Alien Kraken’s Prize (Starlight Brides)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

brIDGET

I manage to sleep, which is nearly as shocking as the pain from the cramps straight-up radiating down my legs.

“And I don’t even have any meds to help,” I murmur, fighting a wave of nausea as I crunch my knees up closer to my chest.

“Eat this,” a stern voice says. “This well help with the pain. Then when you feel better, we can begin to discuss what to do with you.”

I blink slowly, turning my cheek to look up at the male face staring down at me.

“I can understand you,” I say, then side-eye the hunk of green leaves in his hand. “How?”

“I installed a universal translator in your brain stem while you napped,” he says casually.

The nausea intensifies, and I think it might have less to do with the cramps than it does with the fact Mr. Tentacle-Pants just told me he installed some new hardware on my brainstem.

“Usually you take a girl out for dinner and drinks before you put things in her head,” I say weakly.

“Where would we go?” He gestures around. “You cannot breathe water without gills.”

“Right, fair enough. Not to mention the whole ‘we’re alien pets’ thing.” I frown, forcing myself into a sitting position. Hard to be taken seriously when you’re curled up in fetal on the dirt in a bra.

I groan as my stomach churns, and I decide being taken seriously is the least of my problems right now as I sink back to the grainy dirt.

“Eat,” the octopus with a six-pack tells me, shoving the leaves in my face.

“I don’t like being told what to do,” I say, but I do it anyway. I chomp on a leaf like my life depends on it, and honestly, who’s to say?

Maybe my life does depend on it.

My chewing slows, my lip curling in disgust at the noxious, bitter taste, and as my mouth opens to spit it out, he has the audacity to pop a berry of some sort in it.

Outraged, I stare up at him and his plethora of tentacles, and the orb bursts in my mouth.

Which, unfortunately, makes me start to gag—until the taste hits my tastebuds like a freighter docking at the space hub too fast.

It quells the horrible tang of the leaf, turning into something sweet and slightly sour and delicious.

Thank you is on the tip of my tongue—until he grins down at me with an indubitably smug expression that has me scowling instead.

Just because.

“You did what I said even though you did not want to,” he says, that smile growing. His arms cross over his muscular—honestly, it’s stupidly muscular—chest even as one tentacle pokes my cheek.

I slap it away and glare at him even harder. “It was disgusting.”

“And do you feel better?” he asks, his tone impossibly even, though his ocean eyes dance with amusement. The same tentacle starts towards me again and I start to swat it away, until I get a good look at it.

It’s not a fucking tentacle. It’s the same color as the rest of his bottom half, yes, but it’s not pointy at the end. It has suckers on the underside… but it’s also rounded with a slit at the top.

That’s a penis.

I know a penis when I see one, even an alien penis.

I suck in a breath and scramble backwards.

“Why the fucking fuck is your penis out and about near my face?” I have to hand it to myself, I’ve really kept my cool by not immediately punching him right in the octopus dick.

“This is part of my mating ritual,” he explains, with the air of someone who is exasperated at having to lay out the obvious but willing to do so nonetheless.

This time, I do punch him in right in the octopus dick.

“How’s that for a mating ritual?” I yelp, trying to back away some more.

Tentacles wrap around my wrists, and blessedly, ye olde octopus dick doesn’t deign to get any closer. I side-eye it, though, ready for a head butt should an octopus-dick-in-the-face occasion call for it.

“I like it,” he purrs, leaning closer. “Strange ritual, but all of it feels good to me.”

“You can’t just stick your dick on someone’s mouth,” I tell him crankily. I’m not even struggling at this point, probably because even my stubborn ass realizes that I’m outarmed, outgunned, and out, er, tentacled.

“Why not?” he asks, immediately releasing me.

A bit of disappointment goes through me as he moves backwards, and I realize that maybe I have some unresolved abandonment issues coming out as a sexual kink.

Thank you, too much time on my hands and unfettered access to old-as-hell human self-help books and psychiatric texts.

“Because,” I tell him. My eyes dip to where his tentacles bound my wrists just moments before. Ah yes, add a bondage kink to the list of newly discovered, slightly problematic sexual epiphanies.

“Because?” he prompts.

“Where is my tentacle?” I ask, glancing around for it.

“Your tentacle?” he drawls, one blueish eyebrow raised. “You could have eight.” He wiggles a few of them at me, and I get the distinct impression this is supposed to be, well, impressive. “Why worry about one?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s the best you can do? Really? Effort these days.” I cluck my tongue. “Penis straight on the lips and a tentacle joke. No romance.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Where is the solo tentacle I got here with?”

