“A stove?” I do not appreciate the tourist’s condescending tone. “Seriously, dude. Is this a prank? Are you high? Because I’m?—”
“Get me one,” I snarl. My incisors threaten to make an appearance.
“I don’t live here. I don’t know where?—”
“Now.” No more excuses.
“Holy fuck. My Airbnb has one, okay? Is that fine? Just—just don’t hurt me.”
He speaks too much. “Take me there, and say nothing more.”
I snatch thephone—interesting choice of word—from him and shove him back toward the main street. I follow closely behind as he lumbers along, casting frightened glances back at me. “Will there be other hu—males there?”
He shakes his head. “Will you?—”
“No speaking.”
I only like when Cindi speaks.
It isn’t long until we’re entering an older villa in a quieter neighborhood not far from Cindi’s house. The male hands me thestovehe mentioned. It’s much smaller than the one in the video. There’s only one of the places the fire comes from instead of six, but it’s little and can be easily carried back to the island. It’ll do.
The male shifts and slowly backs away. “Look, I don’t want any trouble?—”
I throw him across the room. He must hit his head in the process, because he doesn’t move again. I revert my attention back to the stove.
Yes. Tomorrow, I will cook a fish for my mate.
Cindi is a hoarder, I have learned.
She has many of the same items—which I do not understand. She has over six pairs of shoes, just as many pants, over ten dresses, and at least twenty tops. One or two, I understand, but ten seems a lot.
I suppose this means humans change clothes many times. How often are they meant to do it? Will they get sick if they don’t? Weren’t the sailors I saw always wearing the same thing?
Krakens do not require such things, but the noble ones flaunt their wealth with jewels they’ve acquired. Some wear belts withpouches to carry more supplies, or necklaces made from the finest shells they’ve found.
Cindi has very little jewelry. No matter. I am a king. She has plenty to choose from.
My nostrils flare as I sort through the clothes on the floor. The male’s lingering scent is faint. Vasz was unable to pinpoint his smell to track him. My mate says someone is after her. I need to change that. My stomach ached seeing her upset like that. I wanted to hold her and reassure her nothing will happen, but words mean nothing to Cindi. I have to prove it.
I stalk toward the open closet door once more. Did Cindi bring enough clothes for her to be comfortable on the island? She only had three bags. It couldn’t have been sufficient.
I place the clothing in the hard-shelled rectangular item on the floor that opens like a grey clam with four little wheels at the bottom. Like a chest…except not. There were some items in it already, but I want my mate to have as many of her things as possible.
Content that Cindi will be sufficiently warm, I move to the cupboards beside her bed. One side has been emptied already; the other remains standing, drawers still intact. I cautiously pull the drawer out lest I break the contents inside it and upset my mate.
I stare at the bright blue object at the very top. I tip my head and frown, then tip my head to the other side. What is…
I pick up the rubber object. It’s nearly as long as my hand, yet my finger doesn’t reach my thumb at the base. Why does Cindi have a tentacle?
Cindi’s scent is all over the house, lingering on every fabric. It’s different now. Stronger, mustier, more… I inhale deeply.
My cock hardens, moisture immediately leaking from the tip. The tentacle smells of my mate’s sweet sex.
Did she…she… Blood rushes from my head, and I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the rubber tentacle that’s similar in shape to my own. I breathe her in again, imagining her taking my appendage instead of a toy. The sounds she’d make. How her eyelids would flutter. How her full lips would pout.
My human mate is attracted to krakens.
The thought both thrills me and makes my hearts ache all the same. Clenching my jaw, I place the item in the clam-chest.
