Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3)

by Tiffany Roberts

  Relief flooded him. It was a small island, its shore covered in pale sand.

  With a concrete destination, he pushed hard, straining his weary, battered body. Were he not so worn, he’d have scouted the area before making landfall.

  He swam until the water was too shallow for it, and then dragged himself by hands and tentacles onto the beach. Larkin released him and slid off his back, landing in the sand beside him. She crawled on hands and knees to the grass beyond the tideline and collapsed on her back in the shade of a large tree.

  Dracchus did not allow himself to halt until he was beside her. His arms finally gave out, and he relaxed his tentacles, laying on his stomach with his head turned toward her.

  This was his first glimpse of her in natural light. Her hair was even more vibrant than he’d realized, a deep red-orange, and the sunshine highlighted the little brown spots on her white skin. Her dark pink lips were full, and her delicate features belied the strength beneath the surface.

  Her shirt left her arms, neck, and upper chest exposed, and she had several small, shallow cuts on her pale skin, accompanied by blue and purple bruising on her throat and temple.

  He growled. His instinct shouted to claim her, keep her, protect her.

  Her eyes were shut, her breathing slow and even in slumber. He’d have to wait at least a little longer to see the sunlight make her brilliant blue eyes sparkle.

  Dracchus slid closer to her and draped a tentacle over her waist.

  He closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached, especially his arms and shoulders, which had spent days in an unnatural position, and the spots where his beating had been particularly intense — and where Neo’s claws had raked his flesh — were still tender. Hunger gnawed at his gut.

  Where were they? Where was the Facility, or The Watch?

  Dracchus dismissed those questions; exhaustion was the most immediate issue. He’d face everything else after he rested.

  He gave into his exhaustion, and sleep claimed him within moments.

  Pain was Larkin’s first sensation as she floated toward consciousness. Her body felt like one giant bruise, and she was sure even her hair would hurt, were it possible.

  Her brow furrowed, and her fingers twitched. The sound of waves was immediate and loud. Not unusual on a boat. But where was the steady rocking motion to which she’d grown accustomed?

  Larkin’s eyes fluttered open. She squinted against the bright sunlight, and several realizations struck her — she was lying atop soft vegetation on solid ground, not on her bunk in the ship; it was daytime; there was a warm body pressed against her.

  She slowly turned her head. Her eyes widened as her gaze settled on Dracchus. His face was close to hers, nearly tucked in her hair, and his large body was curled around her. One of his arms was draped over her stomach and his tentacles were coiled around her legs. His shoulders rose and fell steadily, and his eyes were closed.

  All traces of the abuse he’d suffered on the ship were gone; his cuts, bruises, and swelling had healed completely.

  Larkin found herself studying him. His features were relaxed in sleep, and the daylight displayed them with a clarity she’d never seen in the brig.

  He had a wide, defined jaw and full lips, high cheekbones and a heavy, expressive brow. In the shadows below deck, she’d thought he lacked a nose, but she saw now that it was simply less pronounced than a human’s — it sloped so gently off his face that it was difficult to make out from the front. His face was striking, handsome both because of and despite its differences.

  Horizontal, light gray stripes ran from his forehead toward the back of his head. The same pattern repeated on his shoulders, upper arms, and tentacles.

  Larkin frowned as her grogginess faded and the events of the night before came roaring back — the storm, the blazing fire, her attempt to reach the smaller boat. She’d been on her way toward it when the line slackened, dropping her into the water…

  And the red kraken had attacked her.

  She’d stared up at him, water stinging her eyes, as he held her below the surface. He could’ve killed her with just a bit more force, but he’d chosen to make her suffer. He’d chosen to watch the life fade from her eyes. His visage had been hellish, silhouetted by the burning boat behind him.

  If Dracchus had been even a few seconds slower in breaking the other kraken’s grip, she would’ve drowned.

  Larkin shoved away from Dracchus, untangling her legs from his tentacles. She rolled over the grass until there was some distance between them and then pushed herself to her feet. Her legs nearly gave out; she stumbled forward, extending her arms to either side to catch her balance. The ache and stiffness in her limbs would pass.

  What she saw around her was the more distressing problem.

  The wind blew hair into her face, and she swept it back. Countless kilometers of water stretched in all directions. Where the hell were they?

  “What is wrong?” Dracchus asked. She glanced at him over her shoulder; he was upright and alert, and if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve guessed he’d been awake the entire time.

  “What’s wrong?” she repeated, turning to face him. “What’s wrong?” She marched toward him, ignoring the discomfort of her wet boots. “You took me away and brought me here!”

  “You are alive and safe.” He tilted his head to the side very slightly, brow dipping.

  She jabbed her finger at him, opened her mouth to admonish him only to snap it shut, gritting her teeth. With a frustrated growl, she stormed past him, heading for the higher ground a little farther inland.

  He’s right, damnit! How can I be angry at him for that?

  Because he refused to take me back.

