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25

Ordus

It’s worse than I thought.

The last parcel of land left untouched by the Curse is nearly as small as my island.

Though rich in game, it is rapidly shrinking with each passing week.

Once it’s gone, there’s no telling if the Curse can still be broken.

At this rate, we may never know.

She will never agree to marry me, and I have no intention of coercing her into it.

I can either be a bad king or a bad mate.

Already, I am monumentally failing at both.

If it is a decision between killing the people who wish me dead or doing what’s right for the female the Goddess chose for me, I pick the latter.

I’ve been unsettled since I left Cindi alone in our den this morning.

The feeling worsens when a kraken female swims out from behind a stone archway.

Like the others I’ve passed on the way here, her skin is stretched over bone in a sickly hue.

If she came closer, I’d be able to count every one of her ribs.

The kraken female freezes when her rounded gaze lands on me, and then she dashes away.

The four other krakens I came across did much of the same, running away the moment they saw me.

One dared glare at me over their shoulder as they jetted off in the opposite direction.

It enrages me every time it happens.

I must suffer the cost of existence, pay the price for the blood thrumming through my veins.

I have defied nature, and the consequences must be reaped.

Cindi claims I am attractive, but it cannot be true.

How can she say I am not an abomination when my own kind is repulsed by the sight of me?

Her question has been replaying in my mind for the past two days.

She has barely spoken since.

At night, she doesn’t relax in my hold.

I’m frightened this will continue as a result of my outburst.

It’s my fault.

My decision to distance myself has upset her.

I have to make it right.

I must say something, do something, to make her look at me.

Words have never been my strong suit.

If I open my mouth, I will make it worse.

You are one of the most attractive men I have ever met, but you are far from poisonous.

I want so badly for Cindi’s words to be true, that she might not hate me.

I might not be the monster everyone makes me out to be.

Only her opinion matters, but she doesn’t get it.

They’ve made me hate my own reflection, but what is there to like?

The hairband around my wrist grows heavy.

Cindi likes my hair, does she not?

The last time she braided it, she tied it off then came to stand in front of me.

There was a soft smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that stopped my breath.

She tucked a loose strand behind my ear, then said, “There. Now I can see your face clearly.”

I spent the entire day worried I’d burst from happiness.

I could hardly contain it.

She doesn’t want me hidden.

The currents shift.

A new scent taints the water.

Another kraken.

My claws dig into my palms. There are too many around.

I’ve seen more in a day than I have in months.

It has been years since non-Council members have dared speak to me.

Still, my nerves refuse to settle.

I am larger than other krakens, stronger.

I hold value. They would not dare attack me, but words can still hold venom.

A growl erupts in my chest when Lazell comes into view.

He’s like an urchin, vermin that needs to be killed—exactly as he thinks of me.

I swim harder, hoping he doesn’t try to engage in conversation that never ends well for one of us.

“Ordus,” he calls.

I’d rather be attacked by a swarm of jellyfish than endure a minute with him, but alas, I must.

“ King Ordus,” I correct, slowing to a stop.

It sounds like a joke, even to my ears.

Lazell adapts to the movement of my tentacles the closer he gets until it is like looking at my own reflection.

Strong and sure. It doesn’t suit him.

Or me.

His eyes are sunken, cheeks more prominent.

His skin has taken a pale, sickly hue.

He looks nothing like the kraken who smiled as I was hooked and dragged away.

A warning sound vibrates in my chest when he looks me straight in the eye and sizes me up like he wants to finish what his brother couldn’t do.

As if he senses my thoughts, his lip twitches when he looks at the scar on my ribs before averting his gaze in faux respect.

“Out with it,” I snap.

The sooner I visit the healer, the sooner I can return to Cindi.

I want to make her dinner again.

I want her to acknowledge my existence again.

Lazell’s lips peel back for a split second before he rights himself, but not soon enough.

I puff my chest out in a show of intimidation.

He bows his head, palms out as a sign of submission.

“Speak.”

The column of his throat bobs.

His mantle enlarges in irritation before he boldly looks me in the eyes again.

“One of our sentries on the border reported seeing you haul a boat to your island twice in the past month.”

I dislike the insinuation he has eyes on me.

My inner beast slams against the walls, begging to rip the male to shreds for posing as a threat to my mate.

It’s an ugly, bloody feeling that raises my internal temperature to the point of boiling.

I know which two occasions he speaks of.

I sensed the kraken female nearby but chose to forge ahead on my path.

I saw no point in diverting my route to avoid her detection when bringing loot from the mainland is an activity I’ve been doing since my mother lived.

Lazell tilts his chin up to look down his nose at me.

His brazen disregard for authority has always enraged me, but he’s becoming far too emboldened for my liking.

He mustn't think he has anything to lose—he likely doesn’t anymore. “I believe you understand the risks posed by such?—”

My claws dig into my palm. Blue blood twines in the murky water. “I did not ask for your recount of a report.”

