“He caused no trouble,” shouted one of the men who’d guarded Jax.
Randall silenced them by lifting his hands in the same manner Walter had. “I don’t want everyone to argue about it. We’ve heard some stories, and we came to sort it all out. We might carry some big guns, but we’re on your side. If this Jax is on your side, too, we won’t have any problems. But until we know that, without a single doubt, we must treat him as a dangerous beast. Because that is what will keep people safe.”
“He’s not a beast!” Aymee snapped. “We’ve lived here in peace for years before he came, and we still live in peace months after he left. You’re here for no one but yourselves!”
One of the other rangers — older than Randall, with short blond hair and a cruel grin — barked a laugh.
“Aymee!” Kent pulled Aymee back, and she stumbled into him.
Randall’s smile faltered, and his brow creased. “I understand emotions are high in the wake of what happened here. I’m not going to take offense. We came to help, and that’s what we intend to do. Our first goal is to determine what that will entail.”
Breckett cleared his throat. “What she says is true. That beast, as you call him, brought my daughter back after we thought her dead at sea. She was badly injured, and he exposed himself to make sure she got the care she needed. The whole time he was locked in that tank, all he did was ask about the welfare of my daughter. He is not a monster.”
“I should very much like to speak with your daughter, sir,” Randall said.
“That’s not possible.”
“So, he didn’t bring her back in time?”
“He did, and thanks to him, Doc Rhodes, and Aymee, my Macy lives.”
Randall’s gaze shifted from Breckett to Aymee. “Me and my men would love to talk with the two of you further over the coming days.” He looked out over the rest of the crowd. “Anyone with information, we ask that you share it with us. Our job is to defend the humans of Halora. That means The Watch, and every other town on this planet. We can’t make a decision that will potentially affect everyone on this world based on some anecdotes.
“Please, rest assured, we’re not here to disrupt your lives. We’re not here to stir up trouble. We’re here to prevent any more of it. If this Jax is truly harmless, we’ll move on.”
The crowd burst into animated conversation as Randall stepped back. It took Walter several minutes to quiet them down enough to be heard. He thanked everyone for their time and wished them a good evening. The townsfolk trickled through the open doors and into the night.
Aymee finally released the fabric she’d held in her fist and stretched her stiff fingers before smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. Randall had a certain charm, a confidence and compassion that should have eased her fears.
But even if the men with him looked rougher, Randall had the hard features of someone who’d scraped out a living in the wilds.
She didn’t want to think of Arkon becoming their target, but it seemed all too possible.
“Be careful, Aymee,” Breckett said. “I know you’re trying to protect them. I want to do the same, but we don’t know these men. We don’t know what they’re willing to do.”
“What were you thinking?” Jeanette demanded.
Aymee winced. “I know. I know. I shouldn’t have spoken out like that, but I couldn’t… They’re not monsters!”
“We know that,” her father said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “but they don’t.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Breckett rumbled, glancing at the stage.
Aymee’s brows lowered as she followed Breckett’s gaze. Randall and his rangers were talking with a few of the councilmen; his eyes flicked to Aymee and held. He smiled.
Aymee looked away. She needed to warn Arkon, but it was another week before the next exchange.
“Just be careful, Aymee,” Breckett said.
“I will. Thank you, Breckett.”
They left the town hall together, saying their goodnights to Macy’s father once they were in the square and the crowd had thinned. When they arrived home, Jeanette went to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner while Aymee excused herself, anxious to read Macy’s letter.
She sat on her bed and reached for the letter, pausing as she lifted the jar of stones. Each of them had been selected and adorned just for her. Heart warm, she smiled. It was a small comfort, but every little bit mattered.
Sliding the paper from beneath the jar, she unfolded it. Macy’s familiar handwriting was scrawled across the page, and though shorter than usual, the letter conveyed an abundance of happiness. Aymee wished they were together to share in that feeling.
One of the lines gave her pause. She read it again, and her lips spread into a grin. Aymee leapt from the bed and ran into the kitchen.
“It’s a girl!” she shouted. “Macy had a girl, and she’s perfect!”
Chapter 2
The Facility was a cluster of huge, familiar patches of darkness set against deep blue as Arkon approached, its exterior lights insignificant in the vastness of the surrounding ocean. The humans who’d once dwelled within these buildings had called this world Halora, and the records they’d left behind claimed more than eighty percent of the planet’s surface was covered with water. For all that he’d learned from those records, such a massive area was beyond Arkon’s fathoming.
His people, the kraken, occupied a sliver of the ocean so tiny that it might as well have been a single drop of water.
He cast aside those thoughts as he neared the main building’s entry door. In the past, such musings could have occupied him for hours or days at a time. But there was only one thing he longed to think about now, only one thing that held his attention — Aymee.
Tucking the supply canister under his arm, he entered the number sequence on the keypad. The red light over the door changed to green, and the entry slid open. Arkon swam into the pressurization chamber.
As the door closed behind him and the water drained, his mind’s eye produced images of Aymee. He’d watched from the water as she walked along the beach, had marveled at her easy grace in the open air, had battled the urge to go ashore and speak with her. What would he have said? The single time they'd spoken, he’d been a stammering fool.
