“No. It’s just…” She shook her head and laughed humorlessly. “Of course you’d reveal yourself for our last exchange.”
“I… Last? What do you mean, last exchange?”
“There are humans in The Watch who are looking for you. For the kraken.”
“How does that differ from the last three months? We’ve seen the fishermen watching the water.”
“These people are Hunters, Arkon. They’re from a place farther inland called Fort Culver. Seven of them arrived the evening of our last exchange and called a meeting in town. Their leader approached me today, asking me questions about Jax and your people.”
He moved closer, eliminating some of the distance she’d opened in her retreat. “My people are hunters, too, Aymee. And no one here knows anything about us that could endanger our wellbeing. Unless they have technology like Macy’s suit, we are beyond their reach.”
She placed her hand on his chest. His heart — hearts, for surely there were more than one — thumped beneath her palm. “But you’re not. Every time you come here you put yourself at risk.”
Arkon stared down at her hand before hesitantly covering it with his own. “I’m beginning to realize that life has little meaning without risks.”
Determination and vulnerability filled his eyes.
“Why did you wait so long to show yourself to me?” She curled her fingers slightly beneath his hand.
“Because I didn’t know what to say to you, or what you thought of me. I was…out of sorts when we first met.”
“What I thought?” Aymee’s brows furrowed. “I was fascinated by you. I thought that was clear.”
“And I was stunned by you, so I stammered like a fool. I’m not… Interactions like this aren’t something I am particularly skilled at. My experience with humans is understandably limited, so I couldn’t be certain of how to interpret the way you acted toward me. I…I'm rambling now.”
Aymee’s grin widened with each word he spoke. “I find your rambling endearing.” She rubbed her finger over his skin. “I watched you, you know.”
His hand twitched, and his skin warmed under her palm. “You watched me?”
“After I leave the beach, I hide in the jungle along the clifftop and wait for you to retrieve the canister.” She continued the motion of her finger, intrigued by the soft texture of his skin and the comforting strength of his hand.
“I’ve always watched you drop it off, but I never thought you’d wait to see me, afterward.” Tentatively, he raised a tentacle and lightly brushed its tip over her wrist.
She watched, fascinated by the limb. It was long and thick, its lighter-colored underside lined with suction cups that lightly kissed her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest, and something powerful stirred low in her belly.
What did that say about her? This was only her second meeting with Arkon, and she was more aroused than she’d ever been with a human man. Was it the allure of the unknown? Had the details Macy relayed sparked a curiosity in Aymee that demanded to be sated?
Was there something wrong with her?
But how could she view this as shameful, unnatural, abhorrent? She didn’t see it that way with Jax and Macy.
This didn’t feel wrong. Not to Aymee.
“I wanted to see you.” She slipped her hand from beneath his and brushed her palm over his suction cups.
Arkon’s fingers trembled, and he released a shaky breath before shifting back, withdrawing his tentacle from her touch. “This is…I…”
Dropping her arm, Aymee regarded him with a smile. His eyes were wide, irises nearly consumed by his dilated pupils, which weren’t quite round. His tentacles writhed in the sand, and his hands were at his sides, fingers tightly curled. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.
There was a hint of uncertainty in his heated gaze; he looked as though he held onto control by a thread and might break at any moment.
A rush of satisfaction coursed through Aymee; she’d done this, she’d instilled this want in Arkon. He was just as affected by her as she was by him.
Her smile didn’t falter as she turned away and walked between the stacks of stones. The wind flowed through her hair, cooler now with night’s approach, and the sound of the waves licking the shore enveloped her like a siren’s song.
“This is beautiful.” She gestured to his work with a sweeping wave of her arm. “I hate that it will be gone come morning.”
“The person it was meant for has found joy in it. There’s nothing lost, as long as you hold onto that emotion.”
“Like a painting. A moment captured forever.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’ve kept every rock you’ve gifted me. I wish I could keep this too.”
