Since the first such exchange, he’d taken to placing carved stones in the containers he left for Aymee. Macy had never mentioned whether Aymee asked after the stones in her letters, but none of them had been returned…and Aymee had begun including gifts for Arkon in her canisters.
He took the long way through the looping corridors to reach his den without passing Jax and Macy’s. Once inside, he closed the door and took the supply canister in his tentacles. His hearts thumped, and his hands trembled as he removed the lid and placed it on the nearby bed.
Arkon peered into the canister. It was laden with the usual fare — soap, medicine, food, and clothing for Macy, along with the letters sent by her friends and family from The Watch. Tucked to one side was a large paper rolled into a neat tube.
He reached in and grasped the paper between forefinger and thumb, drawing it out of the container. It was secured around the middle by a bit of brown string, attached to which was a thick paper tag. ARK, it said in big, flowing writing; she demonstrated her artistry even in the mundane.
Arkon longed to hear his name from Aymee’s lips again.
He gently worked the tip of a claw into the knot and loosened the string, sliding it off the paper. Then, mindful of his claws, he unrolled the tube.
The subject of the painting was immediately apparent — the jungle. Arkon had been in the jungle several times to help Jax gather plants for Macy to eat, but he’d never seen it as Aymee depicted it here. This was the jungle beneath the stars — deep, dark purples and blues contrasted by the shining silver and muted gold of the stars and moons, illuminated from within by strange, glowing plants.
Closer inspection revealed the strokes of paint that comprised the image; they were loose, almost haphazard, and meaningless on their own or in small clusters. But, somehow, they came together to form a vibrant, detailed whole.
He crossed the room and used a metal clip to hang the painting on the wall alongside the others she’d sent. The sea during a storm; sunlight shining through the window of a small room with a narrow bed cast in somehow sorrowful shadow; an unfamiliar, hair-covered beast in a grassy field; and his favorite, a painting that was nothing but a jumble of rich, expressive color, which belied an underlying method despite its chaos.
Backing away, he studied each painting. They were so varied in subject and approach, in colors, form, and emotion, and yet each bore a certain quality that marked them as hers.
And she’d given them to him.
Before he could get lost in thought again, he forced himself back to the bed. He replaced the lid on the canister and exited the room, making his way toward Jax and Macy’s den.
The exchanges were for Macy, after all, and it wasn’t right to make her wait any longer for news from her loved ones.
The door of their den was open, and the soft sounds of Macy’s laughter drifted into the hall as Arkon approached. Stopping outside the doorway, he glanced inside.
Macy sat, leaning against the head of the bed, with Jax laid across it. One of his tentacles was raised, tip curled down to tickle the youngling between them.
Such simple, innocent joy had been a rarity before Macy came to stay at The Facility. Kraken had typically found satisfaction in solitude — Jax and Arkon’s friendship was an oddity in its depth and sincerity, but each had still spent most of his time alone. What Macy and Jax had built here, their little family, had changed everything the kraken knew, and that sense of family, of community, was spreading to the others.
Macy and Jax had received visitors so frequently as of late that they’d taken to keeping their door closed more often than not to ensure their youngling, Sarina, received adequate rest. She was a wonder — the child of a human and a kraken. Potentially the future of their race when kraken females were so few and offspring so rare.
The connection between Macy and Jax was something Arkon couldn’t have imagined possible, were it not before his eyes. That she considered Arkon a friend was humbling. He enjoyed his time with her; she appreciated his art, offered unique insights, and was even teaching him to read and write.
Arkon couldn’t help feeling a hint of jealousy. He wanted a mate of his own, someone to share his den with. Someone he could talk to as often and openly as Jax to Macy. Someone who understood what drove him, even when he did not, who shared his interests and passions, and didn’t view him as strange.
“Arkon?”
Jax’s voice startled Arkon from his thoughts. Macy smiled at him from across the room, as welcoming and warm as she’d always been with him.
“Why are you just standing there? Come in, Uncle Arkon!” she said, motioning him closer.
Swallowing his embarrassment, he entered the chamber. Jax regarded him with a furrowed brow as he approached.
“Just drifting on the current of my thoughts,” Arkon replied. He slid the supply canister into his hands and held it to Macy. “Fresh off the beach. Well, it was fresh a few hours ago. It depends on your personal criteria for freshness, I suppose.”
Macy chuckled and took the canister from him. She set it beside her, removed the lid, and peered inside. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for us. You know Jax is more than willing to make the exchanges, so you don’t have to leave so often.”
“It is no trouble. Jax has spent years attempting to get me out of this place more regularly. He may count this as a small victory.”
“I wanted you to explore with me,” Jax said. “No matter the wonders I described to you, I could rarely draw your attention away from your work. Why are you so eager to leave now?”
Macy glanced at Arkon from the corner of her eye. “Maybe he’s found inspiration elsewhere.”
Though there was no malice in Macy’s expression, Arkon found it unsettling. It was a knowing glance. “The more I can do to keep the three of you together during these early days, the better. I am curious to see the results of a youngling raised by mother and father simultaneously.”
