What else could he do for Aymee? What else could he create for her? Countless possibilities tumbled through his mind, but how many were truly worthy of her attention?
Arkon frowned; several of the stones below were misaligned. Adjusting them would provide a temporary distraction from his thoughts of Aymee — today, I will see her again later today! — but he found himself strangely hesitant to do so.
Perhaps it was better as it was. If it wasn’t worth looking at, flaws and all, how good could it really be?
The Pool Room door slid open. Arkon lifted his gaze to see Jax enter.
“Still staring at it?” Jax asked. “Do you see something different each time?”
Arkon smiled and glanced back at the water. “In a way...yes. I make myself see something new.”
Jax stopped beside Arkon and stared down at the water. “You found your centerpiece.”
At the heart of the circular pattern lay a shard of halorium, casting a gentle blue glow on the surrounding stones. Though rare, it was easily visible on the seafloor because of its inherent luminescence.
“The supply exchanges have granted me more time to search.”
They remained silent for a time. Jax’s unspoken questions thickened the surrounding air.
“You have spoken to her, then?” Jax finally asked.
Arkon’s skin heated. Whether Jax had been told by Macy or finally discerned it himself, Arkon had kept his interest in Aymee a secret, and he took no pride in hiding it from his friend.
“I have,” he replied, flaring his siphons. “I should not have delayed so long before doing so.”
“No reason for regrets. You did it, even if it took time.”
“How did you figure it all out with Macy, Jax?”
“I didn’t, Arkon. None of this can be so simplified. It is all new, all a journey into the unknown.”
Glancing at Jax, Arkon grinned. “That has ever been your area of expertise, Wanderer.”
Jax smiled in return and shook his head. “I’ve never truly known what I was doing. You know far more about humans than I. The only difference with Macy and Sarina is that it feels right when I am with them, and I attempt to consider what would make them happy in all my actions.”
“So, you’re saying I am on my own in this?”
“You must find your own way, Arkon, as you always have. But you are never alone.” Jax placed a hand on Arkon’s shoulder.
The contact was unsettling, at first, and wholly outside typical kraken behavior. But Arkon recognized the gesture’s meaning — reassurance. Jax was here, flesh and blood, and he would help however it was necessary short of endangering Macy and Sarina.
“Thank you, Jax.”
Dropping his gaze, Jax nodded. It was some time before he spoke again. “A hunt has been called.”
Arkon’s stomach sank and twisted. Today was their meeting day. Seven or eight hours, and it would be time; time to go, time to see Aymee again.
A hunt could last for days.
“Kronus, this time. He wants to go for sandseekers, just off the reef,” Jax continued. “They plan to leave within the hour.”
“To the abyss with Kronus,” Arkon muttered as he turned and moved away from the pool.
“This seems familiar.” Jax’s smirk was evident in his tone.
The two of them had been in this very room several months ago, when Jax had rescued Macy from the sea...only Jax had been cursing Dracchus then, and Jax had been the one who wanted to return to his secret human.
Jax had refused a hunt so he could spend more time with Macy. Why shouldn’t Arkon do the same?
Perhaps because Jax’s refusal set into motion a chain of events that left what meager semblance of society our people possess in a state of upheaval, and placed Macy in danger…
Arkon blew air through his siphons and slowed as he neared the lockers and machinery along the wall. He clenched his jaw and spun about, moving parallel to the pool. Aymee wasn’t in a vulnerable position like Macy had been. As long as Aymee remained in The Watch, she was safe from the other kraken, many of whom were slowly warming to the notion of being in contact with humans.
Apart from Kronus and his pack. Despite being outmatched, they threw regular insults at Jax and Macy, and considered Jax, Arkon, and Dracchus traitors to their people.
But they didn’t matter; none of them mattered. The kraken had always seen Arkon as too different, too strange, and he placed little value in their customs and the stunted social hierarchy they’d constructed despite their natural antisocial inclinations. If he refused this hunt, having never done so since he’d reached maturity, they would attribute it to his eccentricity and nothing more.
