Jewel of the Sea

by Tiffany Roberts

  “Yes. Though I would much rather have arrived here on time than contributed to it.”

  “You have duties, Arkon. I won’t hold that against you. I knew you’d ha—” She let out a shriek as water swept past them, pulling her feet out from beneath her.

  Aymee clutched his arms, and Arkon slipped a pair of tentacles around her to keep her upright. She laughed. Once the water receded, he released her, and she stepped back.

  “One moment.” She jogged up the beach, toward the larger, higher rocks well away from the water.

  Tilting his head, Arkon moved closer to her, leaving the surf behind. He froze when she took hold of the fabric of her skirt, bent, and slid it down her long legs. She straightened and lay the skirt over the rocks, placing a heavy stone on top it. The hem of her long-sleeved shirt hung past her bottom; it flipped up in the wind, granting him a view of the small, triangular scrap of cloth between her legs.

  Desire pulsed through him.

  Arkon trailed his eyes from her feet to her ankles, over her shapely calves and past her knees, along her supple thighs and the curve of her backside. He swallowed. His shaft throbbed against the inside of his slit, threatening to extrude. The reactions Aymee stirred in him were uniquely powerful.

  Was this a test of his restraint, or a testament to her trust in him?

  She removed her footwear and placed it upon the rock. Looking at him, she smiled. “Take me swimming.”

  A hundred arguments against taking her out surfaced in his mind — she was human, without one of the diving suits Macy wore when she swam; the tide and currents were especially intense this time of year; he had no idea how strong a swimmer she was.

  He cast them aside.

  “Only if you agree to one condition.”

  She tilted her head as she stepped toward him, and Arkon couldn’t keep his eyes from dipping to the juncture between her legs. It was no mystery to him — he’d studied human anatomy through the computer in the Facility, and he’d seen Macy when he helped seal the wounds on her leg — but Aymee’s cloth covering added an allure he hadn’t thought possible. Even if he was familiar with the basic form of a female, he’d never seen hers.

  “What condition?” she asked, stopping in front of him.

  “You must hold onto me the entire time.” He feared, in that moment, that she’d somehow hear the rapid beating of his hearts even over the ocean’s restless murmuring.

  “I can agree to that.” Grinning, she moved behind him. Her hands settled on his back and slid upwards slowly until they rested on his shoulders. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Arkon closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath; it was followed by a shaky exhalation. He welcomed the thrilling slide of her palms over his skin, though such contact was still unfamiliar to him.

  “Wrap your arms around my neck.” He spread his tentacles over the sand, sinking down so she could reach.

  She did as he said, pressing her chest against his back. “Like this?” Her warm breath and dangling curls tickled his neck.

  “Yes.” A tremor ran through Arkon as he reached behind himself and cupped the backs of Aymee’s thighs; her skin was even softer and smoother than he’d imagined. He glided his palms toward her knees, lifting her off the ground.

  Aymee wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at his stomach. The position placed her hot core against his back. His hands continued their slow movement until they settled over her calves; she shivered and squeezed her thighs tighter.

  His shaft pulsed. Aymee’s heat flowed directly into him, gathering in his pelvis. Her heels were less than a hand’s length from his slit.

  He needed to get into the water.

  Arkon rose on his tentacles and slithered into the surf, trying to ignore the aching throb in his loins. Water sloshed around him, freezing cold compared to the fire raging through his body.

  She loosed a peal of laughter as the incoming tide splashed her.

  When the water reached his waist, Arkon leaned forward, reluctantly releasing her legs to paddle with his hands, and swam — first pulled along by the retreating current, and then battling against its landward flow. Despite the recent storm and rising tide, the sea was relatively calm.

  Aymee held tight as his tentacles left the bottom.

  The entirety of the sea stretched before them, the waves strips of black rolling through shimmering moonlight. Both moons had risen now, two huge orbs of light hanging in a surprisingly clear sky that was only a few shades lighter than the dark water on the horizon.

  He kept his pace easy and soon had broken beyond the cresting waves and the inexorable pull of the tide. They floated in open water, a pair of tiny creatures drifting in the unfathomable expanse of the ocean.

  Aymee stretched an arm and ran her fingers through the silvery reflection of a moon. “What do you see when you’re below?” She rested her cheek against his. “What’s it like down there?”

  Suddenly, Arkon regretted having declined Jax’s many invitations to explore over the years. For someone who considered himself observant, he’d paid relatively little attention to the ocean as a whole, to the interesting locations scattered throughout. Too often, he’d kept his eyes downcast, looking for rocks and other small objects that might be of use in his works.

  “It...it is open, endless, and liberating, and stifling and lonely all at once. It is deceptively quiet despite its constant sound, and you can never see too far in any direction. It lulls you into a sense of isolation. Reminds you how small you are, and how the possibilities stretching before you are as vast as its entirety.”

  “That sounds…dismal.” Aymee pulled her hand back, flattening it over his chest, and was silent for a time. “Are you lonely, Arkon?”

  He glanced down; her hand was hidden underwater. “That depends on how I choose to define the word.”

  “How would you define it?”

  “If I have friends, a home, people I interact with and hunt with, can I truly consider myself lonely?”

