Tommy’s needs never waited for daylight or full consciousness. Even if I was fast asleep, anything went. If there is a way to stay awake forever, to avoid opening myself up to that vulnerability, I would do it.
I don’t want to be around to find out what Ordus’ true intentions are. I don’t want to find out when it’s being forced upon me.
No one kidnaps people from their home if they’re a good person. Maybe this is a common occurrence amongst his kind—if there are more of him—but as far as I’m concerned, it’s not an excuse. Every creature is capable of good and evil. He’s choosing the latter.
With nothing to do and every intention of watching him like a hawk in case his plan was to fake sleep then pounce, he’s been my sole focus.
Light trickles in through from the ribbons of bioluminescent algae. It’s hard to pinpoint Ordus’ exact shade, other than the fact that it’s very distinctly not quite human. Sometimes his skin holds a blue coloring, while other times, it’s a medium tan over the center of his body that radiates into a reddish brown along his shoulders, arms, forehead, and the bottom half of his body. The light, spotted markings are more prominent along his tentacles like the local reef octopuses, dotted around his brow bones, beneath his eyes, along his shoulders and arms.
I’ve noticed his tentacles sometimes change colors as they move over the ground, darkening over the grey stone before shifting to a lighter brown over the driftwood and coconuts, then glimmering blue close to the algae. Even now, there’s a greenish tinge to the tentacles resting on the moss or over my damp teal dress.
It’s fascinating.
In Ordus’ sleep, he carefully wrapped his tentacle around my injured arm, keeping it slightly bent at the elbow, the wristcushioned over the thick limb. Maybe I’m losing my mind, but the appendage seems warmer than all the others. The suckers might also be puckering slightly—I can’t really tell from the pins and needles. Either way, the combination is weirdly soothing.
I would rather be knocked out by painkillers, though.
Movement sounds from the main cavern, jolting me out of my half-asleep state. I whip my attention toward the noise, unsure whether I should wake Ordus up or hope to whatever god listening that nothing bad is about to happen.
There’s a steadyclack, clack, clackof claws against stone, and before I know it, the shark-dog is flopping himself against my back, shoving closer so he’s flat against me, sandwiched between me and Ordus.
I hesitate. “Can you really understand me?”
His tail thumps the ground.
I’ll take that as a yes.
“Can you get me out of here?”
He snorts.
“I need to get out of here. My friends will be?—”
He slaps me with his tail, as if to say,“Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”
“Are you going to eat me?”
I contort my neck to watch him turn to look between me and Ordus. He shakes his head no but shows me his teeth in a confident yes.
That’s not very assuring.
Vasz—or fuckingVaszeline—lies back down, effectively dismissing me.
If someone really did lace my drink, I must be absolutely tripping balls to be able to come up with any of this.
I swallow, attempting to lubricate my mouth and throat. I’m half tempted to wake Ordus up to demand he fetch me water, but I’m pretty sure he’s just going to direct me to the pool.
I can’t imagine explaining humans only drink out of clean, bottled water will go down well.
Or that I can’t eat the fish unless he’s going to start a fire.
I fight sleep tooth and nail, forcing myself to keep my eyes open and mind alert to any change in breathing, atmosphere, or twitching. But at some point I lose the battle, because everything goes black.
The sound of movement comes from all around me, and my brows stitch together at the odd sensations. The taste of salt spreading over my tongue registers in my senses as something glides over my gums. Something is wrapped around my waist and legs. I can’t move.
No.
No.
