As blissful as it is to have my Goddess-sent mate, it’s hard to find true joy in it when Cindi is acting like I’m going to suffocate her. I am just trying to help.
I take care not to sneak my arm beneath her dress. I need to be completely focused to tend to Cindi. It’s what she deserves. I can’t mess it up. Yet, my cock is hardening from having her in my arms, recalling the smell of her lust, the red blossoming on her skin.
I force myself to think of anything else: stargazer fish, rotting shark, the rubbish near the mainland.
“I am trying to clean your wounds, human.” It doesn’t come out as delicately as I would like, more of a rasp than anything else.
“I don’t need your help,” she huffs, poking me with the driftwood. Her hair stands up at odd ends as she wriggles in my grip, foolishly thinking she stands a chance. Not wanting her to hurt her arm further from the tiny punches she’s throwing at me, I gently wrap my tentacles around her arms, trapping them to her side.
“Ugh,” she complains. “Take me home. I can deal with it myself.”
Must she keep repeating the same thing? “The Goddess decided you are my mate. You are home—” Time stills as I watch her sink her teeth into my tentacle.
Not only has my mate marked me twice, but she’s…claimingme?
The breath rushes from me, mind reeling at what might be her true intention, making me lightheaded. I don’t think humans are aware of the significance behind such an act. The marks a female leaves on her male is used to complete a marriage under kraken customs. For a female to bite her male is a marriage in the eyes of the Goddess, a promise that not even his death will separate her from him. It’s one of the rituals to fulfill a bond.
My cock thickens, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it from moving toward her.
Oh, that will anger her.
I clear my throat. I’m struggling to think clearly. I’m certain it wasn’t her intention, but my body does not understand that. “My beloved, you can try biting me later. You’re hardening my breeding arm when you do that, and I am trying to be a good mate to you.”
“Your what—” Her eyes round at my sex sliding up her leg. It’s much the same as my tentacle, except it has a bulbous end that swells with my seed when I’m aroused—which has never happened before this day. “Holy fuck. What is that?” she breathes out.
“My breeding arm,” I grunt, moisture leaking under her attention. It spills onto her leg when the smell of her lust hits the air.
I want to roar from the possessive instincts surging to life. I’m marking her with my scent. Every creature will know she belongs to me. And she isn’t screaming.
Her breath comes out in a rush. Cindi’s eyes have an awed bewilderment to them that matches the sweet notes of desire and curiosity from her. The heat of her gaze has a low groan rumbling through my chest.
The sound snaps her out of her trance, making her go back to fighting me. “Get that thing away from me,” she says, voice heavy with something other than disgust.
I grit my teeth. Her words are at odds with the way she clearly desires me too. My mate looks at me like I’m a monstrosity, and yet, this is the second time her body has reacted in such a way.
It’s likely fate forcing Cindi’s hand, her physical form responding to our connection.
She doesn’t actually want me.
My anger rises at the realization—a muted thought somewhere beneath the cloud of lust.
She suddenly stiffens and lowers her gaze in an act of submission. I force myself to relax, wanting to shower her with my devotion to prove that though my fury runs deep, she willalwaysbe safe with me.
My breeding arm bobs against her, seed dripping onto her smooth skin. I open my mouth without thinking. “Yes, that’s what I was trying to say. Do you have problems with your hearing—” I clear my throat. This is mymate, not another kraken.
My tentacles have locked up around her, refusing to release Cindi or put space between us so I can deal with the agonizing distraction. No matter how hard I try, my repeated attempts at softening my sex or lowering it back down isn’t working. I’m going to keep saying the wrong thing.
“Show me your feet,” I try softly. Focusing my attention back on her injury might make my limbs compliant again.
Her jaw drops, and her earlier show of placation vanishes. “While your cock is staring at me? I think the fuck not. You’ve got the wrong girl for that, buddy. Why are you?—”
Cock.
A shudder works down my spine from hearing that word on Cindi’s lips.It’s a new word I’ve been hearing humans use more and more. I never found it very appealing until my mate said it.
My bulb hardens until it’s excruciating. I clamp my mouth shut to suppress my pained groans, stars flashing behind my eyes.
My hand wraps around the knot, imagining it’s Cindi’s instead, and I stroke, trying to lessen the tension enough for my limbs to settle so I can think clearly. The pressure sends stars shooting behind my eyes as more of my seed drips onto my tentacle before pooling on her smooth skin.