He moved closer but didn’t pass between the stones. “Keep this moment.”
“I will.”
She inhaled the briny air. The tide was rising as the day waned, and the light had taken on a magical quality that existed only during sunrise and sunset, when everything, for a short while, seemed new and incredible. It made Arkon’s stone towers ethereal — they were a fleeting glimpse into another world, stolen while the foggy veil was drawn back for an instant.
This place hadn’t felt like that to Aymee since she was a child, when she and Macy would splash colors on the rocks. Their paintings would last only until the next storm, and that had made them more precious.
Just like this.
She wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as she could.
“Thank you, Arkon.”
He dipped his head in a shallow bow. “It was my pleasure.”
Aymee’s eyes fell on the canister she’d dropped; it stood at an angle behind him, near the outer edge of the stones. Her joy faded. She weaved through the stacks, stopped before the container, and picked it up after a brief hesitation.
“I need to get back before it’s dark,” she said, walking to Arkon and holding the canister out. “Don’t want to raise anyone’s suspicions.”
I don’t want to go. Not now that you are here.
Arkon placed his hands on the container, and they held it between them, staring into each other’s eyes. “When can we meet again?”
Her grip tightened. “We can’t. It’s too dangerous for you to come back.”
“So we will be cautious, and meet on a more sheltered part of the beach. One that isn’t well visible from farther inland.”
She meant to shake her head, to tell him no, but instead said, “There’s a spot toward the other end of the beach where the cliff overhangs the sand. No one can see underneath unless they’re standing on the beach nearby.” She gestured toward it, though the place was difficult to make out from this angle.
“And…I will see you there tomorrow?” Arkon asked.
Aymee’s eyes widened, and her mouth hung open. She hadn’t planned to meet again at all, much less so soon, and her heart leapt at the prospect. “Tomorrow?”
After another moment, resolve strengthened his features. “Yes. Tomorrow. I will allow you to choose the time, as I’ve chosen the day.”
“Will we need to exchange these again?” she asked, nodding toward the canister.
He glanced down and smiled. “No. Tomorrow will be just for us.”
Her gaze fell on his mouth; his parted lips revealed his pointed teeth. Strangely, they didn’t unnerve her. Arkon’s smile took on a rakish tilt.
Something stirred in her again, a tingling heat at her core; familiar but unidentifiable.
“Tomorrow then. Same time as always,” she said.
Arkon nodded and tucked the canister under his arm when she finally released it, though his eyes didn’t leave hers. “May the stars smile upon you tonight, Aymee.”
Clenching fistfuls of her skirt, she watched him go; his movements were graceful despite the alien nature of his gait. She didn’t take her eyes off him until he disappeared into the sea, and only then walked between the stones to retrieve the container he’d left at their normal drop-off spot. Anticipation thrummed through her.<
br />
She’d see him again.
Tomorrow.
Chapter 4
The ocean sang while Arkon waited; it sounded so different from land, distant and otherworldly. This wasn’t the dark, deep lullaby — felt more than heard — of his youth. It was music brimming with wonderment and possibility, with freedom and imagination.
A song for Aymee.
Arkon closed his eyes and filled his lungs with salt-kissed air. The sand beneath him was soft, the rock at his back had been warmed by the afternoon sun, and a light breeze tickled his skin. Though his senses were unchanged on land, the things he experienced with them were still largely new — as was what he’d felt when Aymee touched him.
He brushed his fingers over his chest, sparking a fleeting, ghostly memory of the thrill that had suffused his skin while he’d been in contact with her.
After imagining dozens of potential outcomes for their meeting, Arkon had been wholly unprepared for the effects of her proximity, her touch, her scent and taste. He’d barely maintained control of his body.
