The Kraken King

by Meljean Brook

  “You were there. I was there.” The wooden rail creaked under his fingers. “Who else would we need?”

  “A magistrate or a reverend, to start. And a witness.”

  “You need an official?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll find one when we reach the Red City.”

  “To marry us? That wasn’t what I— Wait.” Breathless, her thoughts in a whirl, she held up her hand. “Just wait.”

  This was happening too quickly. He was far ahead of her, or she was far behind, and nothing made sense.

  She drew a deep breath. Another. Silent, with his heavy arms caging her in, Ariq watched her.

  Her confusion began to subside. But although her tumbling thoughts settled, her emotions would not. Disbelief still reigned.

  “You married me? Truly married me?”

  His chin dipped in a slow nod. “You are my wife.” The gravel in his voice was the only indication that his calm might not be as deep as it appeared. “But it seems I am not your husband.”

  Her husband. Hers. Because he’d married her.

  The realization filled her chest like laughter, light and warm and wonderful. It must have shown. Some of his tension seemed to ease.

  “I thought it was a strategy,” she confessed. “Just a way to protect me.”

  “It was strategy.” Gently, he pushed her hair away from her face, but the moment his hand returned to the rail it streamed between them again. “But not just strategy.”

  “You didn’t have to, though.” Zenobia could still barely believe that he had. But despite the doubts that wanted to slip in, she was beginning to embrace the idea. “It’s a rather extreme tactic, marriage. Have you used it before? Is that how you won all of your battles? Do you have brides all across the Horde Empire, unaware that they’re married?”

  Without a change in his expression he said, “Thousands.”

  Her laughter bubbled out. “So what else has been a strategy? Stealing my hairpins? Telling me that I’m everything?”

  Something flickered over his features. Her laugh faltered.

  What had that been? Just a subtle tightening of his mouth, a flash through his eyes. So fleeting, she couldn’t describe the emotion behind it. But she felt the meaning in the sudden, painful clutch of her chest.

  She stared up at him, at the clench of his jaw, at the resolve hardening his eyes, and knew she wasn’t mistaken. “That was a strategy—telling me that I’m everything?”

  A frown darkened his face. “It was true.”

  Pain sliced through her gut. That might as well have been a confirmation. “But was it a tactic? For what purpose?”

  “You were pushing me away. I knew you were vulnerable to those who cared for you. So I bared my heart.”

  In her bedchamber. When she’d learned that he’d read her letters and betrayed her trust. She hadn’t been pushing him away—she been trying to get away, because everything inside her had been hurting as much as it did now, and her chest had been tight and heavy, her throat aching with hot tears.

  But there hadn’t been anywhere to go. There wasn’t anywhere to go now, either.

  Except to turn away from him. Turn away and blame her tears on the wind.

  She did, facing an ocean that blurred before her. At least she understood his reading the letters. He’d been protecting his town. But why had he taken aim at her heart? “You told me you were falling in love so that I would trust you?”

  And she had. Fool that she was, she’d fallen straight into his arms.

  Those arms flexed, his big hands clenching on the rail as if he wanted to rip it away. “And because you are everything.”

  “How can I believe that?” Every word caught on the ache in her throat, shuddering as it emerged. “If you hide your reasons, how can I trust anything you say?”

  “Dregs and hell! Because it’s the truth!”

  “And only spoken because it served a purpose!” Chest heaving with sudden anger, she pivoted and met his thunderous gaze.

  No longer calm, he loomed over her, his powerful arms braced at her sides. “But it was the truth. You cannot say the same of everything you’ve said to me.”

  And she was supposed to be sorry for that?

  “I lied to protect myself! I never used my feelings as a weapon against you. But you attack me with yours—as if I’m an enemy you have to defeat.”

  “You’re not an enemy. But you build walls. You build them high and thick, and don’t allow anyone through. So, yes. I waged an assault against them.” Lowering his face to hers, he vowed through gritted teeth, “And I will do it again, Zenobia. Because you’re building them now. Next you will run and hide. And this will be the excuse you use to go.”

