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"Can't you trust your own eyes, sweetheart?" A red-haired mermaid quips as she glides effortlessly toward me, gracefully shimmying onto the bed that seems to have been placed here for me—a bed that defies physics with its opulent design. This isn't just a bed, it's part of a grand, futuristic underwater palace teeming with life and vibrancy. What I thought was my watery grave turns out to be a magical home beneath the sea.
"What's so special about her anyway? Why is Papa so anxious? He’s just outside the door, pacing back and forth, waiting for her to wake up." A white-haired mermaid circles me skeptically, her expression tinged with resentment. She pouts, leaning closer to scrutinize me, her eyes narrowing. "She doesn't even have a tail," she huffs dismissively, and with a flip of her own tail, she glides away, her movements exaggerated and showy, clearly intent on making a point with her dramatic departure.
"Papa?" I echo, as my eyes dart from side to side, puzzled as to why that girl's father would be so concerned about my well-being. Could he be the one who rescued me? I recall flashes of a white beard framing a rugged, sun-kissed face with eyes bluer than the deepest sea, but I had dismissed that vision as a figment of a dying dream. Now, I'm beginning to wonder if it was more than just a hallucination.
The first mermaid who visited me sweeps across the small room, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in evident disapproval. “Ignore her, darling. Nixie is just jealous that you’re capturing the attention of the man she dreams about. Despite his protests, she continues to call him papa, hoping he’s into that kind of thing. She’s half siren, you see, and they don’t have fated mates like we do. Sirens rely on their songs to lure and seduce unmated men, but despite her efforts, the King has remained thoroughly unimpressed by her melodies.” Her tone is a mix of sympathy and amusement as she divulges these undercurrents of palace intrigue.
“Hush up, Misty. King Egon might protest, but I know better—I can read his emotions, and deep down, he relishes the attention. He's well aware of his allure—that distinguished gray hair, the beard, those Herculean muscles, and let's not forget, those multijointed tentacles. I bet he enjoys the thrill of driving us sirens mad with desire—me included. Papa doesn’t need a mate. He could command a harem if he wished,” Nixie retorts, her words swirling with a mix of defiance and yearning.
Her comments only deepen my confusion. Tentacles? A harem? My mind races as I try to piece together the reality of my situation. Who exactly has tentacles? And where in the world—or perhaps, where out of this world—am I?
The red-haired mermaid whirls around, returning to the conversation with decisive clarity. “Listen, Nixie, this isn't just any mortal. She's Marine's daughter and King Dariel’s granddaughter. She's more than suitable for the King of Mirinthia.” Her gaze then softens as she turns to me, introducing herself, “My name is Beryl, and I knew your mother. You bear such a striking resemblance to her. Will she be joining you here?”
Bewildered by her words, I demand answers. “My mother? What’s happening? I don’t understand any of this. Can you assure me I’m alive? How can I possibly breathe underwater? And how do you know my mother?” I grasp Misty’s forearm, the urgency of my questions mirrored in my tight grip. My eyes desperately seek hers, pleading for some explanation to make sense of the surreal situation unfolding around me.
Misty bows her head and offers a reassuring smile. "I think our king prefers to explain everything to you personally, but I'll give you enough information to ease your mind. We need to keep you calm—it's better for your breathing," she explains gently. Extending her hand, she helps me out of bed and begins teaching me how to maneuver in the water. Moving gracefully without fins is not straightforward, but her guidance makes it feel more manageable.
“Is this place real?” I ask, feeling awkward and ignorant. I never considered myself a skeptical person, but my new surroundings are a bit hard to swallow.
Misty nods with a silent understanding, her movements as fluid as water. She gracefully floats behind me, her hands gently gathering the unruly curls of my hair that dance like sea foam in the weightlessness around us. With skilled fingers, she twists my locks, artfully pinning them away from my shoulders. Her touch, light and reassuring, coaxes a smile onto my lips—my first since I fell off the ship.
"You are alive and well, Nerissa," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos of my thoughts. "You’re in the Otherworld, a realm adjacent to your own, a sanctuary for beings like us. Here, we are hidden from the prying eyes and potential violence of mortals. Your arrival here is no mere coincidence. The gods themselves have guided you to this fate. Now, it is for you to choose whether to embrace the path they have set before you."
"Fate? I don’t believe in fate," I protest, shaking my head and trying to dispel the fog of disbelief that clouds my thoughts.
Misty’s smile only widens at my denial, her eyes twinkling with a mix of wisdom and mischief. "Many have echoed your disbelief," she replies, her tone laced with amusement. "Yet, those very skeptics often find themselves recanting their words once they stand face-to-face with their fated mate. Which, incidentally, brings us to King Egon. He’s waiting to see you."
chapter eight
"Nerissa?" The name escapes my lips, a whispered echo of the countless times it has resonated in the chambers of my mind since I welcomed my delicate mate into the sanctuary of my kingdom.
She was a vision of vulnerability, her exhausted body bearing the scars of survival, and I knew all too well the weight of her ordeal. In her fragile state, she was hardly ready to absorb the profound depths of her importance to me and to our realm. I watched over her rest, patiently waiting for the moment she would be strong enough to understand the connection that fate had spun between us.
