Rising from the Depths

by Tiffany Roberts

  “Well firstly, you’re doing a terrible job, and secondly, I didn’t ask for you to. I didn’t ask for this at all!” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and facing forward.

  He drew in another deep breath. Tension radiated from him as he turned the chair and wheeled her farther down the dirt road, away from town. “What we want and what we need are rarely the same,” he said in a low voice.

  “Then why are you bothering? It’s clear you don’t want to help me.”

  He stopped abruptly enough that Eva’s hands reflexively grasped the armrests, and if it were not for the strap holding her in, she might have fallen to the ground. The blanket slid off her lap, catching on her foot.

  “I would not be here if I did not wish to be,” he said. “I…do not know how to deal with your kind.”

  Eva frowned. “Wouldn’t it be the same way you deal with your own kind?”

  “Kraken think differently. We largely prefer solitude.”

  “Why would you prefer that?”

  Something brushed against her right leg; startled, Eva glanced down to see one of his tentacles stretching forward to clasp the blanket. He lifted the blanket and leaned over her, taking it in his hands to drape over her lap. His scent hit her then, a blend of land and sea — the salt of the ocean mingling with earth and stone, wholly masculine. It was surprisingly pleasant.

  “It is our way,” he said.

  Eva tilted her face up toward his, and he looked down to meet her gaze. “That’s a lonely way to live.”

  His eyes shifted to the top of her head, and before she realized what he meant to do, he raised a hand and brushed his fingertips over her hair. After only a moment, he withdrew his hand and straightened his torso. Grasping the chair’s handles, he turned Eva back toward town.

  He didn’t reply to her, and Eva said nothing more. She sensed there were many things Kronus didn’t want to talk about, though she also had the impression that he didn’t talk much to begin with. He seemed so…withdrawn. Was that simply his personality or had something happened to make him that way?

  Their return to town was unhurried and quiet. Strangely, Eva felt little discomfort despite the silence between them, despite his standoffishness. When he pushed her back onto the paved road, he continued straight, along the street that ran behind the town hall. It was busier now as the midday meal approached, but it wasn’t the increased number of people that made Eva’s heart pound; the leatherworker’s shop was on this street, and there was a familiar figure standing out front.

  Blake’s laughter was deep, carefree, and boisterous, the same as it had always been. She watched his head tilt back, watched the rays of sunlight catch upon the golden locks brushing his brow, and watched the flash of his white teeth. He said something Eva could not hear, and his words were punctuated by feminine laughter.

  Eva tore her gaze from Blake to look at the woman in front of him. The woman’s posture was languid, her body leaned casually toward him as though she’d reach out and put her hand on his arm at any moment.

  But the woman didn’t reach for Blake; he reached for her. He tucked the woman’s hair behind her ear and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

  Eva’s heart stopped, and her breath fled her. Her chest tightened, flooding with raw pain. This wasn’t… This couldn’t be Blake.

  But it was. She knew him, had known him intimately for months.

  Struggling for breath, Eva gripped the armrests. “Take me back. The other way…the way we came. Take me back now.”

  She realized that Kronus had already stopped the chair. They remained there, in the center of the street, for many seconds, and the only sound Kronus produced was the soft squeak of his hands squeezing the chair’s handles.

  “Please,” she rasped, tears blurring her vision.

  With a frustrated growl, he turned the chair around. Neither of them spoke as he retraced their earlier path. Eva didn’t notice the buildings around them, the people, the sunlight or the sky. The wheels rolled steadily beneath her, trembling when they hit the occasional rough patch, and she didn’t care. As long as she was away from there. Away from Blake.

  Soon, they were back at the clinic. Kronus wheeled the chair to her bed and moved to her front. She didn’t resist as he scooped her up and held her against his chest. For a fleeting instant, she had the urge to clutch him, to bury her face against his velvety skin and sob until everything went black, but she resisted. His muscles were rock-solid beneath that soft skin and bristling with tension, but he was nothing but gentle as he laid her atop the bed.

