3. Harven
HARVEN
“How many?” I demand.
My fingers dig into the arms of my golden clam-shell throne. Anger causes my tentacles to snap along the marble floor. I inhale the briny air through my nose and sigh.
After centuries of breathing this way, air offers little relief compared to open water.
Once this report is finished, I’ll need a good long swim to revive myself. My whole court's ability to breathe air won’t matter if I never find her. Another tidal wave of anger washes over me. My lips peel back from my teeth.
The throne room is somber as it is after every unsuccessful hunt.
My guards in their sapphire armor clutch their golden tridents tightly, avoiding my gaze. My council lords studiously take stock of the gold veining in the floor. They know the pain I can inflict when provoked. The need to spill blood pounds through me.
I can’t give in to the instinct, not yet.
My Pearls are arranged artfully on the white marble steps. Seera, Bly, and Nixie wear dark blue silks. Seera’s teal hair is braided loosely down her back, while Bly’s muscular stomach is coated in silver dust. They look bored, while Nixie looks as she always does.
Her full lips curl upwards as her flowing navy hair is threaded with fresh water pearls. Her hard nipples press through the sheer fabric of her gown. Her gaze lingers on mine. Hungry, seeking—wanting.
I’ll visit their chamber tonight. The need to fuck away my disappointment burns in my veins. The seed I spread between them will be useless.
Everything I’ve fought so hard to keep will turn to dust if I can’t find her. The Sea Witch made sure of that. Without an heir, the throne I spilled blood to gain will be for nothing. My Sea Council grows restless with each year that passes without finding her.
I see them whispering to each other around the room. Hiding their plots behind jeweled sleeves in low voices. Cowards all of them. They are careful not to meet my eye, but I see their disdain all the same. The king who was never supposed to be. The unworthy bastard who will lead them all to ruin.
My tentacles coil, ready to strike.
“One-hundred-and-forty-two, Uncle,” Princess Hyra says solemnly.
Her fathomless blue eyes betray the careful mask she’s arranged on her lovely face. Draped in pale silk, her flowing blue tentacles hang limply next to her webbed feet. They match her skin. It’s the same hue as my own. A marker of our shared blood.
Hyra hates the practice. She has made her disdain for all those who have perished beneath the waves over the centuries known. The deaths have made her angry. A similar rage kindles within me, mixing with unbridled disappointment.
I had been certain this vessel would contain her. Had been sure enough that I sent a larger horde of sharkin and royal guards than usual. An invisible string pulled me toward it, but it seems it was a misplaced hope.
My skin feels stretched too tightly over my bones. The physical weight of having to endure more months—more years—without her is excruciating. I used to have remorse over those who died, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Not when my people's survival depends on her being found. I can admit that losing so many females is wasteful. It doesn’t change that none of them are mine. They can’t bear my heirs. It’s why they don’t survive in my palace.
Only she can endure it.
Once she is in my possession, I will care for her. She will be protected. Especially once my heir is in her womb, securing my line and silencing the detractors littering my court.
I wouldn’t share her bed beyond procreation if she didn’t wish for it. That’s what my Pearls are for. To attend to a king's needs.
They are my lovers. She would be my mate. My queen. She need not suffer my attention once she has fulfilled her obligations. She will be happy here. I’ll make sure of it.
If she wanted to keep her own lovers, I would permit it so long as precautions were taken not to get her pregnant. She was meant to only bear my young.
That is, if I ever managed to find her.
“All have died.”
It’s not a question, but Hyra nods anyway. Her eyes harden in time with her jaw. The room buzzes with soft chatter. My hands curl into fists. The weight of my crown presses against my brow.
More wasted souls. More searching. How long will the Sea Council give me before pressing the issue again?
The throne is mine by blood, but they could make my life more difficult if they begin to suspect I’m unfit.
If I can’t secure my line of succession, questions about my replacement will arise.
I’m stronger than all of them, but that won’t always be the case.
Maybe I should kill them all before they get the chance to move against me.
Nixie rises from the floor like a rippling current. With a mournful sigh, she reclines in my lap, her face the picture of sympathy. Her glowing blue eyes give away her true intent.
Her dress gapes open, revealing her flat, glittering stomach. Her blue scales sparkle in the dim light. Normally, I’d enjoy the wanton display, but as her hand strays to my bare chest, irritation rises instead of my cock.
