46. Carol

46

Carol

Wind whipped past her. Her heart stuttered, memories flashing like lightning across her skin.

The plane.

The storm.

That night all those years ago, her so-called friends' laughter in her ears as she swallowed water.

Then she hit the water, and the ocean wrapped itself around her.

I'm home.

A home that might still leave her dead. The water was so cold, it pulled the breath from her lungs, her fingers and toes a blaze of pain that would fade to dangerous numbness. Her shark was built for waters like this, but her human body wasn't.

And with the collar around her neck, she couldn't shift.

She twisted underwater, kicking up towards the surface. Away from the boat.

And a nightmare chased her.

Moss dived after her. She saw him slice into the water, his powerful form hanging in the shadows beneath Fairchild's ship. His long hair floated around him, and opalescent light glimmered over his brown skin.

Then the ocean exploded around him as the kraken took form.

She rode the bow-wave of his transformation. Even miles were nothing to the kraken, but the farther they were from the ship, the better.

Then the world disappeared into shadow.

For the first time, her shark's eyes failed her. They couldn't penetrate the darkness surrounding her. Was this another type of magical defense, like the shadow dragons' ability to disappear from sight?

Then she realized.

It wasn't magical. It wasn't even darkness.

It was him.

Moss's shifted form was so massive, it blotted everything else out. A huge, shadowy expanse of coiling tentacles so big it was all she could see.

She was used to her great white being the most powerful creature in any given stretch of ocean. But next to him, she was insignificant.

Two lustrous eyes, each larger than she was tall, stared out at her.

* Now you see what I've been hiding from you. My true self. *

Moss's voice rolled through her head like waves breaking on wet sand. The roar of chaos softening, sinking in deep. She'd had a taste of it before. This was a banquet.

* I thought what I saw before was your true form. This is… this is…* Her mind gave up trying to find words. The kraken filled the ocean. It was the ocean.

No wonder Moss had been afraid he would lose himself to it. Whole worlds could disappear inside its bulk.

She wondered what else it might be hiding.

Moss's voice was quieter than should have been possible, from a creature so huge. *The kraken. Ship-killer. Monster.*

His huge tentacles coiled through the water. Above them, Fairchild's ship was a blot against the sunlight.

She really hadn't gotten them far enough away.

* I never wanted you to see me like this.*

*No. You wanted me far away before you started killing everyone on board, didn't you?* she asked ruefully. Surprise shimmered through their mental connection.

* The one thing my kraken and I agree on. They were going to kill you. I can't let—*

*You can't let me drown.*

The kraken's tentacles stilled. * That's why you jumped? To steer me away from them?*

*They're as much victims as I am, Moss. Fairchild's crew are all terrified of him. They had no idea what he was planning. And the Stymphalian bird shifters—he keeps them locked up.*

*How do you lock up a creature that can cut its way through anything?*

*By telling them you're taking them exactly where they think they want to go.*

She reached out carefully and touched his nearest tentacle. It was hard, leathery, and pocked with rigid scars—but somehow delicate, as well. * Don't hurt them, Moss.*

She felt him wince, shuddering through the mate bond. * I'm not sure it's up to me. The kraken. It… it doesn't see the same world that we do.*

*I'm asking the kraken, too.* Her lungs were beginning to burn; she didn't have much time. * Don't hurt them. You brought Moss to me during the storm. You came for me now. So stay with me.*

You too, she whispered to the silent shark lurking in the darkest reaches of her soul. Stay with me. I want you here. I always have.

Her heart swelled. For herself and Moss, and for his kraken and her shark. They were both stuck with these strange, inhuman creatures and instincts.

And their inner creatures were stuck with them. These strange, human animals with their complicated wants and needs and fears.

She ran her hand down his tentacle. It was firm and unyielding, a single powerful muscle designed to coil around its prey and destroy it.

Or protect it. Like now, surrounding her—she wasn't afraid. The kraken wasn't threatening her. It wanted to keep her safe. The same way all those phantom touches back on land had felt: worshipful, gentle caresses.

* We're both more than our inner animals,* she told the monstrous creature in front of her. * And they're more than we know, too. My shark wasn't ignoring me all these years. It was shy. Scared to unbalance the human whose soul it entered in the most terrifying moment of my life.*

Understanding and love, warm and caring, flowed through the mate bond to her. She made sure her shark felt it, too.

* Death isn't all your kraken wants.*

A tentacle brushed against her cheek. It was leathery and strong—but its touch was feather-soft. * No.*

*You don't want to kill anyone. I don't want you to kill anyone, either. So forget the ship. Stay with me. Save me. Starting with getting this thing off my neck.*

The kraken's huge eyes softened. It reached out for her, its tentacles thicker than her waist, capable of crushing solid wood and steel, as gentle as they were enormous.

And too big.

They realized it at the same time, tension ricocheting between them and their inner animals. The kraken couldn't break her collar. Not without snapping her neck, too.