I clench my jaw. Adina was our last living healer. Who will treat Cindi’s injury now? Or her vertigo, as Cindi calls it. The information stones I’ve taken from the palace library have offered me no assistance.

She is clutching her arm less and less, but that is unacceptable. She should not be experiencing any kind of pain. I’ve asked her about it before. She claimed she is semicertain about what’s wrong, and that time and rest is the cure.

Not good enough.

Huffing in frustration, I swim toward the edges of my territory in the direction of the island. I catch the breed of crab Cindi likes and spend the passing hours thinking of ways to make the island better suited for my human mate.

I want her to feel the same way I feel whenever I look at the scrunchie thing she gifted me. I feel…cherished. Deserving. Accepted.

Every time I look at my wrist, I can almost believe I am enough for her.

The sun is high in the sky by the time I make it back to the island. After depositing the crabs in the cage we made, I seek her out.

I already know where I’ll find Cindi. She never stays in the den, even when her “vestibular system is being a bitch,” preferring to keep busy with making the island her own or burning her skin on the beach.

Her scent dances in the water leading up to the shore, growing stronger with every wave the closer I get. Vasz is swimming somewhere nearby. He no doubt sensed me long before I sensed him.

Cindi’s legs dangle in the water on either side of her surfboard. Most nights, she returns to the den bright red along her forehead, nose, and cheeks. She’ll hiss and groan as I apply the healing paste. The next morning, she’ll hmm and ohh when she looks in the mirror I installed in the hut, then repeat the whole burning process again.

Oxygen trickles into my lungs once I break the water’s surface, slowly swimming toward my mate. Her eyes are closed, head tipped back with an easy expression. Watching her out here is the highlight of my day. It settles my inner beast, eases the gnawing ache of inadequacy.

I force myself to keep my sights on her face, not her soft breasts pressed against the tiny blue triangles of fabric with white trims and strings. My breeding arm hardens painfully whenever she forgoes the long-sleeve top that covers her arms and stomach and “protects her from the sun,” as Cindi says.

I’m not sure why she needs protection from the sun. It’s an odd human superstition.

From this angle, I can’t see the fabric covering her sweet sex. Still, the sight of it is seared into my memory. My appendage twitches, instincts telling me to prowl forward, sink into her, and fill her with my seed.

A shudder works down my spine when I wrap my fist around my bulb. Moisture drips into the water, alleviating the pressure enough for me to approach Cindi without frightening her.

Cindi bobs with every wave, stretching her neck side to side. She doesn’t have the thick, white, sticky residue along her nose and cheeks that she likes to wear whenever she plans on spending a long time out in the water. I don’t like when she uses the paste. It tastes bad. Vasz always gags and shakes out his tongue as well.

Her eyes open, immediately finding mine. A soft smile spreads over her lips, plumping her sharp cheeks.

She’s looking at me again.

A trail of fire rushes through my body, ravaging every doubt I have about her feelings toward me. If she hated me, would she smile at me the way she is now? Light up like she’s happy to see me?

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up,” she says.

My lungs rattle like they did when I was a child and couldn’t get enough air.

I grunt.

“The filter on one of the drums broke from last night’s wind, but I managed to fix it—used almost an entire roll of tape to keep the fucker together.”

I nod.

I want her to keep talking. Her voice is like finding shelter as rain patters against the grounds. It’s bird song in the morning after a storm. The crash of waves against the shore after deafening silence. Cindi is my favorite sound.

She’s my favorite everything. Mate or not, I would choose her every time. There is nothing about her that doesn’t make my hearts skip beats.

The way she sits beside me and draws shapes in the sand before we work on building something together. The delicate touch of her hand as she helps correct my work and teaches me a better way to do it.

How she once offered a bat her food then screamed when it flew toward her. The string of conversations she has with Vasz, even though he isn’t following what she’s saying.

When she offers me her food, and the laugh she suppresses when I swallow the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted. Then, the brush of her skin against mine as she passes me one of her drinks to wash down the horrid taste.

Her soft snores, and the way she rubs her nose against my chest before thrashing around in her sleep to get comfortable. Then the drool that follows, the bright red on her cheeks when she notices the next morning.

How she continues to speak to me when I offer her nothing but my presence. She seeks my company out, and every day, I make her suffer the price.

I watch in silence as she stares up at the cliffs lining the tops of the island.

Every day, I question whether my silence is the right choice. It’s what Cindi would truly prefer. It’s not me she wants to talk to. It’s anyone willing to listen.

If I don’t speak, there’s no chance for me to say the wrong thing—like I did in the treasure room.

Cindi looks back down at me. “What does the island look like?” There’s a hopeful lilt to her voice.

That hope has dimmed with each passing day.

“Hold on,” I tell her.

She yelps when I pull her board forward with my tentacles. Her small hands grip the front of the board. I do my best to find an opening with the least amount of surface motion, but the waves on this beach can be violent.

I swim hard against a wave to keep her from crashing against it, but it’s no use. One of my tentacles grabs her arm when she sways dangerously. She bats me away, drops down flat onto the board, then says, “Now you can.”

A smile threatens to break across my face at her confidence and overt trust in me.

That’s who I am. A male Cindi trusts.

I use one tentacle to wrap around her and the board, keeping my senses open for any foreign scents in our surroundings. I spot Vasz’s fin in the distance, popping in and out of the surface before disappearing back under.

That mutt better not try anything stupid. He can hunt for his own food tonight if he nips at me.

Once we’re further out from the island in calmer water, Cindi wriggles against my hold until I release her so she can sit back up. Water drips between her breast, and I force myself to look away, willing my breeding arm to go down on its own.

Goddess, I can still imagine the glint of sunlight as it trickles toward her sex.

The sex in my direct line of sight.

I must think of something else.

Urchins. Sea lice. The sound of Vasz’s cleaning routine when I’m trying to sleep. Cindi’s cooking. No, I can’t think of anything to do with her.

“It’s like a banana boat.” Cindi chuckles. I snap my attention back to her when she starts splashing her feet, gazing out at the scenery, a beaming smile on her face. “I haven’t been on one in years.”

I know what a banana is, and I know what a boat is. What I don’t know is how those two words work together.

She must see my questioning look. “It’s an inflatable boat shaped like a banana.”

I am no closer to understanding.

“I didn’t realize how pretty it is,” she whispers.

I grunt, and a divot forms between her brows. I wish I could take it back. “I suppose,” I grumble.

I’ve never paid much attention before. The island simply…is. I hold no opinion on its appearance. There are jagged cliffs and small openings along the rock surface for bats to nest. Greenery and moss, sharp edges against rounded trees. The golden beach glitters from this distance.