This is for her as much as for anyone else.
The reminder strengthened his resolve; a mate meant the gaining of new responsibilities, not the abandonment of old ones. These hunts for razorback would mean food, but, more importantly, they would make the coastal waters safer for everyone.
He split his attention between the razorback and Dracchus, awaiting the latter’s signal. The water teemed with countless schools of fish, which often swam between the hunters and their intended prey, obscuring the most direct lines of attack. That the razorback was not feasting on the abundant sea life was telling; the migration had brought so many fish to these waters that even razorbacks, normally ravenous beasts, could easily eat their fill.
A long stream of fish passed, their tight formation resembling a shimmering silver ribbon waving in the breeze. The fish flowed above the razorback in an undulating line. Once they passed, the water was suddenly clear. Kronus swung his harpoon gun to the ready.
Dracchus raised a hand and flashed yellow. A moment later, his skin flared red, and he curled his fingers into a clenched fist. No one had any doubt of what his sign meant.
Kronus squeezed the trigger. The rapid thumps of nine harpoon guns firing pulsed through the water. The razorback’s leisurely movements grew suddenly frantic as all nine harpoons struck.
Tether lines went taut as the creature attempted to flee. Panicked bubbles churned the water, accompanied by wispy tendrils of blood. Kronus tensed and flared his tentacles to battle the creature’s strength; it seemed none of the harpoons had done enough damage to be immediately fatal. The muscles of his arms strained to maintain his grip on the gun.
Dracchus signaled again; it was time for the next phase.
Kronus passed his gun to Vasil and took his spear in both hands. The others swam in opposing directions, expanding the diamond formation and pulling the tether lines even tighter. The sudden force from conflicting directions severely limited the razorback’s range of movement. Such an opportunity would not last long.
Without a second thought, Kronus darted toward the razorback as quickly as he could swim, extending the spear ahead of him. His momentum punched the head of the spear into the beast’s skull, and it sank deep — at least as deep as Kronus’s forearm was long. A cloud of blood blossomed on the underside of the beast’s head. Kronus propelled himself clear of the razorback’s jerking death throes.
The surrounding fish gave the hunting party a wide berth as Kronus and his companions hauled the huge carcass back toward the waiting boats, towing it by the tether lines.
Kronus felt lighter. A successful hunt was always a source of pride, but this one was more special than most. He finally felt like a part of his people again, he finally had a mate — a forever mate — and news of this hunt’s prize would hopefully bring Eva satisfaction.
She’d walked with him to the dock early the previous morning, descended the steps into the sand, and looked out over the water where her life had been forever changed. With the wind tousling her hair, she’d let go. Let go of the friends she’d lost, let go of her guilt for being the one who’d lived. Tears had streamed from her eyes as she’d said goodbye to them. Kronus had taken her hand to let her know he was there with her. He’d had no words to offer in those moments, but he felt words weren’t what she’d needed.
All she needed was someone. All she needed was him. Just the same as he needed her.
When the hunting party reached the boats, they quickly bundled the dead razorback alongside the largest vessel; it was too big to be brought on board any of the watercraft. The carcass would create extra drag and slow the ship, but neither kraken nor human was willing to let so much meat go to waste.
Splitting up, the hunters climbed into the boats. Kronus shrugged off the familiar sense of heaviness as he pulled himself from the sea’s embrace and into open air. He wouldn’t allow anything to weigh him down. The journey back to The Watch was likely to take a few hours, but once it was done, he could be with Eva again. He knew little about the work humans did to grow and harvest their plants but was eager to hear about her day.
He eased himself down onto the floor of the boat, stretching his arms along the railing. The day had been long, but his aches were well-earned.
The boat swayed as Vasil climbed in, but that motion was insignificant compared to the wild rocking when Dracchus pulled himself up and over the side. Water dripped from the trio of kraken and pooled at the bottom of the boat.
“Guess I’m the popular one today,” said Camrin, the red-haired human piloting the vessel. His smile, as ever, was warm and good-natured. He was one of the younger fishermen, and his mate and their small child awaited him in town.
