A Reckless Oshea
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SADIE
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I turn, whipping around in absolute black.
Where is it?
I do another spin.
There.
Up ahead, two pale dots hover in the void. Eyes. I can’t tell how far away the thing is, but I’m positive it’s too close for comfort. I’m so fucking tired of trench monsters.
The eyes blink once, then move. The massive shape unfurls from the black, long and jagged and fucking huge. It makes the monster I saw before look like a joke. This is a deepweaver. I’m certain of it.
Panic mounts, and a scream erupts from me before I can stop it. Kyros said to scream if I’m in trouble, and while I’m not confident he’ll actually come, it’s all I have.
The sound vanishes into the trench, swallowed instantly by the dark as I kick backward.
My heel catches on uneven rock, and the brief flicker of relief I feel at having found the trench wall is quickly overshadowed by pain as I slam into it hard enough to see stars.
Pain flashes along my spine as the deepweaver lunges.
A streak of crimson tears through the dark.
He came.
Kyros is again lit up like a Christmas tree, vibrant veining spreading all along his upper body as he slams into the side of the creature with enough force to send both of them spinning into the trench wall.
The impact shakes the stone around us, and the deepweaver lets out a low, blood-curdling roar that I feel more than I hear.
Kyros doesn’t stop.
He draws his dagger and drives it toward the creature’s neck. At the same time, he smacks me with his tail, shoving me away. I gasp as I’m pushed out of the animal’s reach, but I refuse to look away from Kyros.
His blade bounces off the animal’s tough skin—or whatever the hell this thing is armored with—and the deepweaver thrashes.
It snaps its jaws inches from Kyros’s throat.
“Kyros!”
He ignores me. Probably for the best.
The deepweaver surges again, all muscle and teeth. Kyros twists at the last second, dragging the fight away from the trench wall and into slightly more open water. He’s doing it to protect me.
That realization alone is enough to send me into an emotional spiral.
If only we had time for it.
Which we don’t.
The deepweaver clips Kyros with its tail.
My heart stops, and I’m helpless to do anything but watch as Kyros spins with the force of it.
I wait for the final blow. The deepweaver is gearing up for it, his body angled for another hit, but Kyros rights himself and slams his dagger into the soft place beneath the creature’s jaw.
Black blood bursts into the water.
The deepweaver convulses.
Kyros rips the blade free and stabs it again.
And again.
Finally, he drives his shoulder into the beast, sending it careening back toward the dark. It sinks quickly, the black swallowing it whole.
Kyros turns toward me. “Come on.” His voice is rough. Slurred. “More will come.”
“More?”
I kick off the wall, aiming for Kyros. He’s the only source of light down here, and as I near, the crimson haze surrounding him begins to flicker. I manage to get one last look at his face before black swallows us.
It’s not good.
His eyes are dull and droopy, barely cognizant of our surroundings, and his arms hang limply by his sides. When I collide with him, he stumbles back and drops his blade. It’s immediately lost to the black.
I cling to his shoulders.
He’s barely alert. I can’t tell whether it’s the pressure shifts or the blows from the deepweaver that have him swaying sideways, but at this moment, it doesn’t really matter.
“Swim us to the wall,” I order him.
My voice is urgent.
Kyros hums. “What?”
He sounds half-gone.
“The trench wall.” I bury my fingers into his shoulders. “Take us to the trench wall.”
Kyros makes an odd noise in the back of his throat, and then we’re moving. I hold on to him for dear life, already knowing we aren’t going to collide gracefully. I don’t think Kyros has any grace left in him.
Still, he does manage to spin us at the last second to take the brunt of the hit, his shoulder and back smacking against rock. I hook my legs around his waist, gripping him between my thighs as I find purchase against the wall.
I shove my fingers into a crack just as Kyros goes limp, all his weight dropping onto my legs. Sharp, blinding pain shoots up my fingers as I’m yanked downward, but I don’t let go.
For a split second, I contemplate doing exactly that. Kyros murdered Dad and Tipper, and he tried to do the same to me. He ruined my life. He took me captive and forced me into this trench with the threat of death.
Kind of.
I eventually agreed to it, but it didn’t start off that way.
I could just…let him go. He would sink, and he would die.
But then I recall the way he looks at Tideborn. The way the children of the pod happily swarm around him. The decisions he made when Mavek brought him bad news of the dying lower gardens and weakening current.
Even worse, I think of his gentle touch when teaching me to swim and the addictive graze of his tail against my inner thigh. I think of his whispered confessions.
I can’t let him go.
I drag in a choppy breath, then begin climbing.
Every muscle I’ve built from my years hauling crab pots is put to the test. I make it several feet before my grip momentarily slips. It’s just for a second, but panic explodes through my chest like a freight train.
I won’t let go. I won’t fall.
I hold Kyros between my thighs, locking my ankles together for extra support as I squeeze him for dear life. His head lolls against my shoulder and his bare back scrapes against the sharp trench wall, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
Tears blur my vision, not that it matters. I can’t fucking see anything, anyway.
Coral cuts into my palms, turning my hands into a bloody mess, and I think my ring finger on my right hand is dislocated.
My thighs are trembling.
And I thought barre was a challenge.
I don’t let myself feel embarrassed by my struggle, not even when I begin to sob. There’s no stopping the muffled, uncontrollable cries as I drag Kyros and me upward—one agonizing inch at a time.