His penis swings around with a certain undeniable grace that also leaves me impressed and concerned about receiving a black eye. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. What is his name?”

“What do you mean?” I blurt out.

The blue-ringed and suckered penis goes a bit limp, and I watch, fascinated, as it disappears into a little sheath—or pocket, maybe?—under his tentacles.

“For someone who says they aren’t interested in the way I would eat your creamy mound, you seem very interested in my penis.”

“Keep your cocktopus outta my mouth.” I glare at him, but something about this entire situation is suddenly hilarious to me, and I slap a hand over my lips to keep from laughing.

Or keep his cocktopus out of my mouth, literally.

“That word does not translate.” He frowns, and I feel a little guilty for laughing at his expense.

Which is truly stupid, considering he nearly tea-bagged my lips.

“I don’t want your penis on my face,” I tell him.

“But I can eat your creamy mound?” His eyes light up.

I throw my hands up in the air and let out an exasperated sigh. “Now is not the time.”

“Is there a better time? Perhaps in an hour? In thirty minutes? In five minutes?”

Honestly, I don’t even know what to say to his earnest hopefulness. I absolutely should not give him a time slot for pussy eating.

“I won’t be in the mood for sushi for the indefinite future,” I mumble.

He tilts his head at me. “I am Borumor. Not sushi.”

“You’re both, but Borumor it is.” I nod at him, then point to myself. “Bridget.”

“That is a beautiful name,” he tells me. “For a beautiful, mysterious female.”

“That’s me, I’m as mysterious as a container full of leftover food you don’t remember making,” I agree cheerfully. “Now, how about we find Harry the tentacle and figure out how to get out of this tank? I don’t want to be in someone’s terrarium as their pet the rest of my life. No thanks.”

His cheeks turn a bright blue, the rings all over his lower half glowing, pulsing with a mesmerizing light.

Whoa.

Borumor straightens up, and for the first time since he appeared on the shore in front of me, I see something in his expression that has me second-guessing myself.

Myself, and the fact that not once have I been afraid of him.

Something in the set of his eyes tells me that maybe I should be afraid.

“We can leave,” he says, and the words are so matter-of-fact that it takes me a beat to understand what he’s said.

“There’s a barrier all around,” I gesture. “We can’t leave. I can’t go under, where you came from, because I breathe air.” I enunciate each word carefully, fearful that a mistranslation right now might prove fatal.

I’m fond of my lungs and keeping them full of air, after all.

“I am not a fool,” he says, his eyes flashing.

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

“I am not a fool, usually,” he amends. “I was a fool to assume you were not an intelligent creature.”

“How rude?—”

“That is the only reason you ended up my pet. That, and my courtiers seem to think it will make me more amenable to marrying their daughters to ply me with interesting land creatures.”

“Your pet,” I echo.

My gaze drifts from him to the pool of water, to the lamp hanging overhead.

His pet?

His pet?

His pet ?!

“You, you?—”

“Yes, I am the king of this planet, won by combat, blood, and power alone,” he shrugs a shoulder dismissively.

“You are my owner?” I screech, stomping over to his tentacled ass, a hand raised in my fury.

A hand raised that is quickly covered in tentacle, wrapping around it as he tugs me close to him, his calloused hand at my chin, forcing me to look up at him. Another tentacle wraps around my waist, and his words finally sink in.

His pet. The king. Of wherever the hell this is.

I toss my hair, or at least, attempt to.

Considering he’s holding me tightly, I don’t get further than a hectic little flinch.

“What is wrong now? I told you I cannot keep you like this. You are a sentient, intelligent being.”

I glare at him. “You tried to put your penis in my mouth and you’re being courted by some other hussies,” I finally hiss. “That is messed up. I don’t go for men, er, octopi who are getting with other women, er, octopeople.”

“I am not an octopus.”

“Obviously,” I huff, slightly discombobulated by the sly smile on his face. “Now, where is my tentacle?”

“This one?” he asks, sliding one down my hip.

“Stop it,” I tell him, frowning. “I just told you?—”

“You’re jealous.”

My jaw drops, and he lets out a low chuckle. “I am not?—”

“You are. You don’t like the idea of another female with me, even though you deny my courtship pursuits.” He cocks his head at me and I sputter, trying to say something that makes any kind of sense at all, because he’s right and it’s fucking annoying.