And to see Aymee, to look into her warm eyes and listen to her musical voice, would be more than worth admonishment from his people.
“Arkon.”
Startled out of his thoughts, Arkon swung his gaze to Jax.
Frowning, Jax furrowed his brows. “You planned to see her today, didn’t you?”
Was Arkon so addled that Jax was seeing through him? Usually, it was the other way around.
Jax moved in front of Arkon, and they met each other’s eyes. “You have the choice, Arkon. But do not let your desires cloud your judgment. Our people cannot be forced into all of this.”
Unbidden, red flashed over Arkon’s skin. “After all of it — after I stood with you unwaveringly and trusted you blindly — you’re going to tell me not to pursue what I want? Are you the only one of us allowed happiness?”
“Close your mouth, Arkon, and hear me.” Jax’s tone and stance might have been intimidating to other kraken, but Arkon did not fear Jax.
“You will not—”
“Arkon. Enough.” Jax stared at him, and tension as had never existed between them crackled like arcing electricity.
They were on the edge of butting heads, of challenging one another. It was a sobering realization for Arkon. He snapped his mouth shut and forced his skin to normal.
“What I did has worked out only through luck,” Jax said gently. “I would have done it so much differently if I had any sense. I endangered her through my actions. Do you understand? I might have lost her forever at many points along that journey, and I cannot forgive myself for what might have happened because of my poor decisions.”
Arkon inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “You think I should go on this hunt.”
“You have my support either way. But I do think you should come.”
All the reasons for and against going ricocheted through Arkon’s mind; each one seemed unimportant when he recalled the brilliance of Aymee’s smile and the ecstasy of her touch.
She’d seemed just as excited for their next meeting as he was. Would she be disappointed if he didn’t show up? Would it damage the relationship they were building?
Would she forgive him?
Aymee had wanted to exercise caution due to the presence of hunters in The Watch. Caution was the best course in dealing with the kraken, as well — they wouldn’t likely suspect Aymee was the reason Arkon skipped a single hunt, but the tides of change had everyone on edge, and it was best to avoid anything that could exasperate their sense of unease.
At length, Arkon nodded.
Together, he and Jax exited the Pool Room and made their way through the long corridors. Arkon paid their geometry and construction little mind now. The tightness had returned to his insides and rode like a weight in his gut. There was a chance the hunt would end swiftly, and Arkon could make it to the beach in time. If not...the next exchange was in three days. He’d survive until then.
He wouldn’t be happy, but he’d survive.
They entered the Mess a short time after; it was a large, open room, with folded tables and chairs pushed into the corner. It had served as the main gathering place for the kraken since before Arkon was born.
A small crowd had already gathered. Kronus and his supporters waited to one side, arms folded over their chests and scowls on their faces. Dracchu
s was opposite them, easily the biggest and strongest of all the kraken. Though he was alone, the others granted him a wide berth. A third group — at least a dozen kraken, including a few females — observed the standoff from a few body lengths away.
“I have called this hunt,” Kronus growled, “and I will lead.”
“I did not dispute your right to lead,” Dracchus replied in his deep, rumbling voice.
His stance was nonchalant, his skin its usual black with dark gray stripes; he was the opposite of the agitated postures and angry colors of Kronus and his lackeys.
Jax and Arkon moved to either side of Dracchus and stared across the open space at Kronus.
Lowering his brow and flaring nostrils and siphons, Kronus glared back. “I will not allow them on this hunt.”
Arkon was tempted to leave at that moment; he would have been more than happy to go meet Aymee, instead. But he knew now this was more than a hunt — it was a power struggle. Though the kraken were independent and preferred solitude, they looked to their most capable hunters for guidance and leadership. Unfortunately, that resulted in many males challenging one another to assert their prowess and claim places in the unspoken hierarchy.
