Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3)

by Tiffany Roberts

  Dracchus did not know the proper words to express his feelings toward her, if those words even existed. Their actions had always spoken louder than anything either of them could say. He dipped his head and kissed her, letting his lips linger against hers; this small taste wasn’t enough.

  Had he known the events of this night would occur, he wouldn’t have changed a single thing leading up to it. The price had been steep, but this was the future of his people, this was their way forward — not the bloodshed and loss of life, but his friends, his family. They were the start.

  And Larkin…

  She was his future.

  Chapter 24

  Dracchus moved into the Mess at the rear of their small group. Larkin walked directly ahead of him, with Aymee and Arkon preceding her. The others had already entered after their wounds were treated. Despite Larkin calling him krullheaded and several other interesting names, Dracchus had refused any sort of treatment until everyone else had been tended.

  The kraken gathered in the room parted to allow Dracchus and his group to pass, and he felt the weight of their eyes upon him. He moved as smoothly as he could given the aches and pains that had come to dominate his body over the last few hours.

  He welcomed the pain, if only as a distraction. It was a powerful thing to focus on.

  His people were quiet while he moved to the far wall and entered the small space that had been left clear for him. Aymee and Arkon took their places with the rest — Jax and Macy, Rhea and Randall, Vasil, Brexes, Ector and the other elders — at the front of the crowd. Kronus was by himself to one side, staring at the floor. Several male kraken watched him with undisguised wariness and suspicion.

  “Uncle Drak!” Sarina shouted when he drew near. Her voice shattered the prevailing silence. She leaned over Macy’s arm, holding her hands toward him.

  He took her, and she immediately looped her small arms around his neck and clutched his upper arm with her tentacles. Reaching across his chest, he patted her back, gritting his teeth as the freshly sealed cut on his side disapproved of the movement.

  She pressed her forehead to his and blew through her siphons. Smiling, Dracchus did the same. There was something uncharacteristic in her eyes; a glimmer of sadness? He wasn’t sure she understood what had happened, but at the very least, she knew it hadn’t been good.

  “I love you, Uncle Dracchus,” she said, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck and shoulder, clinging to him.

  “Love you too, little one,” he replied. When he looked back to the crowd, many of them stared at him in open question. Love, still such a new concept to the kraken, perhaps even stranger than the sight of a male holding a youngling as small as Sarina.

  “This is the offspring of Jax the Wanderer and Macy, the first human to live in the Facility since the uprising,” he called, running his eyes over the crowd. “She is Sarina. She and all our younglings are the future of our kind. They are not defined by their blood, or the blood of their parents, but by how they see the world. And when we do not taint their views early, they are wise enough to see the truth.

  “Humans and kraken can exist peacefully. We can share this world, we can even live together and thrive.” Dracchus gently pulled Sarina from his arm. She frowned, but went back to her mother willingly. “We cannot ignore what happened tonight. The divide between kraken is not the fault of humans. We are to blame, and we allowed it to widen and plunge us into violence.

  “Neo led his exiles into the Facility tonight to kill not only the humans, but all of us who associate with them. Kraken who have done their part for our people for years, some beyond their normal duty. What was the reasoning behind this? Is loving a human crime enough to be slaughtered by our own kind? Does it warrant the killing of younglings, regardless of their blood?”

  His hearts thumped in their rapid triple-beat. He drew in a slow, deep breath, and released it with equal measure. Apart from the pain of his wounds, his chest and throat were tight. It was Arkon’s place to use words like this, not Dracchus’s.

  A warm body tucked itself against his side, and he knew it was Larkin without looking. Her presence calmed him somewhat.

  “Neo and his group wronged these humans, and these humans are our people. When the exiles faced consequences for their actions, they chose retaliation rather than acceptance. They came with anger and hatred in their hearts, and that is how they were returned to the sea.

  “And what is in our hearts, we survivors? Confusion. Sadness. Pain, loss, anger. The reasons for what we have done does not counteract the price that was paid. But our people are strong. Our people are intelligent and wise. We will learn from this pain, and together we will move on to the future we have long waited to claim.”

  Larkin stepped forward. “This war between our people needs to end.”

  The kraken turned their attention from Dracchus to his mate. Some frowned, flickering glances between him and Larkin.

  “I know some of you might still be angry at me for what I’ve done. I helped the rangers capture your people. I understand that anger. In my ignorance, I believed the words of a man who had betrayed myself and my brother.” She gestured toward Randall. “The humans hunting you are doing so out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what might happen, fear of what’s already happened.

  “I know only enough of your past to know that tonight was a repeated event. The circumstances were different, but the outcome would’ve been the same. We would’ve been slaughtered in our beds. The kraken that attacked tonight are the ones humans fear, the ones we called monsters. The ones who we hunted to protect ourselves from what could happen.

  “For a while, I thought that way.” Larkin turned her gaze toward Dracchus briefly. “But I know different now. Macy, Aymee, and Randall know different. There are already people in The Watch who know different. The rest of them need to be shown that they’re wrong. They need to see with their own eyes that you aren’t monsters, but people, like us.”