It had taken hours for him to calm after they’d parted, and his excitement had rekindled with startling intensity when he discovered the paints and brushes she’d left in the canister for him. And the art she’d given him! Being gifted a drawing of himself had been odd — he’d never considered that he would become the subject of anyone’s art — but her work was exquisite, and the life she’d instilled in it with a bit of color in the eyes astounded him.
The implication of her offering had caught him off-guard when it dawned on him.
Aymee didn’t see him as a monster.
He opened his eyes and stared out over the sea. The waves glittered in the late afternoon sun as though countless stars had plummeted to float upon the water. The ends of his fore-tentacles swept over the sand restlessly. He felt like his hearts hadn’t slowed since their meeting the day before.
She’d been waiting for him to approach her all along.
However intelligent Arkon thought he was, he’d proven himself inept when it came to Aymee.
Something moved in his periphery vision. He turned his head to see Aymee rounding the wide bend. She carried a basket at her elbow, and the wind molded her clothing to her body, teasing at the curves hidden beneath the cloth.
Arkon rose slowly and allowed his skin to revert to its natural color and texture. The moment her dark eyes settled on him, her entire face brightened.
“You’re here!” Aymee called over the wind and sea.
She closed the remaining distance between them at an easy run; Arkon watched, fascinated by the play of her lithe limbs and the brush of her curls over her cheeks. Her apparent joy validated his eagerness.
“Was there any doubt I would be?”
“No.” She swept her hair out of her face. “Have you been waiting long?”
When Arkon’s people hunted, they sometimes laid in wait to ambush unsuspecting prey from sunup to sundown. The few hours he’d waited on this beach had been almost unbearable due to his anticipation, but they were a small price, especially with Aymee as the payoff.
He smiled. “No, not long.”
“Are you hungry?” Aymee set down her basket and lifted the folded brown blanket from its top. After spreading the blanket over the sand with one edge against the cliff, she sat down atop it.
“Yes, I am hungry. I would have brought food had I known you wanted to eat.”
Though the kraken shared food, sharing meals was an unfamiliar concept to them. Arkon had only learned of the custom through Macy. It was a ritual with social and cultural significance, though he wasn’t sure of its meanings beyond solidifying the bonds of family and community.
Pulling the basket closer, Aymee glanced up at him and smiled. “I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you, so I brought dinner with me. I made sure to pack extra, just in case.” She patted the empty place beside her. “Join me?”
Arkon studied the way she was sitting before looking down at himself. He brushed as much sand as he could off his tentacles, folded them beneath himself, and settled down on the blanket. The soft-but-scratchy texture of the fabric was strange to him.
“What is this made from?” He brushed a tentacle over the blanket; its foreign scent was layered with Aymee’s sweet smell.
“Sheep’s wool. The original colonists brought many things from Earth when they landed — machines, plants, and animals. Sheep were among those things.” She peeled back a smaller cloth that was draped over the basket, revealing a variety of food within. Arkon recognized much of it from the supplies Aymee sent Macy.
Plants.
As far as he’d been able to discern from the Facility’s old lab reports, kraken could safely eat many of the same plants humans did without getting ill, but he hadn’t dared to try any yet.
“We shear the wool from them when it gets long enough and use it to make clothing and blankets,” Aymee continued.
Arkon pinched the fabric and rubbed it between his fingertips. “Is it like their hair?”
“Yes. We use dyes to change its color, like this.” She lifted the hem of her blue skirt. “This isn’t made from wool, though. It’s made from whitesilk flower, which is native to Halora.”
Arkon looked at the material between her fingers, but his attention soon drifted to the smooth curve of her calf. Did that skin feel different than the skin of her hand?
She released her skirt and rummaged through the basket.
Her movement tugged Arkon from his distraction. Her words hit him suddenly, tugging his mind in a new direction. Unthinking, he reached forward and touched her skirt. “This was made from flowers? What sort of process yields this result?”