  Of course I can.

  “Do you feel like you belong? Even when you’re with the people you care about, does it feel like something’s missing?”

  They rose and fell with the easy rhythm of the surface, and Arkon searched within himself for the words. He already knew the answer, even if he’d never admitted it. Her questions reminded him of a conversation he’d had with Jax.

  It is missing something, Arkon had said.

  It needs...heart, Jax replied. Something in the center to give it life.

  They’d been discussing the arrangement of stones in the pool at the time, but Jax’s words were oddly fitting now. Arkon had always been missing something. He’d spent most of his life trying to determine what it was, trying to locate the piece to fill in the hole. The thing that would make him truly content.

  “Is that how you feel amongst your people?” he asked.

  “Sometimes. It’s strange how you can be surrounded by people who love you, and yet, still feel like no one sees you. Like no one really understands you.” She rubbed her nose against his cheek and nuzzled his siphon.

  His breath caught in his throat. There was something so gentle, so intimate, about the way she’d touched him; it was beyond his comprehension, too far outside his experience. “I… They try. That means something, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, but it’s not the same,” she said softly into his ear.

  Arkon closed his eyes and felt her; the press of her body, warm even in the water, the smoothness of her skin, the tickle of her damp hair and the caress of her breath. The hidden strength in her lithe legs and the heat of her core.

  Was that what he and Aymee had shared thus far? A mutual understanding so deep and natural that it hadn’t required voicing, that it had existed without his conscious acknowledgment?

  “Arkon?”

  “Hmm?”

  Aymee hooked a finger beneath his chin and guided his face toward her. He opened his eyes the moment her lips brushed his; they
closed again as a heady thrill spread through him. She cupped his jaw and deepened the kiss, parting her lips. His entire body tensed when her tongue flicked across the seam of his mouth.

  Caught by surprise, he jerked his head away; he’d seen Macy and Jax kissing but didn’t know they used their tongues.

  Aymee followed him, taking advantage of his shock by flicking her tongue between his open lips.

  Arkon dropped his hands to her legs, squeezing gently. Her taste was sweet. He tentatively sought her tongue with his. She stroked his mouth, explored it, and with every caress, he sank deeper into the kiss. Her sighs emboldened him.

  This was seduction, sensuality, a mating of mouths; Arkon’s tenuous control slipped.

  She stiffened and pulled mouth away. “Arkon!”

  He recognized her alarm slowly, as though emerging from a daze, and opened his eyes just as his head — and Aymee’s immediately after — dipped underwater.

  Her hold became desperate, arms and legs squeezing him with crushing force. He fanned out his tentacles and thrust them down, propelling himself back to the surface.

  She sputtered, spraying water to either side as she shook her head, and raised a hand to sweep hair out of her eyes.

  “Aymee! Are you all right?”

  He turned his head to look back at her, eyes wide and shining with reflected moonlight. If he twisted any further, he’d spin them in circles.

  Aymee burst into laughter at the mental image conjured by that thought — Arkon turning endlessly, trying to locate her as she spun along with him, perched in his blind spot. It reminded her of games she and Macy played when they were kids, giggling as they hid behind an adult who’d turn slowly and pretend not to see them.

  His brow furrowed, and his mouth opened as though to speak. It was a moment before any words came out. “You’re…laughing? I don’t… What is amusing? You could have drowned.”

  Arkon’s confusion only made her laugh harder. She shook her head and burrowed her face into his neck. “I’m fine. Really. I just…just need a minute.”

  “Aymee?” he asked when her shoulders finally ceased their shaking.

  “I’m fine,” she repeated, and took a few steadying breaths. When she lifted her head, her lips were curved into a wide grin. “Guess I kissed you senseless.”

  His skin darkened, though the moonlight neutralized his color. “In the interest of honesty, I must admit to being…unfamiliar with such attentions.”

  “I assumed as much.” She ran her thumb along his jaw.

  He gently covered her hand with his own as his lips parted, allowing her a glimpse of his pointed teeth. They should have been disconcerting — Jax’s had been, when she’d first seen his — but they were simply another part of what made Arkon himself.

  “Have you ever been with another?” she asked.

  “Have I ever been with another? I am not sure that—” His eyes rounded. “You mean…?”

  Aymee chuckled. “Yes.”

  He flared his siphons, releasing a light spray of water. “Have you?”

  “Hmm.” She leaned close and pressed her cheek against his again.

  Aymee was bolder than most. Perhaps it was a result of working in the clinic for so many years? Sex was a fact of life to her, and it was easy to forget that not everyone shared so open a view. Her attitude was too forward for some people.

  She lowered her hand and absently flicked the water with her fingers, watching the droplets disturb the shimmering surface.

  “I wonder what you think of me,” she said softly, draping her arm around his neck in an easy embrace. “We barely know each other, you’re a kraken and I’m human, and yet…”

  “Any discomfort I’ve expressed has been solely the result of my inexperience, Aymee. I have greatly enjoyed our time together.”

