Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3)

by Tiffany Roberts

  He frowned and tilted his head.

  “I’m not joking,” she said.

  Dracchus shifted his lower body, sliding his tentacles around to twist away from her.

  Once she was certain he wasn’t looking, she placed the suit on the ground and unbuttoned her pants. Hooking her waistband and underwear at once, she pushed them down her legs and kicked them aside. Her tank joined them soon after, leaving Larkin as bare as the day she was born.

  Picking up the suit again, she tugged it open and shoved her feet in one at a time.

  As Dracchus had said, the material stretched as she pulled, far more than she’d imagined possible — so much so that it threw her off-balance.

  She stumbled backward, waving her arms to right herself, and spun as her heel caught on a stone. She pitched toward the fire.

  Dracchus’s hands encircled her waist from behind, halting her downward momentum. For a moment, she stared down at the low flames, breathing heavily. He lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing and set her back down away from the fire, turning her to face him.

  Larkin’s fingers curled around his forearms as she looked up at him, wide-eyed, but he only briefly met her gaze. His eyes dipped. She remembered suddenly that she was naked above her knees. His amber irises darkened.

  She stood there, frozen — unable to cover herself, to look away, to breathe. Her heart fluttered, and her awareness of him intensified. His hands on her waist were firm, but gentle, and she could feel the small pricks of his claws pressing lightly against her backside. Her nipples tightened beneath his lustful gaze, aching to be touched. Desire coursed through her.

  His eyes moved lower, and he scowled. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the large, rough scars on her lower abdomen, and tension pulsed through his hands.

  Larkin stiffened, an icy chill chasing away the heat that had suffused her.

  “What is this?” he growled, nostrils flaring with a heavy exhalation.

  She attempted to step out of his grasp, but his hold tightened. She covered her breasts with an arm and narrowed her eyes. “Let me go.”

  “Did someone do this to you?” he demanded. His skin had taken on a crimson tint. “Tell me who, and they will know vengeance.”

  Larkin’s brows furrowed. “What? No one did this. It was a hunting accident.” She pushed at his chest. “Now let go.”

  Her shove didn’t budge him at all. He searched her face, his rage giving way first to confusion, and then reluctant understanding. His gaze fell to her stomach. “What happened?”

  Glowering, she slapped her other hand over her scars. “I was stupid and paid the price for it.”

  If only the scars had been the sole consequence of her bleeding heart on that long-ago day.

  She pressed her lips together and looked away from him. She was used to looks of discomfort and disgust from the few people who’d seen her scars; most men she’d been intimate with had turned away from the sight of them and seemed to avoid touching them as though they were contagious. They were jagged, pink and puckered, poorly healed — the only treatment available when she was injured had been improvised in the field, and the infection that followed hadn’t helped.

  But she’d never seen anyone get angry about the scars. Her father had averted his gaze, unwilling or unable to acknowledge their existence or what they represented, and Randall’s expression always fell when he caught sight of them. She’d taken to wearing longer shirts beneath her usual clothes so her beltline would remain hidden.

  Unlike everyone else, she couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist. She’d live with the reminder for the rest of her life.

  “Just let go of me, Dracchus.” Tears welled in her eyes. Even all these years later, those emotions were still raw. She’d accept the irreversible damage that had been done to her own body without complaint if she could have her mother back.

  She wouldn’t let those tears fall. Not after holding them in for so long.

  His hands lingered on her waist, and his thumb brushed over the exposed tip of the scars. Then he released her and backed away.

  Larkin faced away from him and hurriedly yanked the suit on, thrusting her arms into the sleeves. She trembled, but she wasn’t sure if it was her body coming down from her prior arousal, the adrenaline rush of her anger, or the emotional pain she always suffered when reminded of what had happened.

  She heard Dracchus move farther away from her.

  Larkin closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm herself. He wasn’t at fault. She just… She was tired of being looked at as though she were damaged, as though she were less than a woman, as though she were unworthy. She wanted to matter in someone’s eyes. To have someone look at her and not see her scars and what they represented, but to see her. To want her. All of her.

  The back of the suit gaped open, exposing her skin to the already warm air.

  “How do I close this?” she asked.

  “Slide your fingers around the edge of the round piece.”

  She glanced down at the plastic chest piece and lifted a hand to it, running her covered fingertips along its outside. She nearly shuddered as the suit sealed itself up her back; it was amongst the strangest sensations she’d ever experienced.

  “The hood will need to be raised,” he said.

  Reaching behind her neck, she caught hold of the hood and drew it up, tucking her hair beneath it. That done, she looked down at herself, turning her hands slowly. The suit clung to her like a second skin, though it wasn’t uncomfortable.

  When she turned toward Dracchus, he extended an arm, offering the piece of clear glass. As she accepted it, she noticed a thin, black border around the edges.

  “This…is for my face, right?”

  He nodded.

  “How do I put it on?”

  Dracchus spread his fingers and lifted his hand to his face. “It will seal itself.” His frown hadn’t eased, which only made her regret the way she’d spoken to him.

