Page 11 of Craved By the Kraken Warlord

Every nerve screams *yes*. Every scar whispers *no*.

I arch against him. “Do it.”

He breaks.

His mouth crashes onto mine. The world ignites.

THE CLAIM

Va’thar’s under the surface, body thrashing, tentacles writhing. He glows brighter with each convulsion, a beacon of agony pulsing through the depths. His groans resonate, deep and guttural, vibrating in my bones.

I can’t just stand here.

I dive in, slicing through water toward him. The bubble forms around my head, magic keeping me dry as I swim. My heart hammers against my ribs. The water’s warm, buzzing with energy.

He sees me coming. His eyes widen, and he tries to back away, but I catch his wrist. His growl is a plea wrapped in warning—*“Don’t.”*

“Too late,” I whisper, and then I reach for him.

The contact is electric. His tentacles snap toward me, coiling around my waist, my thighs. They lift me, press me against the pool’s wall. The stone’s rough, but his touch is gentle, restrained. He’s shaking, fighting his own instincts.

*“Last chance,”* he grits out, voice reverberating through my skull. *“Tell me to stop.”*

My breath hitches. His bioluminescence flickers wildly, casting dancing shadows across his face. He’s raw, primal, barely leashed. And I’m the one holding the leash.

“Yes,” I say. The word is a whisper, a secret shared between us.

He inhales sharply, nostrils flaring. Then, he surrenders.

His mouth finds mine, and the world explodes. His kiss is fierce, hungry, devouring. His tentacles tighten, lifting me higher, spreading me open. I gasp into his mouth, and he groans, a sound that vibrates through me like thunder.

*“Mine,”* he growls. *“Mate.”*

His tentacles shift, one sliding between my thighs. It’s slick, warm, the tip tapered and soft. I jolt as it brushes against me, sending sparks skittering up my spine. He does it again, a deliberate tease, and I whimper.

*“More?”* he murmurs.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”

The tentacle presses harder, stroking, exploring. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt—it’s alive, responsive, curling and uncurling with each gasp I make. Va’thar watches me, eyes burning, jaw clenched. He’s holding back, waiting for my consent, my pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

His control snaps.

The tentacle at my core thrusts, filling me. I cry out, arching against the wall. Va’thar’s mouth finds my throat, teeth grazing, sucking. His claws rake down my arms, leaving trails of fire.

*“More,”* he rasps. *“Need more.”*

Another tentacle curls around my breast, the suckers latching onto my nipple. It tugs, rolls, and I moan, hands fisting in his hair. His growl deepens, a rumble that shakes the water around us.

He’s everywhere—inside me, around me, consuming me. Each touch is possessive, reverent. He worships me like a goddess, but he fucks me like an animal. It’s too much. Not enough. I want more.

“Va’thar,” I gasp. “Please—”

He understands. His tentacles shift, one wrapping around my hips, lifting me. The other slides out, only to be replaced by something hotter, harder. His cock. It’s massive, pulsing with his heartbeat. I brace myself, but he pauses, forehead pressed to mine.

*“Look at me,”* he commands.