  The sound of vegetation flattening under his tentacles as he followed her was whisper-soft, especially against the wind. He didn’t have any right being so quiet on land. He didn’t have any right to follow her, either. She pressed her lips into a tight line and continued up the small rise. The grass and trees yielded to bare rock. Her muscles ached in protest as she climbed.

  By the time she reached the top her chest was tight, her breath ragged, and her limbs weak. She swallowed, bringing fresh discomfort to her dry throat.

  “What are you doing?” Dracchus asked.

  Larkin ignored him as she shaded her eyes with a hand and surveyed her surroundings. She stood on a small island, perhaps two hundred meters from one tip to the other. Rock, sand, and grass dominated the landscape, broken by several scattered copses of windblown trees. The shallows around the island teemed with sea life. That meant potential food, but without rain, there’d be no fresh water.

  She could improvise a primitive means of collecting rainwater in the meantime, but no immediate access to water and adequate shelter would quickly take its toll.

  Dracchus’s hand — massive but surprisingly gentle — settled on her shoulder and guided her to turn toward him.

  “What are you looking for, Larkin?”

  She lowered her brows. “Why are you here?”

  “I swam here,” he said without a hint of irony, “with you.”

  “You know what I mean!” She shrugged his hand off. “Why are you here? I released you. You should be gone.” Her anger returned in a flash. “You should have taken me back!”

  “Your people were shooting at us.”

  “You could have waited. I could have called out to them and they would have stopped.”

  He shook his head, frowning. “The sea would have swallowed your voice, and then taken you, too.”

  “Then take me back now,” she said.

  “If your people captured me again, do you think any would let me free?”

  “Take me to the mainland, then. To The Watch.”

  He turned his head toward the far beach, setting his gaze on something far off. Larkin squinted as she searched for what he was looking at.

  Her heart leapt. A lumpy sliver of blue-gray lay along the horizon; it had to be the mainland. Though distance was
difficult to judge on the open ocean, she guessed it was at least six or seven kilometers away.

  Larkin couldn’t stay here, but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe she could make that sort of journey. She wasn’t the strongest swimmer to begin with, and attempting to cross such a distance through open water was suicide.

  But Dracchus could make it.

  “Take me there,” she said.

  He was silent, amber eyes fixed on her.

  “Damnit, Dracchus, I can’t survive here!” She swept her hand outward. “There’s food, but that’s it. No shelter, no drinkable water. Between the sun and thirst, I’ll be a scorched husk in two days.”

  “If I bring you there, you will attempt to return to your people.”

  Larkin scowled. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I cannot allow that to happen.”

  She held his gaze, silently fuming, but worry licked at the fringes of her mind. “What do you mean?”

  “You are a great danger to my people while you are with yours.” He spoke matter-of-factly, without any emotion in his voice, but there was something she couldn’t place in his eyes. “It is too great a risk to us.”

  “I know nothing more than what the others already know.”

  “Not what you know. What you can do.”

  Larkin shoved her hands into his chest. He didn’t budge, which made her angrier. “I let you go! Why would I help them capture you again after what they did? You knew I didn’t agree with it once I realized what you are!”

  “You did it because it was your duty, and that duty will be no different when you return to them.”

  “To hell with them! I can damn well say no if I want to. It’s called free will.”

  “Did you not possess that when you first captured us?”

  “I thought you were monsters! All I’ve thought about for the past year was getting my brother back, and you were supposed to be the key. But it wasn’t until they hauled you on deck and I saw you, conversed with you, that I understood differently.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she hated herself for them. She refused to cry, especially in front of him. She pressed her finger and thumb to the inside corners of her eyes. “I just want my brother back safe. Now, I don’t even know if my father’s alive.”

  Dracchus gently grasped her wrist and guided her hand down. His gaze moved over her slowly, appraisingly, while his front right tentacle slid restlessly over the ground.

  “We have saved one another’s lives,” he said finally, “and you showed kindness to myself and my companions despite the situation. That is meaningful to me. I have learned much more about compassion from your people than I have about hate. I will answer for you now what I could not on the ship.”

  The pad of his thumb brushed along her forearm, making her skin tingle. He looked into her eyes. “Your brother is alive.”

  Larkin’s heart stopped. She stared up at Dracchus, waiting for a sign that this was a malicious joke or a trick to gain her compliance. “He’s…alive?”

  “He has lived with my people for the last year.”

  “No.” She shook her head and took a step back. “You’re only saying that so I cooperate with you. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t just leave us.”

  Wouldn’t leave me.

  Dracchus maintained his grip on her wrist; it wasn’t painful, but she knew she couldn’t pull free unless he allowed her to.

  “He had no choice.”

  Those words filled her both with relief and anger. “Why? Because he saw you?”

  “He was wounded—”

  “Did you hurt him?” She yanked her arm, but he didn’t release her. “I swear if any of you—”

  “One of your own shot him,” he said. “He was betrayed by his hunting party.”

  The air fled her lungs. No, that couldn’t be right. Randall was loved by his men, by all the rangers. They looked up to him.

  Despite the warmth of the sun, a chill crept across Larkin’s skin and worked its way into her bones.