When she finally stirred from her deep slumber, I discreetly withdrew from her presence, leaving her in the capable hands of my trusted attendants. It was their duty to gently acclimate her to the strange new world that is to become her home. My own appearance, I knew, could be unsettling. A creature of my stature and nature rarely instills calm in those unaccustomed to the sights of our species. Therefore, I reluctantly retreated into the shadows—my heart heavy with the knowledge that my very being might overwhelm her fragile senses.
"Nerissa?" My voice barely rises above a whisper, filled with a mixture of longing and concern. I can't see her, yet the intoxicating scent of my mate's fragrance wafts through the air, guiding me toward a large changing panel against the wall. She's concealed herself behind it, and the sound of her pulsating heartbeat—a rapid, delicate thrum—echoes faintly in the quiet room. It speaks clearly of her fear, an unwelcome contrast to the reunion I had imagined.
This isn't the beginning I had hoped for us, but I’m determined to put her mind at ease.
“Who are you? What are you?” Nerissa’s voice quivers, each word trembling with palpable fear as it cuts through the silence. Her fear, though understandable given the shock of a world beyond her wildest imagination, sends a pang of sorrow through me. The realization that she fears not only this unknown realm but also me, stings deeply. It is my solemn duty, from this moment forward, to protect her, and my heartfelt privilege to love her. Yet, this path seems fraught with challenges if she remains wary of my presence. Earning her trust will be a daunting task if she keeps her distance.
“My name is Egon. As for what I am, that might be a bit more difficult to explain. Centuries ago, we were known as Leviathans by mortals who wrote terrifying tales of us—monstrous creatures sinking ships and ravaging coastal villages. Among ourselves, however, we have always been Kraken." Cautiously, I peer behind the panel to better gauge her reaction, sensing the novelty of this revelation for her. It’s clear she is unaware of her lineage, how deeply her family’s history is entangled with my own.
“Like the Kraken from mythology?” Nerissa’s voice rises, her eyes alight with a mix of fear and fascination.
“Those stories were greatly exaggerated, crafted more for entertainment than truth. We were never the monsters chained to the bottom of the sea, released only to wreak havoc. We have always valued our solitude—attacked only when provoked. That’s the very reason we retreated to this sanctuary—a realm fashioned for magical beings,” I explain, struggling to make the unbelievable sound plausible to her newly awakened senses.
Nerissa edges closer, her eyes expanding with awe as she absorbs the reality of my being—perhaps grappling with the sheer improbability that someone like me could exist. “Are you the one who saved me? Did I somehow stumble into this world by mistake?”
I extend my hand toward her, the gesture laden with silent hope. My heart pounds with the anticipation of her touch, yearning to feel the warmth of her skin against mine once more. “I brought you here,” I confess, my voice catching slightly as I brace myself to reveal the truth. I swallow hard, the admission heavy on my tongue. "It was no accident—I guided you to the Otherworld, driven by reasons deeply tied to both our destinies."
“Our destinies?" Nerissa whispers, her voice a blend of wonder and uncertainty. Tentatively, she places her hand in mine, her fingers interlocking until I secure our grip, gently guiding her from behind the panel that shields her. "I don’t understand what that means.” Her gaze drops to our clasped hands, seemingly finding comfort in the sight rather than meeting my eyes. The fear I sensed earlier seems to have dissolved, replaced now by a burgeoning curiosity. The magnetic pull, the unspoken bond that ties fated mates, is an undeniable force that no one can elude. If she feels even a fragment of the profound connection stirring within me, her desire to uncover the truth will inevitably grow.
"Do I feel familiar to you?" I ask, the closeness to my mate infusing my body with a potent mix of desire and anticipation. Gently, I curl a tentacle around her waist, guiding her toward the door.
Surprisingly, she offers no resistance—instead, her free hand caresses my sinuous limb, tracing its contours with fascination. She is unaware of the intensity of sensation she evokes; each of my tentacles is laden with nerve endings, as sensitive as any erogenous zone. Her touch sends ripples of pleasure through me, stirring a deep yearning. Unbeknownst to her, this caress is part of a traditional mating ritual among Kraken. Her actions, perhaps driven by an innate instinct, resonate deeply with our ancestral customs, suggesting a connection that goes beyond coincidence.
“I don’t know. Everything feels too unreal to think straight," Nerissa confesses, her voice tinged with a blend of awe and confusion. She lifts her head, and our eyes lock—an electric connection sparking as her green eyes widen, visibly dilating in response to the sight of me. Her gaze roves over me, lingering on each detail, exploring every contour with an intensity that leaves me feeling exposed yet deeply desired. As she takes in my form, I can feel her emotions shifting from bewilderment to recognition. Her lips part slightly, and she murmurs almost inaudibly, "Thank you for saving me." The vulnerability in her voice, coupled with the gratitude, stirs a protective instinct in me, and I pull her closer, my tentacles gathering around her thighs.
