A song for Aymee.
Arkon closed his eyes and filled his lungs with salt-kissed air. The sand beneath him was soft, the rock at his back had been warmed by the afternoon sun, and a light breeze tickled his skin. Though his senses were unchanged on land, the things he experienced with them were still largely new — as was what he’d felt when Aymee touched him.
He brushed his fingers over his chest, sparking a fleeting, ghostly memory of the thrill that had suffused his skin while he’d been in contact with her.
After imagining dozens of potential outcomes for their meeting, Arkon had been wholly unprepared for the effects of her proximity, her touch, her scent and taste. He’d barely maintained control of his body.
It had taken hours for him to calm after they’d parted, and his excitement had rekindled with startling intensity when he discovered the paints and brushes she’d left in the canister for him. And the art she’d given him! Being gifted a drawing of himself had been odd — he’d never considered that he would become the subject of anyone’s art — but her work was exquisite, and the life she’d instilled in it with a bit of color in the eyes astounded him.
The implication of her offering had caught him off-guard when it dawned on him.
Aymee didn’t see him as a monster.
He opened his eyes and stared out over the sea. The waves glittered in the late afternoon sun as though countless stars had plummeted to float upon the water. The ends of his fore-tentacles swept over the sand restlessly. He felt like his hearts hadn’t slowed since their meeting the day before.
She’d been waiting for him to approach her all along.
However intelligent Arkon thought he was, he’d proven himself inept when it came to Aymee.
Something moved in his periphery vision. He turned his head to see Aymee rounding the wide bend. She carried a basket at her elbow, and the wind molded her clothing to her body, teasing at the curves hidden beneath the cloth.
Arkon rose slowly and allowed his skin to revert to its natural color and texture. The moment her dark eyes settled on him, her entire face brightened.
“You’re here!” Aymee called over the wind and sea.
She closed the remaining distance between them at an easy run; Arkon watched, fascinated by the play of her lithe limbs and the brush of her curls over her cheeks. Her apparent joy validated his eagerness.
“Was there any doubt I would be?”
“No.” She swept her hair out of her face. “Have you been waiting long?”
When Arkon’s people hunted, they sometimes laid in wait to ambush unsuspecting prey from sunup to sundown. The few hours he’d waited on this beach had been almost unbearable due to his anticipation, but they were a small price, especially with Aymee as the payoff.
He smiled. “No, not long.”
“Are you hungry?” Aymee set down her basket and lifted the folded brown blanket from its top. After spreading the blanket over the sand with one edge against the cliff, she sat down atop it.
“Yes, I am hungry. I would have brought food had I known you wanted to eat.”
Though the kraken shared food, sharing meals was an unfamiliar concept to them. Arkon had only learned of the custom through Macy. It was a ritual with social and cultural significance, though he wasn’t sure of its meanings beyond solidifying the bonds of family and community.
Pulling the basket closer, Aymee glanced up at him and smiled. “I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you, so I brought dinner with me. I made sure to pack extra, just in case.” She patted the empty place beside her. “Join me?”
Arkon studied the way she was sitting before looking down at himself. He brushed as much sand as he could off his tentacles, folded them beneath himself, and settled down on the blanket. The soft-but-scratchy texture of the fabric was strange to him.
“What is this made from?” He brushed a tentacle over the blanket; its foreign scent was layered with Aymee’s sweet smell.
“Sheep’s wool. The original colonists brought many things from Earth when they landed — machines, plants, and animals. Sheep were among those things.” She peeled back a smaller cloth that was draped over the basket, revealing a variety of food within. Arkon recognized much of it from the supplies Aymee sent Macy.
Plants.
As far as he’d been able to discern from the Facility’s old lab reports, kraken could safely eat many of the same plants humans did without getting ill, but he hadn’t dared to try any yet.
“We shear the wool from them when it gets long enough and use it to make clothing and blankets,” Aymee continued.
Arkon pinched the fabric and rubbed it between his fingertips. “Is it like their hair?”
“Yes. We use dyes to change its color, like this.” She lifted the hem of her blue skirt. “This isn’t made from wool, though. It’s made from whitesilk flower, which is native to Halora.”
Arkon looked at the material between her fingers, but his attention soon drifted to the smooth curve of her calf. Did that skin feel different than the skin of her hand?
She released her skirt and rummaged through the basket.
Her movement tugged Arkon from his distraction. Her words hit him suddenly, tugging his mind in a new direction. Unthinking, he reached forward and touched her skirt. “This was made from flowers? What sort of process yields this result?”
Aymee chuckled. “When the flowers bloom, they leave behind these long silky strands. We gather those and spin them into thread.” She removed a small, cloth-wrapped bundle from the basket and held it out to him. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
Furrowing his brow, Arkon accepted the offering and unwrapped it. Though he couldn’t guess its source, it was undoubtedly meat. The outside was browned and bore faint scorch marks — signs it had been cooked, like Macy did with all her meat.
If this had come from the sea, it was cut from a creature he’d never eaten before.
“What is it?”
“Krull.”
“The long-necked beasts that live in the jungle?”
“Yes. You’ve seen them?”
