A low rumbling roused Arkon from slumber. He opened his eyes and listened as the sound built to a peak and faded away. He could feel it, too, but only barely.

The overhead lights were off, and the lights along the bases of the walls were dim, leaving the room in relative darkness. With Aymee — dressed only in a long-sleeved shirt — snuggled against him in bed, her bare legs tangled with his tentacles, it was a comforting darkness.

Only her slow, gentle breaths broke the ensuing silence. He turned his head toward her. She looked younger while she slept, her features softer despite the shadows cast upon her face. Perhaps it was the absence of the sorrow he too often saw in her eyes. Aymee was doing better than she had been the night he’d brought her here, but she was still healing.

He understood — Aymee was a doctor, expected to display calm and confidence to soothe others in dire situations. But she had Arkon, now. He would be her strength when she felt weak. She didn’t have to pretend for him.

The rumbling came again, louder this time. Aymee inhaled and shifted, pressing her face deeper into his shoulder as her hand moved from his chest to his stomach.

The slide of her palm over his skin heated his blood, and his thoughts returned to the day before. Whether due to his people’s general avoidance of it or his own inexperience, he’d never imagined physical contact could be so staggeringly powerful.

Not any physical contact, he corrected. Aymee was the key. Her touch affected him.

They had floated in the water for some time after she’d pleasured him, and once his hearts had finally slowed and the euphoria of her touch had faded, he’d wanted to explore more of her. His glimpse of her breasts had left him craving, and the fleeting brush of his tentacles over them had been taste enough to become addicted. Aymee had only laughed and pulled her suit back into place when he tried to touch her after climbing out of the water.

“This was about you,” she’d said with a soft smile before kissing him.

Aymee had taken enjoyment from making him feel good. He couldn’t deny his lack of understanding at the concept. She’d done it to him, and he’d felt it all. How could the pleasure have been hers? He wanted to learn her body, her taste, every tiny aspect of her; he wanted to learn how to make her cry out in ecstasy. But, somehow, she’d found satisfaction through his release.

That went against all he’d known about females before meeting Aymee. He’d been told kraken females took pleasure for themselves. What concern had they for the males they mated with? Thanks to the way the kraken were designed, there’d always been plenty of males ready to please and provide for the relatively few females.

It was a male’s duty, after all, to attempt to father the next generation of kraken. Personal desire or contentment was nothing compared to the survival of their people.

Not so with Aymee. She wanted to make Arkon happy. More than that, she derived her own happiness from his.

He lightly combed his claws through her hair, careful of the tangles.

On a rational level, Arkon knew that the ways of his people did not apply to humans. Their physiology, history, and societies were very different, shaped by unique challenges and necessities. Choosing a mate did not have the same meaning to humans as it did to kraken. It did not have the same implications.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel Aymee had chosen him. It was likely she’d done so after their night together on the beach, but he’d been too startled by his body’s reactions to recognize the significance of what she’d offered — herself. Her actions today had expanded his understanding of the way humans viewed such matters; Aymee had placed Arkon’s contentment before her own, had chosen his satisfaction, had chosen him despite their multitude of differences.

Absently, he trailed the tip of a tentacle down her leg.

“Is it morning already?” Aymee asked, voice husky with sleep.

“No, it is not,” he replied. The base’s lights — at least in this room — were set on some sort of timing mechanism. They came on fully only for a few hours around sunrise and sunset. Aymee had theorized it was because the people who’d worked here had slept in shifts.

“Then why are you awake?”

As though in answer to her question, the rumbling returned, drawn out over several seconds.

“Another storm?” She buried her face between his neck and shoulder and slid an arm around him. “Can you hear the storms when you’re below?”

“Not in the Facility, no. But in the water, those sounds sometimes seem to go on forever. There is a certain feeling in the sea when a storm begins. It is difficult to define or describe...”

“What kind of feeling?”

