I could be the Gallaghers’ new punching bag. Lord knows what the pirates would do to me, who they might sell me off to.

The kraken could be intentionally harming me. He could have forced himself on me.

Or worse: I could still be with Tommy.

I hug my knees, wishing for a different life, staring out into the vast unknown and wallowing in my misery beside a monster who isn’t acting how I thought a monster would.

“Krakens would…” I watch Ordus out of the corner of my eye. His gaze drops to the hands in his lap. The striking familiarity of that single, pained look winds me. I can recognize grief anywhere. “I would die if you left.” His voice is just above a whisper.

“I’ll die if I stay here.” I sound like a broken record. “Look, I’ve read the books. My kind has a vague belief in soulmates. I know… I think I understand the magnitude of your…” I search for an appropriate word. “Position.”

I can’t possibly know what mates mean to him. I’m unconvinced he’s right about what I am to him. I spent a solid six months certain Tommy was my other half. We’d laugh at the same jokes, have the same interests, listen to the same music.

Yeah, I’ve met people who I've gelled with immediately or felt something low in my stomach from a single look. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s putting too much stock into a concept with no real basis.

“Word of advice,” I rasp, tasting ash, sand, and salt in the back of my throat. If I’m dying anyway, I might as well give the monster a piece of my mind. “Fate’s a bitch.”

Ordus’ eyes damn well nearly pop out of his head.

Fate got my dad killed before I could say goodbye. Fate took my mother before I could meet her. Fate made my rabbit die a week after I got it. Fate gave me appendicitis the day of my exam. It made me spill Ribena all over my cream prom dress. It caused a motorcyclist to ram into the back of my car and break his shoulder when he was a single parent of three. Fate gave my friend in eighth grade cancer, then let her live and took her mom instead.

Fate put me on Tommy’s path, and now, Ordus’.

Fate is a downright wretched bitch, and I’m sick of being her victim.

I continue before he can respond. “Vibes don't equal compatibility. And you and me? We will never be compatible.”

My subconscious seems to be taking the “gently break up with the kraken” approach, since nothing else seems to be working. It’s not like it’s a lie. How could we possibly work?

Size is one thing. I’m not made to live underwater is another. Oh, and let's not forget one tiny, itsy-bitsy matter. He fucking kidnapped me.

“In time,” is all he says.

As if time is going to change any of the reasons I listed.

“You can’t love a corpse.” Either now, or in two days. I’m already dead.

“Love would surpass death.” The atmosphere grows somber. “Our bodies would decay, but our souls will forever be one.”

I’m not about to argue metaphysics with a mythical creature, so I don’t reply. Clearly, I don’t know a thing about how the world works. Sea Goddesses? Sirens? Actual, written in stone soulmates?

“What happens after death is none of my concern,” I mumble. It will finally be over. I wouldn’t have to run anymore or look over my shoulder.

My entire life feels like a lie, and I don’t know if I can keep myself up above the water.

I’ll probably meet Tommy in hell to kill him all over again.

There’s a pregnant pause before Ordus says, “My kind buries our dead beneath stone so reef may grow from their physical body to allow for new life. Existence is a cycle. A fish feeds from coral so it may one day be food for a shark that will end up in the hands of a kraken that’ll end up back feeding the coral so the fish can eat once more.”

The golden light of the setting sun kisses his bronze and deep russet skin, illuminating the iridescent threads that glimmer in golds and blues more prominent along his tentacles. The white dots along his shoulders and brow area look like a smattering of pearls. Streams of silver and sea glass glitter in his cerulean irises as he stares at the horizon.

He might be a monster, but right now, he looks like a broken shell of a man. A pretty disaster.

“The soul sets each individual kraken, human, siren, bird apart,” he continues. “It’s what gives the body drive beyond food and shelter. Personality beyond natural instinct. Different patterns of a million threads no mortal being could deign to understand.”

Ordus’ voice is rough, yet smooth all the same. It’s thick but glides over my bone-dry skin in a gentle caress. The deep, warm tenor threatens to put me to sleep. I rest my chin atop my knees, facing him, too tired to hold my weight.

As awful as my circumstance is, I like hearing him speak. It feels like a messed-up safety blanket.

“A mate is the soul’s drive, two pieces of a puzzle designed to fit perfectly with the other. Once it meets, they become inseparable, braided and wound together. To tear them apart is to come undone.” The weight of Ordus’ attention falls onto me. “I cannot let you leave, Cindi. We will both surely die.”

I avert my gaze. I don’t believe him, but I don’t think it’s an outright lie either. For all I know, those could be rules that apply only to krakens. I doubt he knows much about the inner workings of humans if he thinks he can feed me raw fish and ask me to drink seawater.

My mind conjures memories of Dad.

For the first decade and a half of my life, we would have fish for dinner every eighth day in memory of the woman who gave birth to me. Apparently, Mom was horrendous at fishing. After years of trying, she finally caught one, then eight days later, she caught another. By a stroke of luck, another eight days rolls around, and a fish ends up caught on her line. She never managed to catch another fish after that, so it became their thing to eat fish every eight days. A little inside joke.

My father never cried. He didn’t when he broke his arm, or when he fractured three bones in his hand. He didn’t when my grandparents died, or when my uncle was diagnosed with cancer. But on those nights, every eight days, I’d see him shed a tear when he thought I wasn’t looking.

He didn’t believe in soulmates, but she was the sun, the moon, the stars, and every wave he’d ride. She was everything to him before I came along, and she was still, long after I took my first steps or rode a bike alone. Not once did I see him look at another woman or go on a single date after she died.

Dad loved me with every fiber of his being, gave me the world and then some, but there was always something missing. Mom.

A dry cough rattles through my lungs. I choke into my shoulder before rasping, “What makes you so certain I am your mate?”

A deep divot forms in Ordus’ forehead. A tentacle curves around my lower half, staying on the ground, and I don’t bother pushing it away. It feels nice. A cushioned chain. Bedazzled shackles.

His stare lands on the spot where our skin touches. He softens, eyes brightening like I’ve just given him the world. “As cubs, we are taught about souls and the Goddess' influence on them. I spent an entire lifetime thinking she forgot to grant me one, or that she may have started with mine but left too many fractures she did not want to bother fixing. When I saw you, that was the first time I felt my soul sing. I felt complete.”

I shift my gaze, unable to look him in the eye. “I feel nothing.”

Is that a lie? I’m not experiencing the full scale of hatred and loathing someone in my position, with my background, should feel.

I’m sympathizing with him, thinking he’s attractive. I even felt tingles between my legs last night when he took advantage of my vulnerabilities. Is that because of fate, or because I’m fucked in the head?

“You are human,” Ordus answers, confirming my earlier assumptions. “Damaged.” My eyes fly to him. Excuse me? “By the hands of another,” he explains before I can lash out, even though he’s correct. “Lost. Running. Alone.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about himself or me. “Do you feel your soul, Cindi?”