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

by Tiffany Roberts

  “What do you require?”

  “Your support. We are mated, and our current situation, while viable, is not ideal… I want to bring Aymee to the Facility. To stay.”

  Dracchus and Jax exchanged a glance, and more meaning and understanding seemed to pass between the two kraken in that moment than Arkon had ever thought possible.

  “You have my support, no matter what,” Jax said. “Just as you gave me yours.”

  “We have seen boats during the last few hunts.” Dracchus tilted his head back and ran his eyes over the shadowed walls and ceiling. “They do not appear to be fishing. We must assume the danger is growing, and the humans are searching for us.”

  “What does that have to do with taking Aymee to the Facility?” Arkon asked.

  “It is no longer safe here. If Aymee is your mate, you must bring her among our people,” Dracchus replied.

  “And Kronus? I will not tolerate so much as an implication of intent to harm her.” Arkon’s skin took on a faint red tint; he swallowed his anger but could not put it aside.

  “Kronus has been suspicious of your absence since the news about the human hunters.” Jax moved to one of the mooring posts at the edge of the platform and leaned against it, curling a tentacle around its base. “He has not eased, nor have his followers. But we will keep them at bay, together.”

  “I will put him down as many times as necessary. I do not fear facing him.” There was no aggression in Dracchus’s voice, only cold, unshakeable confidence.

  “I have not spoken to Aymee about this yet. I want the choice to be hers. This is something—”

  Arkon snapped his mouth shut, and all three kraken turned their heads toward the tunnel that led to the sea. The sound of gentle waves lapping against the concrete walls had changed; something was moving through the water.

  A hushed voice echoed from the darkness.

  A human voice.

  Arkon’s hearts stilled. There was a chance it was simply some curious fishermen from The Watch, but that seemed as probable as he and Aymee meeting one another in the first place.

  “The females,” Jax whispered.

  “They are safe,” Arkon replied. “The door automatically locks.”

  The sound of something breaking the water drew nearer. Arkon quickly signaled to the others.

  To the dark. No water.

  The kraken separated, moving quickly and silently to the deepest shadows in the pen. Arkon flattened himself in a corner and altered his skin to match his surroundings. His hearts thumped. Jax and Dracchus slipped into their own positions and faded into the environment; even Arkon, who knew what to look for, had difficulty discerning their forms.

  From his vantage, Arkon watched the water. Whispers floated from the tunnel, more distinct than before.

  A boat coasted into the pen. It was undoubtedly from The Watch — riding on a shallow draft, it was as long as three or four kraken stretched head-to-tentacle, its single sail bundled up. Six human males manned the craft; two on each side propelled it forward with oars, and two more were at the front.

  Randall sat on the foremost bench. Cyrus stood near the prow.

  “The hell is this place?” asked Joel from his position at the oars.

  “Ain’t no cave,” Cyrus replied. “Bring us in over by that ladder. We’ll tie off there.”

  “Look at that ceiling,” another man said. “Should we even be in here?”

  “Been up for this long,” Cyrus said.

  The boat, save for the mast, exited Arkon’s vision as it neared the wall. There was the sound of movement from inside the vessel, and the mast bobbed and rocked as two of the men climbed onto the platform. Both had long guns slung over their shoulders. They knelt and swung the weapons into their hands, watching opposite directions, as Joel climbed the ladder and tied a rope around the nearest mooring post.

  “Think anyone at The Watch knows about this place?” one of the other men asked.

  “Think it’d be empty if they did, Chad? No one has been here in years from the looks of it,” another said.

  “Even if they knew about it, what use would they have for this place?” The voice was Randall’s; a moment later, he hauled himself onto the platform with one arm. His face was pale, and his left arm was bundled against his chest. “The roof could collapse at any moment.”

  Cyrus climbed up last. His face was a patchwork of light green and yellow bruises, and there were scabs on his cheek and lips. “Animals don’t care about that shit. That’s what we’re hunting, boys. Animals.”

  Randall scowled, glaring at Cyrus. “Quick sweep. I don’t want us here any longer than necessary. Some of that roof fell recently.”