“It feels like...the water is charged. It’s tension, anticipation, fear. The currents are disrupted and can become violent, and much of the sea life seeks shelter.”

“Is it dangerous?” Her breath was warm against his neck and sent tingles across his skin.

“Hunts are ended when such storms begin, and most of us remain home.” As his awareness of her body against his heightened, it became more difficult to hold onto his thoughts. “I’ve never known a kraken to be killed by lightning, but the sea is dangerous enough without the complications introduced during bad weather.”

Her hand returned to his chest, resting above his hearts. “Must be difficult during the wet season, then.” She rubbed her thumb across his skin. “Do you miss it? Home?”

Arkon slid his tentacle back up her leg slowly. “I miss Jax, Macy, and Sarina. Even Dracchus, if I am honest. I know there is still so much information to delve through with the Computer. It is the only home I have ever known…but I do not miss it. I am content.”

Her hand stilled, and she fell silent; Arkon wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

“Thank you for being here with me,” she finally said.

He shifted, propping himself up on an elbow, and turned to look down at her. She moved onto her back, hair fanning out over the bedding.

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be,” he said, cupping her cheek in his palm.

She peered up at him, a soft smile on her lips, and cradled his jaw in her hand. “Me too.”

After a moment, his gaze trailed downward, sliding over her body. Human and kraken anatomy bore many similarities, at least on the surface, but she should have appeared alien to him. She should’ve been little more than a passing curiosity, easily sated and subsequently forgotten. Yet she tantalized him. Aroused him.

She was beautiful in every line and curve, and he cherished every smile she gifted him.

Her arm fell to rest beside her head. “Do you want to see me, Arkon?”

Hearts stilling, he stared down at her; had he heard correctly? Her legs parted as she slid a foot along his tentacles.

Arkon swallowed. “Yes.”

Aymee raised her hands to the collar of her shirt, unfastening the top button and allowing the fabric to billow open before moving down. Arkon watched, enrapt, as she revealed her skin little by little. His breath quickened when her fingers hovered over her stomach, and his claws dug into the bedding when she touched the final button.

Once it was undone, she grasped the edges of the shirt and drew it slowly apart.

Arkon’s breath fled, and heat suffused him.

She lay bare before him. Her breasts were small but full, tipped with dark nipples, and her flat stomach dipped before meeting the flare of her hips; farther down, an enticing patch of black hair. With one knee bent, she parted her thighs, allowing him a glimpse of the pink flesh between her legs.

His pulsating shaft pressed to the inside of his slit. His tentacles — sliding restlessly, hungrily, along her legs — tasted her growing arousal in the air, and it sent a shudder through him.

“I see you, Aymee,” he rasped, “and long to do more.”

“You can touch me, Arkon,” she beckoned.

He settled a trembling hand on her stomach and slowly trailed it up, brushing between curves of her breasts with his fingers. Her skin was warm, soft, and responsive. When he covered a breast with his palm, she closed her eyes and arched into his touch.

Shifting his tentacles, Arkon lifted his torso and held himself over her. He placed his free hand on her other breast and stroked her beaded nipples with the pads of his thumbs. She released a soft sigh.

“You can kiss them.” She smiled. “I’m yours to do with as you please, Arkon. Touch me, kiss me, taste me. Anything.”

Something tightened in his lower abdomen. He absently ran his tongue along the points of his teeth, more mindful than ever of the delicateness of her skin, and lowered his head. She caught his face with her hands and forced his gaze to hers. Her eyes were deep, dark pools, and he tumbled into them.

She lifted her head and skimmed her lips over his mouth. “Love me, Arkon,” she whispered, then released him.

Love…

He’d longed for Aymee’s love, but he hadn’t realized it could go both ways — that he would come to love her, too. It seemed an immense oversight, a sign that he had indeed lost his wits. Somewhere along the way, his fascination had evolved into something more. Into something that existed independently of her feelings for him, though it was in many ways fueled by them. Something as simultaneously simple and complex as the word that impossibly encompassed it.