  Eva turned her face away from him and closed her eyes. He hesitated for a moment before withdrawing his arms, palms brushing over her gown to spread heat across the skin beneath. He draped the blanket over her and lingered beside the bed.

  She longed for him to say something, to say anything, to give her words she could cling onto. Anything so she didn’t feel so…dead inside, so utterly alone.

  “I will return tomorrow,” he finally said. The soft slithering of his tentacles over the floor announced his exit.

  When the door clicked closed behind him, nothing remained to hold back her tears. She let them flow freely, silently, until exhaustion finally claimed her.

  Chapter 8

  True to his word, Kronus returned to the clinic the next morning. Aymee was in the front room when he arrived. She greeted him with a smile that quickly faded as she explained that Eva seemed worse since yesterday.

  He frowned and looked down the hall toward Eva’s room. He knew little of human ways; though they spoke the same language, they often seemed to use the words differently, and their manner of thinking was often beyond his understanding. But he knew why she’d fallen in spirits. It was for the same reason he’d gone to sleep angry and had woken even angrier.

  Blake.

  Though Aymee’s counsel against harming Blake was wise, it had taken all Kronus’s willpower to prevent him from attacking the human the day before. His fury had only intensified as time passed — especially during the night, when his sleep had been fitful and often broken and he’d been left with nothing to do in the dark but listen to the ocean and think.

  He entered Eva’s room to find her laying in the same place, in the same position, as he’d left her the day before.

  “Time to go,” he announced.

  She didn’t respond. Nor did she react when he picked her up and moved her into the wheelchair; no cursing, no fighting, no anything. She remained as limp as a fresh corpse, barely holding herself upright after he strapped her in.

  Aymee’s brow creased as Kronus wheeled Eva toward the exit. She opened the door for him, and her gaze was troubled as it briefly met his. He had an odd sense that, despite her skill in treating ailments, Aymee was just as uncertain of how to help Eva through this as he was.

  Eva was silent as he pushed her around town, ignoring his few clumsy attempts at starting conversation. He was careful to avoid the street on which they’d seen Blake the day before. If she noticed that, she made no indication of it. Though the sky was clear and blue, and the sunshine was pleasantly warm, she kept her gaze downcast throughout.

  Kronus gritted his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache. This was worse than her outburst the first time he’d gone to see her. He would’ve welcomed punching, kicking, and clawing if it ended this nothingness. Why was she an empty shell now when just yesterday she’d seemed on the verge of reclaiming a little bit of herself? Did Blake truly hold such power over her?

  Reminder of Blake twisted Kronus’s insides into knots and poured fire into his gut. Kraken males saw it as a privilege to be selected by females, no matter how fleeting those pairings often were. But from the little Kronus knew about human relationships — learned mainly through human-kraken couplings like Aymee and Arkon or Macy and Jax — humans committed to their mates with the intention of spending their lives together.

  Why would anyone throw that away? Such stability, such security, had never been com
monplace amongst Kronus’s people. The Facility had provided them shelter since the uprising centuries ago, but nothing had been guaranteed. Why give up a lifetime with a mate when so many male kraken wanted nothing more than to be chosen by a female for even a day?

  Frustrated, concerned, and uncertain, he brought Eva back to the clinic. If Aymee or her father were still there, neither made their presence known as Kronus took Eva to her room and moved her onto the bed.

  It was only then that she finally moved of her own accord, rolling onto her side to face away from him.

  Kronus’s hands fell to the bedrail, and his tentacles writhed over the floor. Nostrils flaring, he covered her with the blanket. What had happened to the progress she’d made? What had happened to the inner strength she’d displayed when he pulled her out of the water? This didn’t look like recovery; it looked like slow death from the inside out.

  She was broken.

  Reaching across the bed, he took Eva by the shoulder, rolled her onto her back, and took her chin in his other hand to force her face toward his. Eva’s eyes widened as he leaned over her, stopping his face less than a hand’s span from hers.