  She held the mask in both hands and stared down at it. Though it was large enough to cover the entire opening in the hood, there were no visible means to fasten it in place. Still, he’d been right so far. She raised the mask, leaning her head down to meet it. The sudden, soft hiss startled her, and she felt the weight of the mask lift off her hands as it connected to the hood.

  “Hello,” said a pleasant voice, “I am Sam, your system assistant and monitor. Field generator active.” A tingling sensation pulsed across Larkin’s skin, gone as quickly as it had come. “Automatically adjusting vision for poor lighting conditions.”

  Larkin’s eyes widened as everything in her field of view brightened; it was like the sun had fully risen in an instant. This tech was more advanced, but it was similar in function to the spectra goggles the rangers had found under the lighthouse.

  “You will have to learn the feel of the suit while we travel,” Dracchus said.

  She looked up at him and frowned. “You just got back. Shouldn’t you rest?” Her voice sounded strange, its tone slightly altered by some sort of audio transmitter in the mask.

  “I will rest when we have reached the Facility.”

  “What facility?”

  “It is the name of my people’s home.” He held out his hand to her, palm up. “Come, female. We have a long journey ahead, and I am eager to see its end.”

  Larkin stared at his hand; if he were anyone else — excluding her brother — she would have slapped it away, offended. She didn’t need her hand held. She’d proven herself, had earned her place. But Dracchus wasn’t offering because he thought her weak. It was a gesture of reassurance; they were about to enter territory wholly unknown to Larkin, and he would be with her the whole time.

  She placed her hand in his and was immediately disappointed — she wanted to feel his skin against hers, but the suit prevented that.

  He closed his fingers around her hand. Instinctively, Larkin stepped closer.

  “We will not be able to communicate once we are bel
ow.” There was that hint of worry on his brow again, the ghost of a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You must remain close at all times.”

  “I will. Do we need to bring anything?” she asked, looking down at her spear, knife, and clothing.

  “There are human clothes in the Facility you may use, and I brought a weapon for you. It is closer to the beach.”

  Larkin nodded, anticipation chasing away any anxiety she might’ve felt. She’d see Randall again soon. “Let’s get going, then.”

  “Your heart rate has accelerated,” Sam said, his voice breaking through the stifling quiet. “Do you require assistance?”

  “No, Sam,” Larkin replied distractedly. “I’m fine.”

  His voice was the only one she’d heard for hours. Her fascination had split her attention between the suit’s functions — she’d asked Sam countless questions while she swam alongside Dracchus — and the alien world around her. She’d never imagined such vibrancy and variety underwater.

  Though the suit greatly eased her movement, she was unused to the motions; she’d spent years hiking through rough terrain, but swimming taxed muscles she didn’t often put to use. Dracchus patiently kept pace with her, stopping when she needed time to rest, his gaze ever-watchful.

  Her weariness crept toward exhaustion with the waning sunlight. As they swam farther and farther from land and steadily increased their depth, fear crept out of Larkin’s subconscious to assail her.

  She was trapped — submerged under thirty meters of water and surrounded by an unfamiliar landscape that grew more indistinct as the light faded. All that protected her from that looming abyss was the too-thin fabric of the suit and the small piece of glass over her face. It didn’t matter how advanced the gun Dracchus had given her was, it couldn’t protect her from drowning.

  She breathed deep, willing herself to calm. Weakness suffused her limbs, but she’d dealt with it before — she could push through it. This was Dracchus’s third time making this trip without any rest. Larkin sure as hell wasn’t going to give up or ask for help on her first attempt.

  And Dracchus was there with her. That knowledge held firm beneath her fear, beneath her weariness, and it helped to know she wasn’t alone.

  Eventually, darkness conquered the water, leaving only the faintest shimmers of starlight on the surface far overhead.

  Larkin’s speed faltered, slowing until she came to a stop.

  “Your heart rate has accelerated. Do you require assistance?” Sam asked again.

  “No!” she snapped, turning her head from side to side, scanning the darkness. “I just…need a moment.”

  Sam possessed multiple vision functions to compensate for the darkness, but she couldn’t recall their names through the tired, fearful haze that had settled over her mind, and there wasn’t anything to be seen in that darkness because it was impenetrable, impossible, infinite…

  Now that they’d stopped, her limbs refused to move again. She didn’t know if it was due to panic or exhaustion.

  Dracchus was a nearby shadow, barely discernable from the surrounding black. Her eyes detected his movement, but she was only sure of his presence when he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her body against his. Her arms instinctively encircled his neck.

  “I’m not like this. I swear I’m not.” He couldn’t hear her, but she needed to say it. Despite what other people thought, she’d always excelled due to her own efforts. Her father had never coddled her, and she’d pushed herself harder because she would not let the others be right when they said he was the only reason she’d reached her position. Larkin had earned everything she had.

  But when all the layers were peeled away, she was only human, flawed and vulnerable. She knew her own limits.

  Dracchus’s hold on her was firm but not painful, and though his size should have made her feel smaller and weaker than she already did at that moment, she felt safe. He was solid. Real. Dependable.

  He guided her legs around his waist. The suit diminished her sense of touch, but she felt his muscles flex and relax as he swam.