  Wildly, she shook her head. Every wall she’d ever built stood for a reason. Now she had another one. Every time Ariq said he cared for her she would wonder what he really wanted. “It’s not an excuse—”

  “Do you believe that I love you? Because if you know that’s true, then you’re just grabbing for stones to build your walls again—because if having a hidden purpose means you don’t trust me, you only have to say as much and I’ll never do it again. So do you believe that I’ve spoken the truth?”

  The question seemed to shatter the anger inside her, breaking it into sharp edges that ripped and tore. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to answer.

  Mutely, she stared at him.

  The skin across his cheeks drew taut. Hoarsely, he asked, “You don’t?”

  She swallowed past the ache in her throat. “You don’t even know me. You concocted a story in your head to explain my presence here. And that’s who you thought I was when you were in my bedchamber, when you told me . . .” She couldn’t continue. Eyes burning, she turned her face away. “You thought I was someone I’m not. You loved her. And you married her.”

  Silence. Was he realizing that truth? How could she bear it when he looked at her differently?

  “Zenobia.” Strong fingers lifted her chin. His eyes were dark, and intense, and he was calm again. “I learned who you were before I married you.”

  “All you learned was a name. I wasn’t who you loved.”

  “And I never loved the spy as much as I did you last night when you bludgeoned me. Or today, when you told me good morning.” His thumb slipped across her trembling lips. “Is this why you’re pushing me away?”

  Throat aching too much for words, she shrugged. How could she trust any of this? She felt foolish, and hurt, and certain that the second she reached for him, he would step away. No need to push him.

  “You are my wife,” he said, and the rasp in his voice shredded her heart a little more. “Am I your husband?”

  She wanted him to be. So much. But her heart was a selfish, stupid thing. Only an idiot would listen to it.

  “It’s not at all sensible,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “We barely know each other.” Only two weeks. And they’d spent half the time apart.

  “That’s true,” Ariq agreed, and the cold rushed in around her when he suddenly stepped away. He watched her from the center of the basket, arms folded over his chest. “So we can resolve this simply. You can be my wife now and when we reach the Red City. If you’re with me, living as my wife, we’ll soon know each other well. And when you’re satisfied, you can make me your husband.”

  “But that’s so . . .” Practical. Eminently practical.

  Yet would be so painful if what she feared was true—that Ariq would discover he didn’t love her.

  He must have read her hesitation. “You would be certain of my feelings for you.”

  So she would. And maybe the coming pain didn’t matter. It was already painful now.

  “All right.” She stopped his forward motion with a lift of her hand. Her heart pounded, fear crashing with hope. “But if I’m not convinced, then I’ll leave with my brother when he arrives.”

  His expression froze. Utterly still, he watched her. The krak
en, waiting. “You’re already planning to leave?”

  “No. Just planning.” So that she didn’t feel utterly lost when it happened.

  His predatory stillness continued. “Are you afraid?”

  The laugh that burst from her held no amusement. But if the point of the next few weeks was to learn about each other, she might as well admit this. “I’m always afraid.”

  Ariq stiffened. “Of me?”

  “No.” Oddly enough. “Not at all.”

  “Good.”

  He strode forward, tearing his tunic open. Sunlight rippled over sculpted flesh. By the time he reached her, he’d bared shoulders heavy with muscle, and her scattered wits had finally stitched together to form a complete thought. Then his tunic dropped to the basket floor and she had to gather her words again.

  Ariq didn’t give her a moment to say them. “I have no hidden purposes. I’m taking this off because it excites you to look at me.”

  The unbelievable arrogance. “No—”

  “No lies.” Abruptly he caught her chin and tipped her gaze up to meet his. “If I’m to learn about you, do not block me by putting lies in my way. The walls you already have are enough.”

  That was fair. She recanted her denial. “I do like looking.”

  So much. Just a glimpse of his body kindled a fire in hers, heat licking over her skin.