Despite Kronus’s lingering unease with humans — which refused to cease no matter how much he came to know about them — he couldn’t help but like Camrin. He seemed an honest, dependable man.
Kronus glanced at the other three vessels, each of which held two of the hunters. Bobbing atop orange-stained waters, the ships looked like they were skimming across liquid fire that licked and lashed at their hulls but could not ignite the wood. It would be dark by the time they arrived home.
Home…
He felt strange thinking of The Watch that way, but that did not change the fact — after nearly ten months of it feeling like nothing more than a place in which to exist, the town had suddenly become his home because of Eva.
“Perhaps you offer the smoothest sailing,” Dracchus said. His black skin glistened in the sunset light, creating gold and orange highlights along the ridges of his powerful muscles.
Only two years before, Kronus would have bristled at having to share so tight a space with Dracchus.
Wrong, he told himself. That was true up to a couple weeks ago.
“I’m not sure about that,” Camrin replied with a chuckle, “but I’ll accept it as a compliment, all the same. Just, uh…let’s not tell Breckett or my dad, okay? I don’t want to test that old saying about fishermen.”
Kronus turned his attention to the human, watching as Camrin manipulated the boom and rudder to swing the boat around, beginning their journey homeward. “What saying?”
Camrin laughed, cheeks reddening slightly. “Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget you guys weren’t brought up around here.”
That seemed an odd reply. Kronus’s instinct was to seek the insult hidden in those words, but he could detect none. There was only…acceptance, an implication that the kraken were a natural, familiar part of life for Camrin.
“Anyway, I was just thinking of something my father used to say all the time.” Camrin cleared his throat. When he spoke again, he did so in a gruffer, deeper voice. “Only thing harder than an old seaman’s head is his fists.”
Kronus pondered the words. At face value, their meaning was simple, but he sensed there was more to them just beneath the surface. Humans liked saying things that contained layered meanings. When the realization came to him a moment later, he felt foolish. It wasn’t merely an observation, it was a warning — do not cross the older fishermen. They were a hard bunch. He couldn’t help but smirk; his time with Eva over the last few weeks had taught him to better recognize — and appreciate — human humor.
There was a bit of self-deprecation in a man who made his living by the sea admitting to hardheadedness. That was a sort of humor Kronus might relate to, one day.
“I have worked with Breckett often,” Kronus said, “and thus know your words are true.”
Camrin’s smile stretched into a grin. He manipulated the ropes and rigging to adjust the sail, matching the speed of the boat hauling the razorback.
The blazing orb that was the sun hung just above the horizon on the port side of the boat, casting the sky and sea in brilliant reds, pinks, oranges, and purples. The coast was visible to starboard, already blanketed in deepening shadow. The gentle sounds of water in motion all around were soothing, easing Kronus’s hearts back to a normal pace.
“How is your female, Kronus?” Dracchus asked.
Instinct sparked fire in Kronus’s gut; he could not hold back the surge of protectiveness rising within him, could not prevent his suspicion. Eva was his, unquestionably, irrevocably, forever. Another male taking interest in her was unacceptable. Though he’d never bested Dracchus in a challenge, Kronus would not hesitate to fight. He would not relinquish her.
Dracchus has a female of his own already, riding in one of the other boats. He is just asking after Eva’s health. Just…making conversation.
The thought cooled Kronus’s agitation, but only slightly.
“Fine,” Kronus replied.
Dracchus swept his gaze across the surrounding water. “I am glad.”
No one said anything for some time. Heat crackled beneath Kronus’s skin, a clear indication of his lingering displeasure and defensiveness.
“I was told to invite you and your Eva to my den,” Dracchus said after a while. “Larkin wants to meet her.”
Kronus and Dracchus looked at each other in that moment, gazes locking. Dracchus wore a wary but hard expression. Despite all the changes that had overtaken the kraken way of life, dens remained private places, shared only by mates and younglings. Even Dracchus, who had been one of the kraken to lead their people to embrace those changes, had not fully overcome the old way of thinking.
Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Kronus nodded. “I am sure Eva would enjoy that.”
“Larkin, as well.”
They held each other’s stares. Camrin coughed, but neither kraken looked toward him.
“If you mean to challenge one another, get into the water and do so,” Vasil said at length.
His words finally broke both Kronus’s and Dracchus’s focus; they turned their heads to face the gray kraken, who was positioned at the bow. Vasil’s back was to them, his attention on the sea ahead.
“There is no reason for a challenge,” Dracchus said.
“None,” Kronus agreed, though he’d not shaken off his irritation. Part of him wanted a challenge, though it would accomplish nothing.
Vasil shook his head. “You inquired about his mate, Dracchus, while their relationship is still new.”
Dracchus tilted his head, brow falling low. He stared at Vasil’s back for many moments before his expression softened with sudden understanding and he turned back to Kronus. “I felt the same.”
Kronus gritted his teeth. The same about what? About Eva? He sank his claws into the wood beneath him. “Clarify your meaning, Dracchus.”
The black kraken’s lips fell into a deep frown, and his eyes shifted toward a neighboring boat — toward Larkin. “When Larkin became my mate, I felt the same as you.”
“And how is it that I feel?”
“Guys, this is clearly just a misunderstanding…” A hint of unease colored Camrin’s otherwise calm voice.
“Protective,” Dracchus said.
Pressing his lips together, Kronus dropped his gaze. The emotions flitting through him were far more complicated than that single word, yet, somehow, it seemed to encompass all of them.
“Even now, after two years, I bristle when other males are near her. I trust her to take care of herself, but even this distance between us feels too great. And when she first became mine, I constantly battled the urge to crush anyone who dared even glance at her.”
Kronus briefly flicked his gaze to the bow. Vasil had not changed his position, but there appeared to be a tension in his posture at odds with the easy rhythm of the boat.
“It is instinct,” Kronus said after returning his attention to Dracchus.
“Yes.” Dracchus nodded. “Instinct.”
Silence settled between them again, allowing the sounds of wind and sea to rise to clarity.
“So…how about this weather?” Camrin asked cheerily, his tone so exaggerated that both Kronus and Dracchus smiled.
“The weather is better than any conversation of it could hope to be,” Kronus replied.
Dracchus grunted his assent.
“Does this come naturally to you two, or is it something you have to consciously work toward?” Camrin asked.
Dracchus turned his head toward Camrin. “What do you mean, human?”
“Just that I can’t imagine anyone being as grumpy as you guys without actively trying to be.” Camrin’s grin, as amiable as ever, softened his words considerably. “You guys need to relax a little. Aren’t you supposed to be friends?”
Once again, Kronus and Dracchus met each other’s gazes. Friend was one of those words that had held little meaning for Kronus through most of his life; it had existed amongst the kraken primarily as an artifact of their long-ago contact with humans. He understood it better now.
He and Dracchus had been rivals at best and enemies at worst, but those times had passed. Where did that leave them? What did that make them?
“We are not friends,” Kronus said, “though we could be. The building of such a relationship is difficult when both individuals are assholes.”
Dracchus’s features darkened. For a moment, Kronus was sure he’d pushed too far, that he’d overestimated the good will extended toward him, that Dracchus was about to attack.
Slowly, Dracchus’s frown split into a grin; the expression was sharp-toothed but not predatory.
Solemnity settled over Kronus’s face. “For everything I did, Dracchus, for every wrong—”
“I know,” Dracchus said gently. “Your actions afterward have spoken loud enough, Kronus.”
“Yet I must say it.” A strange sensation flitted through his chest, a desperate energy that threatened only to worsen. He rubbed at it absently, knowing in the back of his mind it would not be eased in such a fashion. “For all the wrongs I have done to you, to our people, I am sorry.”