  Points of soft blue light appeared on his skin. At first, she thought she was seeing things, but the light really was coming from him. It cast a gentle glow on his features, making him the only thing she could see in the darkness.

  Larkin’s eyes widened as she studied the glowing stripes on his head, which followed the outline of his neck to his shoulders. Lightly, she traced the markings on his arms. “How are you doing that?”

  If he knew she’d spoken, he made no indication.

  Their forward motion continued in his unique rhythm. The darkness surrounding them gradually lost its menace as she focused on Dracchus’s light, and soon she rested her head on his shoulder. His hold on her tightened.

  Sometime later — she could’ve asked Sam how long it had been, but it seemed unimportant — Dracchus tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She lifted her head and met his gaze. He nodded toward something over her shoulder, and she twisted around to look.

  The darkness ahead was broken by a cloud of illumination, and huge shapes loomed in the light.

  Buildings, she realized with wonder.

  There were at least three, each easily a hundred meters from one end to another, but it was the foremost that drew her attention. The outside wall was bathed in cones of light from fixtures on its exterior, all of which were spaced at almost even intervals — a few gaps indicated that some of the lights had failed.

  She counted at least six windows, though all but one was dark. As Dracchus brought her closer, the details of the structure grew more distinct — there were large-but-subtle geometric patterns on the wall, lines and rounded rectangles breaking up what might otherwise appear monotonous and bland.

  As they approached the building, they swam between a pair of functioning light posts that stood free on the seafloor. Dracchus directed them toward a metal door with a red light over the top of it and a keypad at its side.

  “Do you require entry?” Sam’s voice startled her.

  Larkin glanced at Dracchus. “Um, yes.”

  The light above the door switched to green. The door opened.

  “Sam, what is this place?” she asked.

  “This is Pontus Alpha, an Interstellar Defense Coalition research base built with the assistance of Tureon Industries, Incorporated.”

  Dracchus carefully swam through the open doorway, angling himself to prevent Larkin from bumping into anything. Once they were inside the chamber, she watched over his shoulder as he raised one of his tentacles and pressed a button on the wall behind him. The door slid shut.

  “Re-pressurization sequence initiated,” Sam said.

  “Well, hell. And no one knew about this place? How is that possible?”

  A low hum pulsed through the water around them, just strong enough to be noticeable. Larkin tightened her grip on Dracchus, glancing around the room.

  “Pontus Alpha is a classified base,” Sam said. “Only authorized personnel are briefed on its location and functionality. Please contact your commanding officer with further questions.”

  As the waterline fell, her body felt heavier. It made holding onto Dracchus harder, but she worried that she’d collapse the moment her feet were beneath her.

  “This is your home? The facility you told me about?” she asked.

  “Pressurization complete,” said a feminine voice from somewhere overhead as soon as the water was drained. “Welcome back, diver six-two-zero.”

  “Yes,” Dracchus said. Larkin felt one of his tentacles brush the side of her leg, and another door whispered open behind her. “You may remove the mask. It is safe.”

  “Oh.” She reached up and tugged on it; the mask didn’t budge. “Um, Sam, how do I remove the mask?”

  “The mask can be released by utilizing your wrist controls, or through a simple verbal request,” Sam replied cheerfully.

  “Sam, remove the mask.”

  There was a faint hiss, and the mask sagged
forward into her waiting hand. She lowered it and drew in a tentative breath; the air was surprisingly clean, with only the faintest scent of brine.

  “I guess I should let go of you now,” Larkin said, smirking at Dracchus.

  “If you wish it,” he said. “Your weight is slight.” The glint in his eyes suggested he didn’t want her to let go.

  She found that she didn’t want to, either. She liked this closeness with Dracchus. Their evenings together had given her a sense of who he was — someone who’d shield her from anything but who’d never belittle her. His strength didn’t make her feel inferior; it empowered her to have him at her back. She had the sense that he’d never treat her as lesser, despite his prowess.

  Larkin’s thoughts gave her pause; these were sentiments people felt toward loved ones. They’d known each other for less than a week, and she’d helped to capture him, had enabled his torture. There couldn’t be anything between them — she was human, and he was kraken. Larkin and her people had brought suffering to Dracchus and his.

  She lowered her legs from his waist, welcoming immediate pain. Knees wobbling, she released her hold on him.

  Dracchus reached for her as she lost her balance, but she caught herself against the wall and held up a hand to stop him, shaking her head.

  “I got it,” she said. After hours in the water, her body felt as heavy as lead but as unstable as jelly, while her head felt like it floated in an unseen current.

  With a frown, Dracchus lowered his arms and backed away, keeping his amber eyes upon her.

  Larkin took a deep breath. She’d been carried back into Fort Culver only once, despite dozens of injuries over her time as a ranger, and the circumstances of that occasion had been far worse than this. Dracchus had already carried her enough. Gritting her teeth, she straightened, grateful for the waist-high handrail along the wall.

  “Then come, female,” he said, not unkindly, and ducked through the interior doorway.

  She forced her legs to move and followed him into a long corridor, which looked to be in excellent condition despite the bits of seaweed, sand, and other debris along the floor. Though this space was larger than the walkway between the brig’s cages, Dracchus seemed to fill it completely.