Aymee chuckled. “When the flowers bloom, they leave behind these long silky strands. We gather those and spin them into thread.” She removed a small, cloth-wrapped bundle from the basket and held it out to him. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
Furrowing his brow, Arkon accepted the offering and unwrapped it. Though he couldn’t guess its source, it was undoubtedly meat. The outside was browned and bore faint scorch marks — signs it had been cooked, like Macy did with all her meat.
If this had come from the sea, it was cut from a creature he’d never eaten before.
“What is it?”
“Krull.”
“The long-necked beasts that live in the jungle?”
“Yes. You’ve seen them?”
Arkon nodded. “One of the times I went with Jax to forage for Macy. He voiced his curiosity regarding their taste.”
“Now you can tell him what it tastes like.”
“I think I’ll tell him I know and leave it at that.”
Aymee grinned. “He’ll have to hunt his own.”
Arkon grinned, too. “He just might. It’s not often I can say I tried something before him, so I must relish these experiences as they come.” Raising the meat to his mouth, he sank his teeth into it and tore off a bite.
Most of the kraken’s prey yielded soft, sometimes chewy meat. This was tough, but the flavor quickly burst over his tongue and flooded his mouth. It was startlingly complex, and Arkon realized it wasn’t solely the krull meat he tasted — the little flecks on the meat, which appeared to be finely-diced plants, added to the taste, altered it, enhanced it in ways he hadn’t known possible.
“Do you like it?” she asked, chewing her own piece.
He shifted the meat to one side of his mouth. “I’m not sure. It’s...a lot. Almost overwhelming. I’ve never had anything like it.”
She swallowed. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to,” he replied, and took another bite. “This is just very different from what I normally eat. It’s even different from the cooked meat Macy’s had me try.”
“Does all of her food come from the sea?”
“The meat, yes.”
They ate in companionable silence, enveloped by the sighing of the waves. Aymee turned her face t
oward the sea as she bit into a wedge of fruit. Arkon watched the wind lift locks of her hair, brushing them over her cheeks and shoulders.
“Is she beautiful?” she asked suddenly. “Sarina, I mean.”
“Yes, she is.” There was deep emotion hidden with Aymee’s question. A hint of sorrow, perhaps?
The corner of her lips tilted up. “I knew she would be.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to meet her yourself, before long.”
She met his gaze. “Really?”
Arkon nodded. The hope in her eyes made his chest tighten. “Once she is a bit older, I do not doubt Macy and Jax will arrange for you to see her.”
Aymee averted her gaze to the water. “It’s not the same with the letters. I know she’s the one writing them, but it’s not her.”
Frowning, Arkon looked at the sand. From hopeful to crushed in an instant. Her sadness was a weight on his heart; how would he feel if Jax, Macy, and Sarina were taken out of his life?
He’d feel the same emptiness if Aymee were taken, though this was only the third time they’d spoken.
He placed his hand on her leg; her thigh was warm through the fabric of her skirt. “As soon as these hunters have moved on and Macy has recovered, I will make sure she starts to visit you.”
“I’d love that. Thank you.” Her smile returned, and after a few seconds, her eyes dropped to his hand. She tilted her head.
Arkon pulled his arm back. She hadn’t invited the touch, hadn’t given him permission, and he must have broken a rule of human interaction
Aymee caught his hand, hooking her fingers over his thumb, and drew it closer. Arm stretched toward her, Arkon leaned forward.
Her bronzed skin was dark against his pale blue-gray flesh, her hand tiny in comparison.
Aymee’s heat seeped into him. She lifted her hand away and traced her fingertip along the webbing between his fingers and up to the tips of his claws.
Her delicate touch sent a tingling sensation along his arm. It gathered in his chest to halt his breath; he’d never experienced anything like it. His skin was sensitive enough to detect minute changes in water temperature and current — a gift from the humans who’d engineered the kraken, if he chose to look at it that way — and that sensitivity turned the contact with Aymee into something euphoric.
Jewel of the Sea (The Kraken Book 2) Page 5