Page 49 of Drown Me Gently

Too late.

Ulric moved like a wave as his mass flooded the small space. Tentacles crashed through glass and steel, sweeping aside tables, smashing jars, sending vials shattering against stone. Blood and formaldehyde painted the walls. Every sample, every artifact Elias had ripped from Auren’s body, was lost in the maelstrom.

Ulric didn’t stop.

He lunged—one slick tendril curling around Elias’s arm, another locking around his torso, hoisting him into the air like a doll.

“You wanted to see how things work?” Ulric growled, snatching a jagged scalpel off the floor. “Let me give you a lesson in anatomy.”

Then he gutted him.

The blade sank in deep, through the belly and beneath the ribs, carving upward. Elias’s scream broke into a gurgle as his intestines spilled in warm, wet ropes down the front of his legs. Blood sprayed. Ulric didn’t flinch. He seized a long, rust-speckled autopsy hook from the surgical tray—a grotesque thing with a curve like a butcher’s smile. It sank into Elias’s side with a wet crunch, punched between bone and muscle, and drove deep into the stone wall.

Ulric twisted the hook just to hear his cry.

“Rot, you filth.”

He finished pinning Elias like a specimen on display. His mouth bubbled with blood the color of wine as his body sagged and spasmed, still very much alive. But he wasn’t long for this world; let his final minutes be spent in agony.

The world went still, save for the steady stream of human insides hitting stone floors.

Then, the potion’s effect faded.

Ulric stumbled back a step, his breath ragged as the monstrous limbs retracted into flesh and bone. He gasped, sucking in air with lungs newly reformed. The transformation was short, a small dose of potion intended to give him an advantage in case of a fight. Long enough to overpower his opponent. But with the addition of his Kraken form came gills that stuttered uselessly in the air. He stumbled, light-headed from breath held too long. His tunic hung loose, barely covering him, and his cloak hung awkwardly over his shoulders. But modesty was the farthest thing from his mind.

Ulric stumbled to the table, bare feet slick on blood-soaked stone. His throat burned raw from the transformation, lungs still struggling. He braced himself on the edge and stared at the fragile, ruined form before him.

“Auren…” he rasped.

No response.

Auren’s eyes were half open, dull and unfocused. His lips had gone a bluish-gray, cracked, and still. He wasn’t blinking.

He wasn’t breathing.

“No, no—come on, my sweet sea-sprite. Please.” Ulric’s voice broke as he knelt beside the table, brushing blood-matted hair from Auren’s clammy forehead. “I’m here. I’m here, Auren. You’re safe now. Just… open your eyes. Gods, please, say something.”

But there was nothing.

Panic hit fast and hard, shattering through Ulric’s composure. He ripped his satchel open, fingers fumbling past bandages and vials until he found the slender bottle—glowing a soft, sea-glass green. A healing draught. He unstoppered it with his teeth and tilted it into Auren’s mouth.

It dribbled down his chin.

“Dammit—breathe, love. Please. Don’t you dare give up. Don’t leave me.”

Ulric brought the bottle to his lips and drank—the potion burned in his mouth, leaving frost in its wake. Cradling Auren’s broken face in both hands, he pressed their mouths together, funneling the magic between their lips. He repeated the process two more times, each time carefully pressing his mouth to Auren’s, each time passing him more of the potion. When the bottle was empty, Ulric leaned back, mouth tingling.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

Auren lay still, cold, untouched by the miracle Ulric had poured into him. The room was too quiet. No breath. No twitch. No life.

And then⁠—

A sharp inhale.

Auren’s chest rose the slightest fraction, and his eyes fluttered.

Ulric nearly collapsed with the force of his relief, forehead pressing to Auren’s as he held him close. “There you are,” he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “There you are, my sweet prince. My beautiful, foolish heart.” He kissed Auren’s temple, his brow, his bloodied knuckles. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve known. I’ve got you now. I swear it.”