Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3)

by Tiffany Roberts

  She needed him inside her, needed to be filled by him, needed to join with him and be overwhelmed by the electrifying connection they shared when their bodies came together.

  Larkin flattened her hands on his abdomen and raised her pelvis. As though he knew her thoughts, Dracchus slid his hands to her hips. She bore down upon him, lent strength by his hands, and he thrust upward to meet her.

  There was a pinch as he filled her completely. She panted, fingers curling over the hard muscles of his abdomen, nails raking his soft skin. It was pleasure, it was pain, it was breathtaking.

  Dracchus stilled his hips as she adjusted, but his hands soothed her, his tentacles caressed her, and his eyes possessed her.

  She rocked against him, relishing the slow glide of her sex around his shaft. His tendrils stroked her with every downward pump. Euphoria spread through her, gathering at her core in a molten mass that demanded more, faster, harder! Her body obeyed the call.

  His skin burned her from the inside out, and she focused on the thrust of his steel length, pushing deeper, deeper.

  Larkin fell forward, bracing her hands on his chest, as the sensations overwhelmed her.

  Dracchus claimed control. His strong hands tightened on her hips, pulling her down with increasing force and speed. Larkin leaned her weight into the heels of her hands, digging her nails into his flesh, needing to relieve the pressure, yet yearning for more.

  He was unrelenting, wild, desperate.

  “Please,” she begged, unsure of whether she was asking him to stop or to push harder.

  He only moved faster, baring his teeth. The ferocity of his visage belied the adoration in his eyes. He stared at her as though she meant the world to him.

  Her body shuddered and the dam broke, allowing wave after wave of pleasure to crash through her.

  “I love you,” she rasped before she cried out in bliss. Her inner muscles tightened around his cock, fluttering and pulsing, seeking to draw him impossibly deeper and lock him in place. She collapsed upon his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, sheltering her while she came undone.

  Heat blossomed inside Larkin as Dracchus roared his release. His tentacles wound around her legs and pulled her down into his final thrust and held her in place. The rapid beating of his hearts washed over her. He growled, pumping shallowly in the aftermath, the minuscule pulsing his shaft echoing through her like the aftershocks of an earthquake, the small tendrils at his base gently caressing her sex. She trembled against him.

  She kissed his chest and closed her eyes. No matter what happened beyond these walls, she was at home in his arms; he was her home. Her comfort, her security, her sanctuary.

  He moved his hands down her back, his touch impossibly light, impossibly gentle. Larkin stretched an arm up to cup his cheek with her palm.

  “You danced for me,” he said.

  “Wasn’t much of a dance. I’m terrible at it.”

  “But you did it for me.”

  Larkin inhaled, taking in his scent — their combined scent. “Yeah. For you.”

  “I love you, Larkin.” His voice was so low that she felt his words more than she heard them; they were a rumbling in his chest, rising from the deepest parts of him.

  Larkin raised her head to meet his eyes. His face was grave, his gaze intense.

  “You are my mate. I want you to be mine forever, in the way of your people,” he said.

  Warmth and joy swelled in her chest. She smiled and stroked a thumb over his cheek. “Dracchus, would you join with me?”

  “Join. That is what you call it?”

  “Yes. Join with me and I will be yours.”

  “I am yours, as well. I will join with you, female.” The bed groaned softly as Dracchus sat up. He guided her legs to either side of his waist, maintaining the connection between them as he moved, and supported her back with his tentacles. He took her face in his hands. “What must we do, to follow your ways?”

  Larkin wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his. “Just love me, Dracchus.”

  “Always.”

  Chapter 23

  Dracchus woke to darkness so thick that he questioned whether he’d opened his eyes or not. His vision adjusted quickly, aided by the muted glow of the room’s nighttime lights. Larkin was tucked against his side, sleeping soundly, head resting on his arm. He lifted his head and scanned the shadows in the room.

  Nothing seemed amiss.