Arkon nodded. “One of the times I went with Jax to forage for Macy. He voiced his curiosity regarding their taste.”
“Now you can tell him what it tastes like.”
“I think I’ll tell him I know and leave it at that.”
Aymee grinned. “He’ll have to hunt his own.”
Arkon grinned, too. “He just might. It’s not often I can say I tried something before him, so I must relish these experiences as they come.” Raising the meat to his mouth, he sank his teeth into it and tore off a bite.
Most of the kraken’s prey yielded soft, sometimes chewy meat. This was tough, but the flavor quickly burst over his tongue and flooded his mouth. It was startlingly complex, and Arkon realized it wasn’t solely the krull meat he tasted — the little flecks on the meat, which appeared to be finely-diced plants, added to the taste, altered it, enhanced it in ways he hadn’t known possible.
“Do you like it?” she asked, chewing her own piece.
He shifted the meat to one side of his mouth. “I’m not sure. It’s...a lot. Almost overwhelming. I’ve never had anything like it.”
She swallowed. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to,” he replied, and took another bite. “This is just very different from what I normally eat. It’s even different from the cooked meat Macy’s had me try.”
“Does all of her food come from the sea?”
“The meat, yes.”
They ate in companionable silence, enveloped by the sighing of the waves. Aymee turned her face toward the sea as she bit into a wedge of fruit. Arkon watched the wind lift locks of her hair, brushing them over her cheeks and shoulders.
“Is she beautiful?” she asked suddenly. “Sarina, I mean.”
“Yes, she is.” There was deep emotion hidden with Aymee’s question. A hint of sorrow, perhaps?
The corner of h
er lips tilted up. “I knew she would be.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to meet her yourself, before long.”
She met his gaze. “Really?”
Arkon nodded. The hope in her eyes made his chest tighten. “Once she is a bit older, I do not doubt Macy and Jax will arrange for you to see her.”
Aymee averted her gaze to the water. “It’s not the same with the letters. I know she’s the one writing them, but it’s not her.”
Frowning, Arkon looked at the sand. From hopeful to crushed in an instant. Her sadness was a weight on his heart; how would he feel if Jax, Macy, and Sarina were taken out of his life?
He’d feel the same emptiness if Aymee were taken, though this was only the third time they’d spoken.
He placed his hand on her leg; her thigh was warm through the fabric of her skirt. “As soon as these hunters have moved on and Macy has recovered, I will make sure she starts to visit you.”
“I’d love that. Thank you.” Her smile returned, and after a few seconds, her eyes dropped to his hand. She tilted her head.
Arkon pulled his arm back. She hadn’t invited the touch, hadn’t given him permission, and he must have broken a rule of human interaction
Aymee caught his hand, hooking her fingers over his thumb, and drew it closer. Arm stretched toward her, Arkon leaned forward.
Her bronzed skin was dark against his pale blue-gray flesh, her hand tiny in comparison.
Aymee’s heat seeped into him. She lifted her hand away and traced her fingertip along the webbing between his fingers and up to the tips of his claws.
Her delicate touch sent a tingling sensation along his arm. It gathered in his chest to halt his breath; he’d never experienced anything like it. His skin was sensitive enough to detect minute changes in water temperature and current — a gift from the humans who’d engineered the kraken, if he chose to look at it that way — and that sensitivity turned the contact with Aymee into something euphoric.
“Hands are one of the most difficult things to draw,” she said, smoothing her palm over his. “But they are also one of the most beautiful.”
His eyes fixated on her hand, and he drank in every detail from her delicate knuckles to her long, slender fingers and short, blunt nails. The slightly rougher spots on her skin enhanced the sensation of her touch. He attempted to agree with her, but he wasn’t sure what sound, if any, came out.
She placed a finger under his chin and guided his head up until his eyes met hers. Smiling, she slid her fingertips along his jaw until she reached his siphons. “Macy told me these are not ears.”
Transfixed by her brown eyes, he shook his head. Her fingers moved with such grace, such gentleness, such confidence and precision, and his skin was ablaze beneath them.
“For breathing,” he said distractedly.
She circled her finger over the end of his siphon. “What’s it like? When you go from water to air and back again?”
Arkon swallowed and willed his mind to move past her feel, past her proximity and intoxicating scent. “It’s...it is like being suspended between worlds for a fraction of a moment. A fleeting taste of mortality as lungs or gills give out and my body adapts to its new environment.” He blew air through his siphons and Aymee yanked her hand back, laughing. Arkon shook his head again, unable to ignore the absence of her touch. “That sounds somewhat dramatic. I don’t mean to exaggerate.”
“I love the way you describe things.” She canted her head to one side. “What you are is the embodiment of amazing. To live in two worlds…”
“I must admit to having not done much living in this world. Not until recently.” He smiled, hearts thumping.
“Everyone has to start somewhere. I haven’t done much living, either. I find enjoyment where I can, but I spend most of my days tending to the sick and wounded.” She scooted back to lean against the stone wall and plucked a round, red fruit out of the basket. An apple. Macy had told Arkon that apples had been brought to Halora from the ancient human homeworld. “Our exchange days have been the brightest ones for me recently. It gives me something to look forward to.”
