Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3)

by Tiffany Roberts

  Chapter 17

  Larkin wandered around the infirmary, picking up various items for inspection. She’d seen some of it back home, though much of the old tech in Fort Culver was no longer functional. Many more items, however, were unfamiliar to her.

  Advanced technology was a luxury humans had learned to live without over the last few generations. Many of the old devices and machines had failed over the years. Tinkering and improvisation only went so far when sophisticated pieces required replacement — the colonies had never reached the point of being able to manufacture their own parts.

  While she wouldn’t argue the fact that technology made life easier, Larkin found something gratifying in simple tasks like starting a fire without advanced tools. It was comforting to know that humans had the skills to carry on and survive when technology failed.

  Without a doubt, the Facility was the most technologically advanced location she’d ever seen. The building itself was integrated with an interactive, talking computer, was powered by glowing rocks, and was bristling with gadgets and weaponry that the rangers would kill to have.

  She hoped they never found this place.

  A rapid, steady sound pulsed through the room, drawing Larkin’s attention. She turned her head to look at the others.

  Macy was reclining on one of the beds, shirt pulled up and tucked between her breasts as Aymee directed the scanner over her belly. Jax held Macy’s hand, gaze flicking between his mate and the life growing inside her. Arkon was beside him with a wide smile. And Dracchus…

  He’d positioned himself a bit behind them, holding Sarina and Jace — one child per arm.

  The sight was at once heartwarming and heart-wrenching.

  Larkin swallowed her emotions. She couldn’t allow it to affect her every time she saw a child. She’d accepted her reality a long time ago.

  So why did it bother her so much now?

  Because I never had someone I wanted to share a life with until now.

  Larkin watched Dracchus, admiring his easy manner with the children. No one would look at him and think, even for a second, that he had a soft side, but he showed it often to those he cared about.

  Could he be content with her? Could he take her as his mate without regret?

  As she’d lain with him the night before, cradled in his embrace and feeling more loved than ever before, she’d allowed herself to believe there was a chance he could be happy with her. That belief, initially so innocent and mild, had shifted into a hope, into a craving, when he’d kept his promise and woke her with his tongue this morning.

  Blushing, she tore her gaze away from Dracchus. Now was not the time to think about such things — especially considering Dracchus could scent her arousal. It’d be even more humiliating if the other kraken could, too.

  “How far along?” Macy asked, running her hand over her slightly rounded stomach.

  “I believe three to four weeks,” Aymee replied.

  Larkin frowned, brows lowering as she stepped closer. She knew little about pregnancy, but women weren’t supposed to show so early on. Macy looked closer to three months along, not three weeks.

  “Is something wrong?” Larkin asked.

  “Nope, everything looks perfect, and the baby has a strong heartbeat,” Aymee replied with a smile.

  “Then why is she so…big?”

  Aymee turned off the scanner and pushed it up. “Kraken were genetically designed to have a low birth rate, but their gestation cycle is much faster, even when carried by a human mother. A kraken fetus is fully formed in about four months. It was all part of their plan to keep the kraken’s population under control while continuing to produce able workers.”

  “It seems that it was only the females that were altered, as the males have no problem getting us pregnant,” Macy said, looking at Jax with a grin.

  “We have been fortunate,” Jax said, settling a hand on her belly.

  Aymee snorted. “If by fortunate you mean virile.”

  Macy laughed.

  Arkon flashed violet and cleared his throat. “We cannot help that we’re drawn to our mates.”

  “Which is why,” Aymee stepped away from the bed and walked to the counter behind Larkin, “we’re going to start using contraception.” She picked up a small vial and held it between her finger and thumb.

  “You have said that word before. What does it mean?” Dracchus asked, seemingly unbothered by Sarina and Jace climbing on his head and shoulders.

  “Whatever problems were designed into your females, kraken sperm has no problem finding its way to human eggs.”

  “That does not answer my question, Aymee.”

  “It means, we won’t get pregnant,” she replied.

  The air suddenly filled with tension, and all three male kraken fixed their gazes on Aymee.

  “Why would that be necessary?” Jax asked, his voice laced with apprehension.

  Macy picked up his hand and brought it to her mouth, placing a kiss on its back. “I love the family we are making together, Jax, but I don’t want to go through a pregnancy a year for the rest of my life.”

  Jax’s brow lowered. He opened his mouth to reply but closed it without speaking.

  “We have always struggled to sustain our numbers,” Dracchus grumbled, “and knowing that, you will simply cease to have younglings? You have given hope to the kraken. Will you forsake that so easily?”

  “Is that all we are?” Aymee asked, anger in her tone. “Just a means to repopulate your race?”

  Arkon approached her from behind and settled his hands on her shoulders. “That is not what he means, Aymee.”

  “Isn’t it?” she asked, scowling at Dracchus.

  Larkin stared at him, awaiting his answer. Her hands were clenched, palms clammy, as she shifted them absently toward her scars.

  Despite his clear frustration, he was gentle as he removed the children and placed them on a nearby bed. “Our females do all they can to ensure we will have future generations. They would not so casually give up such a gift.”