  “What do you mean?” Brexes asked, brow low.

  “Your people locked Jax away, and beat Dracchus, Vasil, and Neo,” someone said from the crowd.

  “And your people would have killed me,” Macy said.

  “We fear what we do not understand,” Larkin said gently. “Our people, and yours.”

  “This is a lesson we try to teach all younglings who hunt with us,” Ector said, “but it is often overlooked. Knowing of a thing is not knowing it. Awareness is not understanding.”

  “And humans and kraken know little of each other,” Dracchus said. “These are not the ones who enslaved us, and we are not the ones who rose against them.”

  Larkin ran her hands through her hair, tugging it back from her face. “We would have died tonight had it not been for a single kraken who put aside his hatred and risked his life to warn us.”

  “And, when given chance to leave and save himself, he remained to fight alongside us,” Dracchus added. “He shed his blood in our defense.”

  Larkin turned to face Kronus. “And for that, we thank you, Kronus. You saved us.”

  All eyes shifted toward Kronus. He looked back at the crowd uncertainly, arms folded across his chest. He kept himself near the wall, with more than a body’s length separating him from the others; it was as much space as could be allowed, given the number of kraken present.

  “Even though he was cast from his home, Kronus has acted with honor and selflessness,” Ector said. “That is an example we may look upon with pride.”

  Kronus’s skin flashed violet with embarrassment for an instant, and he lowered his head. This was far removed from the outspoken kraken of months before. Had the recent events merely humbled him, or broken him?

  “Kronus is also proof that we can change. That we can look upon one another without blinding hatred or fear.” Larkin turned back to Dracchus. “Which is why I propose we all go to The Watch.”

  Shock rippled through the crowd in the form of muttered voices and questioning glances.

&nbs
p; “If we go there, the hunters will capture us all,” someone called.

  “We won’t let that happen,” Larkin said. “I have chosen my side, and it is with you.” She took Dracchus’s hand. “I stand with my mate.”

  Dracchus squeezed her hand and met her gaze. The depth within her eyes was staggering, and he wished, for a moment, that everything else would go away — the other people, his pain, the building itself — leaving only himself and Larkin, so they could hold one another in peace.

  “Our father is the one who leads the hunters,” Randall said, stepping forward to stand beside his sister, “and as Larkin said, he’s driven by fear. The fear of losing his children. He’s a good man who’s been driven to do terrible things by that fear, but he deserves a chance to change his course. Just like Dracchus gave chances to the others. If we can show him that we are safe, and that our people can exist together, he’ll stop.”

  Conversations sparked throughout the gathering. Voices rose above the din, some for the plan, some against; the only consistency was the energy with which the people spoke.

  “What do the elders think?” a male shouted.

  Ceres moved forward and lifted her hands. The crowd quieted. “We have lived here for many generations without any contact with humans. Our prosperity has always been the product of our toil, and our traditions have helped to ensure our continued existence. But our people have never thrived. Ours has been an existence of constant struggle. We females are few. Our younglings are few. And our people have existed on the edge of disaster since our beginning.

  “The humans have given us hope. They have produced kraken younglings. Though we have no guarantee of prospering together, this may be the best hope for our people to finally thrive.”

  “The dangers cannot be denied,” Faro said, “but it may well be time to face those dangers for the chance at something better.”

  Ector eased forward and smiled. “I speak only for myself in this, but I would like to see the place Macy and Aymee came from at least once before the sea reclaims me.”

  “Larkin showed us kindness during our captivity,” Vasil said, “and I have only seen more of it from the other humans here. I do believe there are others like them.”

  “Humans already know of your existence,” Larkin said. “It is no longer a secret. Show them who you really are and give them a chance to show you who they are, too. We’re all people. As different as we appear, we want the same thing — to live.”

  “Dracchus?” Ector asked. “What do you say?”

  “As all things, it is a risk,” he replied after several moments of silence, keeping his gaze on Larkin. “But it is a risk worth taking. Our people have much to learn from each other, and we cannot continue along under constant threat of attack.” He looked to the crowd. “I will force no one’s choice in this matter. When I have healed fully, I will go to The Watch with my mate. Any who wish it are welcome to join us.”

  “I will go,” Jax said.

  Arkon moved forward. “And I.”

  Ector and the other elders, Vasil, Brexes, and Rhea all came forward one at a time, and then more kraken, males and females alike.

  “And I,” said Kronus.

  Dracchus turned his head to look at the ochre kraken. Kronus’s unease was plain in his slight frown and drawn brows, but his gaze was steady.

  With a nod, Dracchus turned back to the crowd. “So it shall be. We will face the future together, as we always should have. Let us gather again in five days’ time, and we will venture to The Watch and show the humans — and ourselves — that friendship is possible.”

  Dracchus and Larkin didn’t enter their new den until the sea was already lit by the rising sun. Though the corridor beyond their door looked like all the others in the Cabins, it wasn’t theirs. The room lacked Dracchus and Larkin’s scent, lacked the trinkets they’d gathered over their weeks together, lacked clothing that properly fit Larkin, but it was clean and quiet.