Love.

Arkon lowered his mouth over one of her nipples and did as she’d said — he kissed. But that fleeting contact, that tiny taste, wasn’t enough. He encircled it with his lips and flicked his tongue over the tip. She inhaled sharply and lifted her chest. Urged on by her reactions, he sucked her nipple into his mouth while caressing the other with his palm and the pads of his fingers.

Aymee’s hands flew to his head and pulled him closer. Her moan flowed through him like a strong current through the ocean, and her scent strengthened, pushing his desire to a new, unimaginable peak.

Despite his thrill in her reactions, he released her nipple and trailed his lips down her body; he needed to experience the source of that scent, that taste!

Her stomach quivered as his lips brushed over it. He glanced up to find her watching him, her lips parted with her soft panting.

When he came to the small patch of hair at her pelvis, he ran the backs of his fingers through it. It felt different than the hair upon her head, coarser, and was heavily perfumed with arousal. Coiling a tentacle around each of her thighs, he spread them wide.

She was beautiful. The petals of her sex were slick, unfurled and ready to receive him, and here her scent was at its strongest.

His mouth watered.

He angled his hand to slide his finger along her folds but stopped before doing so; her flesh here was surely even more sensitive and fragile than elsewhere, and he couldn’t forgive himself were he to cause her harm.

“Arkon?” she asked.

Raising his hand to his mouth, he bit the claws off his first two fingers and spit them to the floor.

“Why did you—” Her words came to an abrupt halt when Arkon touched her; he slid his fingers along her sex, coating them in her oils. Maddening heat radiated from her core.

He lifted his hand away and slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking off her moisture. He’d had slight, fleeting tastes of her through his suction cups, but they had not prepared him for her true flavor. Aymee’s sweetness flooded him.

Arkon’s shaft throbbed with the pressure of his restraint; her taste on his tongue eroded what little self-control he’d maintained. He extruded fully, and in the same instant he dropped his head between her thighs and licked her sex.

Aymee gasped. Her legs trembled, muscles tensing, but he held them wide with his tentacles — he’d not relinquish what she’d so temptingly gifted him. He flattened a hand on her stomach to hold her down while pressing his other hand to her inner thigh.

He slid his tongue between her folds, exploring her from top to bottom, and when he brushed a nub of flesh near her sex’s peak, her moaning intensified, and her hips jerked. Intrigued, he glanced up; her face was turned aside, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth. He licked again. Another tremor coursed through her.

Arkon closed his lips over the nub and took it into his mouth. He sucked.

Her back arched, body stiffening as she screamed his name. Moisture flowed from her, and Arkon drank greedily, unwilling to allow a single drop to escape. He didn’t relent until her shudders subsided and she gently urged him up with her hands.

He raised his head. Aymee’s tousled hair framed her face, and her eyes were hooded.

“Lie back for me, Arkon,” she said, caressing his cheek.

He rolled away and lowered himself onto his back beside her. Smiling, she ran a hand along one of his tentacles and disentangled it from her leg. She rose onto her knees and guided the same tentacle to her waist, and Arkon wrapped it around her.

His hearts nearly stopped when she threw a leg over him.

She straddled his abdomen, hair a dark curtain around her face as she gazed down at him. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath, nipples hard, and he longed for another taste of them. The scent of her arousal enveloped him, and he could see the pink of her parted sex, feel the brush of her backside along his straining cock.

This was Aymee. Beautiful, wild, sensual Aymee.

His Aymee.

She leaned forward and their eyes locked. She skimmed her nose along his cheek, brushed her lips over his, and slipped a hand between their bodies to grasp his shaft. Arkon released a shuddering breath. Aymee lifted her hips, pressed the head of his cock to her opening, and lowered herself, taking him into her body.

Heat; incredible heat surrounded him. It spread into his core, intensifying that needful ache to an unbearable degree. He clawed at the bedding and his tentacles curled. Pressure built within him, immediate and irresistible, but somehow, he held his tenuous control.