  “I will return tomorrow,” he growled, “and you will be here with me. Do you understand, human? This will continue no longer.”

  She held his gaze for a few moments before turning her eyes away. Kronus clenched his jaw. His attention dipped to her lips; would she react if he kissed her, like he’d seen so many humans do? Her pink lips looked soft and warm, and he’d wondered about how kissing felt. The kraken who were mated to humans all seemed to enjoy it.

  He lowered his head further. Desire kindled within him, shoving aside his frustrations. A little closer and he’d feel her mouth against his, taste her upon his lips, and take her breath into himself. His cock pressed against the inside of his slit, aching with sudden need.

  He released his hold on her and drew back before giving into temptation.

  “Tomorrow, Eva,” he promised, voice husky.

  She shifted onto her side again just before he left.

  With elbows leaned against the edge of the table, Kronus turned the little carving between his fingers. His eyes kept drifting to the figure’s broken leg no matter how hard he tried to direct them elsewhere. Each time he looked at it, he turned the figure a little more, as though the slight change of angle would somehow make it appear different.

  Heavy pounding on the door startled him out of his thoughts. He shifted his gaze to the window, noting the deep orange of the sky; the sun had nearly set. How long had he been at the table, lost in contemplation? It had still been afternoon when he picked up the carving.

  He dropped the figure, pushed himself upright, and moved toward the door as the pounding repeated. The noise grated on him, nearly making the tips of his tentacles curl. Grabbing the handle, he tugged the door open.

  “What?” he growled.

  Aymee stood on the other side, eyes wide, brown, curly hair in disarray, and shoulders heaving with ragged breaths. “Is Eva here with you?”

  Her disheveled appearance cut through Kronus’s annoyance, allowing confusion to fill its place. “No. Why?”

  “She’s not at the clinic, and her wheelchair is gone. I thought… I didn’t see you come, but I thought you might have taken her for another walk…” She swallowed. “She’s gone. I don’t know anyone else who might’ve come to visit, unless Blake…”

  “I know where she is,” Kronus said. He latched onto the doorframe with his tentacles and pulled himself through.

  Aymee stumbled out of his way. “Where?”

  “Go back to the clinic. I will bring her there.” He hurried toward the rocky path leading down to the nearby beach.

  “Kronus, where are you going?” Aymee called behind him.

  He didn’t answer; there wasn’t time. Eva’s words echoed in his mind.

  Why didn’t you just let me die, too?

  He scrambled down the path and dragged himself across the sand as fast as he could. Instinctually, he knew the land route was a shorter distance, but he was far faster in the water. To the abyss with the razorbacks.

  Kronus dove into the surf without a backward glance. The water, which was stained red-gold by the setting sun, shimmered liked liquid fire. His tentacles lashed forward, digging into the wet sand to pull his body forward until he was deep enough to swim. His hearts pounded like peals of thunder in his chest as he sped along the coast.

  His muscles burned with exertion by the time he rounded the cape atop which the lighthouse stood, but Kronus pushed harder, faster, drawing upon reserves of strength he hadn’t known he possessed. Though his life had been in danger on countless occasions, this seemed the direst, riskiest, most important situation of his existence.

  Far ahead, the underside of the dock materialized out of the ocean haze. He swam closer to the land, sweeping his gaze along the shallow coastal water, but saw no sign of Eva. That was a small relief. He pushed to the surface.

  Once his eyes adjusted to the open air, his vision fell on the stone stairs bridging the dock platform to the beach. Eva’s wheelchair lay on its side at the base of the steps. A trail of disturbed sand led away from the chair toward the water.

  And Eva was at the trail’s end, crawling slowly toward the sea on her belly.

  This was where it had happened, where her life had been forever, irreversibly altered.

  Kronus ducked underwater and darted forward, clawing at the sand to drag himself up onto the beach once he reached the shallows. He rose out of the water and hurried toward her.