  That the other humans and their kraken mates had denned in the three neighboring rooms offered a bit of comfort.

  The only comfort Dracchus sought, however, was in Larkin. She led him into the bathroom, removed her clothes, and pulled him into the shower. She maneuvered deftly in the tight space as she washed the remaining blood from his skin, mindful of every recently sealed wound.

  Her hands caressed him, but her touch was not meant to arouse; she was letting him know she was there, reminding him he was still there, too.

  When they finished, she took her time in drying him off. He would have done it himself, but every movement elicited new pain, and the tight skin around his wounds threatened to tear if stretched too far.

  Once she dried herself, she donned a shirt and took his hand. “Come to bed, Dracchus.”

  He followed her gentle guidance. His body was exhausted, but his mind…

  The pain was not enough to distract him from his thoughts anymore.

  Dracchus eased himself down onto the bed carefully, movements stiff, and draped his forearm over his eyes. He needed to sleep. Needed to fall into that black embrace before everything else rushed to the surface. But it was not black behind his closed eyelids.

  It was crimson.

  He clenched his teeth against the raw memories, the faces, the blood.

  They’d been monsters.

  They’d been people.

  His people.

  The bed dipped as Larkin climbed onto it. She settled herself closer to the headboard than him, slipping her arms around his head to cradle it against her chest. Her hands trailed lightly over his siphon, his temple, his cheek, and her lips brushed across his brow.

  “You don’t have to be strong around me,” she whispered.

  He wanted to reply that he would always be strong for her, but the words caught in his throat. Pressure built in his chest, pressure and overwhelming heat, and his body shuddered against it.

  “I did not want this,” he rasped.

  Her fingers continued their slow course over his skin, a constant sign that she was not just with him, she was with him in that moment.

  “I wanted my people to come together,” he continued, each word hurting more than the last as it emerged. “To prosper. To find the same joy and peace the humans in The Watch seem to have. I tried…” He curled his trembling fingers, but the pain of his claws digging into his palms did nothing to steady him.

  Larkin took his hand and applied gentle pressure to loosen his grip. She laced the ends of their fingers together and guided his arm down. Cupping his cheek with one hand, she turned his face toward hers.

  He opened his eyes. Pulses of black and crimson floated in his vision, a result of how tightly he’d squeezed his eyelids shut, but they yielded slowly to Larkin’s face, which was framed by her damp, red-orange hair. She’d dimmed the lights, and the soft glow on her pale skin made her appear otherworldly.

  “You are one man, Dracchus,” she said, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “You are not responsible for the choices of others. Change takes time, and even the best changes don’t come without resistance. You were given a bad situation, and you did the best you could with it. The fault isn’t yours.”

  “They were our people. Whatever they’d done, they were our people. And this wound was dealt to all kraken. How do we take that back? How do we close it?”

  “You can’t.”

  He’d known that truth, deep inside, before she spoke it, but hearing it out loud increased the pressure within him tenfold. Were it not for Larkin, were it not for Sarina and the rest of his family, he might have longed for simpler times, for the days when his greatest concern was to ensure Jax was around for the next hunt, or who his next challenge would come from. But if this pain in his hearts was the price for the family that had grown around him, he would pay it again and again without hesitation.

  Larkin slid down to curl against his side and wrapped her arm around his chest. Twining his tentacles with her legs, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. He needed to
feel her, to hold onto her. His wounds ached, but he didn’t care; she would be his balm.

  “Time is the only thing that can heal these wounds,” she said softly, her warm breath tickling his skin, “but you can help by being there. By carrying on, despite how much it hurts. Whenever you feel weak, I’ll be your strength.” She kissed him. “You’re only one man, but you’re not alone.”

  Dracchus closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He focused on her solidness, on the heat of her body, on her scent slowly enveloping him.

  The names and faces of the dead kraken drifted through his mind, but he didn’t fight them away. He allowed himself to feel the pain of each loss, holding Larkin a little tighter. In time, they faded — not forgotten, but finally ceding to his bone-deep weariness.

  “My heart is yours, Dracchus,” Larkin whispered as sleep descended upon him. “So long as it beats, I will be by your side.”

  Chapter 25

  Though The Watch was, like most every town on Halora, relatively small, its waterfront was bustling with activity. Fishermen hauled supplies to and from the boats moored along the gently bobbing dock. A few men seemed to be inspecting some sort of damage to one of the hulls, while others were securing a load to the crane that hauled goods to the warehouse atop the cliff.

  Larkin recognized one of the boats — it had accompanied the large ship on its two-week hunt for the kraken. It was the vessel she’d been trying to reach when Neo first attacked her.

  “That’s my father,” Macy said through the suit comm system, pointing toward a burly, bearded man at the end of the dock.

  Larkin turned to look at Randall. He treaded water beside her, frowning. “Do you think Dad is there, too?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Part of me wants him to be, and the other part hopes he’s not.”

  “The scouts said they didn’t see any ships nearby,” Aymee said. “There’s a good chance they all came back here.”