Citrine (Deliverance #3)

23. Wroahk

23

Wroahk

The feeling of her short limbs over my own overwhelmed me.

I remember her asking if there was a place she couldn't touch, but I didn't think it would be a problem. I was wrong. It was too much and not enough all at once, and I don't know how to think through it.

It was a strange, enjoyable feeling. Such a simple gesture, yet I stayed there, transfixed, as I let it happen. Even as I remember it, my entire body trembles in pleasure, expecting more of her touch.

Needing it.

It's a far different type of starvation than any I have experienced before.

There's no sensible predator that exposes themselves like that to anything. It felt like she was reaching past my skin, down to the depths of my being. My distrust, my hesitation, all of it seemed to wash away when she touched me.

This must be her ability.

I've wondered how she survives having no useful physical qualities. It's quite insidious, this power she holds. She must have the ability to subdue someone without using physical strength or violence.

That might explain it. Her strange ability must affect my unwillingness to eat her.

No, it doesn't make any sense. How is it possible she subdued me before ever touching me? What is it about her? Her disgusting yellow weeds? Those round eyes? Her soft, fragile body?

The battle in my mind returns the more I try to understand what she is. An inferior version of me that dares to control me without having enough strength to match my own. A species that has to rely on… whatever that was to be able to survive.

I despise her.

She's the opposite of everything I stand for, yet her touch lit a strange type of warmth under my skin. It wasn't scalding, neither was it violent. It consumed me… kindly .

I let out a breath, and then accept the truth. I can't bring myself to hate such a thing. It's a unique sensation.

I don't know how I've lived my life without it.

I avoided my pod mates. I lived a solitary lifestyle and kept to myself because I always thought it was best.

And it was. I was the strongest, so I survived.

I lived everyday hunting and defending my territory. It was what I was made for and what I was meant to do. I lived every day like the last, not bothered by how large the outside world was.

Her touch was like a rough awakening. I was violently thrust into a world much bigger than mine, where the circle of life and death mattered, but not by avoiding the death of a single, very specific person.

If she has this, others might also provide it, so why not just kill her and search.

My tentacles clench at the thought, and I bare my teeth. No. It would never be the same. I know it.

The warmth of the sun, the precious caress of the ocean, food in my belly. All I needed for survival were hunting and defending my territory. All of that made sense to me before I met her.

Those are all that should matter. Not the company of another. None of this ever mattered to me before, but I will not let it go now that it is in my grasp.

Now, every part of my body craves her touch again. As new as it might be, it's now an instinct as deep and primal as my need to hunt.

It took all my restraint to not latch on to her and take her down to the depths with me so my newfound discovery will not be extinguished. The only thought that stopped me was that she cannot swim, and I cannot harm her.

Although her constant talking is annoying, she can do it as much as she likes as long as she keeps being kind . As long as the new world she has introduced me to doesn't collapse on itself, I'll keep listening to whatever she decides to communicate.

Even if it makes no sense.

Still, my mind struggles to accept it. I should drift with the currents, eating and killing whatever comes my way.

If I understood her correctly, she says kind touch comes from protecting the weak. The slow ones usually have no option but to starve to death. The moment you stop being strong, your death is almost assured.

This feeling of warmth she gives is pleasurable, but it also weakens me.

If I'm weak, then I will die. If I die, who will stop her from being hurt?

My life has become impossible now. I can't go back to a life where I existed without this feeling of warmth. I wish I still hated her, that I still wanted to fill my belly with her. Now, I have to stay in this shallow, hot water, feeding off bottom feeders to stay close to her just so she won't be hurt.

Her definition of harm is wider than mine. If she doesn't talk, she hurts. If she isn't in the presence of another being, she hurts.

I don't understand it, but I can tell from her eyes that it is true. The requirements of her protection are getting higher, but all of it seems to be worth swimming into the new reality she has provided for me.

It's still nonsense, but I think I'm starting to understand her confusing concept about staying with people. By protecting her, I can have access to her and her kindness .

From her words, it means more than those touches, but I don't know what yet. I can at least understand the concept, when it comes to her touching me.

Is that what she does to others?

No. She will not.

If anyone or anything tries to do that to her, I will have to squeeze them until every bone in their body cracks and the pressure makes them split apart.

I can almost taste the victory bite.

I leave her for the night, venturing deeper into the waters. There isn't much to hunt when the darkness takes over the skies but taking a swim helps me to clear my head and stay focused.

I've been taking more swims lately and venturing deeper than I've ever gone before.

I didn't have any desire to explore the waters I found before I met her. I only went just far enough in search of better prey. When I found none, I stopped searching and established the best and most advantageous territory for myself.

Since it's freshwater, it hardens on my skin and causes drag, but I can still out-swim anything in these waters. I can't hold it properly when I'm on land because it's nowhere near as refreshing as the water in the ocean.

All I can do is endure it until I can find something better.

Until I can find both of us something better.

Venturing deeper into the water, the pressure changes. The number of the Many Teeth increases the deeper I go in and I find signs of their nests everywhere. The droppings they leave after consuming their prey are plentiful, and I can pick up signs of their migration.

It goes deeper, but I don't like the taste of it down there. Fortunately, they're getting farther away from my cave and moving into deeper waters, where the pressure changes.

She won't run the risk of running into the Many Teeth so deep into the trees. I disgust myself by rejoicing in that, but I don't feel as guilty as I used to feel.

The yellow one is mine.

Instead of moving farther downwards and placing myself in the territory of the Many Teeth, I go upward instead. I reach the surface in a few laps and my head breaks through the water. It's colder now. The sky is darkening, yet I can feel something approaching.

Two somethings, both of them running and breathing harshly.

They are strange and I assume not native to this area. I move closer to the shore, careful to not make any sounds.

I lurk by the surface, waiting for them to approach. The heavy footsteps give away signs of their location, as well as the babbling I hear from the distance. As they get closer, I can see them clearly.

The reluctance to kill that I felt when I first saw the female seems to have disappeared. My violent thirst to hunt and kill come back in full force, demanding the blood and head of the creatures that have encroached upon the water.

Are they the ones that took me?

I swim closer to them, eager to find out.

The one in front is covered in weeds, just like my yellow female, except it is far shorter and a different color. They are also much larger than her and of a different shape. Not her kind, then.

I keep my eyes on them, monitoring them as they approach the shore, then try to snap my tentacles at them. But I can't. There is a similar aversion that has so enraged me with the yellow woman, except I feel no attraction to the hulking creature.

It isn't one of the ones who took me, so no rage builds at my inability to attack it.

I let it move on, six limbs running down the shore of the lake. The figure behind it has the same body shape that's started to seem less odd in the female, but smaller, without her head weeds, and a gray-green skin instead of her warm brown.

Not my sworn enemy, but maybe one like it.

When this one comes close, I assume I will also be unable to harm it, but I'm wrong.

My tentacles shoot up before they can get by, and I grab them in an instant.

Though they struggle, my hold on them is tight. I pull them into the water, taking them deeper and deeper until we reach the Many Teeth's territory. I toss them forward and watch in glee as they're torn apart.

A wave of relief passes over me. She hasn't destroyed my hunter's instincts.