He holds my stare for far longer than he should. I have to remind myself killing him would harm Cindi. The masses would flock to my island and demand my head for ending their precious leader. If they don’t take me out, my mate’s death would be the only thing that would appease them.
Just as the thread on my control is about to snap, Lazell dips his head and swims away, muttering something I can’t catch.
I’ll have to do more parameter checks around the island from now on. Lazell’s waning patience for me to take a bride is making him desperate, and desperation leads to recklessness.
Growling in frustration, I swim closer to the water’s surface, swinging left toward the mountain range. Concentrating on the cool water or thinking about something other than the threat to my mate doesn’t unwind the maddening tension in my chest. Nothing will calm me until my eyes are on her.
It isn’t long until I descend toward the trenches where the healer made her home and spend the better part of an hour searching for the doorway I know all too well. It all looks so different without color.
Elder Adina was one of the few who cared little about my differences. I’ve spent more time with her than I have any other kraken I have no blood relation to. She’s had to treat one too many of my ailments—especially when I was younger. I was born with modified human lungs, an organ no other kraken possessed in their natural form.
Mother gave her a residence at the palace to see to me daily. For a time, there were concerns whether I could continue living in the sea, or if I had to live on land if they wanted me to survive. It’s another reason why I was moved to the island, why I spent so much time there growing up. I can only hold my breath for two or so days, but being on land will always be more comfortable.
My stomach sinks when I finally spot the healer’s residence. Rubble covers the entrance, an offering basket woven around one of the stones—a sign the den has been vacated and its occupier is seeking the Goddess’ blessing for luck and safe travels to find their new home.
I clench my jaw. Adina was our last living healer. Who will treat Cindi’s injury now? Or hervertigo, as Cindi calls it. The information stones I’ve taken from the palace library have offered me no assistance.
She is clutching her arm less and less, but that is unacceptable. She should not be experiencing any kind of pain. I’ve asked her about it before. She claimed she issemicertainabout what’s wrong, and that time and rest is the cure.
Not good enough.
Huffing in frustration, I swim toward the edges of my territory in the direction of the island. I catch the breed of crab Cindi likes and spend the passing hours thinking of ways to make the island better suited for my human mate.
I want her to feel the same way I feel whenever I look at thescrunchiething she gifted me. I feel…cherished. Deserving.Accepted.
Every time I look at my wrist, I can almost believe I am enough for her.
The sun is high in the sky by the time I make it back to the island. After depositing the crabs in the cage we made, I seek her out.
I already know where I’ll find Cindi. She never stays in the den, even when her “vestibular system is being a bitch,” preferring to keep busy with making the island her own or burning her skin on the beach.
Her scent dances in the water leading up to the shore, growing stronger with every wave the closer I get. Vasz is swimming somewhere nearby. He no doubt sensed me long before I sensed him.
Cindi’s legs dangle in the water on either side of her surfboard. Most nights, she returns to the den bright red along her forehead, nose, and cheeks. She’ll hiss and groan as I apply the healing paste. The next morning, she’llhmmandohhwhen she looks in the mirror I installed in the hut, then repeat the whole burning process again.
Oxygen trickles into my lungs once I break the water’s surface, slowly swimming toward my mate. Her eyes are closed, head tipped back with an easy expression. Watching her out here is the highlight of my day. It settles my inner beast, eases the gnawing ache of inadequacy.
I force myself to keep my sights on her face, not her soft breasts pressed against the tiny blue triangles of fabric with white trims and strings. My breeding arm hardens painfully whenever she forgoes the long-sleeve top that covers her arms and stomach and “protects her from the sun,” as Cindi says.
I’m not sure why she needs protection from the sun. It’s an odd human superstition.
From this angle, I can’t see the fabric covering her sweet sex. Still, the sight of it is seared into my memory. My appendagetwitches, instincts telling me to prowl forward, sink into her, and fill her with my seed.
A shudder works down my spine when I wrap my fist around my bulb. Moisture drips into the water, alleviating the pressure enough for me to approach Cindi without frightening her.
Cindi bobs with every wave, stretching her neck side to side. She doesn’t have the thick, white, sticky residue along her nose and cheeks that she likes to wear whenever she plans on spending a long time out in the water. I don’t like when she uses the paste. It tastes bad. Vasz always gags and shakes out his tongue as well.
Her eyes open, immediately finding mine. A soft smile spreads over her lips, plumping her sharp cheeks.
She’s looking at me again.
A trail of fire rushes through my body, ravaging every doubt I have about her feelings toward me. If she hated me, would she smile at me the way she is now? Light up like she’shappyto see me?
“You weren’t in bed when I woke up,” she says.
My lungs rattle like they did when I was a child and couldn’t get enough air.
I grunt.
