Jewel of the Sea (The Kraken Book 2) Page 9

  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 The sense of anticipation that had pervaded the onlookers had been replaced by recognition and respect.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.

  “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 ju
stification 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?”

  A lie would have been easy — the easiest response, perhaps, and the most likely to result in the outcome Arkon wanted. But even now he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was adept at half-truths and withholding information, but an outright lie felt wrong.

  “No. I believe it will work, but I cannot say for sure.”

  Nothing is certain.

  Somehow, Dracchus’s frown deepened. Once, that would have given Arkon a smug sense of satisfaction, but now it only compounded his guilt.

  I have always done my duty, regardless of how the others viewed me. I should feel no guilt for seeking out my own contentment, not after all this time.

  “We will try your way. I will have the two of you wait on the bottom while the rest of us guide the fish into the area.”

  “You do not want to participate in the kill?” Jax asked.

  “It would bring me joy,” Dracchus admitted, “but you are both faster. You are more likely to make the kill and drag it clear before chaos erupts. I will not be far, in any case, and can lead the others to take down outlying targets beyond the first.”

  They submerged and returned to the hunting ground. Arkon lowered himself to the rocks beside Jax, and they both took up the long, metal spears they’d brought from the facility. Changing his skin to match the stone, he watched Dracchus direct the others with a series of quick, concise signs.

  The hunters rose from their waiting places, spread out in a wide formation, and swam slowly toward the reef, keeping close to the bottom. Their confusion was apparent — and Kronus’s rage undiminished — but they had accepted Dracchus’s leadership by following him after the challenge. Inquiries would be saved until they were home again.

  The kraken moved like a closing net, slowly drawing their formation tighter. Startled by the approach of predators, many of the fish panicked and fled; the kraken served as a funnel, guiding the fish toward the open patch of sand.

  Adjusting his hold on his weapon, Arkon thrust aside all other thought; it proved more difficult than ever before, but he could focus only on the hunt now, only on the kill. He and Jax crept closer to the edge of the rock.

  The shadow of the approaching fish darted across the bottom a moment before the creatures passed overhead. The kraken kept on the fish’s flanks, holding their formation. Their weapons gleamed in the sunlight. They were too high, though, to make a killing blow — sandseekers had to be attacked from beneath.

  The sound of rushing water produced by the fleeing creatures was suddenly overpowered by something deeper, something felt more than heard — the sudden displacement of a large amount of water.

  A few body lengths ahead, a sandseeker leapt from the bottom. A cloud of sand rose with it, particles streaming from the crevices on its armored back. Its broad, flat belly fins paddled frantically, pushing it toward the approaching fish.

  Arkon darted forward, trusting Jax was directly alongside him. He came into the shadow of the sandseeker, his vision obscured by the sand, and twisted. He was just able to see the underside of its jaw in the murk.

  He thrust his spear upward.

  The sandseeker thrashed as Arkon’s spear connected at the same instant Jax’s weapon plunged into its soft underside. The creature’s upward momentum shifted. It bent its broad body, angling its mouth down — mandibles spread to the sides to reveal its jagged teeth — and directed itself straight at Jax and Arkon.

  Barely keeping hold of his spear, Arkon shoved himself away as the sandseeker’s mouth hit the sand, sending up another cloud in its thrashing. Arkon wrapped two tentacles around the haft of his weapon and pushed it forward, twisting the head inside the creature. Jax entered his peripheral vision, took a firmer grip on his own spear, and the two of them used the leverage of the weapons to force the sandseeker onto its back.

  Its struggles were short-lived; the other kraken swarmed the beast, hitting it with more spears.

  Arkon felt the thrumming movement of water again as another sandseeker emerged nearby.

  Dracchus and three other kraken — Kronus among them — rushed forward as the beast leapt high, parting its mandibles to sweep a cluster of fish into its toothy maw. Before it sank, the kraken hit it from below with spears and harpoons fired from guns. Its blood mingled with the sand in a miasma of crimson and gold.

  As more sandseekers erupted from the seafloor, the kraken hurriedly dragged their kills to the rocks, away from the agitated predators. They pulled their weapons free of the carcasses and bundled them with ropes to be hauled home, working quickly and without instruction.

  Dracchus signaled his approval to Arkon, who nodded in acknowledgment.