He moved closer to the bed and leaned forward, looking down at little Sarina — his niece, according to Macy. She was surrounded by a nest of blankets, tentacles drawn up tight to her body, green eyes open and alert. In most ways, she was a normal kraken, but she’d inherited a few traits from her mother — a delicate nose, soft features, and fine, dark hair on her head and at her brows.
She was the first baby he’d interacted with. Kraken younglings remained with their mothers — who largely kept to themselves — until the males were old enough to join the hunters.
“You make it sound like we’re an experiment,” Macy said.
Arkon slid the tip of a tentacle to Sarina’s hand. She clamped her fingers around it, her tiny claws pricking his skin. “Every situation is an opportunity to learn.”
“It is,” she agreed, taking a letter out of the canister. Arkon glimpsed Aymee’s handwriting upon it. She set it aside and proceeded to rummage through the other contents.
“The females will be gathering soon in the Mess,” Jax said, sliding off the bed. “I will take Sarina this time if you’d like some quiet to read your letters.”
“Are you sure?” Macy asked. “I don’t mind going.”
Jax brushed the backs of his fingers over Macy’s blonde hair and leaned down to press a kiss on her lips before gathering their daughter. Sarina put up a brief struggle before relinquishing Arkon’s tentacle.
“Rest, Macy. Read your letters. The females will most likely ignore me while they dote on Sarina.”
“They’d better,” Macy grumbled. “I’ve seen Leda eyeing you.”
“I belong to you, Macy.”
“You do, and she better remember that.” She wore a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Not everyone approved of the changes since Macy’s arrival. Leda was one of them. Most recently, she’d sought after Jax, Arkon, and Dracchus, and all three had turned her away. Many females clung to their ways, seeking males who would be the best providers for as long as they chose to keep that male as a mate. Arkon didn’t doubt t
hat Macy would fight for Jax, if it came down to it, though she was physically outmatched by any of the female kraken.
Jax kissed Macy again and looked at Arkon. “May the stones fall as you would have them lie.”
Arkon smiled. “And the currents carry you where you would go.”
After another peck on Macy’s cheek, Jax left with Sarina.
Macy drew back the blanket and stretched her legs. “How was the swim?”
“The same as it usually is.” At a casual pace, it was two hours of his heartbeats steadily quickening, of his mind racing over countless possibilities, of his imagination summoning images of Aymee. “The currents are strengthening. Storm season is building rapidly.”
“And you haven’t seen any more razorbacks?”
“No. Perhaps you finally taught them fear.” Arkon smiled, but the expression soon faded. Macy had nearly died saving a kraken youngling from a razorback and still carried the scars from the battle. It had been a frightening time for everyone.
“Hey,” she said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, “stop thinking about what might have happened. I made it. You saved my life, and we’re all okay now.” She grinned. “I single-handedly killed a razorback. Of course they’re scared.”
She was right, but it sent his thoughts along an unexpected path. Macy had faced her greatest fear — the open ocean — alone, just because there’d been a chance of her locating the missing youngling. Despite the terror and pain she must’ve experienced, she’d persevered.
And Arkon couldn’t muster the courage to speak with Aymee a second time.
“Arkon, what is it?” She tilted her head, humor fleeing her expression. “You’re fidgeting.”
He exhaled through his siphons and forced his tentacles to still. He’d hunted countless times, had battled razorbacks and sandseekers, had faced the challenges of kraken larger and stronger, and had never known fear through any of it. But all of this was so new, so uncertain.
“I am in need of advice, Macy.”
Her brows rose; usually, she sought advice from him. “Of course. What can I help with?”
“I... I have never approached a female. Some have come to me, but the interest has never been mutual. I have never given over to the notion of being used merely as a tool for the prosperity of another being without any reciprocation. It has always seemed so unfulfilling…”
Her features softened. “You want more.”
“I do. You and Jax have shown me what could be, and it would be dishonest if I said I didn’t want it, too.”
“Is there a female who has caught your interest?” That knowing gleam had returned to her eyes.
“Yes.” Arkon’s chest tightened. “Very much so.”
“And does this...female know of your interest?”
He’d sent Aymee gifts, and she’d sent gifts in return, but did that mean to her what it did to him? His knowledge of human culture had come from Macy, and it was limited. Male kraken gave gifts to females to display their ability to provide, but Jax hadn’t won Macy in that fashion.
Did Aymee see their exchanges simply as two artists sharing in one another’s works?
“I don’t know.”
“Arkon, why haven’t you approached Aymee?”
He recoiled, mouth dropping open in shock. “I... How…” He moved closer to the bed. “Has she...has she mentioned me?”
“She told me about the pretty rocks you’ve been sending for her. At first, she thought they were from me, but I didn’t know what she was talking about until she described them in her next letter. She even drew a picture of one of them to show me.” Macy smiled. “They are very pretty, Arkon.”
He looked down, his thoughts careening into an indecipherable mess. “She likes them, then?”
“She’s told me so. She would have told you, too, had you spoken to her.”