  “And how can you tell that, Randy?” Cyrus grinned, displaying a black space where a tooth had been knocked out. Arkon felt a small pleasure in that.

  “Because, Ranger, some of that debris is not overgrown like the rest. You all know what to do.”

  The humans split up, most of them holding their long guns across their chests, fingers near the triggers, and began their search.

  “What do you think this place was for?” one of the men called out, his voice echoing loudly.

  “Keep it down, Ward!” Chad hissed.

  Cyrus and Joel walked up the steps to the second level, out of sight.

  Arkon’s chest tightened. The door would not open for these men — he was certain of it. But what if Macy and Aymee came out before the hunters left?

  “Well damn. Hey Randy!” Cyrus called. “Best head up here and look at this.”

  Randall — who had remained near the boat, peering at the other side of the pen through the morning gloom — turned and went up the steps to join the others. Within a few moments, all the humans were on the second level.

  “Got a short hallway leading deeper into the base, and next to it… Looks like your fish girl’s paintings.” Cyrus’s smirk was apparent in his voice.

  A chill swept through Arkon’s body, stilling everything inside him and building to an unbearable, heavy dread. Though he’d stopped to admire their paintings on the wall upstairs almost every time he’d passed by, he hadn’t realized it was clear evidence of their presence.

  “Could’ve been done by anyone,” Randall said.

  “Oh? So you can paint like this, too, Randy? Damn shame I left my brushes back home, or I’d have you show me.”

  “This looks recent,” Joel said.

  “It could’ve been in the last few days or the last few months,” Randall said. “This wall wouldn’t get any sun, so the paint won’t fade.”

  “You still trying to protect her?” Cyrus demanded. “She shot you, kid. Pretty cut and dry, that relationship.”

  “I’m being practical. I’m not any happier about this situation than you are, Cyrus, but it is what it is. We’ve gone up and down this coast and haven’t found a single sign of them.”

  “This is a damned sign! It’s the same shit she painted on the side of her house, and it’s right here next to three closed doors. Going to call that a coincidence? Hell, they’re probably living back there!”

  “Those doors aren’t likely to be functional,” Randall said.

  Arkon looked toward Jax and Dracchus’s hiding places and flashed yellow. Jax leaned off the wall, glancing toward the steps, and signaled.

  They know.

  “There’s a little light flashing at that door,” Joel’s voice was hushed.

  The scraping of metal echoed through the pen. The hunters went quiet after the whisper of footsteps.

  “Wait until Jax sees it,” Macy said.

  “Get back inside!” Jax yelled.

  “Wha—” Aymee’s words were drowned out by a scuffling of boots and shouts from the hunters.

  Macy’s scream was cut off, and Aymee’s angry exclamation silenced.

  “Months ago, huh, Randy?” Cyrus laughed. “This must be that girl who left to live with the fish.”

  Someone growled — Macy.

  Jax moved to cli
mb onto the second level, but Dracchus caught him and held him down before he exposed himself.

  “What are you doing?” Randall demanded.

  “What you don’t have the balls to do,” Cyrus replied. “You ask the fishermen back in town, they’ll tell you — a hook needs to be baited if you want to catch a fish. We just found our bait.”

  “We’re not hunting humans, Cyrus. Let them go — both of you. We have no right to harm these women.”

  “Once we bag what we came for. Though I have something to settle with this bitch.”

  Aymee cried out sharply.

  Fury crashed through Arkon like waves lashing the shore during a storm. It filled his limbs with anxious, overwhelming energy, and everything in him screamed to charge to the upper platform and tear into the hunters. To protect Aymee. To avenge her pain. His nostrils flared. He’d never craved the spilling of blood as he did in that moment, had never longed for the satisfaction of breaking another creature. The fire in his veins urged him to violence.

  Muscles tense, he crept forward.

  A flash of yellow in the distance called his attention to the other kraken; Jax’s eyes were filled with rage, and his skin was crimson. Dracchus met Arkon’s gaze and shook his head firmly.

  Calm. Keep to the dark, Dracchus signaled. Keep quiet.

  “We heard you,” Cyrus called. “Might as well come out if you don’t want these two hurt. Blondie’s quite a looker. Be a damn shame to mess that up.”

