Page 7 of Craved By the Kraken Warlord

*“Don’t,”* he growls.

“Why?” My fingers hover near his jaw.

His mental voice splinters. *“If you touch me again, I cannot answer for what happens next.”*

Slowly, deliberately, I press my palm to his cheek.

He makes a noise that’s half groan, half snarl. His hand flies up, clamping around my wrist. But he doesn’t pull me closer. Doesn’t push me away.

He trembles.

Not with fear.

*Need*.

The bioluminescent markings flare like supernovas. Our faces are inches apart. His breath gusts hot against my lips, carrying a subsonic hum that makes my teeth ache.

*“Mira.”* My name, in that impossible voice, undoes me.

“Va’thar.” Testing it.

He shudders. His claws slide into my hair, careful, tilting my head back. I should knee him. Bite. Run.

I don’t.

His nose grazes my throat. *“You should not want this.”*

“I don’t,” I lie.

*“Liar.”*

The word thrums down my spine. His mouth hovers over mine. The hum crescendos, buzzing in my marrow. It’s not sound. It’s *him*—his hunger, his restraint, warring beneath the surface.

His tentacle brushes my calf. I jump.

Va’thar jerks back as if scalded. Before I can react, he’s across the grotto, shoulders heaving. The markings along his skin dim to embers.

*“I shouldn’t… touch.”*

The words whip through me, sharp with self-loathing. Then he sinks into the pool, vanishing beneath the water’s agitated surface.

Leaving me alone.

Shaking.

Hollow.

*Alive.*

THE HUNGER BUILDS

The grotto feels larger without him. Or maybe I’m just smaller. I pace the perimeter, trailing fingers over walls that hum with faint warmth. The coral isn’t coral—it’s alive, retracting slightly at my touch like sea anemones. I yank my hand back.

*Don’t be stupid. He’s the real threat here.*

But the thought rings hollow. Va’thar hasn’t hurt me. Not yet.

I find the statues by accident.