“That’s all right, my little sea star, for I am the kind of male who appreciates a challenge. Now, do you want out of here, or not?”

I pout at him and he laughs again, clearly highly amused by me.

I don’t blame him. I am pretty amusing, if I do say so myself.

“I can’t breathe water,” I finally say.

“Obviously.” He waits, anticipating another rebuttal.

Am I that obvious?

“I’m not your pet.”

Yes, I am that obvious.

“Not unless you want to be,” he agrees. “Could be amusing.”

My lower half clenches, my eyebrows rocketing up. “You wouldn’t like it. I would be a very bad pet.”

He tilts his head lower, studying my face, his eyes lingering on my nose, then my lips.

“Maybe that’s what makes it sound so appealing.”

I swallow noisily.

“Where’s my tentacle?” I wheeze, trying to control myself. It’s gotta be his stupid sexy secretions. There’s no way I’m attracted to an octococktopus. Or whatever.

“That’s the problem, sea star,” he says, then has the audacity to boop my nose. “The courtiers decided it wasn’t fair I had both of you and took him away.”

“Not Harry,” I cry, furious all over again. “Harry doesn’t deserve that. Harry deserves peace, the poor thing.”

“I cannot imagine why you would name him that,” he murmurs, amusement brightening those stormy eyes of his. They’re nice to look at.

Like his chest, which… oopsies.

My palms are pressed up against his chest.

It’s nice. Very hard. I give him a perfunctory pat, because hell, why not? My hands are already there!

Finally, with a little sigh, I let them fall away.

“Let’s go rescue Harry,” I announce.

“Oh, you can’t go to court like that,” he says, gaze dragging down my body. “I have to mark you as mine first or they’ll try to take you away from me.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to take a step away.

Nope. Didn’t work.

All I did was manage to make him wind his tentacles even tighter around me.

“What do you mean, mark me as yours? I don’t like the sound of that,” I sniff. “I don’t belong to anyone. God, and to think this shit happened because I finally was getting off my damned space station. I thought I was getting a better job! A ticket to a brand-new life,” I moan, truly feeling sorry for myself.

“A job? That’s what you are mourning?” There’s an air of surprise to the questions. “Not family or friends… but work?” His upper lip curls back in disgust.

“Not work, but what work means. Enough food to eat. Enough money to have a nice, clean place to stay. Safety. And of course I miss my friend.” I sigh, hoping with everything I have that Aileen is safe and sound and her new Starlight Lottery job is everything she wished for.

“You worry about those things?” Borumor now sounds absolutely appalled.

“Who doesn’t?” I ask, bemused. “Food and shelter are pretty important.”

He stares at me.

I widen my eyes at him, shaking my head slightly in annoyance.

“You have food and shelter here. In this terrarium.”

My nose wrinkles. “Being kept as a pet is not the same as being able to exercise free will.”

“Being someone’s wage servant is not the same as exercising free will, either.”

I make a disgusted noise, scoffing at him. “It’s not the same.”

“Right. In one case you must perform labor and in the other you can simply…” He gestures one hand with a flourish. “—exist.”

“It’s not the same,” I insist. “Now get me outta here and let’s go save Harry the tentacle.”

“So you agree to let me mark you?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“You never explained what that means,” I tell him irritably. I try to shrug off his tentacles again, but it’s half-hearted.

Borumor must pick up on that, because it just makes him laugh again.

“It means, little sea star, that you wear my mark of protection, that all who see it will see you as mine, and no one will risk my wrath by impugning you.”

“What. Does. It. Entail?” I say each word incredibly slowly, because Mr. Fishsticks does not seem to be getting it.

“It means you wear my mark. It won’t hurt a bit.”

“Which is what, mother fucker?!” I explode.

“This,” he says. He goes stiff, his muscled tentacles pulsing all around me as he pulls me tighter, and this time, I do struggle in earnest, slightly concerned.

A cloud of viscous glitter envelops me.

I cough, trying not to breathe and immediately wanting to inhale because my brain is nothing if it’s not completely contrary.

Eventually, the cloud of sticky stuff dissipates, leaving a fine misting of glitter clinging to my skin, and it dawns on me.

“Did you just… ink on me?”

“No, I came on you. Now you’re mine. Let’s get you ready for court.”

It’s delivered so nonchalantly that the first part of what he’s said slides over me so quickly that it takes me a full minute to digest it.