His nostrils flare before his attention drops down to my fist. I scowl when he flexes his four fingers. “Your Majesty, I only raise it as a concern for our people. Adding rubbish to decorate your island is not worth jeopardizing kraken-kind. If a human were to?—”

My inner beast tears at the walls. I lurch forward. “The only one who saw is a kraken who should not be spying on their king. Should it happen again, I may find it is a punishable offense.”

The wrinkles around his eyes deepen as he brazenly glares at me. “We are losing more viable land every passing day. As our king, it is your duty to ensure the survival of your people. Your continued gallivanting amongst humans is killing your people. Females. Cubs. They either leave or perish. The sooner you take a bride?—”

I’ve heard enough.

“I will not be lectured about duty by a pest who shares blood with that demon who tried to kill a child. If I ever wish to seek your counsel, I will.” My lips peel back, my sharpened teeth on display. “Now leave before I decide to act upon your insolence.”

He holds my stare for far longer than he should. I have to remind myself killing him would harm Cindi. The masses would flock to my island and demand my head for ending their precious leader. If they don’t take me out, my mate’s death would be the only thing that would appease them.

Just as the thread on my control is about to snap, Lazell dips his head and swims away, muttering something I can’t catch.

I’ll have to do more parameter checks around the island from now on. Lazell’s waning patience for me to take a bride is making him desperate, and desperation leads to recklessness.

Growling in frustration, I swim closer to the water’s surface, swinging left toward the mountain range. Concentrating on the cool water or thinking about something other than the threat to my mate doesn’t unwind the maddening tension in my chest. Nothing will calm me until my eyes are on her.

It isn’t long until I descend toward the trenches where the healer made her home and spend the better part of an hour searching for the doorway I know all too well. It all looks so different without color.

Elder Adina was one of the few who cared little about my differences. I’ve spent more time with her than I have any other kraken I have no blood relation to. She’s had to treat one too many of my ailments—especially when I was younger. I was born with modified human lungs, an organ no other kraken possessed in their natural form.

Mother gave her a residence at the palace to see to me daily. For a time, there were concerns whether I could continue living in the sea, or if I had to live on land if they wanted me to survive. It’s another reason why I was moved to the island, why I spent so much time there growing up. I can only hold my breath for two or so days, but being on land will always be more comfortable.

My stomach sinks when I finally spot the healer’s residence. Rubble covers the entrance, an offering basket woven around one of the stones—a sign the den has been vacated and its occupier is seeking the Goddess’ blessing for luck and safe travels to find their new home.

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.

So, yes, I suppose it is pretty. But if my mate is sitting beside it, there is no question as to which takes my breath away.

“By the way,” Cindi begins, glancing back at me, “I think we need to redo the chicken coop. Cheeto ate a hole through the wood—or pecked, more like.”

Of course the—as Cindi says—little shit has.

I brought Cindi chickens from the mainland after I tracked down the human male tourist and made him show me more videos on his phone that doesn’t want to work without him. He said his favorite is the big animal that sometimes has horns. A cow? It would have been too difficult to bring it to the island.

After he showed me the chickens, I managed to find a few and a couple bags of feed, boated them to the island, and let them loose.

Cindi was shocked more than she was impressed. Then she paled and refused to eat them, instead naming the pests and allowing her favorite— Cheeto —to hang around with her on the beach.

He’s the most annoying chicken. Made my tentacle bleed twice.

Five times, actually. Not only does Vasz want to bite me and my mate want to stab me, but I have to be on constant lookout for a chicken that wants to fight me for dominance. It is exhausting.

Cindi shifts, pulling her legs out of the water to lean back on the board.

“I was also thinking a fridge would be nice to preserve food.” This is the third time Cindi has mentioned a fridge . I will ask the tourist human what it is. “Ice would be great too.” I nod when Cindi casts me a glance. “I want to look into drying fish.” I can’t imagine anything worse. “I know you can with the really, really little ones, so I want to test it out one day.” They taste terrible. “Not sure how you’ll catch them, but it’s just an idea.” I’m sure I’ll find a way.

We continue moving in silence. I want to say something, maybe ask her about her day. I hope she may eventually come to enjoy my company. I want to tell her she said my name in her sleep for the first time last night while I’ve been dreaming of her every day since I met her.

But I can’t bring myself to speak for fear I will say the wrong thing and upset her. I opened my mouth two days ago, and look what happened. I made Cindi scream at me then ask to return to the mainland—something she hasn’t done in a while.

So the silence builds and builds until it’s suffocating. Cindi puts me out of my misery when we’re halfway around the island.

“Oh, and we need batteries too. I would kill for a fan.” I’ve learned this is what Cindi calls sarcasm , and she wouldn’t actually kill someone for it. It has been a learning curve. “Another generator would support a lot of things if my whole renewable energy idea doesn’t work. I could hook a fridge, fan— oooh , and a radio or something so I can play music.”

I’m about to grunt, but Cindi’s lips twist in preempted disappointment before I can utter a response. It spears me the same way it does whenever she stares blankly at the horizon or plucks at the grass, expressionless.

