Ordus tenses like he’s about to get up.

“Human food,” I correct before he can catch fish again.

He falters, lips pursed, hesitating as he glances between me and the cavern. Slowly, like he’s scared I might bolt if he moves too quickly, he offers me his hand. “Come.”

The tentacle caresses my leg. I swallow. “Where are you taking me?”

“Land.”

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14

Ordus

“We’re not gonna fit.”

“We’ll fit,” I assure her.

It’ll be a tight squeeze—it already is without my mate clinging to me, a fact that has my purr doubling in volume.

Cindi, my mate, the human who despises every part of me, is holding me like her life depends on it.

Likely because it does depend on it.

I won’t let her fall, of course. The thought of the cuts and bruises that would mar her body from the fall is enough to momentarily replace my purr with a growl.

“Let go of my neck.” It kills me to say it.

“Are you crazy?”

“It is not a term⁠—”

“I’m not letting go.”

Oh, she did not expect an answer.

How am I meant to know when her questions require a response? Are all human females this confusing?

Cindi’s stomach vibrates against me, and I frown. I’m worried she still has not eaten. How often must humans feed per day? Once? Twice? Five times?

The food shops on the mainland are always busier during midday and at night. So…only twice? She has to feed more often than that. Cindi is so small, I can feel her ribs through her dress. More concerning is that she feels more weightless than she did yesterday, yet she continues to refuse the fish I caught for her.

If my mate will not accept the fish I hunt for her, she may be more willing to feed if it was brought by Vasz. A sound of displeasure startles in my throat. I don’t like any male giving anything to my Cindi.

Cindi glances at the rocks below and defeats all forms of impossibility by tensing even more. I flatten my palm against her upper back, silently urging her to comply with my request. I prefer her arms not be exposed to avoid injury.

A moment passes, both of us staying completely still in the narrow passageway above the pool. There are two different accesses from the cave to get to land. This is the fastest way. The alternative is through the tunnel to the side of the cavern I blocked to keep bats from flying into the den.

I would have taken the longer route if Cindi hadn’t insisted on walking. Her feet are wounded because of my lack of attentiveness. I will not make that mistake twice.

The tunnel is very narrow. Some rocks jut out with sharpened edges. I had intended on cocooning around her, sacrificing my own skin to the stone, but she continues to insist on being difficult.

Humans.

“I will not let you hurt your hands.” Her legs are already wrapped around my waist after minutes of arguing. Despite the many times I’ve assured her I will not let her fall, that my arm and tentacle will hold on to her, she refuses to comply and let me take the brunt of any scrapes.

In truth, I don’t want her to let go. I never do. The feeling of being held—willingly touched—is foreign. I could get addicted to it. I’m already mourning the moment where she’ll inevitably let go.

“No.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

She shoots me a scathing glare.

I sigh, readjusting my limb beneath her backside and around her waist to take more of her weight.

I continue through the tunnel, using my free arm and tentacles to suction us to the path and keep moving us upward. Her thighs tighten around me, and my breeding arm hardens. It remains that way as we crawl closer to the sunlight.

Alone, I can get to land in a matter of seconds. Today, I take my time, tightening my hold on Cindi so she’s flush against my chest, making her small breasts push up. I can’t help stealing glances when she isn’t looking.

Her sex is taunting me. I can taste her warmth on my suckers through the layers of fabric. My cock twitches against the rock. I want to dip my tentacle beneath her dress and suck on her nipple again to see if I can get her to make the good type of sounds.

But every inhale is sobering. Her scent is tainted by fear, and not the kind that leads to her screaming and fighting, only cranky. Maybe it’s because of her hunger as well.

Vasz gets that way when he hasn’t eaten.

With her silent—and only partially trusting—in my hold, I can almost imagine what it would be like if she didn’t hate me. We would lie in our den, and she would wrap her arms and legs around me just for the mere fact that she wants to. Because she wants to feel me. We’d stay like that for hours while my hands and limbs roam over her.

Then she’d look up at me, and she’d smile. A real smile. A genuine one. Only for me. And my hearts would swell because the Goddess blessed me with a mate capable of loving me back.

But that is a fool’s dream, wishful thinking that holds no merit.

At least like this, her head tucked beneath my chin, warm against me, I don’t need to see the evidence of her disdain written all over her face. My suckers pulse, releasing a whisper of toxin into her to relax her muscles.

I carefully maneuver her body to avoid any scrapes as we reach a bend in the tunnel. The edges of dull green leaves sway up ahead, and light descends on us. Cindi’s arms and legs tense around me. She looks up, unnervingly quiet. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I spare a glance at her calculating face, and her eyes brighten, like there’s a plan forming behind them I won’t like.

Buka, I think as I approach the mouth of the tunnel.

The invisible door pulses an iridescent blue only noticeable with great focus.

Hot air assaults my skin the moment I pass the magical barrier that stops the elements, creatures, and critters from coming in. I scowl up at the blinding sun, feeling the sensitive skin of my tentacles wither against the scalding heat. They rapidly change to a lighter brown to match the dirt and keep cool.

“Wait,” I tell Cindi, wrapping another tentacle around her. “Do not make a sound.”

She stills, breath no more than a whisper against the gills of my neck. The sensation makes me shudder, and I have to remind myself I’m meant to be surveying my surroundings for predators.

At most, there will only be the bats that survive without the fruit that no longer hangs on the many trees on the island. Krakens are forbidden from accessing the island—not that they would even if they were permitted.

Malediction Island, as my people have named it.

When I first inhabited it forty years ago, many were tempted to steal leaves or wood for their homes. The only reason it stopped was because krakens spread rumors the island is contaminated with my disease, and I’ve somehow poisoned all life here from the blood running through my veins. Some even began believing they may look like me if they so much as swam near my den.

The island sits in the middle of the ocean. The nearest body of land is nothing more than a giant rock formation that barely scratches the surface of the water. The palace. It’s where I should be residing as king.

I moved out decades ago when Chlaena still lived. It was hard to sleep knowing krakens were beyond the rock walls, whispering about me, wishing for my demise, finding a way to sabotage me. Plus, my body hated being underwater for long periods of time.

Taking post out here, away from the main eastern city, at the edge of the territory, was packaged to our subjects in a way that made it sound more like military strategy, rather than cowardice or weakness.

I held post here, watching for intruders, bandits, enemies from neighboring territories. I have killed many in protection of my kingdom. I was foolish to think if I tried hard enough, my people would accept me, but not once have I ever received thanks or commendations for what I’ve done.