  Eva was at the water’s edge when Kronus reached her. Extending an arm, she buried her fingers in the wet ground and pulled herself a little closer to the sea. A little closer to dying with her friends.

  A rage sparked in Kronus. He took hold of her beneath her arms, and she yelped as he lifted her up, swung her away from the tide, and dropped her on her back in the softer, dry sand. Her eyes met his, and for an instant, she stilled.

  Then she opened her mouth and screamed. It was the most primal, agonized sound he’d ever heard — and it called to the despair deep within him.

  She moved to sit up, but he lowered himself over her, caught her wrists, and pinned them to the ground as he restrained her kicking legs with a few of his tentacles. She bucked and writhed beneath him.

  “Let me go! Just let me go! I should have died with them.” Eva’s shoulders shook with her sobs. “Y-You h-h-have no right!”

  “You did not die with them,” he snarled, “and if they would have wanted you to, they were no friends to begin with.”

  Tears spiked her long lashes and flowed down the sides of her face as she yanked her arms. “It’s not your choice!”

  “Your friends died for no reason,” he said, not relinquishing his grasp on her, “because that is how the sea works. Do you wish to die for no reason, too? Or are you as much a coward as Blake?”

  She looked up at him, the blue of her eyes stark against the irritated red surrounding them. Strands of hair stuck to her face. “They’re gone, and he left me. I have nothing. No one.”

  A deep, rumbling growl rose from his throat. “You have me!” he shouted. He released one of her arms and wrapped his free hand around her throat, forcing her chin up so she looked at him, at only him. “You have me,” he repeated quietly. “And I refuse to let you end yourself. I will make you fight.”

  Lowering his face closer to hers, Kronus brushed his thumb along her jaw. “If you would throw away your life, then I will claim it as mine.”

  Fresh tears welled in her eyes before she broke into another wave of raw, gut-wrenching sobs, her struggles suddenly ceasing. Each of her shuddering exhalations pierced his hearts anew.

  Kronus pushed himself back and slid off Eva, releasing his tentacles’ hold on her legs. He gathered her against his chest, and she threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly. Her thighs straddled his waist, and both her breath and her tears were warm against his neck. The bite of
her nails into the skin of his back sent a thrill through him despite the situation.

  He coiled a pair of tentacles beneath Eva, granting her some support, and slid another around her waist. His suction cups sampled her scent and flavor where they touched her bare flesh, serving only to awaken a craving in him for a deeper taste.

  He meant what he’d said — she’d forfeited her choice by her actions. As far as Kronus was concerned, Eva was his. His mate. And he’d do everything to keep her safe from the world, even if it meant protecting her from herself.

  Remaining silent, Kronus ran his claws through Eva’s hair until her cries tapered into small hiccups and shuddering breaths, until her hold loosened, and her body relaxed against him. He drew his tentacles close and pushed himself up, shifting an arm to cradle her backside. She rested her tear-moistened cheek against his shoulder as he carried her to the steps and up onto the ramp, leaving the wheelchair where it lay.

  The sky was deep violet everywhere save on the horizon over the sea, where the last bit of sunlight slowly died. The streets were quiet. Most of the lamps had been lit — some electric, many more burning oil — granting The Watch a gentle, welcoming glow despite the encroaching darkness. If any of the few people Kronus saw thought it odd for him to be carrying a one-legged human female, none were bold enough to express their opinion.

  Aymee rushed to meet him the moment he entered the clinic, reaching up to press her fingers to Eva’s neck. “Where was she? She’s so cold. Get her to the room and tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing happened.” Kronus moved down the hallway to the room Eva had been staying in.

  “What do you mean nothing? She’s covered in sand and—”

  “If something had happened, Aymee,” Kronus snapped, “she wouldn’t be here right now. She will be fine.”

  “Don’t you take that tone with me,” Aymee growled. “I’m her doctor, I deserve to know what—”

  “I’m okay,” Eva said softly, tightening her hold on Kronus.

  For once, Aymee was silent.