Now, without threat of invasion, there’s nothing for me to occupy my days with, except hunting or experimenting with the human tools I’ve found.

“What are you searching for?” Cindi whispers when the silence stretches on for too long.

“Threats.”

“What—” She swallows, fingers digging into my shoulder. “People?”

My tentacle presses to the dirt to sense for any kind of magical interference or new presence. It’s possible humans have come to investigate the island. It wouldn’t be the first time. The runes hidden around the island and the palace deter them from venturing this way, not prohibit.

As for krakens, we may not have passed any on the way here, but there would have been a trail of her scent the seasoned hunters could follow. I can only hope the storm diluted her scent enough to make her impossible to track, and no one is foolish enough to investigate.

“Krakens,” I answer, closing the distance to the beach to scan the shoreline. “Witches. Sirens. Ghouls wouldn’t swim this far out. But you needn’t worry. You are safe with me.”

Her jaw drops. “Did you just say ghouls?”

I nod.

“They’re real?”

I dislike how much interest she’s showing them. “Have you interacted with them?”

“What? No.” Cindi’s brows flatten. “Are vampires and demons real, then? What about the grim reaper? Dragons? Faeries or fae or whatever you’re meant to call them.”

Uh. “I am not familiar with the creatures on land, although demons come in many forms.” I can’t say I’ve had the misfortune of encountering any.

I brace myself for her disappointment. It never comes.

She huffs out a breath. “It’s better I don’t know.”

I like this. I like when Cindi is talking. Her eyes get brighter, and the lines around them soften. The sunlight kisses her tanned skin as I step out of the shade onto what my people call Mutant Shores. She’s not glistening beneath the light as she did the other times I saw her. Her shade isn’t as rich and warm, doesn’t appear as feather-soft to the touch.

Is she sick?

Is it because she hasn't been eating?

Exhaustion?

Was it because she was attacked?

“Is it safe?” she asks.

I blink, forgetting what I was meant to be doing.

I nod. For now.

“Can you put me down?”

“Yes, but I do not want to.”

“Put me down,” Cindi orders.

“You’re—”

“Don’t you start with me being injured. Put me down right this second.” Cindi’s voice is infused with the confidence of a queen and the rage of a provoked shark. Her scent is the only thing giving away her fear.

I almost smile. I never want to see her show neck again.

Slowly, I lower her. I fight my instinct to pick her back up when she flinches when her feet touch the ground. The poultice has worked quickly to heal the worst of the wounds, but even slight discomfort is unacceptable.

Cindi stumbles away from me and carefully turns on the heel of her foot to survey her surroundings. I hold no pride over this island. It is both a source of shame and a place for a coward to seek comfort, a prison of riches and freedom.

Cliffs taller than the human buildings on the mainland surround the beach. It’s a mix of rock and forestry that homes insects and bats that are of no concern to kraken-kind. Much of the island is too steep for humans to climb, and more effort than it’s worth for me to attempt it a second time.

Ten minutes from where we are is an elevated, flat patch of land untouched by seawater. Other than our den, it’s the only part of the island I’ve made to be my own.

The breeze flows between the thinning leaves of the forest, dancing to the tune of the Goddess’ song and the tumbling waves against the shore. Mingled within the smell of saltwater and damp earth is my mate’s sweet scent.

Confident Cindi will be safe from any and all threats, I divert my attention to her, always keeping my suckers pulsing, alert to any changes in the atmosphere.

My hands fist at my sides as I watch her limp along the shore, searching for something between the thick trees at my back.

She wants to run, I realize belatedly.

It’s obvious from her fluttering pulse and jumpiness and the way she keeps flicking her gaze to me, as if calculating how quickly I’ll be able to catch her.

My throat tightens. Cindi is a female who has gone through many things I do not know about. The one thing I am certain of is that she is woefully unimpressed by me and anything I have to offer.

I follow her line of sight to the sprawling expanse of deep blue. “My people call this beach Pantu Aknora.”

I’ve closed any opening or tunnel hidden beneath the water. This beach is the only part of the island directly accessible from the sea. If a threat comes, it’ll be on this shore.

She raises her good hand to her brow line to block out the sun. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips before she speaks. “What does it mean?”

“In your language, it translates to Mutant Shores.”

When she blinks up at me, I’m struck with the desire to learn how to stop time so I can stare at her forever. She doesn’t look like she hates me.

A little divot forms beneath her brows that I want to trace with the tip of my claws. “Why is it called that?” she asks.

I purse my lips. It’s best she doesn’t know what my people say about me. “Because there’s a monster living here.”

She blanches, taking in the surroundings with widened eyes.

“You will always be safe, I promise. You…you can trust me, Cindi.” Repeating the same words won’t change her mind. It never does. But it isn’t a waste of breath.

I will remind her every day until she believes it.

Movement from the water catches my eyes. I grab Cindi to hide her behind me, a warning growl rumbling in my chest. Two yellow dots pop out from above the waves, then a brown fin.

I narrow my eyes at Vasz as he comes trotting out of the water, ears flopping, the fish I caught for Cindi dangling from his mouth. I move aside to let my mate resume her perusal of my island and pretend not to notice her stand close beside me.

But I notice.

I very much notice.

And because I’m a coward, I also pretend not to notice her gasp when my tentacle wraps around her ankle, and the taste of her floods into my system.

“That was Cindi’s lunch,” I scold Vasz.

He throws a fish in the air and eats it in one go. “What was?” Water sprays across the sand as he shakes out his skin.

“Vaseline,” she mutters under her breath. I almost miss it. “Unbelievable.” Her mood suddenly falls.

I spear Vasz with my wrath for upsetting my female. He stops trotting, looks at me, then falls into the sand to show me his belly.

My fury rapidly multiplies into a venomous mixture of grief and rage when Cindi’s croaky voice breaks the silence. “I have to go back, Ordus.”

Ordus.

Ordus.

I like when she says my name, just not the way she lets it fall from her tongue.

“Why?”

She has not been here for a full day cycle, and she’s been desperate to leave from the very beginning. Am I so dreadful to be around? Does she hate me that much?

How can she not care we are mates? Was I so delusional to believe she might feel it too?

Cindi meets my anger head-on. She rounds on me, raising her voice and throwing out her hands. It’s amusing a creature half my size could be so explosive. “Because I have a life! People counting on me. A job. Friends.”

Jealousy burns a path from the base of my spine to the tips of my tentacles.

Friends? She has me.

I haven’t had any friends in decades, and I’ve been fine. She doesn’t need them. I will be enough for her.

We glare at each other, neither of us backing down. Cindi breaks the contact first to dart her gaze to the shore where Vasz is running up and down the beach, attempting to eat the foam gathered atop each wave, barking and leaping into the water before going back to sprinting. The barest trickle of sweetness in Cindi’s scent has me grateful for Vasz’s distraction.