Tommy can’t purr. He doesn’t have tentacles. He doesn’t live in a cave with bioluminescent algae. He doesn’t give reassurances or promises not to cause me harm. But it doesn’t matter how loud I scream it in my head—I can’t escape.
I choke on the memories. The feel of the silk sheets against my cheeks as Tommy pushes me down and yanks my skirt up around my waist. Tommy’s rough, calloused palms that grate against my cheek followed by thesmack.
The man before me grabs my hand and places it over his heart. I struggle against him. I don’t want to touch him, but there’s no getting away.
The rumbling in his chest grows louder than the blood roaring in my ears. His pulse is erratic beneath my hand, and I’m only vaguely aware of the suckers pulsing hard against my flesh. I screw my eyes shut, trying to push everything out of my mind and focus on the feeling, on the vibrations coming from him, because tentacles don’t hurt. They never hurt.
“Kristy,” he begs, tentacles holding my thrashing arms still. “You are safe.”
“That’s not my name.” I gasp for breath. It’s not. She’s dead. She doesn’t exist anymore.
Tommy—Ordustips my face up, coaxing me to open my eyes. I shake my head. If I look at him, I’ll see Tommy.
“Listen to me, Cindi.”
Cindi, not Kristy.
Cindi, Cindi, Cindi. Tommy doesn’t know that name. Thisisn’tTommy.
His eyes waver between green and blue, hair flickering between long and short.
Yes, that’s right. My name is Cindi. Kristy is dead.
Tommyis dead.
I try to stabilize my breathing, focus on pulling oxygen into my lungs. When I was younger, there was a cove Dad would take me to after school if I got a really good grade on a test. He’d take the afternoon off and get us a snow cone and a hot dog, and we’d sit and watch the seagulls swoop and squawk. Sometimes, a sealwould bark at us, and I’d squeal, insisting Dad let me pet it. If the weather was good, he’d let me swim there.
When I breathe in Ordus’ ocean breeze scent, filling my lungs until I’m completely consumed, I can almost feel the love and safety I felt hanging out with Dad. It’s that irreplaceable, childlike trust in someone. I know I can throw myself over the edge and there will be someone there to catch me.
I inhale deeply. There’s no hint of cheap cologne or the lemony cleaning products I used to clean the mansion’s marble kitchen, only Ordus and the musty cavern air.
When only the occasional shudder racks my body, I brave peeling my eyes open, and I shiver once I do. Before me stands a man with worry lines all over his face, concern in every divot and fold of his spotted tan-and-brown skin. The intensity would’ve knocked me off my feet if he weren’t holding me upright.
“Please, Cindi,” Ordus says like it’s a question. He’s asking if I’ll give him a chance to explain. “Listen to me. I promise you, I will not harm you. I swear it on the Goddess and my family’s honor.”
My fingers shake against his chest. If he wanted to force himself on me or make me marry him, he wouldn’t have waited for me to get a hold of myself.
If those krakens planned on killing me today, there would be more dead bodies on the beach.
“Why were they here?” My voice is hoarse, like it was whenever Tommy choked me.
Ordus’ gaze drops to my hand on his chest, working his jaw. “The Curse.”
“They want to kill me.” It was clear in the way they watched me. My anxiety spikes, flashing back to dinners with the Gallaghers, men with guns who’d leered at any woman who walked into a room or spoke without being spoken to.
His purr shifts into a displeased rumble. “I will not let them.”
“You can’t stop them.”
A haunted expression casts over his face. “I can. I am their king,” he says with conviction not even he believes.
“It didn’t look like that mattered to them, Ordus.”
Ordus nostrils flare, one hand falling to my shoulder. “They need me. They will not…” He can’t even look at me.
“What did they say?” I prompt when his eyes grow tortured.
Ordus suddenly sets me on top of a smoothed-out stone that acts as a makeshift table. The loss of warmth and stability rocks me to the core, and the panic rises up my spine.