The smile fell away from Dracchus’s lips. He leaned forward, reached out with one thick arm, and placed a hand on Kronus’s shoulder. At another time, in another context, Dracchus’s touch would have signaled a fight, with raking claws and thrashing tentacles. But things had changed…and Kronus was coming to see that many of those changes weren’t bad.
“I am sorry, as well,” Dracchus said, “for how it all happened. For each of our people who were lost along the way. Would that there had been a better end to it for all of us.”
“It…took me a long while, but I think I understand now. I have an idea of what you and the others were fighting for,” Kronus replied. “Had I known sooner, I would have chosen to swim with you from the start.”
“You two are all over the place,” Camrin said. Kronus turned to find the human shaking his head. When he noticed Kronus’s stare, Camrin quickly averted his gaze. “I just mean that one moment, you’re looking ready to tear out each other’s throats, and the next you’re about to give each other a hug. It’s confusing to innocent bystanders like me.”
“Yes.” Kronus smirked. “We are acting more like humans with each passing day.”
Camrin laughed, a rich, hearty sound that reminded Kronus of the man’s father, Wade. Every time Kronus had been around Wade and Breckett at the same time, the two fishermen had joked and laughed frequently. Their light moods had always seemed to contradict the burly, sea-worn visages they presented to the world.
Dracchus and Kronus both chuckled. Even Vasil, whose displays of emotion were rarer and more muted than Dracchus’s, watched with an amused smile on his face.
However strong his instinctual protectiveness and possessiveness regarding Eva, Kronus could trust these males. If he couldn’t be with her, this company was tolerable, even pleasant. The realization did nothing to ease his impatience to be home with his mate, but it provided some comfort.
“Tell us about her,” Vasil said. His voice jarred Kronus from his thoughts.
Swallowing the reflexive rebuke threatening to emerge, Kronus dropped his gaze to the floor of the boat, where the water that had run from their bodies was cooling in a pool of shadow. He loved Eva, and she loved him, but he was also proud of her, impressed by her, awed by her. Why not share that
pride? Why not allow himself the pleasure of praising her, of conveying his good fortune to these males?
“I…first noticed her before the attack. She alone of her human companions looked at me as a person, with curiosity rather than judgment. When I freed her from the razorback, all she wanted was to go back and rescue her companions.”
As Kronus continued to speak — about her selflessness, her consideration, her massive stores of inner strength and willpower — he fell in love with Eva all over again. In his mind, he was looking into her pure blue eyes and combing his fingertips through her golden-brown hair, and the ghost of her scent flowed through his memory. He could almost feel her silken skin against his, could almost feel her fingertips trailing lightly along the length of a tentacle or over the muscles of his abdomen. Even the recollection of Eva was enough to warm his blood.
“You are changed,” Dracchus said when Kronus was finished.
Kronus reflected upon those words for several moments before replying. “No, I am not. I still often feel the urge to throttle you, for example.” He smirked. “Eva has…brought out the best in me. She has broadened my understanding of a great many things and has taught me patience, but she has not made me change. She…wants me as I am.”
“That’s how Jenny makes me feel,” said Camrin.
Only a sliver of the red-orange sun remained visible over the horizon, leaving the boats in a steadily shrinking column of fire-kissed seawater. Camrin sat with his eyes narrowed and his pupils enlarged. Though Kronus knew humans could not see well in the dark, he also knew that the fishermen of The Watch were so familiar with these coastal waters that they could navigate them despite the limited visibility.
Kronus regarded Dracchus, whose form grew increasingly indistinct in the failing light. “Why are you not riding with your Larkin?”
Dracchus turned his head; Kronus followed his gaze to the adjacent boat, where the glow of the computer displays in Larkin’s facemask stood out clearly against the black water.
“She is using the suit to keep watch while helping to navigate,” Dracchus said. “I want nothing more than to go to her, but I do not wish to be a hindrance to her duties. My instinct is to remain at her side without fail…but I know she is capable. I know she is fine. I trust her.”
Rising from the Depths Page 19