The Kraken Series Boxset: A Sci-fi Alien Romance Series Books 1-3 with Bonus Exclusive Short Story

by Tiffany Roberts

  “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 h
ammered 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.

  It was an excellent start to a hunt, especially considering Arkon hadn’t wanted anything to do with it from the beginning. At least the wounds appeared superficial; all but the worst were shallow enough to close before the party reached its intended hunting grounds, so long as they were not agitated during the swim.

  As he took position in the ring of onlookers, Arkon noticed one of the females — Leda — staring at him. She flashed maroon. Leda was an attractive female, and males often battled for her attention.

  Leda smiled and waved a hand down to her waist. Her slit parted, revealing the petals of her open sex. An immediate invitation.

  Arkon was aware of many other males she’d taken to her den, and they’d likely been many more beyond. Even if she had offered before he met Aymee, he’d have been hesitant; was he only worth her time because he’d spilled blood? Because he was capable of meeting violence with violence?

  Only one female interested him. Only one female tempted him. And all of this was keeping him away from her.

  He shook his head.

  Leda scowled at his disinterest.

  A tap on his shoulder called his attention away.

  Jax signaled with a combination of limb movements and colors. Can we trust them?

  Arkon looked at Kronus and his followers. Though Kronus had relinquished leadership to Dracchus for this hunt, his aggression hadn’t diminished; he had shifted his color from the yellow-gray of submission to an angry red, and his features were drawn in fury. His companions wore similar expressions, though their anger was laced with pain, their wounds proof that their advantage in numbers had done them little good.

  Kronus and his group would be complacent for a time, especially after suffering such a resounding, public defeat. But they’d eventually make another attempt.

  For this hunt only, Arkon signed.

  Dracchus hadn’t moved from his place at the center of the crowd. All eyes rested on him. The sense of anticipation that had pervaded the onlookers had been replaced by recognition and respect. Dracchus, Jax, and Arkon had won despite being outnumbered and having been faced with an egregious violation of custom.

  A pair of light posts stood on the seafloor nearby, detached from the Facility. Dracchus swam to them. The net hanging from one of the posts served as the signal that a hunt was being organized.

  Staring at Kronus, Dracchus stretched the net and hooked it over the top of the other post.

  The hunt had begun.

  The waters surrounding the reef teemed with life. The variety of creatures was staggering; even Arkon didn’t have names for all of them. Segmented, many-legged things scuttled along the bottom, fish in all shapes and sizes swam around and through the stone-like coral, and hundreds of different plants — and creatures that only looked like plants — swayed in place. Every shade of every color seemed to be on display here, constantly changing in the dancing rays of sunlight streaming through the surface.

  How would Aymee depict this scene in a painting? What would her artistic eye latch onto and accentuate?

  Arkon waited beside Jax, their bodies pressed to the rocks at the edge of an open patch of sand. More stones and tufts of plant growth were scattered about ahead, but the space was largely devoid of cover. Sea creatures only braved crossing it because it bridged two sides of the reef.

  Prime hunting ground for sandseekers.

  Tentacles writhing with impatience, Arkon looked up.

  By the position of the sun and the quality of its light, it was late afternoon. He should’ve been on his way to the beach right now. Should’ve been on his way to see Aymee.

  His eyes shifted to the colorful fish all around. Most of them were safe to eat. Between the twelve kraken in the hunting party, they could catch enough fish to equal the meat they’d obtain from a sandseeker, and they’d be done in less time.

  Sandseekers provided ample bounty. They were larger than adult kraken when fully-grown, and despite their armored tops, they contained an abundance of tender meat, but they were patient predators. They buried themselves in the soft sand of relatively shallow waters, leaving only their top fins exposed. The appendages looked like stone, down to the tiny plants that sometimes grew upon them.

  Frustrated with the wait, Arkon signed to Jax.

  Need to bait them out.

  Jax shook his head, brow low. He flattened his hand, fingers extended, and flicked his wrist down. Patience.

  Arkon clenched his jaw; he should have acted sooner, should have forced this hunt to its completion before he’d wasted hours of time in wait.

  Features hardening, Jax signed again. She will understand.

  Aymee likely would understand Arkon’s reason for missing their meeting, but that wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t that he was afraid or unwilling to explain the situation to her; he simply didn’t want to disappoint her to begin with.

  His eyes flickered to the fish near the reef. Many had already crossed the open seafloor, but the sandseekers would only be roused by large enough prey. That meant either an entire school of fish or a single, sizeable creature. The possibility of using himself as bait flashed across his mind. It was the most direct method, the quickest, and he was confident that his reflexes were quick enough to avoid the initial lunge of any waiting sandseeker.

  His reflexes were probably quick enough.

  And what will Macy write to Aymee after I am killed by a sandseeker? That I died in a sudden bout of impatience and stupidity?

  Arkon returned his attention to the fish, focusing on those clustered in groups. Though he’d seen countless thousands of fish in his life, had he ever truly observed them, had he ever studied their habits and movements with care?

  Most fish scattered when they saw or sensed a predator nearby, but the fish that swam in schools remained close to each other in their escapes. If they were spooked in a controlled fashion, by multiple predators…

  Rising slightly, he signaled to Dracchus. Within a minute, Arkon, Jax, and Dracchus were drifting on the surface, their heads above water.

  “What?” Dracchus asked with a frown.
<
br />   “Arkon…” There was warning in Jax’s tone.

  “We need to force some fish to swim across the sand,” Arkon said. “If we work in unison, we can funnel them exactly where we want them to go, and their passage should lure out the sandseekers.”

  “That is not our way.” Pupils slitted, Dracchus lowered his brows. “This is unlike you.”

  Arkon blew water out of his siphons. “I have ever questioned our ways.”

  “Not with this impatience.”

  “We have no reason to lay in wait when we could lure our prey out. Weren’t you the one ready to charge into The Watch blindly when Jax was imprisoned just because you thought we’d waited too long?”

  “Neither of you charged in blindly,” Jax said. “You were sensible about it. This is a different situation, but requires equal caution and planning.”

  “We do not know how many sandseekers are hidden there,” Dracchus said. “If we scare fish across the open ground, we may disturb all the sandseekers at once, and they will go into a frenzy.”

  “So, we can pick one off the edges.” Arkon thrummed with a strange energy; anticipation and dread pulsed through his limbs. Despite his impatience to get to Aymee, the allure of a new hunting method excited him.

  “The chance for danger—”

  Arkon cut Jax off. “Is little greater than at any other time. We are hunters. Sometimes, that means we must make our own opportunities.”

  He and Jax stared at one another, and he saw Dracchus’s concerned gaze shift between them at the edge of his vision.

  “This is important enough to you to warrant the risk?” Jax asked.

  After inhaling deeply, Arkon nodded. “Life requires risks to have meaning, doesn’t it? And our people must continue our advancement and refine our methods as much as possible if we want to overcome the limitations designed into us.”

  “Sounds like the same sort of justification I made when I found Macy.” Jax ran a hand over the stripes on his head. “Perhaps it is worth an attempt. It may benefit future hunts.”

  “I do not understand what secrets the two of you keep,” Dracchus said, “or why you are set on doing this differently. Do you know it will work?”