  Gaze dropping to her lips, he nodded. “Know this, too: Everything I do is to persuade you to stay. Every time I touch you, every time I look at you, every time I kiss you. Every time I get inside you I won’t stop until you’re crying my name. I intend to brand myself so deep into you that you could write a thousand stories but still not picture life without me. That is my purpose. If you put obstacles between us, I will use any strategy to tear them down. So that when your brother comes, you don’t think of leaving with him. Is that direct enough?”

  It couldn’t be any clearer. Breathless, she said, “Yes—”

  His mouth seized hers. Oh, God. Not a sweet kiss this time, but rough and possessive. His big hand clasped her nape, holding her still as he invaded her lips. The bold stroke of his tongue staked his claim. Staggering under the assault on her senses, she let her blanket fall from nerveless fingers and clung to him, his bare skin hot beneath her hands.

  But this wasn’t a surrender. Even if he knew her most vulnerable points. Even if he could make her gasp when he cupped her bottom and lifted her against him, and cry out when the long ride over his rigid shaft transformed her arousal into raging, aching need.

  At least she wasn’t the only one devastated. An agonized groan tore from his chest as he held her with only a few layers of clothing between them, her thighs wrapped around his hips. He buried his face in her throat. She felt the battle that shook through him, his every muscle taut from the strain of simply holding her.

  She wasn’t that heavy. It could only mean that he was fighting himself—and his control was failing, too.

  Better if she made it crumble. She anchored her arms around his neck and rocked against him.

  Ariq groaned again, even as tension steeled his powerful frame. He looked up at her, and she loved the subtle flush beneath his skin. Her own felt tight and hot, her lips swollen, her body a tumultuous mass of nerves and fire.

  Slowly, he lowered Zenobia to her feet, her aroused flesh slipping down his length and dragging another moan from her throat. His voice was a soft growl, feral in its intensity. “Do you still want an adventure?”

  An adventure. That was what she’d called her intention to take him to her bed.

  The needy ache inside her deepened. “Yes.”

  He stripped off the goggles. “You’ll need these.”

  That wasn’t what she’d expected. Bemused—and not a little confused—she took them. “Why?”

  “You have to stand as lookout.” He steered her against the side of the basket. “Where’s your blanket?”

  “I . . .” She looked around. Not on the floor. His tunic still lay crumpled where he’d dropped it. “It must have blown over the side.”

  Because he’d kissed her senseless. Her brain still hadn’t quite pulled back together.

  “Are you cold?”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, yes. Despite the two layers she wore, the wind seemed to slip under her collar and through every seam. “A little.”

  He scooped up his tunic. “Put this on.”

  “Then you’ll be cold.” She didn’t know how he wasn’t already, but his skin was smooth, and his dark nipples flat.

  “Not where I’m going,” he said and, when she didn’t immediately look away from the hard slabs of his pectorals, slung the tunic around her shoulders.

  It was far too big, but she immediately felt warmer. Her arms slipped into sleeves that dangled past the ends of her fingers.

  “Where are you going?” Jumping into the ocean again? She doubted it, but glanced over the side anyway. “Down there?”

  “No.” His hands caught her hips. “But I hope to make it as wet.”

  Her face flamed. She couldn’t mistake his meaning, though she didn’t know how he intended to—

  Gaze holding hers, he sank to his knees in front of her.

  Her heart tripped to a stop. “Ariq?”

  “You need to watch for ships so I’ll know you’re safe as I do this.” His palms smoothed down her hips. “Put the goggles on.”

  Breath suddenly ragged, she buckled them behind her head. The thick frames narrowed her vision. The lenses shielded her eyes from the wind. She didn’t know if it would matter. Her focus seemed scattered, the sky blurred and the sun too bright, and the waves drawn in sharp lines.

  Long fingers trailed down the sides of her thighs, three layers of tunics and a pair of pantaloons separating their skin. “Take off your boots.”

  Her boots? But a second later his hands slipped under the hems of her tunics and she understood why. He intended to remove her bottoms.

  Gripping the rail for balance, she toed off her boots. They slid off easily and she stood in her bare feet on the cool wooden floor. The silk of her pantaloons suddenly felt no more substantial than tissue. The heat of his hands burned through the thin material on their way up her legs. She trembled as his fingers hooked the tie at her navel and gently tugged. The waist fell loose.

