Citrine (Deliverance #3)

9. Wroahk

9

Wroahk

What just happened?

I sit on the edge of the lake, my mind swirling with frustration, and I can't shake the feeling of unease that's settled over me because of an encounter with a harmless creature. I heave, bile at the back of my throat, as I remember my attraction. My fascination.

She is food.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts raging in my mind. As I glance toward the other side of the shore where I left her, I notice that dusk has begun to settle in, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. The stars twinkle overhead, casting their soft glow upon the land.

"What did she do to me?"

The air is filled with the hum of not-food, their chirps and buzzes creating a cacophony of sound.

I watch as she sits on the edge of the lake on a stone, one lower limb dangling off a rock and the other pulled up close to her.

She has a yellow hunk of the long weeds from her head in her graspers, separated from her body now. I'm puzzled for a moment, then I realize she's using it to wrap her injured limb.

Even though she's within my gaze, mere moments away, I know she can't see me. I've hidden myself behind a prickly dry plant, keeping a safe distance between us.

It's ridiculous.

Here I am, the predator who rules this place, reduced to hiding like a coward, but I had no choice.

I had to distance myself from her before I did something I would regret. Like touch her, and not as a precursor to violence. Why would I want to do that?

Twice now, I've been on the verge of killing her, yet something held me back. I don't even have words to describe the feelings in my chest. There's a nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach that tells me I made the right choice, but everything else in me is screaming at how wrong it is.

I close my eyes and try to push away the memories of her exposed body, the way her light brown curves glistened in the sunset. It's infuriating how she's managed to intrude on my thoughts.

But why? Why does she affect me at all?

I've encountered countless creatures in my lifetime, but none have ever stirred anything within me, aside from brief, violent encounters during mating season.

Everything else is food.

With a frustrated growl, I push myself up and move along the edge of the lake. I need to clear my gills. Distance myself from her disgusting presence.

She is like a haunting cry, rippling through the water and resounding over and over in my head.

What am I doing? I'm allowing myself to be consumed by thoughts of her when I should be the one killing her.

With a determined scowl, I force myself to focus on the present. There are other matters to attend to, other creatures to hunt and conquer. I can't afford to be distracted by her any longer.

Still, I can't tear my eyes away from her as I watch not-food lighting up around her, casting a warm, golden glow upon her face. The flickering light illuminates her features, highlighting the curve of her cheeks and the softness of her lips.

"Her teeth," I mutter to myself, my voice barely a whisper, but still echoing my disdain. "So polished, so blunt."

As I continue to watch her, a fresh wave of disgust washes over me, mingling with this terrible inability to look away. I can't believe I'm even entertaining such thoughts about her.

She's just an insignificant creature, unworthy of my attention.

Despite my best efforts to push the feelings aside, they linger, refusing to be ignored.

It's infuriating, maddening even, to find myself drawn to her in this way. I've had my fair share of females from my species who came to me, but I never clung to them with my mind like her.

I never thought about them—any more than they did me—after we quenched the mating fever.

And yet here I am, unable to tear my gaze away from this pathetic creature, feeling a strange tug in the pit of my stomach that I can't quite explain.

Something finally clicks inside me.

As I watch her playing with the insects, a realization dawns on me. It is simply the usual need for entertainment. I enjoy it when my prey challenges me. When they put up a fight.

It triggers a chemical rush that heightens my satisfaction when I finally consume them. Perhaps that's why I'm feeling this strange pull.

Here in this strange place, I've encountered nothing that's put up a real challenge. They've all been easy prey, too stupid to offer any real resistance. She's different. There's something about her that ignites a spark of excitement within me.

My eyes are fixed on her. The golden glow of her hair merging with the flickering light.

"The satisfaction will be worth it."

I ignore the fact that it isn't my stomach that stirs in anticipation, but my two mating tentacles.

With a deep breath, I sink into the water, feeling the familiar warmth envelop me. The water takes on a deep blue hue, then gives way to the welcome darkness below.

If only I could make myself descend into it.

I watch her silhouette on the other side of the shore, her movements graceful and unaware of the danger lurking beneath the surface. I will let her settle and then I'll strike.

My graspers flick in anticipation, but then I see movement in the water.

A silhouette of Many Teeth emerges, floating toward the edge where she sits, moving itself along with small movements of its long tail so it doesn't betray its presence. It is night, so it isn't moving as confidently, though I can still see it clearly.

That's why most hunting happens in the dark.

The female is oblivious to the danger. Too weak, and obviously too ignorant, to survive, this loathsome, soft thing.

The Many Teeth must have tasted her blood when she was washing in the water. My eyes narrow as I watch it move closer, its sleek yet heavy body gliding through the water slowly.

Yes, I want her for my meal, but I want to see how she will fight a Many Teeth.

This will also give me a sense of the capabilities she has, if any. I feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect tingle along my many limbs. The anticipation of watching her struggle against one of the deadliest creatures in the lake is making me bounce in the water as my tentacles whirl.

With a twitch of my limbs, I follow the Many Teeth.

I keep a safe distance between me and the creature to ensure it won't notice my presence. I swim silently, my movements fluid and practiced, staying just out of its detection range.

The water is murky, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the bugs on the shore.

As the Many Teeth swims closer, I stay behind, watching intently. We are already near the branch that she is dipping in now. At the water's edge for no clear reason I can discern.

Her silhouette is framed against the glow of the not-food. The Many Teeth's rows of razor-sharp teeth glint faintly in the dim light, a silent promise of death.

The Many Teeth slows further. Just below the surface where it can't be seen. She's crouched near the water's edge on a stone, her grasper dipping into the water to continue rubbing at her skin.

The creature is just beneath the surface, its eyes locked onto her as it prepares to strike.

Will she notice in time?

Will she be able to fight it off?

Knowing that I will witness her struggle, her desperation, brings a fresh thrill.

The Many Teeth is almost upon her now, its body coiling and uncoiling in the water. I can see its muscles tensing, preparing for the final lunge. My eyes flick between her and the creature, my own breath coming in shallow flutters of my gills.

This is it.

As the Many Teeth is about to lunge, I can't help but wriggle my graspers in impatience. They still when I see her moving away from the edge toward a tree near the forest's entrance.

Disappointment makes my limbs hang loose in the water, but she may return.

The Many Teeth waits for her on the edge and so do I.