8. Catalina

8

CATALINA

Iwouldn’t call myself a particularly brave person, but I also wouldn’t think the sight of so much water would fill me with the kind of fear that has me fighting to claw away from Thane and get back into the tunnels. They were claustrophobic, but at least I knew their parameters, lit as they were by strange glowing in the rock formations.

But this?.?.?. ocean? Sea? I don’t even know the proper term for it. It stretches out as far as the eye can see, the deep blue playing with my perception. Can I actually see for miles, or is it really much closer? Could there be a monster out there, all scales and teeth, just waiting for a foolish human to swim too close?

A hand under my chin gently draws my face away from the open water to look up at Thane. His hair tentacles float around his head, which might make me freak out more, but his expression is comforting in its coldness. Everything else may be different below the surface, but not this man.

He studies my face, and maybe not looking directly at the water should calm me, but I can’t catch my breath. I’m breathing underwater and I don’t think I’ll ever not be awed by that. This is too much newness, too fast.

Thane says something, I think, but I hear a series of clicks I don’t understand. Apparently the translation spell doesn’t work with this underwater language for some reason. I shake my head helplessly. Or maybe it’s my entire body shaking.

His brows draw in, and then he shifts his arm around me so that a single arm holds me, his bicep to my back, his big hand gripping my thigh closest to him. Later, I’ll marvel that our size difference is enough for him to do this. I don’t have time right now, not when he grips my upper thigh with his free hand, so high up that his knuckles brush my bare pussy.

The shock of the touch freezes me. My gaze flies to his face, only to find him looking at me in question. Just like that, I remember my irreverent comment before we descended.

It’s nothing a good fucking can’t fix.

Apparently he’s decided finger fucking will be good enough for this purpose. There are a thousand reasons not to do this, but I’m not thinking of any of them right now as I stare into his inky eyes. In fact, I’m not thinking of the dangers of open water either. I hadn’t been 100 percent serious before, but right now I think I might die if he doesn’t keep going.

I nod jerkily. It’s all the consent he needs to palm my pussy. His hands are so big that he’s essentially palming my entire nether regions. I jolt as Thane starts to swim again, but I can’t focus on our changing surroundings. Not when he’s gently sliding his fingers through my folds.

It’s not like it was before when he held me splayed out with his tentacles. That was easier to process. I challenged him, and he put me in my place with orgasms. A simple equation.

This?.?.?. isn’t.

This feels like more than conquering. It feels like care. Normally that would be enough to freak me the fuck out, but there’s too much going on in this moment to freak out about. Being touched like this by Thane hardly ranks.

The pressure increases as we slowly descend to coast along the surface of the coral reef. Movement out of the corner of my eye makes me tense and start to whip around, but Thane chooses that moment to press a single large finger into me. He tests me for a moment, and then a second finger joins the first.

Oh fuck, that feels amazing.

The tentacles were good, but the hardness of his fingers, the roughness of his slow strokes, hits an entirely different kind of good. He shifts me in his arm and spreads my legs a little more, giving him better access.

And yet I can’t fully give myself over to the feeling. We’re moving too fast—laterally, so there’s no worry about the bends—and I keep seeing things that make my mind scream in fear, sure that we’re about to be eaten.

Thane shifts me higher on his chest, and then his mouth is at the corner of my jaw. His lips move against my skin, and everything goes black as one of his hair tentacles covers my eyes. I freeze, fear rising hard enough to make my head spin, but he keeps up that thorough fucking with his fingers.

My fear recedes one heartbeat at a time. Without any visual input, I only have the rhythmic movement of Thane’s body as he swims, the pleasure he deals out in steady waves. Even the tentacle around my eyes is a comfort after a few moments, its weight steady and reassuring.

Thane builds my desire slowly. Distantly I’m aware that he’s drawing it out to ensure I’m distracted through the entire trip, but I don’t give a damn. I’m shivering and shaking, but with need instead of terror.

Then he adds his thumb to the mix, sliding it against my clit with each slow stroke. I try to writhe, to get him to pick up his speed, to focus there, but he ignores me.

Somehow that’s even better.

Pleasure builds and builds, drawn in tighter and tighter by his touch. I can’t focus on anything but his hand between my thighs. I barely register that we’re rising slowly and the pressure in my head is receding incrementally. I’m surprised when my head breaches the surface and the tentacle eases from my eyes.

I blink up at Thane. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.” I’m so close to cumming, I’m shaking.

He doesn’t answer with words. His face is even more forbidding than normal as he lifts me onto the rock ledge. I get the impression I’m in a cave, and then he pushes me onto my back and unceremoniously shoves my thighs wide. This time, three fingers spear me. I cry out, my fingers scrambling over the rock as I search for something to hold on to.