  “Don’t touch her,” Aymee grated.

  Clenching his teeth, Arkon halted. Calm. Quiet. He’d seen the hunters’ weapons. A headlong attack would only expose him to their gunfire and would do Aymee no good. He forced his breath to slow, but his tension did not ease.

  He reached up and grasped the ledge, rising just enough to peer over it to the second level. The humans were just outside the hallway in a ring; Joel held Macy, his hand covering her mouth, and Aymee was bent forward, one of Cyrus’s hands fisted in her hair. He held a pistol in his other hand.

  Randall stepped toward Cyrus. “Cyrus Taylor, I am hereby—”

  “Shut it already, kid. You want to go by the book?” Cyrus fired his gun from the hip. The sound of it was thunderous as it bounced off the concrete walls. “We’re going by the original book.”

  Aymee and Macy screamed. Randall stumbled backward and collapsed on the floor.

  “What the fuck, Cyrus?” Chad shouted.

  “Randall Laster has been relieved of command,” Cyrus replied.

  “We never talked about shooting him!” one of the others said.

  “He chose his side, Hassan, and it was going to come down to this either way. We bag these fucking fishmen, and Randy’s sacrifice will have been worth it. We’ll tell his father he died in the hunt. That’s more than he deserves.”

  “We’re not supposed to kill our own, Cyrus!”

  “The fuck you think the Culver Hunters started out doing? We hunted traitors and deserters, kiddies. When that wasn’t a thing anymore, we moved to bounty hunting — running down anyone who pissed off the wrong people. Shit, you haven’t lived until you’ve hunted a human. Nothing like it...but these fish-men are pretty damned close. Don’t know why the hell we stopped.”

  Cyrus moved closer to the railing, dragging Aymee along with him. She clawed at his wrist. He shook her forcefully, and she returned her hands to her hair as though to relieve the pressure. “After what this bitch did to me, I have zero issue with putting a slug in her gut. You come on up here and talk to us, or we lay her out next to Randy and come down there.”

  Arkon’s fingers flexed; brittle concrete crumbled beneath them.

  Calm, he reminded himself, but the word possessed no immediate meaning to him. Aymee was in danger, her life was at risk, and he wasn’t there with her. He might lose her forever. If he moved quickly enough, he could get to Cyrus and strike a mortal blow before…

  “You’re a monster,” Aymee said.

  “I’m the only thing standing between you and the monsters,” Cyrus growled.

  Monsters…

  Arkon wouldn’t give them the monster they wanted to slay.

  He lowered himself. Perhaps he might have compared Cyrus to Kronus, once, but there was a stark difference — Cyrus was not held in check by fear, or honor, or anything of the sort. He’d been left battered and bloodied, and it had only pushed him toward this.

  Arkon looked to his companions; Jax — whose expression was a jumble of terror and fury, of helplessness and desperation, mirroring Arkon’s emotions — was still restrained by Dracchus.

  Arkon could not lose Aymee. Would not.

  A hook needs to be baited if you want to catch a fish.

  He knew then what he had to do.

  Go around, Arkon signed.

  Confusion flicked over Jax’s features, but he nodded. Dracchus released him, and together the two kraken crept along the wall, toward the far steps.

  Arkon drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs. Life had no meaning without risks. Everything he cared about was at risk now. Almost everyone he loved. At least Sarina was safe.

  “I am coming up,” Arkon called. “There is no need to harm the females.”

  “Arkon, no!” Aymee yelled.

  “And here part of me thought you’d dive into that water and swim as far away as you could,” Cyrus said.

  “Fuck!” Joel exclaimed. “She bit me!”

  “Don’t come!” Macy shouted.

  “Damn it, Joel, you’re twice her size! Handle your shit.”

  “What do you want me to do?” he demanded.

  “Hit the bitch. Shut her up. The adults are trying to talk.”

  “You’re going to regret th—”

  A thwap — flesh against flesh — silenced Macy.

  Arkon moved to the steps, forcing his skin to its normal color — doing so had never been so difficult. He kept low, shielding himself from the hunters’ lines of sight. “I am coming. I told you there’s no need to do them harm.”