  He eased back down and closed his eyes. Larkin’s slow, steady breathing mingled with the Facility’s faint ambient hum, which was audible now only because of the relative silence. He filled his lungs with a deep inhalation and released it gradually, waiting for sleep to reclaim him.

  Larkin’s scent teased his nostrils, and he drew her a little closer. She stirred with a sigh and stretched her arm across his chest. Such a small, innocent movement, made without her awareness; it reminded him of her softness, her heat, her taste.

  He was tempted to wake her. He’d spent the last five days making up for their lack of intimacy during her recovery. It hadn’t been easy for him; his worry for her health and safety had been the only thing making him refrain over those two weeks, and her dance — her inexperienced, clumsy, beautiful dance — had shattered his remaining resolve.

  For now, he’d let her sleep. No matter what she claimed, he knew she wasn’t fully recovered from the poisoning. Morning would have to be soon enough to get his taste of her.

  Dracchus pushed aside his desire, his thoughts, and focused on his own breathing.

  Something scraped against the door.

  He sat up, turning his head toward the sound.

  “What’s wrong?” Larkin placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled herself into a sitting position.

  The sound came again — claws against metal? The thickness of the door restricted the passage of sound from one side to the other, making it difficult to identify.

  “Is that Ikaros?” Larkin asked, slipping out of bed and reaching for her clothes.

  “I will check,” Dracchus said. He slid his tentacles onto the floor and crossed the room. Randall sometimes took Ikaros out during the late hours of the night, and the prixxir had probably just pawed at their door, hoping they’d go hunting.

  The door opened silently at the touch of a button. Dracchus narrowed his eyes against the bright corridor lights.

  “Good, you’re awake,” Randall said.

  “Damnit, Randall, what the hell?” Larkin appeared next to Dracchus, fully clothed in a shirt and pants. She shielded her eyes with a hand as she scowled at her brother. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  Dracchus looked over Randall. He wore only a pair of pants, his hair was tousled, and his cheeks and jaw were darkened by a short growth of hair. He clutched a pistol in one hand. Ikaros was beside him, staring down the hallway, whiskers and spine fin raised.

  Dracchus frowned.

  “Ikaros was acting up,” Randall said, turning his head from side to side to glance down the corridor. “I thought he wanted to go out at first, but I think this is more. I think someone’s prowling these halls.”

  Larkin moved away from Dracchus.

  “Did you find anyone?” Dracchus asked.

  Randall ran his free hand through his hair. “No. But something doesn’t feel right.”

  Having donned her boots and belt, Larkin returned. She drew back the slide of her pistol to confirm the round in its chamber. “Let’s check it out.”

  Before either Dracchus or Larkin had exited the room, Ikaros growled, sinking to bunch his shoulders defensively, attention on something down the hallway.

  Randall turned his head in the same direction. “Oh, shit.”

  Dracchus moved through the doorway and halted abruptly when he saw what the two were focused on.

  Kronus stood in the center of the corridor, four doors away.

  Larkin stopped beside Dracchus, aiming her pistol at Kronus. “What are you doing here?”

  Kronus
lifted his hands, displaying empty palms.

  “You accepted the terms,” Dracchus said, advancing toward Kronus. “You know what it means to have returned.”

  “I did, and I do,” Kronus replied. He met Dracchus’s gaze. “The warning I must give you is worth the risk.”

  Dracchus stopped a body’s length away from Kronus. Randall, Larkin, and Ikaros fell into place on Dracchus’s sides.

  “Here for more threats?” Dracchus asked.

  “No. I cannot allow the past to repeat itself.” Kronus’s expression was strained. “I will not remain idle while more innocents are harmed.”

  “So you sneak into the place we sleep in the middle of the night?” Randall demanded. “That’s a bit too similar to shit your supporters have pulled on me for my liking.”

  “What are you talking about, Kronus?” Larkin asked.

  “The others have rejected their banishment,” Kronus replied. “They are coming now to reclaim the Facility.”

