Dredge of Darkest R'lyeh

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Beatrice

“Fuck,” Captain Noah groaned as he wrestled a very full crab pot over the boat railing. “That’s a big fucking boy.”

I glanced up from the sketchbook spread over my lap with an ear-to-ear grin, practically vibrating with mischief.

He shot me a salty look over his shoulder. “Don’t you dare say it—”

“That’s what she said!”

The captain didn’t crack a smile. Meanwhile I was laughing my ass off. Not because the joke was funny. Nope. The real fun was in ragebaiting the grumpy captain with my over-enthusiastic shenanigans.

“One more terrible millennial joke out of you before we dock, and it’s to the brig with you.”

His threat had me scoffing. “Not much of a threat there, Cap. Considering we don’t have a brig. Not unless you’re talking about the bathroom on curry night.”

He didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as he heaved the crab pot onto the deck with a thunk.

“Oh, come on, that one was funny.”

“Won’t be so funny when I take you up on your suggestion and cuff you to the toilet.”

“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “Pass.”

The man dropped to a crouch as he tugged thick gloves over his tattooed fingers.

The nights out here in the frigid northern Pacific were black as squid ink, and the lights affixed to our vessel didn’t do much to permeate the curtain-thick fog that seemed to follow us everywhere.

Yet, Captain Noah Visser’s piercing amber gaze cut through the murk like a hot blade through butter.

“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll cuff you to my bed then. That’ll make for a better punishment anyway.”

Noah’s ocean-deep baritone nearly knocked me off the overturned bucket I was seated on.

Great Gulf of Mexico. Our ballsy expedition to some of the most remote waters on the planet hadn’t killed me yet.

But spending months at sea trapped on a small fishing vessel with this specimen of a man just might.

We'd known each other since college. This wasn't the first, or even the hundredth time he'd flirted.

He loved teasing me. But damn, ever since we'd set sail on the voyage we talked about for years, he'd doubled down on his affinity for making me squirm.

Maybe it was all the isolation. After all, it was just the two of us out here.

Registering my incandescent blush, he turned back to his task of unloading the crab pot with a teasing hum. "With all the reading you do, you think you'd pick up some better jokes, Bea."

"I'm a biologist on a research mission. I've packed journals and relevant reading material. Not 1001 Jokes to Learn on the Can."

At that, Noah peaked back at me through the fog and snickered. "Relevant reading material? You mean all the monster fucker books you keep stuffed under your bunk?"

The burn in my cheeks blazed so hot, it spread through the rest of my body like wildfire.

It was true that it wasn't all non-fiction books I read in my free time.

So I loved monster romance, I wasn't ashamed.

He'd seen my dorm in college. Caught a glimpse of a tentacle toy I'd had in a drawer while looking for a lighter.

It wasn't exactly a secret. Didn't mean he had any right rifling through my shit.

Noah going through the storage beneath my mattress felt as invasive as if he admitted to raiding my underwear drawer.

"Excuse me. You have no business looking under my bunk, asshole."

"I agree, and I didn't look under your bed. Why would I? I know what kind of pervy shit you keep under there. Saw you up late reading last night. Started reading something new. How was the last book?"

"Really good," I answered after a beat. "The ending threw me for a loop."

"Nice. We should get you some more once we dock."

At that, my smile returned in full force.

The book I'd been reading last night had featured a hunky half-man, half fish monster on the cover.

There was no way he'd missed that. It would have been easy for a guy to get weirded out by that and treat me like some weird fish pervert.

Instead, he not only played cool, he encouraged me to read more.

You weren't supposed to fall for your best friend. Especially when he was also your business and research partner. But my god, Noah Visser was making it next to impossible to abide by that universal rule.

"So…" I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject, and nodded at the metal cage writhing in a tangle of chitinous limbs in the pale moonlight. "Anything good in the pots tonight?"

"Maybe," he hummed. "Cthulhu willing."

We'd been out at sea on our little research vessel—coined The Clamburglar—for weeks.

This was supposed to be the spot. Months, years of research had led to this.

And so far, nothing. The threat of having to go back to land with empty pockets was looming.

The pressure was getting to us. We'd sunk so much money into this expedition, but much more was riding on it. We'd bet our reputations on this trip.

It wasn't just the lack of specimens getting to us.

These were strange waters, covered by a near-constant fog so thick, it was impossible to see the horizon most days.

The nights were worse, with nothing but jet black waves that bled into the equally dark night for miles.

It was advised by the local fisherman to avoid sailing at night.

We ignored their advice. We were here on a mission, and what we were looking for only came out at night.

I exhaled in relief. “Thank fuck. I’m sick of white fish.”

Opening my tattered notebook I used for field research notes, I began to doodle our soon-to-be dinner.

There was nothing special about the specimen, but I needed something to do while I pretended not to ogle my shipmate…

Though I absolutely was. Hard not to, with how despicably hot Noah was, especially while doing manual labor.

His raven-black hair spilled over his amber eyes, plastered down by his blue beanie.

His throat tattoo—a monochrome band of Lovecraftian runes that wrapped around his neck—poked out from his jacket.

Even under his heavy layers, his hardened physique was evident in the way his muscles strained against the fabric.

I peeked at him through my bangs as he placed the large crab in a holding bucket and continued his search through the trap. Dungeness crabs, a sea star, and even a small octopus had wandered into the netted contraption.

One by one, Noah tossed them back into the water.

If my father, who’d been a fisherman all his life, was here, he’d lose his mind at all the good catches we threw back. Unlike Dad, we didn’t make our living selling our catch. Not when these waters had something far more valuable to offer.

“You should go inside. It’s getting nippy; it might snow soon,” Noah grunted.

Watching him in his element had a way of warming my whole body.

I agreed anyway and stood while rubbing the impression the bucket’s sharp rim left on my butt.

“Alright. I’ll start on dinner. But it’s your turn for galley duty tomorrow…

” My words trailed off when he pulled something unusual from the pot.

I hedged forward, jaw dropping. “Woah. Great Barrier Reef. What is that?”