The Kraken Series Boxset: A Sci-fi Alien Romance Series Books 1-3 with Bonus Exclusive Short Story

by Tiffany Roberts

  Arkon activated his lights — points of bioluminescence within his stripes that cast a soft blue glow, not unlike that of halorium — as they passed into the tunnel.

  Aymee’s gasp echoed off the walls. “You glow?”

  “Just another part of our design.” His light was bright enough to touch the concrete walls on either side, but only barely. “It was likely meant to allow us to work at night or in undersea caves.”

  She unraveled an arm from around his neck and ran her fingertips over the stripes on his head. “Macy didn’t mention this. And she didn’t say much about what happened.”

  His skin tingled under her touch, and he felt some degree of guilt at his body’s reaction, after everything that had transpired.

  “About what happened? Do you mean between our people?”

  “Yes.” Her arm slipped back around his neck. “You said something about it on the beach.”

  He frowned. Their voices, though hushed, reverberated off the walls and ceiling, and the sound of the ocean was muted, leaving only the steady splash of water against concrete. This dark, abandoned place seemed the wrong location to speak of such things, but that sentiment was irrational.

  “The kraken were engineered by humans to collect a rare element from the seafloor called halorium. Our first generations were essentially slave laborers, but they learned much faster than the humans realized. After years of poor treatment and experimentation, my people revolted against the humans in the underwater facility that served as the operation’s headquarters.”

  “Where Macy is now.”

  “Exactly where she is now. There was fighting, but it seems to have been largely one-sided. The humans were comfortable in their dominance. They never saw it coming.”

  The tunnel opened into the huge main chamber; a gaping hole in the ceiling granted a glimpse of the sky, which was now filled with dark clouds. The dim light from outside reflected on the surface of the water and glinted on the mangled remnants of one of the bridges that had spanned the water.

  “How did we never know?”

  Her question was likely rhetorical, but Arkon couldn’t help but answer. “I know there were attempts made to contact the mainland, but I do not know if any of those communications were transmitted. The kraken had grown knowledgeable enough to damage the communications array of the Facility and isolate it completely.”

  “How do you know they tried to contact mainland?”

  “Because the Computer in the Facility has records of those attempts.”

  Macy had discovered one such message after she figured out how to access the Computer’s data, and Arkon had found several more in the months since. Regardless of what had brought about the situation, despite the mistreatment that had preceded the kraken uprising, the emotion in some of those messages was overwhelming. They had been desperate people looking death in the eye.

  “What did they say?” she asked.

  Arkon swam them to one of the ladders inset in the concrete wall and helped Aymee onto it. “They...begged for aid, mostly. For rescue. And the last one told anyone listening to stay away. That there wasn’t anything — or anyone — left to save.”

  Aymee climbed to the top rung. Water streamed off her, and her tattered clothing molded to her body. She stepped off and moved aside.

  “I wonder if that’s why we know nothing of that place — of you. That the humans in charge wanted it secret to keep people safe.”

  He shifted the canisters to his tentacles and pulled himself up the ladder. His bioluminescence did little to light this area; most of the chamber was utterly lost in darkness, save for the edges highlighted by the night sky overhead.

  When he turned to her, he paused. His light caught in the moisture on her skin, giving her a glow of her own — a thousand tiny points of reflected light, more beautiful than the star-filled sky. Though she wore the suffering of the day’s events in her expression and the bruise on her cheek, she was breathtaking. An ethereal vision he might not have believed was real had he not touched her, held her, kissed her.

  “I...” It took no small degree of concentration for Arkon to recall what she’d said a moment earlier. “I think...yes. That’s plausible. There was some connection between the Facility, this place, and The Watch, but I have been unable to find solid information in that regard.”

  He moved away from her, tucking the containers under his arms again, and scanned their surroundings. Though most of it was lost in darkness, the cavern was huge, with two tiers — their current level and another above it, with several wide sets of steps linking the two. The set-up was mirrored on both sides of the water. Everything was built of the same manmade stone, its planes too perfect to be natural.

  Arkon shifted his attention to the ceiling. The damage there was likely the result of time and weather. The massive chunks of broken concrete had destroyed one of the two bridges that linked the sides of the bay, and Arkon little trusted the area around the damage; even a small piece could prove deadly.

  Aymee’s gaze dropped. She inhaled sharply and stepped toward him. “You’re hurt! Why didn’t you say something?” She lifted her hands to his chest, her touch light as she inspected his cut.

  Despite her gentleness, the wound burned. Fresh blood oozed from it.

  “I... I have nothing to stitch this with,” she reached down and grasped her skirt with both hands, “but we can bandage it for now.” There was a helpless note in her voice.

  He coiled a tentacle around each of her wrists, halting her hands. She looked up at him with a desperate gleam in her eyes.

  “It is fine, Aymee. I am fine.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Once we settle down and rest, the wound will have ample time to heal. It will nearly be gone by morning.”

  Her gaze dipped to his chest again, dropped to her wrists, and she burst into tears.

  Arkon frowned and set the canisters on the floor. He’d seen Macy cry before, but nothing like this. It writhed through his insides, tugged on something in his chest, and made his hearts thump.

