Cock.

A shudder works down my spine from hearing that word on Cindi’s lips. It’s a new word I’ve been hearing humans use more and more. I never found it very appealing until my mate said it.

My bulb hardens until it’s excruciating. I clamp my mouth shut to suppress my pained groans, stars flashing behind my eyes.

My hand wraps around the knot, imagining it’s Cindi’s instead, and I stroke, trying to lessen the tension enough for my limbs to settle so I can think clearly. The pressure sends stars shooting behind my eyes as more of my seed drips onto my tentacle before pooling on her smooth skin.

“You’re getting your cum on me!” I grunt when her nails sink into my arms. It thickens my cock, undoing any progress I’ve made. “Stop it. Stop it right now, kraken.”

“Ordus,” I rumble, breathing in her desire fogging the air. “My name is Ordus.”

This was not how I wanted to spill my seed for the first time, with ashen notes of my mate’s fear tainting her lust. It feels like a waste not to coat my mate’s sex in it. I doubt any such suggestion would be forthcoming.

“Fine,” she pants, darkened eyes still firmly on my breeding arm as the pretty red blush colors her chest. “Stop jerking off like a fucking barbarian, Ordus.”

I chuckle, cock leaking all on its own at hearing her say my name. “Mate, you are not helping the situation.”

She gives the angry, swollen tentacle a pointed look since her arms are still trapped. “I’m telling you to let go of your dick! How is that not helping?”

“Your voice, little mate.” I blow out a breath, shivering when I move my fist up and down, picturing it’s her wet sex wrapped around me. “If you want me to stop, I suggest you stay quiet, or else the sound of your voice will make me harden more. I cannot make it—I did not—I’m trying—” I clear my throat and drop my head in shame. “I apologize.”

I feel Cindi’s eyes searching me. I’m not sure what she’s looking for or what she finds. All she offers is a resounding, whispered, “Okay,” before falling silent. Eyes locked on me as I massage the bulb, squeezing and shifting, grunting and swallowing groans, spraying my seed onto my tentacles and her skin, wishing to the Goddess that my mate will offer to relieve the tightness so I can do right by her.

My own body hates me, an uncontrollable monster deserving of all the scorn I’ve received my entire life.

I wish I could tell what she’s thinking. Her scent isn’t as sour as it was the other times I’ve touched her, but she’s as rigid as a board.

When I’ve softened enough for the organ to deflate, I revert my attention back to what matters: caring for my mate’s injuries. The unease hangs heavy between us. I keep my head down, letting my wet hair fall to hide my embarrassment.

Ribbons of cloying tension tangle around my throat, suffocating me with her silence. Cindi hardly moves as I carefully dab at the wounds on her feet and shin. She allows me to dress them and wrap them with the seaweed without interference.

No words are shared. No glances. Nothing is needed for me to know I’ve multiplied her hatred toward me.

The feeling is mutual.

“You can’t keep me here.” Her whispered words slice through the silence.

I know I shouldn’t subject her to endure my Curse, but I am a selfish, awful mate. I do not want to keep living in solitude.

“I need food, water,” she continues.

Pointing at the pool, I say, “Water.” I pull the bag from around my body to show her the fish flopping around. “Food.” I puff my chest out, just a little, but I know it will mean nothing. “I hunted the fish myself.” It’s foolish to think such an admission will change anything.

She shakes her head. “I can’t consume either of those things. I need human food.”

Her response flays me open. My mate would lie to me?

Humans have been hunting in our seas for centuries, depriving us of our sole source of food. They catch more than they can eat when they have game on land.

“I understand,” is all I say. Because I do.

It is not the first time someone has refused to eat what I have caught. One of Yannig’s friends spit it back out, claiming I poisoned it when everyone knew its only flaw was that I had touched it.

I throw the fish into the water so it can remain fresh for a while longer in case she changes her mind.

“Come,” I say, lifting her up and cradling her to my chest, even though I’m carrying the knowledge she will forever refuse to be here. “You must be tired.”

“Ordus, please.” The rawness in those two words tears me in half. She struggles weakly in my hold. “Take me back.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, relying on my limbs to safely get us to the alcove where I sleep. “No,” I grit out. “We will rest now.”

Perhaps the Goddess will pity me and open my mate’s eyes. Our union could be good. She might see me as a friend. But I know it won’t happen. It probably never will.

OceanofPDF.com

13

Cindi

Ordus’ dick looks like one of my dildos.

There.

I said what I said.

I’m not ashamed—yes, I am—to admit that for one embarrassingly long second, I was imagining how it would feel to have the real deal inside me.

Don’t get me wrong, the tentacle dildo in my bedside drawer doesn’t have a bulb on it, but I did potentially make an impulse purchase last week after reading one too many shifter romances. One thing led to another, and I have a knot waiting for me if I ever make it back to the house.

I keep throwing glances at all the limbs wrapped around me, but I can’t for the life of me figure out which one is his dick.

Or why kraken dick isn’t as scary as human dick.

I yawn against his chest, fighting wave after wave of exhaustion as I tighten my grip around the knife he gave me. His weird purring sound is going to make me lose the war against sleep.

A particularly loud snore has my eyes snapping up to his face, and I scowl at the memory of how his stupidly pretty face looked as he got himself off. How the muscle in his jaw feathered. The tendons in his arms rippled. His heaving chest paired with rasping breaths. The way the opalescent liquid beaded at the tapered tip before spilling onto my chilled skin. I can still feel the thick residue coating my thighs.

He was my only semblance of warmth, both inside and out.

It was a mortifying, exhilarating, partially heartbreaking experience I still haven’t got a clue how to process.

On the one hand, fuck him, the piece of shit, for forcing that situation on me.

On the other, holy fuck, I know he’s a sea creature, but how dare he get me wet like that?

And lastly, most disconcertingly, the guilt riddled on his face made me almost… I don’t know. Pity him? Sympathize with him? I truly believe he didn’t want to do it, didn’t have a choice.

I don’t give a shit if he couldn’t help himself. After the shit I’ve gone through, everything is a choice, and he made the wrong fucking one—as sexually enlightening as it was.

I want to absolutely despise him, hate every fiber of his being and gut him a thousand times to fix every wrong, but he’s making it hard for me to place him on the shelf Tommy is on.

They’re in the same building, but not the same room. I’m not sure how to make sense of it.

Everything this monster has done was with a gentleness I haven’t been afforded in a long time. Ordus’ hands might be larger than my face, but there was never a moment of hurt as he dabbed at my wounds with a delicateness I didn’t think would be possible by a man—monster—of his stature.

He wrapped my feet with so much care—care I wouldn't have given myself. I was certain he was going to say something horrific to balance it out, make him a true monster, inside and out, but it never came.