  “I-I don’t believe you. I can’t believe that.”

  “He will tell you the same.” Dracchus’s frown deepened. “But I cannot allow you to return to your people.”

  “Is he safe?” she asked.

  “As safe as he can be.”

  “If you are telling me the truth, and Randall is really with your people, then bring me to him.”

  “I cannot. The journey would kill you, and I am unfamiliar with our current location.”

  “Then…what are you going to do with me?”

  His jaw muscles ticked as he swung his gaze around the island, finally halting it on the horizon. He stared in silence for a time, his face unreadable. She knew, in her heart — that soft, soft heart her father so despised — that Dracchus wouldn’t kill her. He wasn’t the monster he’d been made out to be. Why would he have saved her otherwise?

  “I will take you there,” he finally said, lifting his chin toward the mainland, “but you will not attempt to return to your people. Once I can determine where we are and where my home is, I will obtain the means to take you to your brother.”

  Larkin’s brows rose, and she took a step closer. “You will?”

  Dracchus angled his head down to meet her gaze. “Yes. But hear me — if you return to your people in the hope of rescuing Randall from us, you will never find him. He is beyond the reach of humans. But he is safe. He is…happy.”

  Those last three words silenced the harsh reply she’d been prepared to make.

  Randall was happy?

  A twinge pierced her chest. She raised her hand to absently rub the spot. Larkin and her father had spent over a year searching for him, tearing their hair out with worry, never know if whether he was dead or alive. She was relieved to know he was safe, but she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. It was a selfish emotion, and she couldn’t deny it. While her world had crumbled, he’d been happy.

  Had he ever thought about her while he was with the kraken? Had he ever wondered where she was, or what she was doing, or if she was all right?

  “He has spoken of you often,” Dracchus said, as though he knew her thoughts. “When you revealed your name, I knew who you were. Your eyes served as confirmation. They are like his.”

  “I won’t run,” she vowed. “Just bring me to him.”

  He nodded. “It will take time. You are sure you will be able to survive if we move to the mainland?”

  Larkin narrowed her eyes. “Don’t insult me, kraken.” She was a damned ranger; she lived in the wilds.

  Dracchus’s lips shifted upward, into an almost-smile, and the light in his amber eyes softened. “Then come, human.” He turned and moved toward the far shore, leading her by the arm.

  “I can walk without you holding my hand,” she said, hopping down from a larger rock.

  Dracchus paused, twisting to look back at his hand on her wrist. He released her with a strange combination of reluctance and confusion and moved on without a word. She remained in place, head cocked, and watched him walk.

  The play of the toned muscles in his back and arms was certainly enticing, but she was more mesmerized by the motion of his tentacles. They stretched and contracted, pushing and dragging him simultaneously. He didn’t leap down from the rocks; he flowed over them, seeming to stick to their sides in defiance of gravity on his way down.

  She climbed down behind him, her feet squished inside her boots, and caught up with him on the beach. Here at sea level, the mainland was no longer visible.

  “Climb onto my back.” He spread his tentacles, sinking into a crouch.

  Larkin peered toward the horizon and sighed.

  “You will be able to swim on your own when I take you to your brother,” he said.

  “How?”

  “You will know when it is time.”

  Larkin rolled her eyes and stepped over his tentacles — his long, thick tentacles. “You’re so damn cryptic, you know that?”

  He glanced at her over his sho
ulder, brow low. “That sounds like a word Arkon would use. What does it mean?”

  “It means you aren’t speaking plainly.” She sidled closer to his back. They’d traveled like this for a time on their way to this island, but she’d been so exhausted that she hadn’t put any thought into it. Now, however, she was fully aware of her proximity to the muscled expanse of his back, to his broad, powerful shoulders, his huge arms…

  He grunted and faced forward. “It is an Arkon word. Cryptic.”

  Larkin settled her hands on his shoulders, sliding them around his front until her arms were around his neck. His sea-kissed scent filled her nose as her chest pressed against his back. His skin was velvet-draped steel, surprisingly soft over solid muscle. Heat flowed into her through every point of contact.

  He rose, and her feet left the ground. She lifted her legs instinctively, squeezing her thighs against his sides, and he looped his arms under her knees to guide them around his waist. He was big enough that her feet couldn’t touch on the other side.

  “Who is Arkon?” she asked.

  “One of my people,” he replied as they entered the water. The rhythm of his movement reminded her of the way the ship had moved while the sea was calm. “He uses words the way humans do. Cryptic.”

  “And you don’t?” She tightened her arms and legs around him as the water rose above her midsection. It was cold at first, but she quickly adapted to it.

  “I do not toy with words.”

  She felt it when they lifted away from land. The shock and exhaustion had left their previous journey a blur in her memory, but now she was alert and attentive. His method of movement in water was just as strange as on land, creating a similarly odd rhythm. He spread his tentacles wide and forced them back together, propelling them forward. Their burst of speed slowly deteriorated until he repeated the process.

  She leaned forward, touching her cheek to his as water lapped around her shoulders.