  Now that the hunt was successful, he wanted nothing more than to go to Aymee. There was still time.

  But at this point, his sudden departure would only rouse suspicion. He wasn’t ready to have the sort of confrontations Jax had gone through with the other kraken. Impatience was no reason to cause potential future trouble for Aymee; he wanted one day to bring her among his people to tell them all with pride: She is my mate.

  He’d have to wait until the kill had been returned to the Facility.

  It was the longest journey of his life.

  Chapter 7

  The sun had set by the time Arkon moved onto the beach, and the reflection of the first rising moon shimmered on the surface of the ocean. He hurried through the surf, hearts thundering and muscles tense.

  There was a chance she’d waited, wasn’t there? A chance that, despite him being hours late, she had lingered, held in place by her desire to see him?

  The sound of the waves was amplified more than usual by the overhang in their meeting spot; the tide was rising with the moons. He slowed his pace. The water had nearly reached the base of the cliff, and there was no sign of Aymee on the shrinking swath of dry sand.

  Exhaustion jabbed at the edges of his consciousness. It had been a day of soaring hope and anticipation, and those hopes had been smashed. The rational part of his mind, usually the dominant portion, insisted this was no reason for disappointment. He’d missed an hour or two in her company. That was insignificant, viewed against the larger picture.

  But the rest of him — the side that had been gaining strength over the last few months — deemed every moment precious, and any moment spent with Aymee invaluable. Time had no finite weight to it. The seconds of his day, though each equal in length to the next and the previous, were not equal in their importance.

  He craved the sound of her voice and laughter, her unique scent, her soft, bold touches. After a lifetime spent searching for deeper meaning in things others considered trivial or foolish, he could not help but feel Aymee was the key to something greater. She’d lead him to experiences beyond his imagining.

  He wanted her. Wanted to make her his.

  Frustrated, he moved out from beneath the overhang and followed the beach, the surf flowing around his tentacles.

  Despite his constant questioning of kraken traditions, he knew his people had one aspect of relationships correct: she had to choose him.

  Arkon didn’t want a mate for some fickle span of time. He wanted a life mate; he wanted what Jax and Macy had. Security, dependability, companionship. Even before he’d known that was a possibility, no female before Aymee had caught his attention — and caught was too mild a term. He was ensnared, enthralled, wrapped up so completely that his infatuation was likely to crush him.

  But he couldn’t make the choice for her any more than he could force her decision. All he could do was present himself as appealingly as possible and hope she found him worthy.

  No easy feat, considering the limited time they had together. When their visits amounted to only a few hours over the course of a
week, every minute counted. And he’d missed her today. Missed out on the opportunity to know her a little better and show himself — his true self.

  He swept a pair of tentacles aside in frustration, splashing water, and released a growl.

  “Arkon?”

  Though the ocean did its best to drown out that voice, he’d heard it.

  He turned his head to see Aymee sitting upon the rocks just beyond the beach, past the high tide line.

  His chest swelled, and his elation and relief were so powerful it seemed he’d burst.

  She had waited for him. Though he’d hoped she would, it had been a hollow hope, meant only to assuage the anger he harbored for himself. Yet here she was.

  This exhilaration surpassed both the thrill of the hunt and the fulfillment of completing one of his works.

  She gingerly stood up. The wind pulled at her clothing and tousled her hair.

  Arkon made his way toward her, sped forward by the tide. When the water retreated, he dug his tentacles into the sand, anchoring himself against the pull, before continuing. She smiled and extended her arms as he neared.

  “It’s about time,” she said.

  He helped Aymee down from her perch, a tingle running across his skin when she grasped his shoulders to steady herself. “You waited.”

  “Against my better judgment.” She held onto his arm as they moved along the beach, her grip tightening when the water splashed around her legs. “It wasn’t very smart of me.”

  “With everything that is going on, it’s not likely smart for either of us to be here to begin with.”

  She frowned. “It’s not. Is that why you’re late? Do you want to end the exchanges? Our visits?”

  “No. No!” He stopped and faced Aymee, keeping himself positioned between her and the sea. “I do not want to stop. I would see you every day were it not so dangerous.” Reaching forward — hesitantly, as he wasn’t sure of the rules for such contact — he brushed hair out of her face with the backs of his fingers, careful to keep the tips of his claws from raking her skin. “A hunt was called, and I could not refuse.”