When he had gone onto land and retrieved the container, his hands tingled — Aymee had touched it. His tentacles detected a faint, familiar taste, sweet and light and alluring. Her taste. It was unlike anything in the sea.
“Pressurization normalized,” the computer said from an unseen overhead speaker. The interior door opened after its light turned green, and Arkon moved into the corridor beyond.
The Facility had been his home for his entire life. He knew every hallway, every chamber, knew which lights worked and which tended to flicker. He’d always wondered at the mystery behind it all. Thanks to Macy figuring out how to access the computer’s information, he’d learned much. The Facility was powered by an experimental reactor fueled by halorium — a rare, glowing stone often found on the seafloor. The computer’s records could provide no estimate on how long the reactor would be sustained by its current halorium supply; the technology had been too new when the kraken took control of the place for definitive data to have been generated.
His eyes roamed over the lines and angles of the walls and doors as he made his way deeper inside. Though the dirt and wear of centuries was apparent everywhere, the precision with which The Facility had been constructed was just as noticeable. Everything was even, symmetrical, deliberate. Every overhead light, every doorway, every panel on the floors, walls, and ceilings were exact in size, shape, and placement. There was a certain artistry to it, but he found it somehow cold. Unfeeling.
What about that feeling put Arkon off after he’d spent countless hours seeking balance, symmetry, and precision in his own attempts at art? He’d never quite managed to satisfy himself in such pursuits, and yet, his works felt unerringly more alive than the Facility. Was it simply his inherent per
sonal connection to his own creations?
He glanced down. A dried clump of seaweed had crusted onto the base of the wall and lay draped partly on the floor. Little clusters of sand were scattered on and around it. Though tiny in relation to the corridor — just as The Facility was tiny relative to the ocean — it served as a break in the otherwise perfect patterns made by the drainage grooves running along the edges of the walkway.
Was that the key? When he looked upon his creations, he held them against unattainable perfection and saw all the little flaws — the very flaws that drew the eye and instilled uniqueness in a piece.
What would Aymee see in these walls? What might she make them with some of her paint and adequate time?
Though he’d only spoken to her once, Arkon had no doubt she’d breathe life into this impersonal structure; Macy had managed as much by her mere presence in the Facility. What wonders might be wrought by Aymee’s talent?
Arkon sought the what-ifs in the unadorned walls as he passed them, but he could not do her imagination justice; anything he might dream up was inadequate, unimportant, unworthy of her.
He crossed into the building marked CABINS, where the Facility’s human inhabitants had once dwelled, and his thoughts again shifted. The design here was softer — abundant curves muted the harshness present in the main building’s perfect angles. It was an illusion, of sorts; everything in this living space was arranged with equal precision, and the repeating patterns were just as obvious.
Macy and Jax used one of these chambers as their den. No kraken had denned in this building before them, and few had reason or desire to do so even now — kraken could breathe and function adequately on land but were more comfortable in the water. The other buildings — either partially or fully flooded — suited Arkon’s people better.
And yet, Arkon had chosen to claim a chamber of his own here, in the air, as Macy’s pregnancy had advanced and his supply exchanges with Aymee continued.
Since the first such exchange, he’d taken to placing carved stones in the containers he left for Aymee. Macy had never mentioned whether Aymee asked after the stones in her letters, but none of them had been returned…and Aymee had begun including gifts for Arkon in her canisters.
He took the long way through the looping corridors to reach his den without passing Jax and Macy’s. Once inside, he closed the door and took the supply canister in his tentacles. His hearts thumped, and his hands trembled as he removed the lid and placed it on the nearby bed.
Arkon peered into the canister. It was laden with the usual fare — soap, medicine, food, and clothing for Macy, along with the letters sent by her friends and family from The Watch. Tucked to one side was a large paper rolled into a neat tube.
He reached in and grasped the paper between forefinger and thumb, drawing it out of the container. It was secured around the middle by a bit of brown string, attached to which was a thick paper tag. ARK, it said in big, flowing writing; she demonstrated her artistry even in the mundane.
Arkon longed to hear his name from Aymee’s lips again.
He gently worked the tip of a claw into the knot and loosened the string, sliding it off the paper. Then, mindful of his claws, he unrolled the tube.
The subject of the painting was immediately apparent — the jungle. Arkon had been in the jungle several times to help Jax gather plants for Macy to eat, but he’d never seen it as Aymee depicted it here. This was the jungle beneath the stars — deep, dark purples and blues contrasted by the shining silver and muted gold of the stars and moons, illuminated from within by strange, glowing plants.
Closer inspection revealed the strokes of paint that comprised the image; they were loose, almost haphazard, and meaningless on their own or in small clusters. But, somehow, they came together to form a vibrant, detailed whole.
He crossed the room and used a metal clip to hang the painting on the wall alongside the others she’d sent. The sea during a storm; sunlight shining through the window of a small room with a narrow bed cast in somehow sorrowful shadow; an unfamiliar, hair-covered beast in a grassy field; and his favorite, a painting that was nothing but a jumble of rich, expressive color, which belied an underlying method despite its chaos.