  The words didn’t sound right, couldn’t be true, but there was no deception in Kronus’s haunted eyes. Dracchus had known something like this was inevitable, that a movement birthed of hatred could only end in violence. This is what he’d sensed coming over the last few weeks. It was oddly relieving to have something to justify the dread that had been burning in his gut, low and steady, since the banishment.

  “All of them?” Dracchus asked.

  Kronus nodded. “Their time in the wilds has made them bold. Successful hunts have made them believe they are the superior group, that they can best you and take this place back.”

  “Don’t they remember that everyone stood against them?” Larkin asked.

  “Their belief seems to be that killing all of you will turn the rest back to the proper way.”

  Dracchus clenched his jaw. “How long?”

  “They’ll be here soon. I came once I knew they meant to carry through with this plot.”

  “How was it you managed to leave?” Dracchus demanded, moving closer. “Did they not question your sudden departure?”

  “I have been watching them without their knowledge.” Kronus frowned and ran his tongue along his teeth. “Neo would likely have them kill me if he knew I was so close.”

  “I’ll go alert the others,” Larkin said.

  Dracchus caught her by the arm as she moved away, and she turned to face him.

  “Dracchus, you better not—”

  “Tell them to gather weapons and younglings and return here,” he said. “Go as quickly as you can.”

  Larkin’s features eased, and she stepped closer to place a kiss on his lips. “I will.”

  He released her and watched her run down the hallway. Randall made a clicking sound with his mouth, and Ikaros took off behind Larkin, following her around a turn in the corridor.

  Once she was out of sight, Dracchus felt an almost undeniable pull to call her back, to go after her, to do anything but let her go beyond his reach.

  She is a warrior, he reminded himself.

  Larkin had faced danger before, had experienced at least two brushes with near-death — one of them at the hands of the kraken who was coming to kill them all. Dracchus didn’t have to like the thought of her being in danger to acknowledge that she was a survivor.

  She stands with me.

  He swung his gaze back to Kronus. “Go. Before one of the others sees you.”

  Kronus’s brow creased and his frown deepened. “I violated my banishment. My life is yours to take.”

  “There will be enough bloodshed soon, Kronus. I have no desire to add to it without good reason.”

  “I will remain.”

  Dracchus stared at the ochre kraken. What should he make of this? Another lurking betrayal?

  “Your suspicion is founded,” Kronus said. “I’ve no love for you, or the humans you have allowed to dwell in our home. But I owe my life to two of them, and as I said…I cannot allow the past to repeat. I cannot allow younglings and females to be harmed.”

  “You are with us, then?”

  “Yes. After, if I yet live, you may take whatever action you choose.”

  Dracchus nodded.

  “I need to let Rhea know,” Randall said, “and get something out of our room.” He hurried to his door and opened it. The lights were on inside.

  Dracchus followed as far as the doorway, pausing just outside; he didn’t trust Kronus to go inside, and wouldn’t risk looking away from the ochre kraken for even a few moments.

  Randall spoke to Rhea in soft tones, too low for Dracchus to make out the words. The female looked at Dracchus and frowned. She wore the expression with equal parts uncertainty and fury.

  “They will not come here without facing the consequences,” she said.

  “They knew that already,” Dracchus said. “We will shelter the younglings in your den.”

  Randall crouched on the far side of the bed and rummaged through something Dracchus couldn’t see.

  Rhea straightened, a hint of red on her skin. She looked down at Melaina, who stood as tall as Rhea’s middle. “Will they go so low as to slaughter younglings?”

  Dracchus glanced at Kronus; the ochre kraken stared down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, but had not moved from this position. Satisfied, Dracchus turned back to meet Melaina’s wide-eyed gaze.

  “Whatever they are willing to do,” Dracchus said, “we will allow no harm to the young. You are strong, little one, and you will be safe here.”

  “What about everyone else?” Melaina asked. There was a hint of fear in her voice, but she stood as straight as her mother, and her concern was for the others. Though she was not his youngling, Dracchus took pride in her.

  “They will be here soon, and the small ones will need to see your strength. They will see your bravery and know there is no reason to fear.”

  Melaina smiled and nodded.

