2. Chapter One
Chapter One
Aliko
Three months later…
The energy in the arena is buzzing, even though it’s empty because the fans are still lined up outside. Now and then I catch them chanting our band name, ready to get inside and hear us play.
Unbound, Unbound, Unbound!
It’s our first tour and every show is sold out. The fans love us already and they haven’t even seen us perform yet. Sure, they’ve heard us on the radio and listened on their phones, but hearing us live? It’s a whole other experience. Trust me.
Leif, my drum tech, is doing a quick run through to make sure every drum is in tune and in the right place.
He knows exactly how I like them and how they should sound.
As far as drum techs go, I have nothing to compare to, but he’s good.
Listens when I ask for changes. Suggests things I may prefer but doesn’t push.
And he’s easy on the eyes, which doesn’t hurt one single bit.
The Unbound is the first band I’ve ever been a part of.
I never anticipated we’d get this big. I’m not sure the other guys did either.
When I joined, I thought we’d be jamming in their garage, catching a gig or two at the pier, or playing in a bar like I saw so many others do.
But this? This is pure fucking insanity of the best kind.
Never in the history of the world has there been a famous monster musician, never mind four of them in a band.
That alone is what’s made us blow up. We’re different, and a bit of a spectacle.
But hey… it’s bringing in the fans, so I’ll take it.
Apparently there’s a saying the humans have—that there’s no bad press.
If they’re talking about us, it’s good. I’m just curious how long this is going to last. Will the excitement go on for years?
Or will we drop off the face of the earth after this tour?
It could go either way, which is why I plan to enjoy every single second of it.
Both humans and monsters have something to say about us. Some say we’re smart. Others say we’re dumb. But they’re all at our show; the crowd is a mix of humans and monsters, so I don’t care what they’re saying.
Me as an individual? I know I’m dumb. Just being up here is enough to get me shunned from my colony and killed.
Kraken are meant to be kept a secret, hidden beneath the surface.
We’re near extinction—I’ve recently realized this is why kraken are meant to be kept secret.
Putting myself out there, letting everyone know that kraken are real, we exist, and we’re more than the stories told by sailors…
it’s putting my entire civilization in danger.
But I’m trusting my colony and their will to stay hidden.
Humans haven’t found us yet… knowing we exist won’t change that.
The ocean is a deep, dark, and gigantic place.
They could search for years and still not come across my family.
And if they do… who’s to say it would be negative?
There are millions of monsters up here on land getting along with humans.
Kraken could be the same, but that’s a battle for another lifetime.
Right now, I’m here and this is what I want to focus on.
Which is why I push away that little voice in my head. The one that tells me I don’t belong here because I’m a water creature.
This part of the world has always felt like something I missed out on. Like I was meant to be here but something along the way got messed up and I ended up in the wrong place.
Maybe that’s what reincarnation is. Maybe I used to be something that fit somewhere else. My body didn’t get the memo, but my brain did, and that’s why I feel this way—feel like I don’t belong down there but don’t quite fit in here either.
But when I play… none of that matters. Only the music matters.
Being behind a drum kit is the only time I don’t feel like I’m too much or not enough. The only place where my head is truly quiet.
So, I take what I can get. Because who cares if I don’t belong here? I don’t. Not when I have a stadium full of people chanting my name.
“How’s it going?” I say, coming up on the side of the drum kit.
Leif looks up at me and grins, the smile lighting up his face and twisting my insides.
“Great. Almost finished.”
He’s hot, and he knows it. Messy blond hair with dark roots that’s long enough to tuck behind his ears but short enough that it constantly falls out.
There’s something about the way he fixes it; seeing his tattooed hands brush his hair back makes my stomach warm.
His eyes are a sharp gunmetal grey that somehow makes me like the color, even though I’ve always despised it.
There’s a piercing in his nose, a thin silver hoop, and I think his nipples might be done too.
Or they’re always hard. Not that I’m looking…
okay, I do look, but not in a creepy way.