  His words were a kick to Larkin’s gut.

  How could I have thought he’d be happy with me? How could I think he wouldn’t regret choosing me?

  Just watching him with the children that first time should have been answer enough for her.

  “We are not giving it up,” Macy said.

  Jax drew her hand closer to his chest. “But that is what Aymee just spoke of.”

  “It wouldn’t be permanent.”

  “I’ve already researched this through the computer,” Aymee said. Her voice was more controlled, but her expression made it clear that she wasn’t backing down. “The effects are temporary. If, or when, we are ready to conceive, we either wait for it to wear off or use a different shot to neutralize it.”

  “I still do not understand why you would choose this,” Dracchus said.

  Aymee closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Dracchus, I understand what these children mean to you, that you’re thinking of the kraken’s future, but we are not broodmares.”

  “It’s not wrong for us to want control over our bodies,” Macy said. “To live and enjoy life.”

  “Not to mention, it’s unsafe,” Aymee added. “The equipment here is likely the best in the world, but if things go wrong — and they often do, with pregnancies and childbirth — there’s not going to be a whole lot I can do. Especially if it’s me in one of these beds.”

  Arkon’s skin paled, and Jax’s features tightened. As tough as the kraken were, Larkin guessed that neither male had ever considered pregnancy could end in tragedy.

  “We’re not giving up this gift,” Macy said. She wrapped her arms around Sarina as the child climbed up onto the bed with her. “We know how much this means to you, to all the kraken, and our children mean the world to us, too.”

  Larkin’s chest tightened.

  We know how much this means to you…

  “But with a gestation cycle this short, we could potentially have three babies a year
. While we share the same DNA, our bodies are not made for that. Hell, our minds aren’t, either,” Aymee said.

  Dracchus’s expression was one of deep, troubled thought — a creased brow, eyes dark, and a heavy frown. He swung his gaze to Larkin, and his attention dipped to her hands.

  Larkin quickly shifted her hands to her sides, wiping her damp palms on her pants.

  His brow dropped further. Confusion gleamed amidst the darker emotions on his face.

  “If it is what my mate chooses, she has my support,” Jax said.

  “As does mine,” Arkon added.

  Dracchus grunted, turning his head toward the others. “I will respect your choices.” There was a hint of something left unsaid in his words, and that wasn’t like the kraken Larkin had come to know. He’d faced physical confrontation and pain without blinking, but this situation had him off-balance, and that only worried her more.

  “Let’s return to our den,” Jax said, helping Macy from the bed.

  Aymee put the vial away as Arkon gathered Jace.

  “We’ll talk again soon, Larkin,” Macy said, offering her a smile and a wave.

  Aymee joined Macy. “We’ll have a picnic in the Mess.”

  Larkin waved back, forcing a smile. “I would love to.”

  “What I wouldn’t do to have a picnic outdoors again…” Macy’s voice faded as they left the room, moving down the hallway.

  Larkin looked at Dracchus to find him watching her.

  “Come, female,” he said, extending a hand. “I have shared you enough today.”

  Larkin’s breath shallowed, but the warmth his words instilled within her couldn’t push away her pain.

  It would be so easy to love him.

  Her hand itched to take hold of his as she walked toward him, but she didn’t give in to the urge. Caving to her desires would only make what was to come more difficult. She’d already given in too much.

  The trip back to their den was short, but Larkin was silent throughout, walking in front of Dracchus without looking back a single time. When they arrived, she moved to the center of the room and folded her arms across her chest. She kept her back to him.

  Dracchus approached, settling a hand on her shoulder and wrapping a tentacle around her waist to draw her close. They hadn’t been alone since early morning, and he needed to touch her.

  Larkin shrugged off his hand and pushed his tentacle away. She stepped beyond his reach, her body rigid, and turned to face him.

  He frowned; this was not the Larkin who had awoken to his attentions this morning, not the Larkin who’d been pliant, appreciative, affectionate. Not the woman who’d begged for more of his touch.

  She’d been uncharacteristically quiet in the Infirmary, but this was well beyond silence. He’d thought they moved past this days ago, during their time on the beach.

  “What is wrong?” he asked, moving closer.

  Larkin held up her hands, halting Dracchus. “I don’t want to share a room with you anymore.”

  Her words repeated in his mind several times before he understood what she’d said. “I do not find humor in your jest.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Dracchus.”

  “What has changed since this morning?” he asked. This had to be some sort of human trick like Randall often tried to play. But Dracchus’s chest constricted all the same, and uncomfortable heat spread through him.

  “Nothing has changed. I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want to share a room with you. Rhea said the female chooses, and this is me making my choice.”

  He advanced on her, not stopping until she extended her arms and pressed her palms to his chest.

  “Back up,” she warned.

  “No. You will explain your reasoning to me, so I may explain to you why you are wrong.”

  “I don’t need to explain myself to you.” She pushed against him.

  “You are my mate,” he growled, coiling a tentacle around her waist and tugging her closer. She locked her elbows, keeping her torso angled back to preserve what little distance remained between them.

  “I’m not your damn mate!”