“Arkon and the Wanderer are two of our best. We will find little success hunting sandseekers without them,” Dracchus said.
Three months ago, Arkon wouldn’t have believed it possible for Dracchus to say anything positive about either of them, but the situation with Macy had created an unlikely alliance.
In the time since, that alliance had grown into friendship.
“We refuse to rely upon traitors to our people to obtain our food.” Kronus’s skin grew redder with each passing moment. “Those two are unwelcome, and you taint yourself by associating with them.”
Dracchus straightened and rose up on his tentacles. Crimson pulsed across his dark skin. “Then I must challenge your leadership of this hunt.”
Arkon flicked his gaze to the spectators; the males would join in the hunt regardless, but the females — at least those without mates — had likely come in search of prospective males to bring back to their dens. A challenge would be as much a display for female onlookers as it was a means of establishing leadership.
This challenge, however, could have serious ramifications. Kronus and his supporters were firmly against further contact with humans and would likely do Macy harm were it not for the inevitable, bloody vengeance Jax would visit upon them in retaliation. A show of dominance over Dracchus would help validate their stance.
“You might as well scurry off now, Kronus,” Arkon said. “You will only prove your foolishness by accepting.”
Kronus’s skin became a mess of flashing, undulating reds and blacks. “Soon enough, your sort will have no place here,” he snapped. His eyes shifted to Dracchus. “I will meet your challenge and defend my right. You and your treacherous friends will not call this place home for much longer.”
A palpable, strangely eager energy filled the air as the kraken exited the Mess. Arkon had noticed it during other challenges, but he’d never understood it. Was it a desire for entertainment? Or had a thirst for conflict been ingrained at the core of their species?
Arkon, Dracchus, and Jax were the last to leave the room.
Dracchus’s pace was easy. He stretched his powerful arms as they moved down the hall. “He aims to make this difficult.”
“Change always is,” Jax said.
Dracchus grunted. “Macy has proven herself. She is one of us, and our people owe her a great deal. Denying that is dishonorable and disrespectful.”
“It is a natural reaction to cling to supposed traditions when faced with changes that may threaten one’s power,” Arkon said. “Kronus feels more threatened now than ever before because he is unsure of his place with humans coming into our lives.”
“Kronus clings to the old hatred,” Dracchus replied. “That is what he fears losing. He has already forsaken our traditions through his dishonor.”
Arkon regarded Dracchus with new interest. “You mean to say that Kronus’s identity is intertwined with the hatred for humans that has been instilled in us since we were younglings?”
“We are all taught humans are our enemies. It is a foundation of how we have survived and avoided contact with them all this time. Kronus and his ilk have not accepted that things must change for the sake of our people’s future. Macy is not the threat.”
“But she can be seen as a threat to our way of life, can she not?” Arkon offered. “She does things differently than we’ve known, and some kraken are adopting her methods. That’s not to mention how some of our females feel about being replaced by human women.”
“She is a danger to a way of life that would’ve had to change with or without her intervention, eventually. We must learn to adapt, for the good of our species.” Dracchus looked at Jax, and the two exchanged a nod; the moment was surreal to Arkon.
How many years had they spent in conflict with Dracchus? How many years had they wasted, when they might have worked together toward a prosperous future throughout?
This power struggle was more important to the kraken than any in Arkon’s memory; it was the difference between progress and stagnation, between a chance at peace and an inevitable war. Even knowing that, he could not shake his impatience — this needed to end, the hunt needed to end, so he could get to Aymee.
A crowd had already gathered by the time the trio emerged from the Facility — everyone who’d been in the Mess and a few newcomers. Kronus floated just over the seafloor, his skin its normal ochre and his intense yellow eyes locked on Dracchus, Jax, and Arkon.
As he followed Jax to take a place in the ring of onlookers directly opposite Kronus’s supporters, Arkon relished the relative quiet in the water. The sea was never truly silent, but its ambience was typically gentle, a cocoon of serenity belying the savagery hidden in its depths.