“Don’t blame yourself, King Harven. Maybe your true mate isn’t human after all.”
Her words worsen my already foul mood.
With a disinterested flick of my tentacles, I push her from my lap. Nixie lands with a dignified thud. Her narrowed gaze bleeds away as her mask of sensual elegance returns in an instant.
Nixie is many things, but she is not my queen, no matter how many times she’s pushed to be. She’d do well to remember her place. If things were different and I wasn’t forced to bear this curse, I could’ve sired a dozen children with her over the centuries.
Unfortunately for Nixie, my seed will never quicken within her.
No child of mine will ever grow until I find my mate. My mate, who’s been born into the fragile body of a human far beyond my reach. Just as the witch intended.
This is all her godsdamn fault.
As if my thoughts had summoned her, hazy black smoke pools along the floor. The temperature drops as a figure seeps from the dingy mist. Tendrils of inky black hair spill onto the floor. Her serpentine body unfurls in a stained white gown.
The hem is tattered, revealing her fin-like feet. Black claws tip her bony fingers. Wholly black eyes peer up at me through her curtain of hair. Dark magic fills the air and burns my lungs with its rotten stench.
A snarl loosens from my chest. With coiled tentacles, my knuckles turn white as they curl into the metal.
“Come to gloat?” I snap.
The Sea Witch Gyll merely curves her pale lips. This is a familiar part of the routine, for her spell tests each of the females I drag down here from the surface. Technically, their deaths are at her hand.
She doesn’t know what my mate looks like, or so she tells me.
The ritual will determine if the soul the human female bears is my kindred. Those who don’t possess the magic inside them wither and die. I’ve lost count of the number who have perished inside the ritual chamber.
As much as my anger is directed at Gyll, her motives still remain elusive. She did not lay her curse on me directly. She aids me in a sense, but cannot point me towards my mate. She is a servant of the tides as well as their master. Neither good nor bad, the Sea Witch Gyll just is.
A fact I find increasingly irritating with every passing year.
Ignoring my snarl, her dark eyes swirl as she purrs, “You’ve been tricked, my king.”
My blood runs cold as she snaps her frail fingers. From her cloud of dark smoke, one of my sharkin guards appears at her feet. His royal uniform is in tatters. The oily, bluish-gray skin covering his bare chest is torn. Dark blood trickles from the wounds.
The Sea Witch brushes a hand over his backfin, and he shivers. Heavy iron shackles hang from his meaty wrist. Blood seeps between his broken teeth. Whatever torment she’s inflicted on him has left a lingering impression.
He’s not a guard I’m familiar with.
“He stole one of the humans,” Gyll continues, claws pressing into the sharkin’s flesh. “Hid her away in his private quarters. She could’ve died without magic for so long.”
My growl vibrates through the room.
The humans must be brought straight to the castle. My magic has crafted this sprawling, marble palace to support human life. Too long in the ocean will kill a human. They need air to breathe.
Gyll’s ritual will also help preserve my mate this far below the surface.
“Quell your rage. The human has been recovered.”
My tentacles slide along the floor with predatory grace as I approach the trembling guard. An inferno churns inside me, demanding I spill blood.
“Speak,” I command.
The sharkin pales, shaking his head from side to side.
“I’m s—sorry, my king. I hadn’t meant to take her. She was just so beautiful. I thought that you wouldn’t miss one of them. They all die anyway—”
I snarl at his words. My failures couple with my anger as my tentacles slink forward, itching to rip his arms from his body. His eyes finally lift to meet mine, beseeching mercy.
“I thought if I kept her she would—”
“Live,” the Sea Witch interrupts. “Despite your foolish act, it seems to have paid off. She is alive. Even after my test.”
The word almost doesn’t register. My anger is too great. It’s blighting everything around me. The ache in my chest grows, sparking with a newfound warmth. I rub at the sore spot as the room around me goes silent.
The wide eyes of my councilmen and Hyra’s gasp shock me into my body. I replay the witch’s words. Fire spreads through my veins. Alive. The human is alive.
That means—oh, gods—that means she has to be—
“Where is she?” I demand.
With fluid grace, Gyll gestures towards the door.
“Shackled with all the others. May I suggest that when she wakes, the first being she sees is alive.”
My hands shake as the sharkin falls forward. His fate is sealed, and he knows it. That doesn’t stop his pathetic begging.
