet, maybe even seven. A tangle of slick octopi arms lazily curl across the stone cave floor,each one dotted with rows of suckers along their lengths. I gulp as I drag my gaze away from the undulating tentacles and up along the curved waist they’re attached to. Along the bare, full breasts I dare not linger on, barely shielded by long locks of thick hair, two human arms, fingers tipped with claws, all the way up to the most beautiful face I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Pointed chin, luscious full lips, sharp cheekbones, big black eyes, every inch of her tinged a deep blue-purple. A creature of the deep. Something straight out of a myth. She is stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.
I blink rapidly. Am I hallucinating? The creature stares back at me, her head cocked. My chest pangs and I find myself rubbing my sternum absentmindedly, my body flushed with warmth. For some reason, I do not feel afraid even though logic dictates that I should be.
“Hi,” I croak, my voice barely above a whisper.
She leans forward, her long delicate fingers wrapped around a stone bowl, offering it to me. Water sloshes around inside and I reach for it greedily, practically snatching it from her hands, careful not to touch her claws. She draws her arms back toward her as if she’s come face to face with a wild animal who might nip at her fingers, andI probably look like it in my current state. I slurp the water down in one fell swoop, filling my mouth with the sweet nectar of life, desperate to ease my thirst. I scrunch my nose and gag, saltiness and the taste of the sea teasing my tongue. The water sprays from my mouth in a burst.
“This is salt water!”
The sea creature rears back, eyes wide, her mouth twisted into a scowl. She gestures to the stone bowl in her hands and back to me whilst saying something in a tongue I don’t understand, but I get the impression she isn’t impressed with me spitting the water out.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
She huffs and I can tell she’s annoyed as she turns her back to me, her eight tentacles propelling her back into the darkness she came from.
“Wait!” I reach my arm out toward her as she disappears, ignoring my plea.
My arm plops back into my lap, disappointment filling me as she leaves. The room feels empty and dark again, and I tug my makeshift blankets back up, a chill encompassing me. The sea creature moves back into the dim light inside the cave, the bowl filled to the brimwith water. She offers it to me again, shoving it in front of my face. She speaks, her tone firm, and I get the impression she’s telling me to drink.
“I can’t, it’ll make me sick.”
I shake my head then rub my tummy and make a gagging face in a pathetic attempt at charades, assuming she can’t understand me either. I’ll feel like an idiot if she can.
She grumbles, nudging the bowl toward me again more forcefully.
“Okay, sheesh. Don’t blame me if I throw up all over your sh—uh, tentacles”.
I take the bowl from her, this time sniffing it first for any trace of a briny ocean smell. When I smell nothing, I tentatively raise the bowl to my lips and take the smallest of sips. It’s fresh. I sigh in relief as I take in more mouthfuls until the bowl is empty.
9
Scylla
She drinks the water I give her the second time and a sense of satisfaction at caring for my mate washes over me. Of course she cannot drink the sea. I curse at myself internally for my first mistake. My memories of humans are hazy at best, slowly coming back to me in pieces with much concentration. I am thankful I had enough sense to leave fruit and cheese for her. I do not think she would have taken kindly to a plate of raw fish. For the first time in a long time, I feel unsettled. The differences between my mate and I are stark. But I have never been human, even before I was this, so I must learn how to make her happy and keep her safe.
I track the water bead that drops onto her full bottom lip as she finishes the water in the bowl, her small pink tongue flicking out to swipe at it, ensuring she has consumed every last drop. I clear my throat, a blush traveling up my neck to rest upon my cheeks. Themate bond has made me hot and edgy. This feeling of need sizzles beneath my skin and I feel like I must dip my head beneath the waves to cool myself down. The way her hand rubbed at her chest when she saw me… I know the bond has snapped into place for her too. Does she feel the same, or is she embarrassed that her mate is a creature such as I?
She puts the bowl down beside her on the furs and looks at me, gnawing on that same lip. I study her; her hand has drifted to rub at her sternum again and I do not think she has noticed she is doing it.