  “You are!” he said through bared teeth. “And I will not give you up!”

  Larkin glared up at him, shoulders heaving with angry breaths. “I’m not,” she said, slapping his chest. The sting was nothing compared to the pain caused by her words. “I’m not, I’m not!”

  She struck him again, and then twice more, but not before Dracchus saw moisture glistening in her eyes.

  He caught her wrists in his hands. The tightness had spread from his chest to his throat, a discomfort unlike any he’d ever known. “Speak to me, Larkin. What has changed? Have we not been honest with one another from the beginning?”

  Larkin squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nothing has changed. I told you, I’m not what you want. You just refuse to listen.”

  Dracchus released one of her arms and took hold of her chin, gently guiding her face back toward his. “Why? Why are you not what I want?”

  “Because I’m broken.” Fresh tears streamed from her reddened eyes. She pushed against his chest again, and he let her go. Grasping the hem of her shirt, she yanked it up to reveal her scars. “Because of this!”

  “I have told you they are nothing to feel shame for,” he said, mind spinning. How had those scars sparked this situation? “I have countless of my own. They are the past, nothing more.”

  “They are my past, my present, and my future. I will never have a child.”

  He lowered his gaze to her scars, and wished he had the quick mind of Arkon, wished that he understood. “Is it because of…contraception?”

  “No. This…this is permanent. I will never conceive, Dracchus. I can’t.” She wiped her cheeks with her hand, eyes locked on his as she lowered her shirt. “I’m broken. Useless.”

  The torrent of emotions swirling through Dracchus at that moment was too overwhelming; he stared at her abdomen numbly, unable to form words, unable to form coherent thoughts. Images of Sarina, Jace, and Melaina flitted through his mind, followed by half-realized imaginings of the younglings he’d hoped to one day sire, who he’d hoped to nurture and teach.

  Those imaginings faded, leaving only the tightness in his chest and throat, so strong now that he could scarcely breathe.

  She’d told him her scars were the result of a hunting accident. That she’d done something stupid and paid the price. His hearts ached for her; he would never have thought this would be the cost. Dracchus couldn’t guess how she’d felt in the infirmary listening to the other females speak of younglings and contraception. Listening to him speak.

  He absently lifted a hand to his chest, pushing against the ache as though that would somehow alleviate it.

  “Say something.” Larkin’s voice was tight, and her words ended in a sob.

  His brave, strong, capable female, who he’d only seen cry once before — when she was reunited with her brother after a year of not knowing whether he was alive or dead — was in terrible pain.

  He didn’t know what to say to her. Didn’t know anything other than the raw, indecipherable emotion blazing through him. She was upset, devastated, and how could he possibly fix that? How could he take the pain away from her?

  “I…I need to think,” he finally rasped.

  She stared at him mutely, fresh tears spilling from her wide, blue eyes, and something inside of Dracchus shattered.

  He turned away from her, his entire body tense as he moved toward the door. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave her behind, but he needed to gather his thoughts. He’d never been good with words, not like Arkon, or Jax, or any of the humans who’d come to live here. He’d never had a friend until the events surrounding Macy’s arrival.

  And what he’d been building with Larkin was far more complex, far more meaningful, than any relationship he’d ever had. Her revelation changed that, but how?

  Dracchus opened the door and enter
ed the hallway. Just before the door slid shut, she released a sobbing wail that pierced him to his core; it was the desperate cry of the hopeless, of the abandoned, and it was because of him. Because he’d left her.

  Body trembling, he pressed a hand to the wall beside the door, taking what little stability he could from it. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Immense pressure gathered within him, sending tremors through his entirety. His throat burned, and his insides tumbled and twisted into knots.

  He dragged himself along the corridor, jaw clenched.

  Sarina’s excited smiles flashed through his mind, followed by Jace’s inquisitive stares. The sound of their giggling echoed in his head. But images of Larkin rose next — bold, confident, compassionate. A forever mate, a female to be proud of. A female to be earned.

  A female to love, and to love him in return.

  What did he want more? What was truly important to him?

  Could he give her up?

  Chapter 18

  The bed dipped behind Larkin, startling her awake. She reached beneath her pillow for a weapon that wasn’t there. Before she could turn to face the intruder, the heavy but familiar weight of a hand settled on her shoulder. It slid down the length of her arm, moving beneath the pillow to cover her hand and twine its fingers with hers.

  Larkin held still, afraid to breathe, afraid she was dreaming. She stared at the powerful arm; it was nothing but a shadow, and if she moved it would dissipate into the darkness. But then Dracchus’s body pressed against her back, warm and solid, and she knew this was real.

  He’d come back.

  She tensed, pushing aside her grogginess. “What are you doing here?”

  She’d never been caught so unaware. She also hadn’t cried that hard since her mother died.

  “I have returned to our den.” His voice was a low, gruff rumble. He settled his chin on her shoulder, touching his cheek to hers. “To my mate.”

  Larkin closed her eyes against the burn of tears. She tried to pull her hand away, to put distance between them, but he held firm.

  “My choice has not changed, Larkin.”