  Aymee is a healer, not a hunter. What she went through today was probably unlike anything she’s experienced in her life.

  Releasing her wrists, he drew her into a close embrace, smoothing her hair down with his palm. Aymee embraced him, clinging tight. Her sobs were ragged and painful, and shudders tore through her body.

  She buried her face against his shoulder. “This is my fault.”

  “No, Aymee,” he said softly. “You and I are not blameless, but we did not push it to this point. I should have listened to you from the start. You were the one thinking logically, the one trying to be safe.”

  “But I d-didn’t fight you. I wanted to see you. I wasn’t careful. They found you because of me, because I couldn’t k-keep quiet, because of my sketches.”

  He carefully combed the tips of his claws through her wet hair. “You did nothing wrong, Aymee. Nothing. I knew the danger. You warned me many times. But...I couldn’t stay away from you either. You were worth the risk. You are worth the risk.”

  For a time, the only sounds she produced were the occasional whimper or sniffle. Her hold on him didn’t loosen. When she’d finally calmed, she rested her cheek, still damp with tears, against the uninjured side of his chest.

  “I shot someone,” she said softly.

  “It was an accident.”

  “I know. I know it was, but I can’t stop thinking about it. If it had hit him a few inches to his right, it would have killed him.”

  “But it didn’t.” He settled his chin atop her head. “Those men are hunters, Aymee. They made their choices and accepted the risks. Every time they go out, each of them must know in his heart that he may not return. And one of those men would have killed you if he’d had a little more time.”

  She released a shaky sigh. “Despite the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  Relief flowed through Arkon; though the day’s events had pushed his worries from his min
d, he hadn’t let go of the notion that he’d wronged her, that he’d turned her away, that she’d lost whatever interest she might have held for him.

  He cupped his hand behind her head and pressed his face to her hair. “Me too.”

  After a few moments, his gaze drifted to the break in the ceiling. “Let’s find a spot to rest. We can talk more in the morning.”

  “Okay.” She stepped back; he released her reluctantly.

  Arkon collected the canisters and led her to the steps farthest away from the structural damage. Placing the containers at the base of the steps, he eased himself down against the wall beside them. When Aymee sat next to him, he pulled her close, and she slipped her arms around him.

  He settled his arm over her shoulders, and Aymee — warm, soft, and vulnerable — leaned into him. Had things gone differently, he might have brought her here one day, if only to show her the massive painting on the lower level’s rear wall. Perhaps they’d have come by boat or fetched one of the diving suits for Aymee to use. Either way, sharing in their mutual appreciation of such works would’ve been worth the journey.

  In the relative quiet — the sound of the water lapping the walls was almost gentle here, and wind whispered across the gap overhead — his mind turned to the events on the beach. Had he chosen correctly? Had he handled it as he should have?

  What would the hunters tell their comrades, what would they tell the townsfolk?

  Arkon thought of the hologram recordings of the last humans in the Facility, of their fast, brutal battles against the kraken. Of the slaughter and the blood.

  He could only hope he hadn’t set a similar conflict into motion.

  He looked down at Aymee. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep, and her body relaxed against him in sleep. Arkon hadn’t lied; she was worth all the risks. Jax had defied two peoples because he thought Macy was worth it, and Arkon would do the same without hesitation for Aymee.

  There was little value in tormenting himself with questions of what might have happened. The past was finished; they could only move forward from where they were. They were alive and together, and for now, that was enough. That was reason to be thankful.

  The gun fires with a deafening boom.

  Aymee’s body jerked, and her eyes snapped open. Her vision cleared; Randall wasn’t dropping into the sand with a shocked expression on his face, she wasn’t on the beach, she wasn’t anywhere familiar. There was no telling how large this place was — most of it was masked by gloom, cast in a palette of drab grays and blacks that made the air feel oppressive and thick. Seawater splashed restlessly against the walls below, and torrents of rainwater poured in from above.

  She shivered, and Arkon tightened his arm around her.

  “Is it normal for humans to sleep through such noise?” he asked. “The storm began during the night, but you didn’t stir through most of it.”

  Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. His face was shadowed, but she caught a hint of the violet in his eyes nonetheless. “When we sleep deep enough.” She winced at the pain speaking caused her and touched her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Her face throbbed — she likely had a nasty bruise — and her entire body ached as she shifted in Arkon’s hold. The air was chilly, and she didn’t want to leave his warmth. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Yes, a bit. Before the thunder began.” He stretched a few of his tentacles over the floor in front of him. “How do you feel?”

  “Sore, though I imagine you feel worse sitting on this concrete.”

  He smiled gently. “After a while, I couldn’t feel much of anything at all. A small price to pay for your comfort.”

  “Oh!” Remembering his wound, she pushed away, but he didn’t let her move far.

  “I am fine, truly. When you are ready to get up, we will get up, but I doubt you’re eager to face the chill.”

  “No, I’m not.” She carefully settled against his chest, tucked her arms between their bodies, and drew her knees up. Arkon draped his tentacles over her exposed calves and feet. “Thank you.”