It was preferable to listening to Kronus prattle on, at the very least.
Dracchus positioned himself in front of Kronus, and they flashed red at each other. It was a mutual acceptance of the challenge. A signal for the contest to begin.
Kronus was a male in his prime, an experienced hunter, and he’d been chosen by many females as a mate. He moved with confidence and speed as he commenced his dance. His tentacles were soon a blur of motion, spinning and undulating, and colorful patterns skittered across his skin. His performance would be the envy of many — the dance was about prowess, endurance, and control.
The nearby females watched, enrapt, and some of them shifted to maroon, openly signaling their interest.
Then, Dracchus offered his retort.
Though his heavy build suggested a lack of speed or grace, Dracchus’s power leant him quickness, and his tentacles stretched and curled as he spun. The patterns pulsing across his skin created a hypnotic effect, altered by his spinning into ever-changing, scintillating shapes.
He matched Kronus’s speed and then increased the pace. Their whirling bodies grew indistinct until Kronus’s form faltered and his patterns broke.
Dracchus was a juggernaut; he showed no sign of slowing, no sign of tiring.
As Kronus flagged, his color solidified into the vibrant crimson of aggression and fury. Some kraken in the crowd signaled surprise or excitement. The result of the dance — which Arkon might have considered an art form under different circumstances — would be violence.
Kronus charged first, a fraction of a second before Dracchus, but his advantage yielded no favorable results. Their limbs thrashed in a chaotic tangle, but Dracchus’s darker arms and tentacles enveloped his opponent. Within moments, Dracchus had an arm around Kronus’s neck, and his tentacles coiled around Kronus’s torso.
Four other kraken — Kronus’s most steadfast supporters in his crusade to preserve the old ways — rushed forward.
Whatever informal rules had existed around the challenge were shattered in that instant. Arkon’s hearts pounded, adrenaline poured into his veins, and he
surged into the fray alongside Jax.
The water clouded with motion and dissipating blood. Arkon wove through flailing limbs, narrowly avoiding claws and tentacles, and lashed out at Kronus’s lackeys.
His knuckles hammered into a jawbone. Tentacles wrapped around his arm before he could strike again, hauling him toward his foe. Bending and twisting, he slipped free and raked his claws over his opponent’s ribs. More blood flowed into the water; they’d be lucky if the smell didn’t attract a razorback.
Someone grabbed Arkon from behind, hooking an arm around his neck and slithering tentacles about his abdomen. The hold constricted.
Arkon tensed his entire body, battling the increasing pressure. He kept the flow through his siphons small; too much water expelled would allow his assailant to tighten their grip.
In front of him, the kraken he’d clawed had recovered himself and turned to charge at Arkon.
Gritting his teeth, Arkon bent at the middle. The crushing force around his stomach increased as he lashed out with his tentacles, twisting them to the right and closing all eight around the charging foe. The captured kraken struggled, and Arkon’s vision dimmed. He had but one chance at this.
Focusing all his strength into the movement, he wrenched his lower half to the right, using the struggles of the kraken caught in his tentacles to increase the power. Arkon’s body shifted, and for a moment, the enemy behind him held tight, fighting the motion. Claws bit into Arkon’s tentacles.
Then Arkon twisted his body, breaking the hold.
He continued the spin, lashing out with both hands to open new wounds on the chest and belly of the kraken who’d caught him while tightening his grip on the second foe.
As quickly as it had begun, the altercation ended. Kronus, still locked in Dracchus’s hold, shifted his skin to pale, yellow-tinged gray — his admittance of defeat. The wounded kraken backed away warily. Arkon swung his tentacles, tossing the trapped foe into his companion so they could retreat together.
Dracchus released Kronus, and the two sides separated.
Several kraken sported fresh injuries which misted blood, including Arkon.
Jewel of the Sea (The Kraken Book 2) Page 8
