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

by Tiffany Roberts

  “You can kiss them.” She smiled. “I’m yours to do with as you please, Arkon. Touch me, kiss me, taste me. Anything.”

  Something tightened in his lower abdomen. He absently ran his tongue along the points of his teeth, more mindful than ever of the delicateness of her skin, and lowered his head. She caught his face with her hands and forced his gaze to hers. Her eyes were deep, dark pools, and he tumbled into them.

  She lifted her head and skimmed her lips over his mouth. “Love me, Arkon,” she whispered, then released him.

  Love…

  He’d longed for Aymee’s love, but he hadn’t realized it could go both ways — that he would come to love her, too. It seemed an immense oversight, a sign that he had indeed lost his wits. Somewhere along the way, his fascination had evolved into something more. Into something that existed independently of her feelings for him, though it was in many ways fueled by them. Something as simultaneously simple and complex as the word that impossibly encompassed it.

  Love.

  Arkon lowered his mouth over one of her nipples and did as she’d said — he kissed. But that fleeting contact, that tiny taste, wasn’t enough. He encircled it with his lips and flicked his tongue over the tip. She inhaled sharply and lifted her chest. Urged on by her reactions, he sucked her nipple into his mouth while caressing the other with his palm and the pads of his fingers.

  Aymee’s hands flew to his head and pulled him closer. Her moan flowed through him like a strong current through the ocean, and her scent strengthened, pushing his desire to a new, unimaginable peak.

  Despite his thrill in her reactions, he released her nipple and trailed his lips down her body; he needed to experience the source of that scent, that taste!

  Her stomach quivered as his lips brushed over it. He glanced up to find her watching him, her lips parted with her soft panting.

  When he came to the small patch of hair at her pelvis, he ran the backs of his fingers through it. It felt different than the hair upon her head, coarser, and was heavily perfumed with arousal. Coiling a tentacle around each of her thighs, he spread them wide.

  She was beautiful. The petals of her sex were slick, unfurled and ready to receive him, and here her scent was at its strongest.

  His mouth watered.

  He angled his hand to slide his finger along her folds but stopped before doing so; her flesh here was surely even more sensitive and fragile than elsewhere, and he couldn’t forgive himself were he to cause her harm.

  “Arkon?” she asked.

  Raising his hand to his mouth, he bit the claws off his first two fingers and spit them to the floor.

  “Why did you—” Her words came to an abrupt halt when Arkon touched her; he slid his fingers along her sex, coating them in her oils. Maddening heat radiated from her core.

  He lifted his hand away and slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking off her moisture. He’d had slight, fleeting tastes of her through his suction cups, but they had not prepared him for her true flavor. Aymee’s sweetness flooded him.

  Arkon’s shaft throbbed with the pressure of his restraint; her taste on his tongue eroded what little self-control he’d maintained. He extruded fully, and in the same instant he dropped his head between her thighs and licked her sex.

  Aymee gasped. Her legs trembled, muscles tensing, but he held them wide with his tentacles — he’d not relinquish what she’d so temptingly gifted him. He flattened a hand on her stomach to hold her down while pressing his other hand to her inner thigh.

  He slid his tongue between her folds, exploring her from top to bottom, and when he brushed a nub of flesh near her sex’s peak, her moaning intensified, and her hips jerked. Intrigued, he glanced up; her face was turned aside, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth. He licked again. Another tremor coursed through her.

  Arkon closed his lips over the nub and took it into his mouth. He sucked.

  Her back arched, body stiffening as she screamed his name. Moisture flowed from her, and Arkon drank greedily, unwilling to allow a single drop to escape. He didn’t relent until her shudders subsided and she gently urged him up with her hands.

  He raised his head. Aymee’s tousled hair framed her face, and her eyes were hooded.

  “Lie back for me, Arkon,” she said, caressing his cheek.

