Alien Kraken’s Prize (Starlight Brides)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

BORUMOR

The terrestrial creature has injured itself.

Crimson fluid leaks from its nose, a feature strangely similar to mine. I touch my own reflexively, glad to find it’s not nearly as prominent as this creature’s, which sticks out bizarrely from its face.

The thing is talking to itself—and to the tentacle which seems to be operating independently of it.

Surely this species can’t actually speak, though. That’s a blatant misunderstanding of their intelligence. Everyone knows land creatures thoroughly lack intelligence of any sort. It’s why they make for fine dining or pets.

This one, though, is chattering on with increasing fervor.

I find myself obsessed with its strange appendages, the lower half so completely bizarre compared to the smooth curves of a fish tail or the even more pleasing set of tentacles my species has. My own tentacles are suctioned onto the outside of the glass as I stare in increasing concern at my new prized pet.

The trickle of red fluid from its nose has not ceased, and I decide I must do something about it. Leaving the stupid creature to bleed out on the sand would be a waste of time and money.

It doesn’t quite sit right with me, either, because even though this is clearly not a sentient species—and my hands have murdered many of those—it is too stupid to care for itself adequately, and I cannot have its death on my tentacles.

I sigh wearily and collect some clotting kelp from the stash next to the massive shell I prefer to sleep in. The artisans who quickly constructed the terrarium left a swim-through entrance into it, and I swim to it… then hesitate.

Hesitation is not something I am familiar with.

It’s this creature, though.

Everyone assured me it was not an intelligent lifeform, but from the way it’s now studying the enclosure, walking around the perimeter and testing it with hands that are so similar to my own… it is unsettling.

The land creature is unsettling, because it should not be capable of enough thought to understand it has been caged, much less track the size and space of the terrarium.

Concern and guilt war inside me, and I finally blow out a stream of exasperated bubbles, because it is still bleeding.

It cannot be that intelligent, if it hasn’t stemmed the blood flow on its own.

I push through the carefully constructed aperture, tucking my tentacles in tight behind me to navigate the small space. It’s dark, and the luminescence on my lower half begins to pulse, lighting the way in a comforting blue. The tunnel twists and turns, the pressure easing up the closer to the bottom of the terrarium I swim.

Finally, I reach the pool that spans a large amount of the enclosure, the brackish water less salinated here.

Slowly, I raise my head above the surface, wanting to observe the creature more closely without disturbing it. My hair clings to my head, an alarming sensation that triggers an adrenaline response.

I might be more physically capable of breathing air than my fish-tailed ilk, but that does not mean my body likes it. No, I am infinitely more comfortable in the depths.

Still—still, I am pulled towards this small creature with an intensity that surprises me.

I glance around, my nostrils still beneath the surface, unwilling to breathe air just yet, my tentacles pushing the water as I stay afloat, watching for my new prized pet.

Last I glimpsed it, it was making its way along the furthest corner of the tank.

Which is why the last thing I expect is for it to be at the edge of the water.

The strange skins have been shed, and I startle as I realize they weren’t skins at all, but a garment of some sort.

The creature is naked, and as blood drips down both lower appendages, it hits me like a trident to the heart.

My pet is not an it at all.

My pet is a female, and she is grievously wounded.