I wish she would open her eyes, look at me so I can watch the moment she recognizes me as her mate. She’ll leap into the water into my arms, guiding me into her sex so we may begin the marriage ritual, and she’ll leave her bonding mark on my skin.
My breeding limb hardens at the thought, halted by a flurry of concern.
But she is so small, maybe half the size of me.
Everything about her is little: tiny head, short arms, small hands, the cutest little nose so small, I’m worried she does not get enough oxygen through. One of my limbs is bigger thanboth her legs. I could crush her without thought. Humans bruise easily. Their bones can snap from a short fall.
What if I harm my human?
I could accidentally kill her with my size.
No, that will not happen. I’ll be delicate—the most delicate of all krakens. I may be a bad king, but I will be a good husband. The best mate. Any marks will be from my suckers. And my teeth, too, should she wish. Our size difference will be of no hindrance. The Goddess made her to be my other half. She chose her for me.
Yes. It is decided. She will be my bride—not that it was ever a doubt.
The Witch’s Curse requires the bride be willing. My mate will be. Fate has deemed it so.
My loneliness will end. My den will no longer be empty, my bed warm. I will have a companion other than Vasz. I will be able to speak to another without fear of judgment or scrutiny over matters given to me before birth.
The Goddess listened to my prayers. I finally have a mate.
My beautiful, perfect female opens her eyes and stares at the threads of foam bubbling along the shore. Without much thought, I risk exposing myself by moving closer to the shore. The water laps at my face, splashing into my eyes as I lower myself to keep from being caught. She’ll see me if she focuses on the waves.
What else did the tomes say? Such things were rarely mentioned the few years I attended Temple and School.
Right—scents.
My nostrils flare, breathing in the salty air. It’s…interesting. The mate pull is not as the scriptures described. I’ve read it a hundred times so there would be no mistaking my mate. This feeling is similar to what was noted, yet somehow different.
The magical current through my body is there, as is the need to twine my body with hers, to bring her back to my den and pump her full of my seed. My desperation for her is turning me into a creature running on pure instinct, as the scribes detailed.
Her scent… It is delectable, but it is not making me resort to my baser instincts. I could become addicted to her smell, but it isn’t sweet and all-consuming, not like those who claim to have met their mates report.
The Witch must be trying to fool me so I never break the Curse. Alas, I would recognize my mate anywhere.
My heightened vision allows me to see her clearly without closing the distance. Her eyes are blank, empty. She is but a lifeless shell. It’s a look I would recognize anywhere. The silence becomes deafening, and every breath sounds like a roar, but inside? Nothing, like the sudden bout of quiet after a snap of a twig in a singing forest.
Every instinct yells at me to take her sadness away.
What troubles my little mate? I will fix it for her, make her the happiest human to ever have existed. Her sadness is unacceptable.
I breathe her in, use my suckers to try to taste her, ingraining her scent into my memory. I must learn everything possible about my mate before bringing her to our den. All her likes, dislikes, passions. That way, I can prepare our home, and she will be impressed and immediately fall in love with me. Then, we will marry, my kingdom will be prosperous once more, my mate will carry my cub, and I will never have to endure the silence ever again.
Dipping back beneath the water, I yank Vasz away from the crab he’s terrorizing and drag him close to the surface. I point in my mate’s direction. “Memorize her smell.”
The pup rolls his eyes, wriggling in my grip. “Ugh. Do I have to?” His snout leaves the water for a second too short. “She smells bad.”
“Do it,” I growl, staring into his beady brown eyes so he knows I am ordering him as his king.
He tips his head in a total lack of regard for my authority. “What do I get out of it?”
I grit my teeth. Must everything be so difficult? “I will bring home a coconut for you.” He can only hold one in his mouth. My offer is more than generous, since the creature brings nothing but clutter into my den.
He holds up his four webbed toes. “Five.”
“Two.”
He considers for a moment. “Fine.”