I’ve never been one to think things through; it’s no different now.

“What—” Cindi cuts off in a scream when her board capsizes and she falls straight into my awaiting arms. I tug her against my chest, her arms and legs immediately wrapping around me like it’s second nature, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the contented purr from rumbling to life.

She doesn’t hate me.

“You did that on purpose,” my pretty mate accuses, hitting me playfully.

I try to hide my smile by looking down at the water. “Vasz must be around.” It’s not a lie. He is nearby, just not quite within biting distance.

“I could’ve drowned.”

My tentacle that can never seem to keep to itself taps Cindi’s leg as if offended she’d imply such a thing would happen.

“You’re not slick,” she huffs, a smile playing at her lips.

That… Okay. No. This must be sarcasm again, because I do believe I am quite smooth.

I lean back in the water with an arm around her waist so she can fully relax and let me do all the work. She props herself up, straddling me like she does on the board, her hands flat on my chest, staring out at the island as we continue our slow swim around it.

I may not trust myself to speak, but this? Holding her in place, touching her in reverent worship? I can do this for every waking moment until I die.

Minutes pass before she readjusts her position. She lies against me, head tucked beneath my chin like we do at night. Bumps erupt over my flesh when she traces the scar along my ribs before wading her hand through the water.

My purr increases in volume, drowning the sound of the surfboard bobbing against the waves. Her little sigh goes straight to my breeding arm, and this time, I do nothing to settle it. My mate is in my arms, fed and well, placing her full trust in me to keep her safe. I want to absorb every moment of it.

“Do you have any stories about this place?” Cindi timidly asks.

I wish I could take back my weeks of silence. Cindi should never be timid, and I made her that way. It’s getting hard to remember why I’m so insistent on keeping up with it.

Still, the only answer I can give won’t be what she wants to hear. “None you will enjoy.”

She tenses, and I place my hand over her back to stop her from running. “Ordus…” She peers up at me through her lashes, brows pinched in worry.

I quickly scan our surroundings for any new scents. Other than Vasz, there’s not another living soul around us.

“You said your people call this place the Malediction Island, the beach Mutant Shores.”

“Yes.” I nod.

“I think you should rename it. It’s your home. You should treat it that way.” Her frown deepens for reasons I can’t decipher.

She may not see it this way, but it’s Cindi’s home too. She’s made the island hers. Our den is made up entirely of her belongings. The land is covered in things she’s made or needs for survival.

At this point, the island is more Cindi’s than mine.

“You should have…positive thoughts about this place.” My mate says it like she’s uncertain that’s the correct word.

The only good thing to happen on that island is the woman in my arms. Nothing else compares. She’s the only light left.

I run a finger down her spine, and her scent sours, but only for a moment. “What would you suggest?” I ask.

“Not Vaszeline and sure as shit not petroleum jelly.” She chuckles, shifting back up to look at me.

I hope Vasz didn’t hear that. He already thinks it’s his island. Cindi’s rejection would make him spend a whole day sulking.

“Your name, then? Cindi’s Island?”

She sighs, releasing my gaze. “My… That’s not my name.”

What? Have I been calling her the wrong name this entire time? I’m a bad mate. An awful one. Why didn’t she correct me?

“I changed my name to Cindi after I ran from my husband because as far as I’m concerned, Kristy is dead. So, I mean, yeah. I guess Cindi is my name.”

I’m both relieved and enraged. How could anyone want to harm her? Why would she have to kill a part of herself to survive?

I inhale deeply, pulling her scent into my lungs to calm the need to act upon the anger.

Swallowing, I force my voice to hide my emotions. “Humans have two names, do they not? Yannig said the female sometimes takes one of the male’s names when they marry.”

She nods, lips curled like she’s tasting something bitter. “Yes, I took my husband’s last name. Before then, I had my dad’s.” My mate softens at the mention of her father.

Cindi has spoken of him once during dinner. She pointed at one of the items I took from the mainland and told me how her father taught her about the automobiles. Based on the way she hung her head and the water gathering on her tear line, I assumed her father passed.

She offers me a sad smile. “He would’ve loved seeing this island. If he had his way, he’d live by the sea, spending every day fishing or surfing. In my first year of college, he and his buddies built a raft I helped design and were betting on how long it would last out on the water.”

“Did he win?”

She snorts. “Dad put money on it staying afloat for two hours. It lasted four minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

I smile up at her, and her own widens. I run my hand up the length of her back, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. “What was his name?”

“He went by his last name: Saelim.”

My hand travels back up her spine to cup her jaw. “Then it shall be called Saelim Island, in memory of your father.”

Her lips part with a wobble. I hold myself back from grabbing one between my teeth and taking her worries away. She searches my face for a lie she won’t find. “Really?”

This time, when I grunt, she lights up.

“I like that.”

Her attention drops to my lips when my lips stretch into a smile. “Yes?”

She smiles back at me. “Yes.”