“I cannot simply... It’s not that easy.” The tips of his tentacles writhed on the floor, and he forced them to still once again. “When we spoke the day you left The Watch, I was not myself. I do not believe I left a good impression.”
Do you not speak English as well as Jax does? Aymee had asked after Arkon’s stammering.
He’d made a fool of himself in front of the only female who’d ever caught his interest.
Macy frowned and leaned forward, hands on her knees. “How so? Aymee isn’t a judgmental person, and if that day was the only time you’ve spoken to her, then you have nothing to worry about. When she came back after meeting with you, she was excited. Even more than when she first met Jax.”
His hearts pounded, and heat suffused his face. Fleetingly, he felt a strange sense of lightness he’d never experienced in the air. “She was? Was it... Was she excited about me?”
She laughed and touched his arm. “Arkon, talk to her. She’s not like the female kraken.”
“But what should I say? I do not know how to initiate that conversation.”
“You both share something you’re passionate about. Use that. You’ve already introduced yourself, you’ve been sending her gifts, and if I know Aymee — which I do — I’m sure she’s been sending things back. Just be yourself.” She paused and grinned widely. “And don’t tell her that you’ll fit.”
He didn’t fully understand her meaning until he met her gaze again. His color deepened to violet. The first time he met Macy, he’d been brimming with curiosity and fascination, especially when he’d learned that humans and kraken could mate. Jax had deemed Arkon’s questions inappropriate. Still, he smiled at the memory. “I do not believe myself that inept at this. Close, perhaps, but not quite.”
“I’m only joking with you, Arkon.” She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Kraken rarely touched one another, but he’d grown used to it in the months he’d known Macy. Humans used touch to layer emotion and meaning into their communication, and it was like a language unto itself. Early on, Jax hadn’t liked Macy touching Arkon, and it had taken time for him to accept that the affection conveyed in such contact was innocent.
“I knew she was why you’re so eager to make the exchanges.” She released his hand.
“Is it that obvious?”
“To me it is, because I know you. Jax has his suspicions, but this is all still new to him, too. He hasn’t decided if he thinks there’s anything to it, yet.”
“Does...Aymee know?” A chill flowed through Arkon, strengthened by its contrast to the heat that had coursed beneath his skin moments before.
“She only wrote about you when she realized I wasn’t sending the rocks. Otherwise, she hasn’t said anything more to me.”
Arkon nodded and backed away.
“You’ll talk to her next time, won’t you?”
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the Facility’s clean, bland air. “Yes. I will.”
“Good.” She regarded him with that ever-present smile on her lips. “She’ll love you, Arkon. I do.”
Love was one of those words which — until recently — held little meaning to the kraken. Even Arkon hadn’t known what it truly entailed. But Macy was showing them. It was as beautiful in its simplicity as it was overwhelming in its complexity and nuance.
To Macy, Arkon was a dear friend, a part of her family. He longed for a different sort of love from Aymee. How could that be achieved? What were the methods, the natural progression?
Shared passion.
His first opportunity, perhaps his best one, would be on that beach in a week. Would it be enough time to prepare? Would it be enough time to create something worthy of Aymee’s attention?
He thought again of her dark eyes, curly hair, and lovely smile, of the way his name had sounded from her lips, of the interest in her eyes as she’d gazed upon him.
Warmth blossomed inside him. Yes, it was time enough. She was reason enough.
“Thank you, Macy. You’ve been an immeasurable help.”
“Of course. And as much as I love you—” she reached behind her and lifte
d the folded letter, holding it up for him to see, “—I’m going to ask you to leave so I can read my letter from Aymee.”
Arkon smiled. “I can read it to you. The practice wouldn’t hurt.”
“Uh-uh. If you want to know her secrets, you’ll have to discover them yourself. From her.”
“At least I can say that I tried. Rest well, Macy.”
“Thank you, Arkon. I’ll see you later.”
He raised a hand to wave as he exited the room. Patterns swirled into being within his imagination, complex and colorful, and he pieced together what each would require. Gathering enough stones wouldn’t be the issue; gathering the right stones would be, and he’d have only a brief window of time during which he could bring it all together.
For the chance to talk with Aymee, it would be well worth the challenge.
Chapter 3
James Everett released a hiss of pain as Aymee unwound the bandage on his foot.
“Is papa’s foot going to fall off?” asked Daniel, James and Maris’s five-year-old son.
“Daniel!” Maris exclaimed.
“He’s only curious.” Aymee smiled at the boy. “Your papa had to give up his toes, but his foot’s just fine. See?” She removed the remaining bandage, eliciting another hiss from James. The cloth was stained with ointment and rust-colored spots of blood that indicated his stitches might have seeped, a sign that he might have walked on it despite her orders.
“Excuse me,” Maris said.
Color draining from her face, Maris put a hand over her mouth and turned away.
The healing process for such wounds could be a gruesome sight. Vorix venom caused necrosis around the bite that, when left untreated, could spread with surprising speed. Aymee had spent so much time here in the clinic with her father that she wasn’t bothered by such things.
James was fortunate it had only been his toes.
Daniel stepped closer and stared at his father’s foot, displaying none of his mother’s squeamishness.
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