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.
They’re tucked into a shadowed alcove, half-hidden behind a curtain of swaying kelp. Twelve figures, all women, carved in smooth black stone. Their faces are eerily detailed—wide eyes, parted lips, hands frozen mid-reach. A thirteenth plinth stands empty.
My stomach drops.
“Previous sacrifices,” I whisper.
The kelp brushes my shoulder, making me jump. Each statue’s base is etched with symbols I can’t read, but I don’t need translation. The dates span centuries. The last one—a girl with braided hair—is marked just ten years ago.
*Gone*, he’d said. *The sea took them.*
I back away, knees weak. The empty plinth gapes like an open mouth.
A splash echoes from the pool.
Va’thar emerges, water cascading off his shoulders. Four tentacles balance a woven kelp basket laden with fist-sized fruits, their skins glowing faintly pink. He freezes when he sees me, gaze darting to the statues.
“You could’ve warned me,” I say.
He sets the basket on the slab. *“You did not ask.”*
“Right. My bad for not inquiring about your creepy shrine.”
The tentacles still. *“They are memorials. Not trophies.”*
“Semantics.” I cross my arms. “Did you carve them?”
*“Yes.”* He won’t look at me. *“To remember… failure.”*
The admission softens something in my chest. Stupid. I nod at the basket. “What’s that?”
*“Food. You need strength.”* He plucks a fruit, offering it. The flesh shimmers like a pearl. “Eat.”
I take it, wary. The skin gives under my thumb, releasing a sweet, citrus scent. “Poisonous?”
*“To me. Not to you.”* He watches me intently. *“Bite.”*
I sink my teeth in. Juice bursts over my tongue—tangy, effervescent. It’s the best thing I’ve tasted in years. I devour it, sucking pulp from the rind. Va’thar’s markings flare brighter with each bite.
“What?” I wipe my chin.
*“Nothing.”* He turns away, tentacles coiling. *“You… enjoy it.”*
“Starving does that.” I grab another fruit. “How’d you even get these?”
*“Harvested. From the shallows.”*
“You left?” The idea unsettles me. “What if I’d tried to escape?”
*“You would have drowned.”* He says it matter-of-factly. *“The air bubble is bound to me.”*
I pause mid-bite. “So I’m on a leash.”
*“A tether. For safety.”*
“Yours or mine?”
He doesn’t answer.
We sit on opposite ends of the slab. I eat; he stares at the pool. The silence stretches, taut.
“How old are you?” I ask.
*“Time here is… different.”*
“Try.”
A tentacle flicks. *“I woke with the first ritual. When your kind began the sacrifices.”*
“Centuries,” I murmur. “And you’ve been alone since?”
*“Until now.”*
The fruit turns to ash in my mouth. I set it down. “Why do the rituals wake you?”
*“The magic is old. A pact between my kind and yours.”* His jaw tightens. *“Broken. Forgotten. But the call remains.”*
“So you’re stuck playing guard dog for a bunch of cowards.”
He blinks. *“Guard dog?”*
“Never mind.” I lean back on my palms. The kelp bedding shifts under me, velvety and warm. “What happens if the bond… seals?”
His nostrils flare. *“The heat fades. The tether becomes permanent.”*
“And if it doesn’t?”
*“You die.”* He says it flatly. *“I die. The cycle continues.”*
“Charming.” I dig my nails into the kelp. “So we’re on a deadline.”
He rises abruptly. *“Rest. I will check the perimeter.”*
“Wait.” I stand, too fast. Dizziness swims through me. “You can’t just drop that and leave.”
*“I must.”*
“Why? Because being near me makes you want to jump my bones?”
His tentacles slam against the floor. *“Bones are not involved.”*
“Figure of speech.” I step closer. His bioluminescence brightens, casting my skin in sapphire. “You’re avoiding me.”
*“Yes.”*
“Why?”
*“You know why.”*
The air thickens. My pulse hammers. He’s close enough that I see the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow, the way his throat bobs when he swallows.
I touch his wrist.
He jerks like I’ve branded him. A guttural growl rips from his chest. The sound shouldn’t be hot. It is.
“Mira.” My name is a warning.
“Va’thar.” A challenge.
His hand engulfs mine. Heat radiates from his skin, sharper than before. The markings along his arms pulse in time with my heartbeat.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper.
*“Yes.”*
He steps closer. His free tentacle brushes my hip, feather-light. I suck in a breath.
“You’re shaking,” I say.
*“You are…*” He shudders. *“Too much.”*
“Then stop.”
*“I cannot.”* His forehead drops to mine. The contact sends a jolt through us both. *“You are in my blood.”*
I fist my hand in his hair. It’s silky, cool. “So do something about it.”
He freezes. “What?”
“Claim me.” The words surprise us both. “If it’s inevitable, stop fighting.”
His growl deepens. Tentacles wrap around my thighs, lifting me until we’re eye-level. My legs instinctively lock around his waist. The proximity is dizzying. His scent engulfs me—salt and something darker, primal.
*“You don’t understand,”* he rasps. *“The heat… it will consume you.”*
“I’m not them.” I press my palm to his chest. His heartbeat thunders under my fingers. “I’m not afraid.”
A lie. I’m terrified. But not of him.
Of how much I want this.
His claws graze my jaw. *“You should be.”*
Then he’s gone.
The tentacles unravel. I drop to the slab, knees buckling. Va’thar staggers back, chest heaving. His markings flicker erratically.
“Wait—”
He’s already at the pool. Dives in without a ripple.
“Damn it!” I sprint after him.
The water is clear, lit by his fading bioluminescence. He’s a dark shape sinking fast, tentacles churning. I don’t think—just leap.
The bubble reforms around my head as I plunge in. Va’thar whirls, eyes wide. *“No!”*
I kick deeper. “You don’t get to run!”
He surges upward, catching me around the waist. We break the surface, crashing onto the slab. Water sloshes around us. He tries to pull away, but I cling to his shoulders.
“Let go!” he snarls.
“Make me!”
His control snaps.
Tentacles pin me flat. His body cages mine, radiating feverish heat. The markings blaze white-hot, searing my skin where we touch. His breath comes in ragged bursts, lips skimming my throat.
*“Last chance,”* he grits out. *“Tell me to stop.”*
Every nerve screams *yes*. Every scar whispers *no*.
I arch against him. “Do it.”
He breaks.
His mouth crashes onto mine. The world ignites.