“King Harven. Please, mercy—I didn’t know. Please, pl—”
His words are cut off as my tentacles collar his throat. A loud screech cuts through the throne room as I wrench his body into two bloody halves. Crimson spills over the tiles as his torn flesh hits the ground.
He touched my mate. Sought to keep her from me. The only punishment for that is death.
Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks of touching her. Death will come swiftly for those who covet what belongs to me. And belong to me she does.
My instincts had not been wrong. No one would survive Gyll’s test if she wasn’t my true mate.
Finally, she is here. Awaiting me just down the hall. I have already wasted too much time.
“My king,” Nixie calls.
“Uncle, wait—”
I pay them all no mind. My counsel rushes me, but they know better than to delay my journey to her.
Lest they want to join the sharkin in death.
My tentacles slap down the hallways as the ritual chamber looms behind a heavy stone door.
Ancient runes of protection have been carved into the surface and backfilled in silver.
My heart thunders in my chest. After centuries of searching, it’s overwhelming that I’m about to meet her. Touch her. Feel her heartbeat against my hand.
I’ve imagined what she’s looked like countless times. How she’ll glow when pregnant with my heir. My mouth waters at the faceless image. Demanding that I make it real immediately.
I push open the heavy doors with a groan.
The scent of death hangs heavy. Corpses of the captured human women litter the small cots around the room. Their skin is already graying. Milky eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. A few have begun to bloat and rot.
It doesn’t take me long to find her. She glows like the brightest pearl.
The air freezes in my lungs as I stalk towards her. She smells of citrus and sunshine. The sharkin had been right. She is beautiful.
I fall to the floor. My tentacles absorb the impact.
She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Every detail of her perfect existence is seared into my memory. My heart reaches for hers, syncing our heartbeats into a gentle rhythm. There is no denying that she is my mate. The primal urge to have her burns hotly in my blood.
My hands shake as they grip the thin mattress.
I take in every inch of her. Golden hair spills in soft waves over her shoulders. Matching thick lashes rest atop her freckled cheeks. Her full lips are the color of pink coral.
She is dressed similarly to some of the other humans. A short-sleeved shirt is unbuttoned, baring the sparkly fabric covering her chest. My fingers itch to remove it. To taste and suckle from her breasts just as my heir will one day.
Her covering ends at the top of her lithe thighs. Her waist is narrow, and her hips are deliciously shapely. My cock kicks to life as I listen to her gentle breaths.
I’ve studied the human body, learning the difference between them and the seafolk. I’ll know how to pleasure her thoroughly just as soon as she opens her eyes.
She looks impossibly soft and smooth. All mine. The word clangs through me.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
There’s a large welt on the side of her head. A red ring marks her wrist where the shackle has been clasped too tightly. My heart thunders at the signs of her mistreatment.
She’ll never experience pain again. She is with me now. I’ll keep her perfectly safe. Forever.
After all this time, through all the odds and uncertainty, she is within reach.
My tentacles show no restraint as they trail against her soft skin. I groan at the feeling of her against my suckers. My hand clasps hers. She’s so fragile. Her sweet scent envelops me.
Does she smell this sweet everywhere? I long to find out. To taste her essence straight from the source between her thighs. Holding her small hand between my large one, I press a kiss to the back of it.
Her eyelids flutter, but she remains asleep.
“Wake up. Please, my mate, wake up.”
I’ve never begged for anything in my life. The pleading tones in my voice are strange, but I can’t bring myself to care. Nothing matters while I’m touching her.
“Let me see your eyes, my mate. I’ve been waiting to meet you for centuries. You are more beautiful than I ever imagined. I just want to see you. Please, wake up. Please.”
I kiss her hand again. Her golden brows furrow as her lashes flutter. With a groan, she twitches on the cot. After what feels like an eternity, her eyelids finally peel open.
I feel caught in a rampant tide. Swept away by her gaze, I happily drown in the depths of her swirling blue eyes. Open water is where I’ve always felt most at peace, but under the weight of her stare, I finally feel like I’m home.
“Gorgeous,” I breathe.
My tentacle sweeps over her cheek as I lean forward. Her breath catches as our faces drift close. This is it. The moment I’ve killed thousands for. A kiss to make the centuries of loneliness worth it.
Swallowing a groan, I press closer and—
A blood-curdling scream rips through the room, shattering my heart in an instant.