  He rolled away and lowered himself onto his back beside her. Smiling, she ran a hand along one of his tentacles and disentangled it from her leg. She rose onto her knees and guided the same tentacle to her waist, and Arkon wrapped it around her.

  His hearts nearly stopped when she threw a leg over him.

  She straddled his abdomen, hair a dark curtain around her face as she gazed down at him. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath, nipples hard, and he longed for another taste of them. The scent of her arousal enveloped him, and he could see the pink of her parted sex, feel the brush of her backside along his straining cock.

  This was Aymee. Beautiful, wild, sensual Aymee.

  His Aymee.

  She leaned forward and their eyes locked. She skimmed her nose along his cheek, brushed her lips over his, and slipped a hand between their bodies to grasp his shaft. Arkon released a shuddering breath. Aymee lifted her hips, pressed the head of his cock to her opening, and lowered herself, taking him into her body.

  Heat; incredible heat surrounded him. It spread into his core, intensifying that needful ache to an unbearable degree. He clawed at the bedding and his tentacles curled. Pressure built within him, immediate and irresistible, but somehow, he held his tenuous control.

  As she flattened her hands on his chest, Arkon’s eyes drifted to the point of their connection, watching her rise and fall, taking him deeper and deeper. His shaft glistened with their combined oils.

  There was something primal about their bodies joining, something that touched upon previously unknown instincts. The pleasure was immense, but the connection was more than physical — this was mating, it was possession, it was love.

  She suddenly thrust down, taking him to the hilt. Her sex clenched. The tendrils at his base slid over her, smelling and tasting, brushing her soft skin.

  Arkon took hold of her hips and coiled his tentacles around her calves. He bared his teeth and bucked his pelvis, pressing further into her, on the verge of an explosion that would tear him apart from within.

  Aymee gasped. Her fingers flexed, and she raked her nails over his chest. Shutting her eyes, she threw her head back in abandon and ground her sex upon him. Her inner walls tightened.

  Arkon released a tortured groan.

  Her hips undulated, body moving up and down, breasts jutting out with the arch of her back. The pressure inside him built as pleasure raked his insides, seeking release. Aymee moved over him like the rolling waters of the ocean; Arkon found her rhythm and matched it, dropping his hips when she rose and meeting her downward thrusts, pushing harder, deeper.

  Her features strained and soon her tempo faltered. She panted, her moans loud but musical in the otherwise silent room. He was determined to hear her cries once more. To feel her release around him.

  Aymee fell forward, catching herself with her hands on either side of his head. Her movements quickened.

  “I’ve wanted you for a long time,” she breathed against his mouth, eyelids heavy with desire. “And now you’re mine.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and cried out. Her body locked, sex clamping around his cock and quivering as she reached her peak.

  She has claimed me.

  Arkon moved his hands to Aymee’s backside and slammed her down on him, pushing himself beyond anything he’d thought possible. The pressure burst, and her name escaped him in a roar, her words echoing in his mind. A wave of pleasure stole his breath and tensed every muscle in his body, sweeping away conscious thought like driftwood on the surf. Her cries punctuated his thrusts, which ended when neither of them had anything left to give.

  Aymee lay upon him, a welcome weight, her breath tickling his neck. Sh
e cradled his head with one hand, brushing her thumb against his skin. He realized only then that his tentacles were tangled around her legs and waist; he loosened his hold but was in no hurry to release her.

  And now you’re mine.

  “I am yours, Aymee,” he said, smoothing a palm over her hair. There was a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his labored breathing.

  She inhaled deeply and rubbed her cheek against him before placing a kiss at the base of his throat. Lifting her head, she shifted her hands to cup his jaw and kissed his lips before resting her forehead against his. She closed her eyes, and the peacefulness on her face belied the sudden tension in her body.

  “I love you, Arkon,” Aymee whispered. When he opened his mouth to speak, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Someone once told me to take what I wanted. To take it all and never hesitate because it could all be gone in the blink of an eye, without any warning.” Her arms slipped around him. “No matter what happens, or what our future might hold, I have this. This moment with you, where you are mine, and I am yours. Where we loved. And I will never regret it.”

