The silky strands of his raven hair twine and thread between my fingers as I cradle the base of his skull. A strained purr rumbles to life in his chest. The buzzing in my veins heats at the way his muscles ripple beneath my touch. Feminine satisfaction sends a bolt of desire right to my core that I can have such a profound impact on him from such a mundane motion.

Sometimes, at night, when I dare let myself dream of something good, I replay all the times I’ve watched him stare at his scrunchie. I want to do it again. I want to braid his hair so he’s moving through space with my touch evident on him—as a reminder to the both of us that my touch doesn’t need to hurt either.

Maybe I also want to do it because it gives me a possessive thrill. Or maybe it’s the self-satisfaction of knowing Ordus might feel less alone when he looks at it.

His next breath comes out ragged. A forbidden touch in a dark cave. We don’t speak. We don’t dare move, like we’re both afraid of scaring the other off.

My eyes flutter closed when his thumb glides along the few inches of skin. Back and forth, a pendulum that keeps me on edge, waiting to see if it’ll ever stop.

I fist his hair against my wishes. My hand has a mind of its own. I don’t want him to know how badly I need the connection. I don’t want to need the connection. I wish I weren’t so hungry for it that I could let the desire fizzle into nothing. I wish I could go back to trying to stay alive. But still, my hand stays in his hair. His thumb continues to caress my skin until it feels like I’m raw.

Ordus breaks the spell first by snatching his hand away like he’s caught fire, and then he jerkily lowers us into the water. The warmth around me shatters, and I try to keep myself contained so he doesn’t see my disappointment.

The air bubble forms around my head not two seconds after I’m fully submerged beneath the cool water. I tighten my legs around him and flatten my torso against his to absorb his warmth. A shudder rolls through his body, and it just…confuses me.

Whenever I start to convince myself he’s disgusted by me or wants to get rid of me, his body reacts so viscerally. Like the way his cock hardens when I walk around in my bikini. Or how his abs clench when I rest my hand on his stomach at night. His breaths come out ragged when I stand close to him.

It’s just physical. I hate it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting him hold my weight. He only likes me like that, not for me. It’s probably that stupid mate thing. He wouldn’t tolerate me if it weren’t for it.

But on the other side of things… Deep down, maybe he does want more, but the walls he’s built around himself won’t let him have that, whether out of self-preservation or self-loathing. The things I’ve said wouldn’t have helped matters. I can’t get anywhere if he doesn’t talk to me.

Do I really want to get anywhere, though? Aren’t I leaving soon?

A blue glow stirs me up, and I open my eyes just as the bubble pops. I sputter against the crash of saltwater.

“Give me warning next time,” I sputter as I cough and rub my stinging eyes. Ordus eases horizontally onto his padded tentacles.

He grunts.

I glare at him. Fucking hell. Enough of the grunt⁠—

Oh, shit. Molten heat shoots straight to my core, and I suck in a sharp breath. He can grunt some more if he’s like this: towering over me, arms on either side of my head, caging me beneath him. Under the glowing light of the algae, water sluices down his bulging biceps and each dip of his abs before traveling down the sharp V that spreads out into thick tentacles.

My vision goes blurry as the muscles in my core contract, and my nipples push painfully against the fabric of my top. His harsh breaths fan my aching skin, nostrils flaring with every deep inhale. In the span of a heartbeat, ocean-blue eyes blow out into a stormy black void of hunger.

My nails dig into his shoulders of their own accord. What is happening?

One of the tentacles cushioning my back from the harsh, rocky surface of the cave floor shifts. A thick appendage slides around my upper thigh, suckers puckering against my skin. It grazes the throbbing flesh between my legs and sends stars shooting straight behind my eyes.

This shouldn’t be happening.

It’s wrong. He kidnapped me. He doesn’t even like me. He prefers the idea of me.

But one more second won’t hurt. Just one. A single second doesn’t change anything. I can afford one. A moment to be looked at like nothing in this world exists except me, as if the seas could drain and the skies could fall, and he won’t feel the burn as long as I’m there.

It’s a suffocating addiction. I could choke on it and still come back day after day for another hit to feel like I’m more than a pile of skin and broken bones.

A strangled moan splinters out of me when pure, hard muscle grinds against my sensitive core.

“Cindi,” he purrs.

I clamp down on the inside of my cheek.

Just one more second.

A second won’t hurt.

Slowly, my back starts to arch. I jolt when something clatters beside my head. I snap my attention toward the sound, hackles rising, memories of another life clawing up to the surface.

It all stops short.

“Holy shit.” I gasp.

Bioluminescent algae crawls along the stone walls, casting a blue and purple glow over the riches hidden in the cavern, the heat from our interaction forgotten as he helps me to my feet.

There has to be almost thirty square feet of treasure in here. I can only imagine how crazy archeologists and history buffs would get looking around. There are various gold coins that could’ve been from the Ottoman Empire, golden statues, porcelain vases, silver trays, jade carvings, curved swords with tasseled ends, a crown of diamonds, and chests upon chests of jewelry.

The British Museum would have a fucking field day.

“What is this place?” I whisper.

“My treasures.” His voice is gruff.

Ordus won’t look at me.

Why won’t he look at me? I want to scream. He was all over me when he first kidnapped me, and now he’s acting like I’m his roommate he doesn’t particularly like talking to.

“I…” Ordus clears his throat, leaving two tentacles around me before giving me a wide berth. I lean against him as ripples of fatigue chip away at my energy. “The collection is bare. My family’s hoard remains at the palace, guarded by krakens and magic.”

“Bare?” I echo, marveling at the chest holding a ruby the size of my fist.

Bare is most definitely not the word I would’ve chosen.

The items in this room would set me up for life. If not my whole life, then for sure the few years I have before someone decides I need to be taken out.

“This is amazing.” I’ve never wished I took ancient history at school before, but there’s a first for everything.

One of his tentacles drops away when I move deeper into the cave, stepping on coins to get close enough to make things out. There’s so much treasure everywhere. I don’t know where to start. I feel like I need to use gloves to touch anything.

I practically have to wade through piles upon piles of gold coins and gem-studded jewelry: belts, necklaces, brooches, earrings, bracelets, rings.

My heart is hammering against my chest with the panic levels of someone carrying out a heist. Alarm bells go off in my head, blaring that I shouldn’t be here. I’ll get arrested for theft, or breaking and entering, because none of this is real. There’s no way krakens are real, and there sure as shit isn’t any way this room exists beneath an island in the middle of nowhere.

And there’s more at the palace? I thought nothing else could surprise me, but this?

Forgoing any kind of proper ancient-artifact-handling etiquette, I pick up the giant ruby—I think it’s a ruby, at least—as big as my fist. I gawk at the light catching on it—and it was just thrown on top of the gold coins and pearl necklaces.