Arkon glanced down and traced a circle in the sand with the tip of a tentacle. “I spend my weeks anticipating the few minutes during which I’ll see you on the beach.”
“If only you hadn’t been hiding from me.”
He lifted his gaze to her; her smile had broadened into a grin. “As I recall, Aymee, you admitted to doing some hiding yourself.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you away.”
His skin shifted to pale violet. It took him a moment to force it back to normal.
Aymee perused him with a peculiar look on her face. Finally, she met his gaze and held out the apple. “Would you like to try?”
Arkon set aside his questions about the way she’d just stared at him and shifted his attention to the fruit. Macy had described it as crisp, sweet, and juicy. “I...do not know that I am feeling quite that adventurous, this time.”
She laughed and pulled the apple back. “Macy told me Jax still refuses to eat anything that didn’t have a pulse. Do you really not eat plants, or is it just plants from topside that gross you out?” The crunch of her teeth sinking into the apple punctuated her question. She turned her mouth up teasingly as she chewed, juice glistening at its corners.
Though he was no more compelled to sample the apple than he’d been a moment before, he felt a strange urge to taste its juice from her lips. “We were designed to be hunters. Our senses, especially sight and smell, are far superior to humans’. I believe it was intended as a means to keep us somewhat self-sufficient. We hunted food while we were out, which meant less work for our human keepers. My understanding is that the creatures that were used as part of our basis were carnivorous, as well.”
“Octi…” Her brows drew together as she struggled with the word.
“Octopus. It was a species of cephalopod from your people’s homeworld.”
“And the kraken were based on their myth?”
“No, not exactly. The kraken was supposed to be an octopus of immense size. A sea monster. Big enough to drag the huge ships the humans used to sail far below the surface. Our ancestors took the name from those legends.”
“So, what is it like?” She took another bite of the apple and spoke around it. “When you hunt, I mean.”
Arkon pushed himself off the blanket and onto the sand. “It’s an exhilarating experience, much of the time, though there are often other tasks I’d rather attend. Kraken rarely socialize, but during a hunt, a group of us operates as a team, united by a common goal.”
He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands with his belly near the ground. “For most prey, we wait in ambush.” To demonstrate, he altered his skin to match the color and texture of the sand beneath him. “When it comes close enough, we attack.” He sprang up at an imaginary fish, kicking sand onto the blanket, and paused. “My apologies.”
Aymee chuckled and brushed sand from her leg. “You’re incredibly fast. What about hunting by scent and sound, without sight?”
“It’s possible, but our eyes are our most powerful tools. There are...other creatures that excel in the dark, and the risk is rarely worth the reward.”
She set her apple aside and pushed herself to her feet. “Would you like to try?”
He furrowed his brow. “Would I like to try what?”
“Hunting without sight.”
“And what would I be hunting?”
She swept by him, trailing her enticing fragrance in her wake. “Me.”
His hearts quickened. “That certainly sounds more than worth the risk…”
Aymee turned around and walked backward, toward the setting sun. “It’s a game we played as children. The seeker keeps their eyes closed and listens for the hiders. We called it Blind Man’s Bounty.”
The notion of pursuing her by scent and sound stoked some primal instinct deep within Arkon. “Are there any other rules I should be aware of?”
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br /> “Only that I won’t leave the shelter of the overhang, and that you must keep your eyes closed until I am caught.” She stopped and lifted her skirt over her knees, tying the excess material into a knot at her hip. “Are you ready?”
Arkon’s gaze dipped over her bare legs before he squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes.”
The ocean hissed against the shore, and the breeze whisked over his skin. The sounds gained power as they reverberated off the cliffside and the overhang above. Sunlight warmed his skin, and the sand beneath his tentacles bore a myriad of tastes and scents — including the faintest hint of Aymee.
“Come find me, Arkon,” she called in a sing-song tone.
He turned his head in the direction of her voice; it, too, echoed lightly off the nearby stone, obfuscating its point of origin. Slowly, he moved toward her and inhaled deeply, searching out anything beyond the smells of brine, sand, and stone on the wind.
“I’m over here.” Her words drifted to him from an entirely different direction.
Adjusting his movement, he circled around the area he thought she’d spoken from, putting the wind at his back — if her aroma were blowing toward him instead of away, he had a better chance of locating her.
“You’re getting cold, Arkon.”
His hearts pounded in rapid succession. Both the sand beneath him and the surrounding air cooled; he’d moved into the shadows.
“I wonder what your reward will be?” she whispered from nearby.
Arkon extended an arm. He sensed a change in the breeze — its flow was rerouted by something nearby. When he moved forward a bit more, his palm touched stone. He extended his tentacles to all sides, running them over the ground.
His suction cups brushed over an imprint in the sand — one of her footprints — and detected her unmistakable smell. He followed the tracks, keeping his hand on the stone as he circled it. This was the pillar-like formation that extended down into the ground from the overhang.
Her scent hit him like an electric jolt.
“What would you like?” she asked, now from behind.
The Kraken Series Boxset: A Sci-fi Alien Romance Series Books 1-3 with Bonus Exclusive Short Story Page 35