  Arkon gently slipped his fingers into her hair and raised her head. There was a troubled gleam in her eyes, an unfamiliar vulnerability.

  “I did not know what love was, not very long ago,” he said. “I knew the idea of it, but it was only a word. As I learned, I came to crave it, longed to know it myself...but I’ve never truly felt it until you. I love you, Aymee. Always and without regret.”

  Aymee’s body eased atop his. Her smile in that moment was the most radiant thing in all the universe. She kissed him, and Arkon embraced her. When she shifted her hips, he was reminded that he was still buried deep inside her body; he groaned, and she laughed.

  “Love me some more, Arkon.”

  He rolled her onto her back and propped himself over her on his hands. She moaned, canting her hips to take him deeper. He grinned down at her. The sated exhaustion that had filled him a moment before fast faded, replaced by the rekindled heat of desire.

  “As much as you wish.”

  Chapter 16

  The storm lasted three days; three days of thunder, howling winds, and torrents of rain pouring through the hole in the submarine pen’s ceiling.

  Aymee sat on the edge of the platform, arms folded over the lower rail, watching lightning streak across the gray sky. She bit into her last apple.

  Despite being away from home, she was happier than ever. Unfortunately, that didn’t leave her immune to boredom; she wasn’t used to inactivity, to staring at the same drab walls day in and day out, without a taste of open air or the inherent variety of her normal duties.

  It was too dangerous to venture out during the storm, so they remained inside.

  Arkon had spent some time in the control room, as he was now, speaking to the computer, learning about the history of this base and the Halorian colonies. Aymee preferred not to go in there.

  Though he’d removed the body, the room was uncomfortable, oppressive. While she stood within, the sound of a single gunshot echoed ceaselessly through her memory. Arkon admitted he didn’t understand why she felt that way but didn’t press her on the matter — understanding and acceptance were not mutually exclusive concepts to him, and she loved him more for it.

  Whenever he emerged, he’d tell her of what he learned. Based on the records he had accessed, the settlements — of which there were twelve on the Halorian mainland — were only meant as the beginning. They’d chosen varied locations with access to unique resources to serve as the foundation of a thriving, continent-wide colony, and had planned to land more settlers and supplies at regular intervals.

  Arkon had even uncovered preliminary plans for entire underwater cities. He said they appeared similar to the place his people lived; it was obviously strange for him to think about such structures scattered across the seafloor, larger and more populated than either of them could imagine. The limited information available failed to answer the primary question they’d both asked: why? There was abundant land for human use, and it wouldn’t have required such complex, sophisticated construction to utilize.

  This base, the Darrow Nautical Outpost, had been constructed with dual purposes in mind — first to ferry personnel and supplies to Pontus Alpha, where the kraken now lived, and secondly to house underwater craft for civilian use. It had been operating at a fraction of its intended capacity when everything fell apart and had never come close to fulfilling its secondary function.

  Thunder boomed overhead, and Aymee watched bits of the ceiling crumble and fall in the downpour.

  How long until the entire roof came down?

  Aymee finished her apple and tossed the core. It disappeared in the churning water below.

  “I never realized just how much water there could be outside the ocean,” Arkon said from behind her. She heard him set something down, and then one of his tentacles slipped around her waist and another beneath her legs. He lifted her, turned her to face him, and embraced her.

  Aymee wrapped her arms around him and laughed. Since they’d made love, he’d grown increasingly more comfortable with physical contact, and — at times — seemed unable to keep from touching her.

  “It’s why we call it the wet season.” She pulled back. “Missed me, did you?”

  “I am sorry I took so long. Time seems to lose meaning when I dig through those archives. It is unfair to you.”

  “Don’t be. But now that you’re out here, are you hungry?” She motioned to the food set out on a piece of cloth on the floor and grinned sheepishly. “I attempted to cook fish again, and I didn’t burn it this time.”