Backing away, he studied each painting. They were so varied in subject and approach, in colors, form, and emotion, and yet each bore a certain quality that marked them as hers.
And she’d given them to him.
Before he could get lost in thought again, he forced himself back to the bed. He replaced the lid on the canister and exited the room, making his way toward Jax and Macy’s den.
The exchanges were for Macy, after all, and it wasn’t right to make her wait any longer for news from her loved ones.
The door of their den was open, and the soft sounds of Macy’s laughter drifted into the hall as Arkon approached. Stopping outside the doorway, he glanced inside.
Macy sat, leaning against the head of the bed, with Jax laid across it. One of his tentacles was raised, tip curled down to tickle the youngling between them.
Such simple, innocent joy had been a rarity before Macy came to stay at The Facility. Kraken had typically found satisfaction in solitude — Jax and Arkon’s friendship was an oddity in its depth and sincerity, but each had still spent most of his time alone. What Macy and Jax had built here, their little family, had changed everything the kraken knew, and that sense of family, of community, was spreading to the others.
Macy and Jax had received visitors so frequently as of late that they’d taken to keeping their door closed more often than not to ensure their youngling, Sarina, received adequate rest. She was a wonder — the child of a human and a kraken. Potentially the future of their race when kraken females were so few and offspring so rare.
The connection between Macy and Jax was something Arkon couldn’t have imagined possible, were it not before his eyes. That she considered Arkon a friend was humbling. He enjoyed his time with her; she appreciated his art, offered unique insights, and was even teaching him to read and write.
Arkon couldn’t help feeling a hint of jealousy. He wanted a mate of his own, someone to share his den with. Someone he could talk to as often and openly as Jax to Macy. Someone who understood what drove him, even when he did not, who shared his interests and passions, and didn’t view him as strange.
“Arkon?”
Jax’s voice startled Arkon from his thoughts. Macy smiled at him from across the room, as welcoming and warm as she’d always been with him.
“Why are you just standing there? Come in, Uncle Arkon!” she said, motioning him closer.
Swallowing his embarrassment, he entered the chamber. Jax regarded him with a furrowed brow as he approached.
“Just drifting on the current of my thoughts,” Arkon replied. He slid the supply canister into his hands and held it to Macy. “Fresh off the beach. Well, it was fresh a few hours ago. It depends on your personal criteria for freshness, I suppose.”
Macy chuckled and took the canister from him. She set it beside her, removed the lid, and peered inside. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for us. You know Jax is more than willing to make the exchanges, so you don’t have to leave so often.”
“It is no trouble. Jax has spent years attempting to get me out of this place more regularly. He may count this as a small victory.”
“I wanted you to explore with me,” Jax said. “No matter the wonders I described to you, I could rarely draw your attention away from your work. Why are you so eager to leave now?”
Macy glanced at Arkon from the corner of her eye. “Maybe he’s found inspiration elsewhere.”
Though there was no malice in Macy’s expression, Arkon found it unsettling. It was a knowing glance. “The more I can do to keep the three of you together during these early days, the better. I am curious to see the results of a youngling raised by mother and father simultaneously.”
He moved closer to the bed and leaned forward, looking down at little Sarina — his nie
ce, according to Macy. She was surrounded by a nest of blankets, tentacles drawn up tight to her body, green eyes open and alert. In most ways, she was a normal kraken, but she’d inherited a few traits from her mother — a delicate nose, soft features, and fine, dark hair on her head and at her brows.
She was the first baby he’d interacted with. Kraken younglings remained with their mothers — who largely kept to themselves — until the males were old enough to join the hunters.
“You make it sound like we’re an experiment,” Macy said.
Arkon slid the tip of a tentacle to Sarina’s hand. She clamped her fingers around it, her tiny claws pricking his skin. “Every situation is an opportunity to learn.”
“It is,” she agreed, taking a letter out of the canister. Arkon glimpsed Aymee’s handwriting upon it. She set it aside and proceeded to rummage through the other contents.
“The females will be gathering soon in the Mess,” Jax said, sliding off the bed. “I will take Sarina this time if you’d like some quiet to read your letters.”
“Are you sure?” Macy asked. “I don’t mind going.”
Jax brushed the backs of his fingers over Macy’s blonde hair and leaned down to press a kiss on her lips before gathering their daughter. Sarina put up a brief struggle before relinquishing Arkon’s tentacle.
“Rest, Macy. Read your letters. The females will most likely ignore me while they dote on Sarina.”
“They’d better,” Macy grumbled. “I’ve seen Leda eyeing you.”
“I belong to you, Macy.”
“You do, and she better remember that.” She wore a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Not everyone approved of the changes since Macy’s arrival. Leda was one of them. Most recently, she’d sought after Jax, Arkon, and Dracchus, and all three had turned her away. Many females clung to their ways, seeking males who would be the best providers for as long as they chose to keep that male as a mate. Arkon didn’t doubt that Macy would fight for Jax, if it came down to it, though she was physically outmatched by any of the female kraken.
The Kraken Series Boxset: A Sci-fi Alien Romance Series Books 1-3 with Bonus Exclusive Short Story Page 32