  Voices in the hallway called Dracchus’s attention away. He moved toward the sounds.

  Ikaros rounded the corner first, followed by Larkin and then the others — Macy and Aymee, carrying their half-asleep younglings, and then Jax and Arkon. The two male kraken cast skeptical glances at Kronus but said nothing.

  Larkin and the prixxir moved directly to Dracchus, and he drew his mate into a tight embrace, overwhelmed by an unexpected sense of relief. She squeezed him back.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Damn it!” Randall’s frustrated voice — accompanied by a thump — drew everyone’s attention to the doorway.

  Randall clenched his jaw, backed up, and turned sideways to pass through the door with a long, cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. He knelt once he was in the corridor and set the bundle down, unraveling it to reveal six long guns — rifles, as the humans called them.

  Larkin broke away from Dracchus and picked up one of the weapons, inspecting it with confidence and familiarity.

  “How long have those been in your den?” Dracchus asked. He’d shown Randall how to access the weapons and diving suits he’d hidden away, but he’d thought it had been with the understanding that they’d only be taken when necessary.

  “When I reorganized the mess you made of that cabinet, I couldn’t fit everything back in,” Randall replied with a smirk that said he hadn’t tried particularly hard to make anything fit.

  Dracchus grunted; now was not the time for this discussion, partly because his gratefulness would undermine the annoyance he was meant to display.

  “So, what’s the—”

  Macy’s words halted when Ikaros growled — a deep, undulating, menacing sound. The prixxir stared down the corridor from which the others had just come, slowly backing toward Dracchus and the others. The growl ceased, and Ikaros stood with whiskers and spine fin raised. In the ensuing silence, Dracchus became aware of another sound — the uneven rhythm of tentacles moving quietly along a metal walkway, barely audible above his own breathing.

  “Get the younglings inside,” Dracchus commanded in a low voice, “a
nd lock the door.”

  Macy and Aymee hurried past him with Sarina and Jace while Jax, Arkon, and Kronus moved to stand beside him.

  Dracchus’s hearts beat thunderously, and an uneasy energy suffused his limbs. Arkon handed him a spear. He grasped it with both hands.

  Months ago, Arkon had shown him recordings of the uprising. The walls and floors of this building had been splattered with blood. Foolishly, Dracchus had told himself it would never happen again, despite the tensions and disagreements that had been escalating among his people.

  “We are the shield,” Dracchus said to the kraken beside him. “Randall and Larkin will shelter behind us and fire between our bodies.”

  “Ikaros, to Melaina,” Randall said.

  The prixxir looked toward Randall with wide eyes, whimpered, and scurried into the room.

  “We’re here, too,” Aymee said.

  Dracchus glanced over his shoulder to see Aymee in the hallway, holding one of the rifles. Rhea was beside her with a spear in her hand. The door to the den slid closed.

  “Aymee…” Arkon’s voice was breathless, overflowing with concern.

  “Macy’s staying with the kids, and that’s only because she’s pregnant. We all need to fight for the lives we’ve made here.” Keeping the barrel pointed at the floor, she raised the rifle and checked the chamber. “Promise I won’t shoot Randall this time. I hope.”

  Randall chuckled, Larkin snickered, and, despite everything, Dracchus smiled. His chest was tight, full, but it wasn’t merely anticipation, wasn’t merely concern — it was affection. It was love. These were his people, and he didn’t want any of them to come to harm. He shifted his gaze to Larkin. Her eyes were bright, intense, brimming with emotion. She dipped her chin in a nod and made a simple sign.

  With you.

  Dracchus returned the nod and looked ahead.

  Neo turned the corner at the head of a pack. At least eight kraken followed him in a tight cluster, too tightly packed for him to count. All displayed crimson skin.

  Dracchus met Neo’s eyes as the banished kraken halted.

  The air, normally clean and comfortable, grew thick and oppressive, charged with palpable, electric tension. Both groups stared at one another in silence. Were they frozen by the weight of the moment? By what was to come? Frozen by fear, or hatred, or both?