  “I have, too.” Smiling, she sighed and closed her eyes, letting the serenity of the ocean’s song and gentle motion wash over her. “You’re the only one I would have trusted to bring me out here. I’m not like Macy. The sea has never called to me like it does her. Even after her sister drowned, I think part of her still wanted to come out here and feel all this.

  “In a way, I fear it. I know what it’s capable of. But with you…” She opened her eyes and turned her head, taking in his profile. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Even after I nearly drowned you?”

  “Even after,” she said with a chuckle. “We should get back.”

  He nodded and swam back toward the beach in silence. The rhythm of his movement was even more soothing than the rise and fall of the water. Soon, the waves swept them forward, carrying them effortlessly toward land.

  As soon as the water was shallow enough, she unlocked her legs from his waist and lowered her feet to the sand. She kept her arms around his neck, steadying herself, as they emerged from the sea.

  Sand squished between Aymee’s toes as she walked to the spot where she’d left her skirt. Arkon moved alongside her, his tentacles spread wider than usual; his stance reduced his height to something a bit more human.

  “I know you asked me first,” he said, eyes downcast, “but…have you? Been with anyone?”

  Aymee’s steps slowed. The faces of other men came to mind — all of them different now than they’d been, if only a little. Despite the way rumors typically spread through The Watch, her trysts had remained secret, even from Macy. Aymee wasn’t sure if shame or disappointment had kept her from telling her best friend. “Three.”

  “Three,” he repeated, voice low and flat.

  Aymee tensed and looked at him. What should she make of his response?

  He halted and turned toward her, frowning deeply as he studied her face. “I have upset you.”

  “Do you think poorly of me?” she asked.

  His jaw muscles bulged, nostrils and siphons opening wide for a moment. “There is a sinking feeling in my stomach at the thought of you with another male, and I am envious of those men, even though I do not know them.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Jealous? He was jealous.

  “But no, I do not think poorly of you.” He shook his head and tipped it back, looking up at the sky. “I have no right to feel the way I do. For a kraken female, three is…nothing. It was your choice, besides, and I cannot hold such decisions against you. My desire to tear the males you have been with to shreds is irrational, and quite unlike my usual self. I simply thought…Macy said humans choose once. Is that untrue?”

  Warmth blossomed in her chest, spreading farther each word he spoke. She stepped closer, took his cheeks in her hands, and tilted his head down to meet his eyes. Silver moonlight bathed half his face, while shadow shrouded the other side save for the faint point of reflected light in his eye. The contrast strengthened his expression — jealousy, vulnerability, passion, and longing were writ upon his features.

  She tucked this moment away in her memory; it would make a powerful painting.

  Aymee stood on her toes, placed a light kiss on his lips, and moved back to sit on a rock near her skirt and sandals.

  Arkon lifted his hand to touch his lips as though in disbelief. His chest swelled with a deep inhalation before he approached and sank into a squat in front of her.

  “Macy’s not wrong,” she said. “Humans choose when they are ready to join with another. There’s more to it than sex, though, and once you make that choice, it’s meant to be forever.”

  “Meant to be forever?”

  “That’s the intention. But people just… I guess we just don’t always work that way. It’s great in concept. One person to share your life with, to share everything of yourself with…” The wind blew her drying hair into her face; she dragged her fingers through the curls, tugging them aside.

  “You do not sound very excited by the prospect.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked up. “I wasn’t.”

  “But…you are, now?”

  The hopeful note in his voice went straight to Aymee’s heart. She wanted to mov
e closer, to touch him, to hold him, but she remained in place, staring silently at him until she forced herself to look away.

  Take what you want. Take it all. Do not hesitate, because it could all be gone faster than you can blink.

  Maris’s words echoed in Aymee’s mind.

  Hadn’t she done that already? Hadn’t she jumped headlong into taking what she wanted with those other men? It had never brought her fulfillment. Why would it be different with Arkon?

  She couldn’t answer that question, but she knew she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t try.

  “I was sixteen when I had sex for the first time. I’d heard whispers from other kids my age, and I’d learned some things from working in the clinic. I was curious.” She dropped her hands into her lap; the bare flesh of her thighs reminded her only then that she’d not yet pulled on her skirt.

  “I didn’t think too hard about the decision. I just told one of the boys who was interested in me that I wanted to, and…we did. It was horrible. There were a few moments when it felt nice, but mostly it was painful.” She wrinkled her nose. “I knew there’d be pain the first time, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for how much. I just laid there, waiting for him to finish, and when it was over I felt…hollow. Afterwards, I got angry.”

  “I…” Arkon sighed. “I understand the pursuit of curiosity, at least. What were you angry about when it was done?”

  “I felt like I’d been lied to. That I shared my body and was left bereft. The experience was nothing like what I’d heard.” She rubbed a finger against her leg. “It wasn’t until a year later that I decided to try again, with a different guy. It felt a lot better, but there was always something missing. We got together a few times, but eventually, we both moved on.

  “Then I started a fling with another guy a few years ago, until I found out he was seeing other women. And I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t jealous, I wasn’t hurt. I just…didn’t care.” She frowned and stared down at her feet as she dug her toes into the sand. “I don’t regret any of it. I just wanted to know what it’s really supposed to be like. I just wanted to find that missing piece.”