Is there a non-creepy way to look at someone’s nipples?
He has this grungy, sort of feminine look about him, which probably doesn’t make sense, but I don’t know how else to describe him.
He’s not overly masculine but is definitely a man—one that I maybe think about too much.
The worst thing about him is that he isn’t an asshole. He’s nice, funny as hell, down to earth, and never ever has an inkling of too much confidence. Which only makes him hotter… and so out of my league.
The shirts he wears are a size too small and show off his toned muscles and tattoos.
A black and grey moth sits at his throat, the bottom of the wings dipping under the collar.
Two full sleeves of roses, music notes, skulls, and words I’ve never gotten close enough to read fill his arms. Though, to be fair, I can’t read all that well anyway.
I wonder how far they go past the edges of his shirt.
Across his chest? Down his stomach? Over his shoulders?
Along his spine? Fuck, that would be hot.
The thoughts I have about this man are inappropriate; I know that.
Thinking about tracing those tattoos with my tongue and fingers would probably make him uncomfortable, but I can’t help it.
From the moment I saw him, there was a connection.
Something intense. Lust, maybe. I can’t put it into words, but I am attracted to Leif in a way I am not attracted to anyone else.
I look down at my hands. Free of tattoos and a sickly pale blue color that won’t change no matter how much magic is put into the pendant around my neck.
From kraken to human, I need my ring. From kraken to “stage” kraken, I need the pendant.
Like this, I’m a weird mix of human and kraken that my family would consider an abomination.
Humans don’t know any better, thankfully, and it’s not like my family has television or radio thousands of feet under the ocean to know what I’m up to.
The humans have accepted what I’ve shown them.
“No rush,” I respond, my voice laced with this aquatic echo, like I’m speaking underwater.
I hate it, but the fans love it. Not that I sing often, but I do backup vocals for a few of our songs.
The more haunting ones, where my voice makes sense.
It’s nothing compared to Kael’s orc throat singing that he does in a few of our songs.
Kraken don’t speak to each other with voices underwater. We don’t have vocal cords to have voices. But magic is strong and does the unimaginable, which is how I ended up like this.
As if it knows I’m thinking about it, the ocean-blue pendant thrums a warm sensation against my bare chest—a warning that the magic is running low and I’ll have to schedule a visit with Theorah to refill it.
It’s never cheap, and each time I meet with her, the price hikes up a couple hundred dollars, but I can afford it.
And if I couldn’t, I’d have to figure it out.
This form is necessary to perform. This is what the fans know me as.
My true form wouldn’t fit on the stage, never mind behind a drum kit.
They couldn’t make one big enough for me when I’m like that.
The guys are all big too, roughly the same size as me. We all brush the seven-foot line, making us larger than most humans. And even the humans that are our height don’t come close to matching us in build.
When I think back on that first night I met them, it makes me laugh.
None of them believed me when I said I was as big as a boat.
They told me to prove it. So, I did, almost taking out an entire swing set at the small park they’d brought me to.
I think it’s what broke the ice between us, but it didn’t take long for the unsettling insecurities to sink in like they always do.
I don’t belong here with them. Where I belong is under the ocean with the other kraken. Only… I don’t fit in there either.
“I’ll be done in two minutes,” Leif says, playing a soft but steady beat on the bass.
“No worries,” I say, lifting one of my arms—a kraken arm—to gesture for him to do what he needs to do. I step back, leaning against one of the beams, letting all eight of my arms hang loose at my sides. I’ve got two that pass for almost human—just bigger. My legs are also mostly human-looking.
When I say I’m a mix of kraken and human, I mean it. Someone once told me I looked like the creature from the Black Lagoon. I had no idea what that was at the time, but when I looked it up, I was a little offended… until I took a better look at myself in the mirror.
They weren’t entirely wrong.
My hands aren’t webbed. There are no claws. No fish mouth. Those parts are human enough. But the skin? The shape of me?
Add a few extra arms. Some suckers.
Yeah, we could totally be related.