  “How do you feel...emotionally?” he asked. “I’d guess you don’t experience situations like the one yesterday very often.”

  A flash lit the cavern for an instant, granting her a fleeting glimpse of Arkon’s face. It was followed by a crack of thunder that rattled the stone around them. Bits of debris tumbled from the break in the ceiling and splashed into the water.

  “Drained,” she replied, gazing toward the hole. “I’ve dealt with emergencies in the clinic, but this… No, nothing like this.” She frowned and looked back at Arkon. “Are you okay?”

  “I am still angry that you came to harm. Still sorrowful that it ended in violence. But more than any of that, I’m grateful you are safe, and we’re together.” He lifted a hand and brushed her hair back from her cheek. “As much as I have locked myself away within the Facility, I’ve still shared in the struggles of my people. Our lives are dangerous. The sea is dangerous. It does not surprise me that land is, as well.”

  She reached up and took his hand, guiding it down to kiss his knuckles. “I hate that you’re being hunted, and it’ll only be worse now. They’ve seen you.”

  Arkon frowned and brushed the pad of his thumb over her skin. “You are the one who has been forced away from your home.”

  “I don’t think Cyrus would have done anything. Not with Randall there.”

  “He would have.”

  “Not if you had left before—” She shook her head; Arkon was right. How could she look back on those events and believe Cyrus wouldn’t have killed her? “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. How is your…” Eyes wide, she stared at Arkon’s chest and tentatively traced her finger over the thin, raised scar that had been an open wound only hours before. “How?”

  “I told you I just needed time. It only stayed open for so long yesterday because my movement while swimming wouldn’t allow it to seal.”

  “But it’s fully healed! It would take a few weeks for a cut like that to reach this point for a human.”

  “I am not a human, Aymee. And it was a relatively minor wound.”

  “This...this is fascinating!” She looked up and met his eyes, bubbling with excitement. “You heal this quickly with any injury?”

  “It depends upon the nature and severity. We are not invincible, by any means. Cuts such as this are quickly healed, but more serious wounds take days, if they are not mortal to begin with. Jax once lost a tentacle during a hunt. It regenerated over the course of many weeks.”

  “Did they know this? The people who engineered your race?”

  “They did.” He smiled down at her, and her excitement was reflected in his eyes. “It was one of the traits inherent to the cephalopods they used as a basis for our design. As I mentioned, I believe they wanted us to be as self-sufficient as possible. Eliminating the necessity for regular medical attention would’ve gone a long way in that regard.”

  Lightning flashed again, dragging thunder in its wake. The sound vibrated through Aymee as she ran her fingertips over his scar. Arkon’s hearts thumped against her other palm, which rested flat on his chest.

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

  What would Halora be like now if those long-dead humans had treated the kraken differently? Might humans and kraken have lived and worked together to build a mutual society on land and sea alike?

  What wonders might have been accomplished with tools that could alter life, that could create it? How many lives had been lost in the years since the first landing because so much of that technology, so many of those techniques, had been swallowed up by time?

  One of Arkon’s tentacles cradled her bottom. Aymee started; she’d been so shocked and excited upon discovering his wound had healed that she’d straddled him without realizing.

  He settled his hands on her hips.

  She stared into his eyes, and awareness crackled across her skin — awareness of his touch, of his heat, of him.

  Of
her desire to have him.

  Aymee hurriedly climbed off and sat on the step beside him. The fabric of her skirt offered no protection from the cold radiating from the concrete. She didn’t want to force a repeat of the situation three days before, when he’d fled her attention; she couldn’t handle the rejection right now.

  “Are we going to the Facility?” she asked.

  He shifted upright and faced her, frowning. “No, we will not be going. But I should.”

  “You’re leaving me here?”

  “I wish that I didn’t have to, but there’s no other choice, Aymee. I have to inform my people of what’s happened, have to warn them, and there are supplies I can retrieve that will benefit you.”

  Relief flooded Aymee, easing her tense limbs and pounding heart. “Then you’re coming back?”

  “Of course I’m coming back. After everything, do you think I would truly abandon you?”

  Now that he’d said it aloud, the ridiculousness of her fear dawned upon her. If her emotions hadn’t already been so frayed, she might’ve felt shame, but she had to cut herself some slack — the last twelve hours or so had been some of the hardest of her life. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need for apologies.”

  “You can’t take me with you?”

  He shook his head. “You would not survive the journey, Aymee.”

  “Why?” But she already knew. She stared down at the concrete beneath her feet. With Arkon here, this place was dark but tolerable, and all the sounds — most of them produced by wind and water — were almost soothing once they faded to the recesses of her consciousness. But alone?

  Every little noise could easily become a monster creeping toward her through the murk — Cyrus with his battered face dragging himself up the ladder, or Randall with a neat little bullet hole in his head.

  It was irrational, but this place was foreign to her, and Aymee would have only her thoughts to keep her company until Arkon returned.

  Aymee’s imagination had always been active, especially when no one was around to distract her. Normally, that was a good thing — it allowed her immense surges of inspired creativity — but given her current mental state, the prospect frightened her.