  Give her a broken arm, and she could set it with her eyes closed. Give her a piece of meat to cook, and she’d somehow reduce it to a lump of charcoal almost every time. It seemed such a simple skill to master, but competence in the kitchen had always eluded Aymee. Her mother had tried to teach her on many occasions, but those attempts always ended with Jeanette shooing Aymee out of the kitchen before the whole house went up in flames.

  Aymee had ruined the first fish Arkon caught for them. By the time she was through, the outside of the meat was a charred, blackened mess, while the inside remained raw. Regardless, he’d eaten it with a smile and thanked her when he’d finished.

  She’d loved him a little more at that moment.

  “I am hungry, yes.” He released her and eased down beside the cloth, plucking up a piece of fish and slipping it into his mouth.

  She returned to her spot on the floor, placing her back against the rail, and ate with him. When they finished the food, Arkon reached behind him with a tentacle and grabbed what he’d been carrying — one of the many sturdy plastic bins they’d found scattered throughout the base.

  Aymee leaned forward, bracing herself on her hands. “What’s in there?”

  “I wanted to make up for the time I have spent in that room,” he said. “Would you like to paint with me?” He tipped the bin toward her, revealing the brushes and jars of paint she’d given him.

  She leapt up and threw her arms around him. He swayed with the force of her sudden embrace, and the jars rattled softly. She’d forgotten he had brought them. Aymee had never gone so long without an outlet for her creativity. “Yes!”

  “I hoped you would say yes, but I underestimated the enthusiasm you’d show.” He turned his face into her neck and kissed her.

  Aymee laughed. “If we have to stare at these walls, we might as well make them easier on the eyes.” She pulled away, placed the jars on the floor, and carried the now-empty bin to the lower platform. “Where do you want to begin?” she called, leaning down to fill the bin with water.

  “You are the artist, Aymee. I trust your judgment in the choice of canvas.”

  She climbed the stairs slowly, doing her best not to slosh water everywhere, and set the bin down in front of the wall near the hallway. There’d been no murals painted here — it was a blank canvas, limited only by their imaginations.
/>   “Bring those closer, please,” she said.

  Using both hands and tentacles, he gathered up all the paint jars and brushes and carried them to her. She helped him arrange them on the floor.

  “Have you used them yet?” she asked as she opened the lids.

  “No. I wasn’t sure how. I would’ve asked you during one of our meetings...but obviously, other events did not allow that.”

  “Here.” She held up a brush.

  He accepted it, taking it awkwardly between forefinger and thumb.

  “I hold it like this,” she said, reaching forward to adjust his grip on the brush. Heat stirred between her legs when her fingertip ran over one of the claws he’d bitten away. His pupils expanded as though he knew where her thoughts had gone. She cleared her throat. “If it’s not comfortable or the rest of your hand gets in the way, adjust your grip to whatever feels right.”

  Arkon nodded. On the lower edge of Aymee’s vision, his tentacles shifted restlessly over the floor, narrowly avoiding the open paints. His eyes remained fixed on her, like she was all that existed for him.

  Aymee smiled, closed the space between them, and kissed him. When she drew away, he nearly followed; he stopped himself by shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

  “We’ll have plenty of time for that later, Arkon.” Tempted as she was to toss the brushes aside and have his hands on her again, she hadn’t painted in days, and this was another first for him she could share in. Another lifelong memory to create.

  “Let’s keep it simple for now,” she continued. “I know you have a talent for patterns, so we can work with that.” She gestured down at the paints. “There’s no wrong way. Just experiment.”

  His eyes slid from side to side as he looked over the paints, and she could almost see the possibilities forming in his mind. He looked at her. “You are painting too, are you not?”

  “Yes.” Picking up a brush, she dipped it into the green paint and turned to the wall. She began a simple base — a long stem with sprouting leaves. At the edge of her vision, Arkon jabbed his brush into one of the jars.