15. Eve
EVE
The throne room is deathly quiet.
Of all the wonders Harven’s castle offers, this room is by far the most decadent. A sprawling meeting hall made up of white marble floors and thick golden pillars. Impressive windows on either side showcase the ocean. Banners bearing the royal crest of a golden trident and pearls line the ceiling.
A shallow pool covers the floor. Cloud-like jellyfish float through the water.
Harven’s throne rests atop a dais. The cold, silver clamshell is fitted with a silken pillow on the sprawling bench. It would fit both of us side by side, but Harven has other ideas.
The moment we arrived, he settled me atop his lap.
I shiver as his tentacles wrap around my ankles and wrists. They are loose bindings, but I feel their possession all the same.
His large hand spans nearly my entire side as he holds me by the waist. Harven’s face looms over my shoulder, the picture of unwavering authority.
The sharkin guards in their sapphire armor look wary. Their fin-adorned hands grip their tridents tightly. No one dares make a sound.
I try to slow my racing heart as I take in the three bloodied figures at the guards' feet. One is merfolk, the other two sharkin with pale gray bodies. Leri has been helping me recognize the differences in their kinds.
One of them I recognize.
Lord Quilton’s short hair is disheveled. One of his fin-like ears is torn. Dark blood seeps from the wound and stains his silk shirt. Discoloration mars his temples. The heavy iron chains lock around his feet and hands. He is in the same sorry state as the other two. They aren’t going anywhere.
Harven’s jaw clenches for the tenth time. Menace seeps from him, chilling the white-hot lust that was burning in my veins just moments ago. It was good we came here. The quiet has given me a chance to sort through my jumbled mind.
It’s too soon to fuck him. I’m hoping once this bloody display is over, I will grow wary of Harven again. Not enough to fear him or keep my distance, but enough to remind me to be smart. He is a zealous protector when it comes to my safety.
Regardless, instincts tell me to be wary of a male who can kill so easily. Without conscience. How easily that violence could turn on me if I’m not careful.
I don’t think Harven would hurt me, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know him. It’s why I can’t give myself to him fully. Not until I ascertain more about his character.
Despite my assertion, that long-buried, wicked part of me rubs her hands together in glee. She loves his brutal nature and demands we fall in line as his submissive plaything.
I pointedly ignore her ridiculous suggestion.
Lord Quilton’s glowing eyes scan the room. One is starting to swell shut, but he still manages to narrow it at me. I stiffen under his glare. It’s shocking how strongly they can hate me solely for what I represent. I’m no physical threat to them, yet they treat me as one.
As Harven’s mate, I’m not entirely defenseless.
He is a commanding king who protects what is his, on principle. Failing to do so would be seen as weakness. Harven has made it abundantly clear that I am his. The way he holds me like I’m a war prize proves it.
The captured sharkins look dutifully down at the floor. Water seeps into their clothes. Harven’s masculine scent overpowers the room's dank smell. I fall further into him, letting his tentacles ravage me.
My tan skin is covered in suction marks. They’re as much of an indication of who I belong to as the hand on my hip.
Harven bares his teeth.
“Lord Quilton,” he bellows. “Explain yourself while you still have a tongue.”
The merman blanches. His bloody lips peel back as he braces his shackled hands on the floor.
“Lies, my king. All lies! I have been framed!” he screeches.
I can detect the deceit easily. The darkness in his eyes betrays his true intent. Harven notes it too with disgust. A humorless chuckle vibrates against my back.
Harven’s voice is deeper, rougher. The voice of the Kraken King.
“My spies found your correspondence, Lord Quilton. Corral engravings between you and these two, fitted with your royal seal. That was foolish to include. It made discovering your plot much easier.” His fingers slip beneath the slits in my dress to clutch my bare skin.
“You conspired with these two sharkins to steal my mate. Why?”
My blood runs cold. I knew this was about me, but to hear that Harven thwarted a kidnapping attempt—
Lord Quilton slams his blue lips shut. He turns his head, clearly refusing to answer.
Harven’s thumb traces my skin, as if reminding himself I’m safely in his arms. While he needs my womb, I’m safe.
What about after? Would he be so thorough in snuffing out these plots once he has his heirs, or will I no longer be worth the trouble?
My mind swirls. I can’t be certain until we spend more time together.
After a few weeks—a month—I’ll be more confident of my place here. I pray Harven can hold off for that long.
Harven turns a steely glare towards the sharkin on Lord Quilton’s left. The male trembles, disturbing the water around him. His gray skin is almost white. The fin on his back hangs loosely from meaty strands of flesh.