  “Guess you’re just taking too long,” Cyrus said.

  “Lay down your weapons. There’s no reason we cannot all leave here in peace.”

  “Arkon, he isn’t—”

  Cyrus’s shout cut off Aymee’s words. “Shut your mouth!”

  Clenching his jaw, Arkon climbed the stairs. Cyrus wore his broken-toothed grin. Macy was on hands and knees at Joel’s feet, lip bloody. Randall lay where he’d fallen. The other three hunters pointed their long guns toward Arkon, eyes wide with shock and fear.

  Beyond the humans, Jax and Dracchus were dark shapes creeping across the floor.

  “You’re even uglier than I remember,” Cyrus said.

  “As are you,” Arkon replied. “I’d hate to have to make it worse if we cannot work this out.”

  “I’m not giving you that chance this time.”

  Cyrus raised his arm and fired three times in rapid succession.

  “No!” Aymee screamed.

  The breath fled Arkon’s lungs; it felt like three blows from Dracchus impacting his abdomen at once. He looked down to see blood oozing from three holes, and piercing, burning pain spread across his stomach.

  When he lifted his gaze, Aymee was staring at him, her eyes round with terror, their whites pronounced. His limbs trembled, and his head spun. Her face blurred as his vision clouded.

  Chapter 19

  Aymee’s heart stopped.

  For a moment, everything fell away and time slowed. She stared in horror at the dark blood dripping down Arkon’s abdomen. Her lungs burned; she was suffocating but couldn’t draw breath. The fear of losing him was too much. She lifted her gaze to his.

  Arkon’s features were drawn with pain and startlement, his eyes glassy. He swayed but remained upright.

  There was a whisper of movement behind, and someone released an agonized gurgle. Cyrus yanked hard on Aymee’s hair as he swung around. Through the curls that fell into her face, she saw two large, dark figures overpowering the pair of ra
ngers who’d been behind Cyrus.

  Jax and Dracchus. The blood spurting from the humans’ wounds was lost against the kraken’s crimson skin.

  “More of them?” Cyrus tightened his grip on Aymee’s hair. There was an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice. He raised his gun.

  Aymee gritted her teeth against the agony in her scalp and covered a fist with her other hand. She twisted, pushing with all her strength, and slammed her elbow into Cyrus’s groin.

  He grunted and doubled over. His hand tugged back on her hair, forcing her gaze up before his fingers slipped away.

  Jax hurtled past, landing atop Joel. The kraken wrapped his tentacles around the ranger and squeezed. Bones cracked. Chad, the only other ranger standing, settled the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and aimed at Jax.

  A shot rang out. Chad’s body jerked as a bullet hit his arm, and his weapon fell from his hand. Dracchus was there an instant later, wrapping a huge hand around Chad’s neck. There was a wet crunch.

  Chad’s limp body sagged to the floor.

  Aymee flicked her eyes toward the source of the shot; Randall was propped against the wall, pistol trembling in a bloody hand, a trail of crimson smeared beneath him. His arm fell, gun slipping from his grip. He held his other hand to his gut.

  Free of Cyrus’s hold, Aymee kicked the gun from his grip. It skittered across the concrete floor.

  “You bitch!” he wheezed. He swung his arm, and Aymee braced for impact.

  A roar echoed through the pen.

  Before Cyrus’s blow connected, Arkon — his skin a furious red — slammed into him. They hit the floor hard in a tangle of limbs. Arkon reared up over the man, his back turned to Aymee, and struck Cyrus quickly, repeatedly, savagely.

  She couldn’t see the damage, but she heard it. Saw the blood dripping from Arkon’s arms.

  Aymee backed away from them and searched out Macy. She stood in Jax’s embrace; his skin was still crimson, and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy, ragged breaths. Macy brushed her thumb over his cheek soothingly.

  Dracchus stalked toward Randall; the other rangers were dead.

  “Stop!” Aymee yelled, inserting herself between Dracchus and Randall. She held her hands out in front of her, backed up until she was standing over the surviving ranger, and glanced at him over her shoulder.