  Slowly, without touching her skin, he dragged the silk down her thighs. Shivering wildly, she clung to the rail. The roar of the wind seemed to fill her ears, but his graveled voice penetrated the din.

  “Cold?”

  “No.” Her blood was on fire. Was this how he meant to brand her? He would. God, he would. From the inside out. She’d probably never be cold again.

  His fingernails skimmed the backs of her knees as he continued downward. Another shudder wracked her body. Tendrils of cooler air were slipping up between her legs now, a whisper against her skin and an icy breath where she was wet.

  And she was so wet. Already.

  Silk pooled at her ankles. Ariq looked up at her, stark need written in the lines of his face. “Step out.”

  She did, kicking the pantaloons aside. Her pulse drummed a dizzying beat. She was bare. But she wasn’t exposed. Not yet. Her tunics were long; the blue silk fell past her knees and the others hung low on her thighs. Each buckled at her shoulder and side, and a belt cinched the first two layers at her waist like the tie of a robe. Ariq couldn’t see anything but her shins and her feet.

  It didn’t matter. Ariq wore less than she did and yet she seemed more bare. And when his callused palms cupped the backs of her calves and began a rough upward slide, she’d never felt so utterly naked.

  “Watch.”

  Another harsh command. He’d barely gritted out more than a few words at a time since he’d begun touching her. But she had been watching, transfixed by the ridged muscles of his abdomen that flexed as he sat back on his heels, by the rampant thrust of his erection outlined beneath his trousers. She’d been watching it all through the narrowed field of her goggles, arreste
d by the rich warm tones of his skin and the sight of her wrapped tunic slowly parting as his hands rose higher and higher beneath the hem.

  Those hands stilled. “Zenobia. Watch.”

  Not him, she realized. The horizon. She was supposed to be watching for other ships.

  Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away and stared blindly into the sky. Her legs were trembling, but they shouldn’t. He wasn’t touching her in any way that she hadn’t done herself. She knew what to expect. Never had such acute arousal accompanied her explorations, but it would be the same. Fingers on flesh.

  Except she’d never shaken in anticipation of her own touch. His palms slid higher, his fingers curling inward. Her head fell back, the muscles of her neck feeling loose though the rest of her body was strung with unbearable tension. Overhead, the lantern fish undulated, pumping through the air, and the motion of its translucent flesh seemed lascivious now, pulsing to the same beat as the throbbing ache between her legs.

  Cool air slipped through her parting tunic and swept her upper thighs. Rough fingertips slicked over wet skin. Zenobia whimpered low in her throat. Just a little higher now.

  With a grinding moan, Ariq stopped. Gripping his taut shoulders, she pushed her hips forward, urging him. But when his hands began moving again they flattened and rose past the heated juncture of her thighs, until his big palms cupped her bare bottom.

  Her face caught fire. She’d just wantonly tried to push her sex into his hands, assuming he would touch her there. But that apparently hadn’t been his goal. Now she didn’t know what—

  “Hook your leg over my shoulder.” Voice hoarse, Ariq sank lower and dipped his head. “Let me taste you.”

  Dear God. She knew this. Had seen drawings. But she’d never imagined it.

  A true adventure. One that made her entire body shudder with need.

  “I’ll fall over,” she whispered. Her trembling legs barely supported her now.

  “I’ll hold you.” With his left hand steady behind her, his right hand slid to the back of her knee, gently lifting it forward. “Just keep watch.”

  She couldn’t. The sky and sea were a blur of blue, not the deeper blue of her tunic as it fell away from her leg. His shoulder and back were solid and hot beneath her skin, her calf a pale stripe against his tattoo. A black tentacle curled beneath her heel. The kraken, pulling her deep. With a kiss to the inside of her thigh. With a lick that went higher. She couldn’t see Ariq’s face, only his dark head as he bent to the shadows beneath the V of blue silk. His fingers tightened on her bottom and hauled her closer.