As she flattened her hands on his chest, Arkon’s eyes drifted to the point of their connection, watching her rise and fall, taking him deeper and deeper. His shaft glistened with their combined oils.

There was something primal about their bodies joining, something that touched upon previously unknown instincts. The pleasure was immense, but the connection was more than physical — this was mating, it was possession, it was love.

She suddenly thrust down, taking him to the hilt. Her sex clenched. The tendrils at his base slid over her, smelling and tasting, brushing her soft skin.

Arkon took hold of her hips and coiled his tentacles around her calves. He bared his teeth and bucked his pelvis, pressing further into her, on the verge of an explosion that would tear him apart from within.

Aymee gasped. Her fingers flexed, and she raked her nails over his chest. Shutting her eyes, she threw her head back in abandon and ground her sex upon him. Her inner walls tightened.

Arkon released a tortured groan.

Her hips undulated, body moving up and down, breasts jutting out with the arch of her back. The pressure inside him built as pleasure raked his insides, seeking release. Aymee moved over him like the rolling waters of the ocean; Arkon found her rhythm and matched it, dropping his hips when she rose and meeting her downward thrusts, pushing harder, deeper.

Her features strained and soon her tempo faltered. She panted, her moans loud but musical in the otherwise silent room. He was determined to hear her cries once more. To feel her release around him.

Aymee fell forward, catching herself with her hands on either side of his head. Her movements quickened.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” she breathed against his mouth, eyelids heavy with desire. “And now you’re mine.”

She squeezed her eyes closed and cried out. Her body locked, sex clamping around his cock and quivering as she reached her peak.

She has claimed me.

Arkon moved his hands to Aymee’s backside and slammed her down on him, pushing himself beyond anything he’d thought possible. The pressure burst, and her name escaped him in a roar, her words echoing in his mind. A wave of pleasure stole his breath and tensed every muscle in his body, sweeping away conscious thought like driftwood on the surf. Her cries punctuated his thrusts, which ended when neither of them had anything left to give.

Aymee lay upon him, a welcome weight, her breath tickling his neck. She cradled his head with one hand, brushing her thumb against his skin. He realized only then that his tentacles were tangled around her legs and waist; he loosened his hold but was in no hurry to release her.

And now you’re mine.

“I am yours, Aymee,” he said, smoothing a palm over her hair. There was a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his labored breathing.

She inhaled deeply and rubbed her cheek against him before placing a kiss at the base of his throat. Lifting her head, she shifted her hands to cup his jaw and kissed his lips before resting her forehead against his. She closed her eyes, and the peacefulness on her face belied the sudden tension in her body.

“I love you, Arkon,” Aymee whispered. When he opened his mouth to speak, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Someone once told me to take what I wanted. To take it all and never hesitate because it could all be gone in the blink of an eye, without any warning.” Her arms slipped around him. “No matter what happens, or what our future might hold, I have this. This moment with you, where you are mine, and I am yours. Where we loved. And I will never regret it.”

Arkon gently slipped his fingers into her hair and raised her head. There was a troubled gleam in her eyes, an unfamiliar vulnerability.

“I did not know what love was, not very long ago,” he said. “I knew the idea of it, but it was only a word. As I learned, I came to crave it, longed to know it myself...but I’ve never truly felt it until you. I love you, Aymee. Always and without regret.”

Aymee’s body eased atop his. Her smile in that moment was the most radiant thing in all the universe. She kissed him, and Arkon embraced her. When she shifted her hips, he was reminded that he was still buried deep inside her body; he groaned, and she laughed.

“Love me some more, Arkon.”

He rolled her onto her back and propped himself over her on his hands. She moaned, canting her hips to take him deeper. He grinned down at her. The sated exhaustion that had filled him a moment before fast faded, replaced by the rekindled heat of desire.

“As much as you wish.”