Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
The magical current through my body is there, as is the need to twine my body with hers, to bring her back to my den and pump her full of my seed. My desperation for her is turning me into a creature running on pure instinct, as the scribes detailed.
Her scent… It is delectable, but it is not making me resort to my baser instincts. I could become addicted to her smell, but it isn’t sweet and all-consuming, not like those who claim to have met their mates report.
The Witch must be trying to fool me so I never break the Curse. Alas, I would recognize my mate anywhere.
My heightened vision allows me to see her clearly without closing the distance. Her eyes are blank, empty. She is but a lifeless shell. It’s a look I would recognize anywhere. The silence becomes deafening, and every breath sounds like a roar, but inside? Nothing, like the sudden bout of quiet after a snap of a twig in a singing forest.
Every instinct yells at me to take her sadness away.
What troubles my little mate? I will fix it for her, make her the happiest human to ever have existed. Her sadness is unacceptable.
I breathe her in, use my suckers to try to taste her, ingraining her scent into my memory. I must learn everything possible about my mate before bringing her to our den. All her likes, dislikes, passions. That way, I can prepare our home, and she will be impressed and immediately fall in love with me. Then, we will marry, my kingdom will be prosperous once more, my mate will carry my cub, and I will never have to endure the silence ever again.
Dipping back beneath the water, I yank Vasz away from the crab he’s terrorizing and drag him close to the surface. I point in my mate’s direction. “Memorize her smell.”
The pup rolls his eyes, wriggling in my grip. “Ugh. Do I have to?” His snout leaves the water for a second too short. “She smells bad.”
“Do it,” I growl, staring into his beady brown eyes so he knows I am ordering him as his king.
He tips his head in a total lack of regard for my authority. “What do I get out of it?”
I grit my teeth. Must everything be so difficult? “I will bring home a coconut for you.” He can only hold one in his mouth. My offer is more than generous, since the creature brings nothing but clutter into my den.
He holds up his four webbed toes. “Five.”
“Two.”
He considers for a moment. “Fine.”
I’ll bring it back, but who’s to say I will not destroy it once there? After all, I must prepare our nest for my mate.
Vasz grumbles under his breath and then collapses onto his back. “Pats as payment.”
I huff and lightly tap his stomach a couple of times, scrutinizing my mate’s den. It’s too small, too cramped to be deserving of her.
Her scent hangs heavy in the air, unbearably heady. My weak human knees almost buckle from the knowledge the smell belongs to the female the Goddess deemed to be my perfect other. Our fate was written in the foam threading through every wave, every star that pierces through the surface of the water.
I have a mate.
A mate.
Someone to share my life with. A bride who will end the Curse and make me worthy of the love my family gave so freely when I’ve been nothing but undeserving. Everything will finally be right.
Vasz smacks my hand when I stop petting him and gives me a pointed look.
I quietly hiss, “You are testing me, creature.”
He huffs. “Your mate is not lost because of me. Keep patting.”
I bare my teeth at him, doing as he demands, rubbing Vasz’s stomach until his tongue rolls out the side of his mouth. The pup is acting far too brave today. Goddess knows, he’ll be exploiting my weakness as much as possible now that I have one.
It wasn’t long after I found my sea-sent mate that she rose up on two feet and left me behind in the water without so much as a backward glance. It was hard not to be disappointed she never noticed me, and it was impossible to track where she disappeared to on her bike.
If not for Vasz’s unnervingly good nose, I could have spent months searching for her. The few hours we were apart were torturous enough as it was. I felt like I was succumbing to the Waste when she was out of my sight, the poison eating my mind until reality was no longer a concept I recognized.
Not a full day, and my mate is already driving me crazy.
How long is one meant to wait before approaching their fated human? An hour? A week? A month? No, that’s too long.
The sooner we marry, the better. Before Krokant succumbs to the Curse, and there is no more viable land in my territory. There’s no telling if it will be possible to break the curse if that occurs.
Vasz slaps me again, and I gnash my teeth at him. The threat of my venom perfumes the humid air.
He rolls his eyes, sits back on his hind legs, and holds up one webbed toe. “Six coconuts as payment for my service, like we agreed,” he reminds me before pointing at the three on the ground.
I blink at him. “We agreed on two.”
Vasz’s finned tail hits a nearby tree as he trots back toward the beach. “Nine, or I bite your mate.”
Perhaps I should have sent him to School to learn numeracy when I found him—
before he became prone to biting.
Shaking my head, I return my focus to my mate’s home. Droplets of water trickle from my hair, down my torso and two legs. Dust and dry dirt stick to my skin as I circle the property from a distance, keeping to the shadows, letting my skin pulse and shift to blend into my surroundings.
Beneath the moonlight, it is difficult to tell what colors paint the walls of the old house raised off the ground. There’s only the tinge of orange in the bricks on the roof.
It’s unlike the new, grand buildings appearing around the island the past few decades.
Villas, I believe the humans call them. The ones with bright white walls, a pool, and too many windows.
They offer no protection against the elements or predators. Anyone could see through the windows. A single stone to the glass would rupture her security. When the rainy season hits, she’ll be better suited to withstanding any floods.
My mate’s house is not like that.
A bug lands on my neck. I slap a tentacle over my neck, killing the pest in a clean strike.
I study the house; its height, the number of piles it sits on, the spacing between shuttered windows, the distance between the wall and the edges of the roof. No light seeps through the drawn curtains to give away what room she might be in. It looks sturdy—not quite perfectly straight, but it’s solid. A smart choice of den.
It tells me nothing about my mate.
What’s her name? What does she do during the day? Does she work? How long has she lived here? Is she a local? What does her voice sound like? What does she taste like? Her favorite gemstone? Necklaces or rings? Does she prefer gold or silver—I’ll need to know how to decorate our nest.
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