My stomach rolls at the gore. The stench of death rises.
“Speak.”
The cold fury in Harven’s voice makes me tremble. The sharkin lifts his gaze while the other one remains fixated on the floor.
“Tell me the truth, and I will ensure your death is quick. Lie to me and—”
The king lets the threat hang in the air. The sharkin’s dark eyes dart toward the shackled lord. He swallows thickly.
“Lord Quilton hired us to steal her,” the male confesses.
“Insolent fool!” the lord hisses.
Lord Quilton’s head snaps back as if struck by an invisible force. Metal dances through the air. Harven’s skin buzzes faintly, as if a faint electric current runs over it.
This is what his magic feels like.
“Why?” Harven snaps.
His calm expression betrays the storm raging in his eyes.
I lean closer. Despite my wariness, I can’t help but want to comfort him. Our bond pulses between us—pulling us closer when I should be fighting for more space.
“To see what magic she possesses. If she is your mate—the one promised by the Sea Witch she must wield power. She will give birth to the next full-blooded kraken. Lord Quilton believes that makes her something other than human.”
My hand drifts idly to my stomach.
Me, possessing magic? My magical womb strikes again. The sharkin lets loose a shuddering breath. Blood trails between his rows of broken teeth.
“And he believed that you didn’t have to be the one to impregnate her in order to birth the next king. Any of the seafolk could do it if she possessed the magic.”
A distant ringing echoes in my ears. My stomach cramps painfully. This goes beyond murdering me to weaken Harven. They want to use me for their own agenda in siring the next king.
Lethal rage pours into the room. Harven’s tentacles coil, ready to strike.
I fall deeper into him, but I’m not sure it’s wise. His disinterested mask cracks. He’s boiling with fury. Any traces of the male who let me tease him and watched me paint with soft eyes are gone.
This is not a male to seek solace from.
He wants me for the same reason they do—to produce an heir. While I may like Harven marginally more, that doesn’t change the facts of our dynamic.
I’m here to serve a purpose. My corpse would be rotting in the other room if fate hadn’t selected me as his.
It’s not a comforting feeling.
Harven slides me from his lap and deposits me on the throne. His tentacles spread down the marble steps. They splash into the water as he prowls towards the captives.
“Is this the truth, Quilton? Did you covet her, thinking she could make you king by producing the next kraken?”
The merman shakes his head violently.
“King Harven no—I—”
A lone tentacle whips out from beneath Harven’s skirt.
It wraps tightly around the lord’s neck. Quilton chokes, desperately clawing at the constricting appendage encircling his throat.
His tentacles have always been gentle to me. The violence they easily inflict makes my knees feel weak. I’ve been a fool to forget the type of threat Harven poses.
If I refuse him, will he bind me in the same manner until his heir is secured?
Harven drags Lord Quilton forward. His tentacles hold him upright, so he can glare directly into the male's eyes. The merman’s face turns a sickly shade of purple.
Harven’s tentacles slowly relax their hold.
“Think very carefully about what you say with your final breaths.”
Madness dances in the merman’s eyes. The male knows his death is coming. There’s no need to hide from the truth.
A cruel smirk twists his features.
“There are more of us,” Quilton croons. “They will come for her. Killing your brothers wasn’t enough to keep her safe.
Many in your court seek to steal her away.
Keep her—breed her. Just as I would’ve. If the future Kraken King was born of my seed, it would give me the power to overthrow you. Without an heir, you have nothing.”
He spits bile and blue blood onto the tiles.
“The gods may have blessed you with power, but you are weak. Cursed with a disgusting human whose only value resides between her legs.”
Quilton’s menacing chuckle rakes icy claws down my neck.
“Enjoy her cunt while you can, my king. Before the rest of the kingdom takes a turn.”
Two tentacles snap out and collar the lord’s throat. He groans as they tighten. Skin rips under the suckers. His neck bones crunch under the force.
The sharkins beside him buck with fear as the room temperature drops.
“It seems, Lord Quilton, you’ve forgotten what I’m capable of. You were there the day I killed my brothers. Seems you’re in need of a demonstration of my power.”
More tentacles coil around the merman.
They lift him by his bound arms and legs until he’s hovering mid-air. The appendages snap the iron shackles and encircle his wrists and ankles. Spreading his limbs out, the choking lord resembles a macabre starfish.
Harven’s magic gathers as silver mist. The oppressive power brushes up against my toes.