Then his mouth finds my clit.

I think I forget to breathe. Surely this isn’t happening. Thane doesn’t like me. He was only finger fucking me to keep me from panicking and being a pain in his ass. Surely he’s not licking my clit right now and making a humming noise that vibrates through my entire body.

Maybe this isn’t about me at all. Maybe he just likes giving head. Or he just wants to end this and has decided his mouth is the quickest solution.

Except, once again, my body doesn’t give a fuck if this is all in my head or actually happening. I cum with a strangled scream that might be his name.

Thane presses his forehead to my stomach and gives me three more long strokes with his fingers. My orgasm scrambles my thoughts, but I still hear him say, “This is your new home now, Catalina.”

Then he’s gone, disappearing beneath the water with barely a ripple.

I press a shaking hand to my eyes. “Thane, king of krakens and mixed messages.” That’s twice now that he’s delivered a soul-breaking orgasm and then fled the area. I don’t know if it’s shame or guilt or some misguided honor kicking in, but fuck, it stings.

I want to see the orgasms as care. Good god, I want to see them as proof that he’s not as remote as he’s acted since I met him. Proof that if I just try harder, he’ll warm to me. It’s a lie. I’ve gone down this road before. I’ve even attended enough therapy to know why I do it.

Poor Catalina, her mommy was neglectful to the point of abuse, now she seeks out every single unattainable partner she can find, attempting to prove she’s worthy of love.

Anger and shame are a heady mixture, and they get me off my back and onto my feet. A quick look around the space shows I’m in a cavern that’s half water and half stone. The walls curve up into darkness, the ceiling so high, I can’t make it out. Panic has just started to lick its way up my throat when I see the dark curving staircase. It’s been carved right into the wall, and there’s no railing, but it’s wide enough that I should be able to climb safely.

Fool that I am, I glance back at the dark pool of water. It’s completely still, not a single ripple to suggest Thane has done anything but leave the premises as quickly as possible.

“A totally normal thing to do after you finger a lady and then suck on her clit until she cums screaming your name.”

No one answers. Why would they? I’m entirely alone.

The thought makes me break out in goose bumps. “No. Not alone. I don’t know that.” Thane wouldn’t do that to me. He may be cold, but he hasn’t shown any evidence of being cruel. Surely he’s not going to start now?

There’s only one way to find out.

It takes a very long time to reach the top of the stairs. I have to take three breaks, sinking onto the stone and rubbing my shaking thighs each time. There isn’t a single doorway or exit the entire time, not until I get to the very top. When I see the heavy wooden door, I almost convince myself I’m imagining it—that this staircase never ends and I’m in some hellish purgatory that will have me climbing forever as payment for some imagined sin.

Well, no need to imagine it. I’ve sinned plenty, at least according to the church people who have tried to save my soul periodically throughout my life. Too bad I’m not looking to be saved.

Liar.

I ignore the nasty little voice in the back of my mind and shove open the door. Or I try. It’s even heavier than it looks, and it’s swollen—likely from the salt air—into the doorframe. I have to shove my shoulder against the wood to even get it to budge. By the time it swings reluctantly open, I’m sweating and cursing Thane’s name.

The other place wasn’t so bad. Yes, the people avoided me, and there was that unfortunate incident with Henryk in the kitchen where he threatened to murder me, but at least I was dry and warm and not having to muscle my way through doors and into?.?.?.

I look around. “Thane, I’m starting to think you hate me.”

The halls and staircase seem to be carved from the same kind of stone, and I might find it beautiful if it wasn’t so damp. I pad on bare feet across a floor that I’m pretty sure is dry but feels vaguely wet.

Up until this point, my outrage and adrenaline were getting me through, but it’s as if reaching this hallway has the reality of this situation hitting me all at once. I’m just as damp as this hallway, my torn dress clinging to my skin and not covering the essentials. My hair is still wet and hanging down my back, my body hurts, and I’m hungry.

I search through the rooms I find, but they’re all unoccupied. More than unoccupied. They give the feeling of being abandoned entirely. Just like me. With each room that I find empty of even furniture, the panicked feeling inside me grows. “Don’t do this to me, Thane.”

By the time I find a room that actually has furniture, I can’t draw a full breath. No people. No damned people. But at least there’s a bed. I slap the covers, and only a small cloud of dust rises. “Good enough.”

I collapse onto the bed and close my eyes. “I can do this. It’s just a little isolation. I’ve done this before. I can do it again.”

I’ve lied to myself plenty of times over the years. Nature of the beast. The lies have never filled me with such hopelessness as these ones do.

It’s entirely possible that I can’t do this.