I can’t stop. More deepweavers are coming, and I can’t fight them alone.
Kyros eventually begins to move, his tail twitching between my thighs, when we hit another pressure shift. He makes a nauseating gagging noise, then falls limp again.
I press my forehead against the wall, sharp coral digging into my skin. Blood seeps down my face, metallic on my lips, as I pull away and continue climbing.
I don’t stop.
I shove my fingers into a crack. Sob. Then pull Kyros and me upward.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I don’t know how much time has passed when Kyros moves again, his tail twitching and curling around my leg. I don’t think anything of it until he lifts his head.
He’s awake.
Alive.
Thank fucking God. I was beginning to worry I was carrying a corpse.
Crimson-speckled eyes drift from side-to-side, confused for a split second before sharpening. If Kyros is in any pain, it doesn’t show. He wraps his arms around my torso, securing me against him, before shooting upward.
I fall limp.
“Sadie!” His voice is rough. Frightened? “You’re bleeding.”
Kyros has never swum so fast. We cut through the water so quickly that it’s almost painful, currents biting into my cheeks and shoulders. The pulsating ache in my head lessens as the pressure eases, but with it comes a new set of challenges.
Adrenaline fades, and pain fully sets in.
Kyros curses, a series of sharp chirps pouring from his mouth.
Reef-rotten Coveborn. He tightens his grip, his fingers digging into my waist. Eel-bitten bastards.
His next series of words is quieter. Hushed.
My hybrid. If you die, I swear to the depths—
“I’m not dying,” I interrupt. Kyros jolts, almost like he forgot I can understand his language. I continue. “I’m just…tired. Sore.”
Narrowed eyes meet mine. “You’re bleeding.”
“But not dying.”
Kyros continues upward, driving us toward the top of the trench with impressive speed.
Light begins to filter in.
Details come into view.
Fuck.
Kyros is bleeding. Badly. Red saturates the water surrounding us, pouring from his back with terrifying intensity. I knew the coral on the trench wall was scraping against him, but I didn’t realize just how badly it would tear him up.
“Kyros…” I clear my throat.
He shakes his head. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not.”
His lack of answer isn’t comforting.
We continue upward. Kyros is on me the second we’ve reached a height he deems safe. His hands move over me with startling speed, checking my arms, shoulders, and face. He’s searching for injuries, I think.
He lingers on my hands, turning them over with a sharp curse.
I pull them away. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t listen, snatching my hands back toward him.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, louder this time.
Kyros shakes his head. “You screamed.”
“I was about to be eaten.”
“Did it hurt you?”
“No.”
I grab Kyros’s shoulder, trying to turn him around, but he doesn’t budge.
“Let me see your back,” I order him.
“No.”
“Kyros—”
“You destroyed the core,” he says, changing the subject. “You did it.” He drags a hand through his hair, his throat bobbing. His next words are whispered. “Thank you.”
There’s too much emotion in his voice, and something warm and painful twists low in my chest.
Kyros slides his hands from my waist to the small of my back, then pulls me against him. His tail coils around both of us.
It feels protective.
Possessive.
“Predators will scent our blood,” Kyros explains. His head lolls forward before he catches himself, straightening back up. “We must return to the pod.”
“You promised to bring me to the surface.”
“I will,” Kyros says. “But…” He swallows thickly, hesitating. “I can’t make it there and back in this state.” He squeezes my waist. “I will bring you to the surface before the red bloom. You have my word.”
“The council will kill me.”
Kyros clenches his jaw. “They won’t touch you.” He sounds confident.
I hate myself for believing him. For trusting him.
Kyros resumes swimming upward, then guides us into a current. It’s sharp and sudden, wrapping around us with enough force to pull my hair behind me and tug at every loose piece of clothing I have left.
Kyros’s smile is weak but breathtaking.
“The Great Current,” he explains. “It’s strong.”
The water rushes around us in a powerful river, pulling us upward and out of the trench with startling speed. Kyros adjusts immediately, angling his body with practiced ease.
He lets out a relieved sigh once we’re back in open waters.
“It will carry us,” he says.
He shuts his eyes in a slow blink, then shakes his head and pushes forward. Blood continues seeping from his back, leaving streaks of red.
I can’t stop my thoughts from spiraling. Kyros came for me. He heard me scream, and he came, even when he knew it would mean his death. He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second.
He would’ve arrived too late had he done so.
We reach Tideborn territory in less than three hours.
Kyros is barely awake.
The spiraling towers that make up the Tideborn pod are a surprisingly welcome sight. I never thought I’d see this place again, and I ignore the unsettling tug in my chest as Kyros breaks from the current and takes over swimming himself.
Only once we near the city’s outer structures does his grip on me loosen.
A familiar pale-gold tail whips through the water, heading our way.
I follow the nearly translucent scales upward, continuing until my gaze lands on Seraya’s wide eyes.
She shakes her head as she takes in the cloud of blood erupting from Kyros’s back, then she darts toward us in uneven, jagged motions.
Kyros fully releases me, his tail unraveling and his arm falling loose from around my waist.
Seraya gasps. Oshea!
She catches him a second later, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. My stomach twists as she pulls him away from me, and I fight the urge to reach for him.
His head lolls forward, smacking against Seraya’s shoulder.
She faces me. What did you do?
Her words are accusatory. I open my mouth to respond when I finally catch sight of Kyros’s back. What have I done?