Page 18 of Caged By the Ruthless Thief

Eros is holding out his hand to me. And then he motions to the mattress next to him. I’m exhausted. I didn’t realize how tired I am. But at the same time, my inner mermaid is scratching to get out.

“I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

I stare at him. I’m more afraid that I will be the one to attack him. That’s exactly what I’m afraid I will do. That I will ask him to touch me, over and over again.

His lips cock up in another trademark smirk. He can smell my attraction to him. I’m sure of it. He pats the bed again.

I crawl to the headboard. The sheets are soft, as soft as the ones in Ophelia’s apartment. I’m not going to sleep with Eros, but I could sleep next to him.

I put my head on the pillow next to his and finally get a look at the video he’s been gawking at.

Nico.

My heart squeezes in my chest. It’s a video of him taking command. His hair is shorter, and he’s a lot younger. I look up at Eros.

Eros turns the block off. I have to keep believing. Missing isn’t dead. But when I look up at Eros, there’s something else he’s not saying. “What?”

He turns the block to me. “I don’t want to worry you more. But keeping this from you is wrong.” He shows me the side of a crushed dome. And I know that dome.

“That’s the front entrance to Glyden!” It’s been damaged, like, totally smashed up. The text below is in Dorian. “What does it say?” My finger skims over the text.

“‘Glyden vandalized in the early morning hours. Rumors abound that the human-mermaid Arabel Portsmouth is missing.’”

“Is everyone okay?” I think of Kai and all my friends in the dome. Castor’s sister is pregnant. If anything happened to her because of me, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. “How do they know I’m gone?”

“Give me a second.” Eros reads the article. “No injuries, and Governor Nole Drakos is said to be on his way back from his diplomatic mission to Skyrothasia. The going theory is someone was out to get you.”

“Oh.” Shivers run up my arms.

9

NICO

The damn trident is heavier than a Viking battle ax. Its weight pulls on my arm. Holding my wrist where the Arg-leth laced cuff was gives relief. Yanking on this trident is like pulling my own forearm bone out. Every inch of its intricate design has glittering gems encrusted in it. I’d bet my fluke it’s gold on a dense steel core. But if I’m wrong, I’ll eat every last bite of the viperfish I skewered with it. I’ve gotten soft using a modern trident with its blaster feature. The whole lunge and crush of a traditional trident brings an extra burden with multiple open gashes on my body.

I tilt my head, peering through the bubbles that let me see in the dark. The lava chimney has flickers of light that allow me to see the viperfish I stabbed slowly float to the pile of rocks below. But the one thing the gemmed trident does without the blaster? Blood. There’s so much blood filling the water. The bubbles enhance more than my sight. The thick, metallic scent of my blood and my attackers permeates the water around us, floating around us, up the chimney. The dinner bell is ringing for the entire chasm. Every predator in the area is on their way. And those shadows at the chimney’s entrance? They’re growing darker with each pump of my heart. It’s as if a cloud is obscuring the sun, but I know the reality. The shadows are swarming eels, monstrous in size and number, magnetically drawn to the scent of blood. Within moments, it becomes a squirming mass of writhing bodies and gnashing teeth.

If I run the gauntlet, I’m dead for sure. I turn and swim back to the main cave where I found the trident. They’re on my fluke, and before I’m whipped into a frenzy by their shock, I head for a crevasse in the wall and hope that there’s nothing worse waiting for me there. They lunge for me even here, but are forced to do it one by one instead of two by two or five at a time. The trident becomes both a shield and a weapon as I swing it, wielding it with expertise few have. I create a barrier between their biting jaws and my flesh, and mostly win.

How long I’m at it, I’m not sure. But when the last ones give up on me to feast on the corpses littering the seabed, I take a long moment. Thoughts of Annabelle pierce through the dread. Her face, radiant and ethereal, stands in stark contrast to the dark, heated prison I find myself in. Memories of her laughter, the gentle touch of her hand, and the love and trust in her eyes fill my mind. I’m glad we let her be free. If she’ll have me, I will follow her. She’s my moon and tide. This is not over. We are not over. I have to survive, not just for me, but for her. And for what I did to Holter. He deserves better, and if anyone deserves Annabelle, it’s him.

My stolen moment over, I push past the eels, making my way to my goal. Adrenaline pulses through my fluke. The eels aren’t the worst of my problems. A deep rumbling fills the water, and the currents shift erratically. That’s a sound I’ve heard before. The massive huff of a giant kraken isn’t something you ever forget.

It makes its entrance from the way I entered. How it managed to get through the tunnel is impressive. It doesn’t notice me at first. Its massive arms, tentacles lined with eager, pulsating suction cups, unfurl and stretch toward the pile of dead eels. I’ve encountered the creatures before, and each time I hope I never see one again. Slowly, I make my way along the wall, swimming with as little wake as possible. But then the current changes, and my scent travels to it. Its tentacle reaches for me, the suction cups wiggling as it does. A burst of energy, and I dodge several of its appendages before one catches my fluke.

I have one shot. I have to release the trident, but I risk not getting it back. All my hope lies in the heavy golden relic. But alive is always better than dead. I lob it like a javelin spear, but instead of racing up the chimney, I dodge another tentacle and retrieve the trident from the limp severed tentacle on the seabed.

Now I have the kraken’s full attention. I race with my reward to another small cavern off to the side. The kraken pushes its tentacle in, but here there’s enough space to back into a sharp triangle. The rock is searing hot, but it’s a safer hell than the predatory chaos outside. There’s also a steady stream of bubbles from an unseen vent, so the shadow the kraken makes as it paces in front of my opening keeps my heart racing. A small fish swims in behind me. Now I have more than enough time to think of my sins. To count the gems on the trident. Thirty-five. The kraken is eating the eels.

Every few eels it eats, it sends a tentacle into the crevice, pushing and poking its long arm as far in as possible. Every passing minute feels like an hour. I’m trapped, both by my own choices and the relentless hunt of the creature outside. The weight of the trident is my burden and my redemption.

Would you just hurry up and eat your fill of free eels and be on your way?

The kraken turns. It lumbers back to my hiding hole.

Fuck me.

I do not fuck mermen. The kraken’s words are slow and in a weird dialect.

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