Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
Witches. Queens. Krakens. I clench my jaw and silently urge him to continue.
“And so started the Witch’s tirade for revenge. She didn’t care who the offending kraken was. In her eyes, all kraken-kind was complicit, all suffering for the crimes of one. She sacrificed her crew, used the energy from their souls to kill my mother and cast a Curse over our territory for all plants to wither and die so krakens will starve to death or succumb to the Waste,” he says, like he’s repeating a story out of a kid’s book, not something he’s lived through.
I stare at the boat. His story makes sense. In a way.
It justifies the miles upon miles of desert land we passed. It explains this eerie place, the lack of vegetation on Ordus’ island.
I believe him.
“My sister was agile.” There’s the first inflection in his tone, a dip that says this isn’t just a story for him. “She snapped the Witch’s neck, but it was too late. The damage was done. My mother was dead, and our territory cursed. It is why…” He clears his throat. “Why my kingdom is known as the Dead Lands.”
I’m not sure whether I’m more shocked by the fact that one witch could cause this much destruction, or that Ordus is a fucking king.
“Forever?” I whisper, turning back to face him. The Earth is already screwed because of human greed. I’m no scientist, but I’m fairly certain the last thing our world needs is for part of the sea to be uninhabitable for all forms of life.
The full weight of his attention falls on me. “No. The Curse can be lifted.”
Ordus’ tentacle squeezes my waist. The blues of his irises have darkened into thunderclouds, the glint of sunlight in them a thunderbolt. The intensity makes me suck in a sharp breath, wanting to turn back around to avoid seeing his gaze.
I wet my dry lips. “How?” Something tells me I don’t want to know.
“By the ruler marrying their destined bride.”
His words slam into me, heavy and suffocating.
Me.
I’m his so-called mate. How much more destined can it get?
“My brother and sister both married krakens their souls didn’t call to. The Curse remained.”
The dome is running out of oxygen. I don’t think I can breathe.
Me? Save kraken-kind?
No.
No. That’s not me. He’s got the wrong person.
Being his mate is hard enough to wrap my head around. Having the fate of his species rest on my shoulders? The same shoulder that was dislocated the one time I tried protecting myself from Tommy? The same person who jumps at her own goddamn shadow? I don’t think so.
Wait. So this is the real reason why he wants me? Not because I’m his mate, but out of moral obligation to protect his people? That stings more than I care to admit.
Does that mean he will force me to… Panic roars in my veins.
His eyes round in alarm. “The bride must be willing,” Ordus quickly adds.
“I’m not willing,” I seethe. Like fuck am I getting married again. Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt and bruises to prove it.
I expect Ordus to argue or go on about how he’ll protect me and blah, blah, blah. His reaction surprises me instead. “I know.” Nodding solemnly, he says, “I want anything you are willing to give. Even if it’s nothing, I will spend the rest of my life eternally grateful for the chance to be in your presence.”
Heat blossoms in my chest. Why couldn’t he say something that would piss me off? When he’s all nice and somber, it’s hard for me to villainize him.
I break eye contact and wrap my arms around his neck to resume the position we were in before we stopped. “I want to leave.”
He says nothing. Neither do I. I can tell he doesn’t miss I never said I wanted to return to my cabin, because there’s something easy about the way he moves.
The grating silence stretches well beyond the site of the casting. The tension is palpable. He shrunk the dome back down so it’s large enough for me to stew alone in my turmoil.
The right thing to do would be to give him my hand and let him pop a ring on it. But one, who says he’s telling the truth about this whole thing? And two, I’m not going to do something just because a man wants it. I need to put myself first.
A few more hours roll by before the landscape shifts, more rock than sand. A dark wall looms ahead, spreading as far as the eye can see, reaching toward the heavens. A field of promised death borders the island. Rugged chunks of spear-shaped stone with sharpened tips protrude from the ground. A single wave would send a human crashing into it. I can’t imagine how horrifying it would look at night or during a storm.
Suppressing a shudder, I tighten my weak grasp around Ordus. At some point, he shifted one of the gallons to his tentacles to keep me upright with his free hand after noticing my slipping grip.
He rubs slow circles over my back, and I glare over his shoulder. It feels nice. I hate that it feels nice. Nothing Ordus does should feel nice, but it does. Too much does.
The stray tentacle that always seems to seek me out feels nice.
The suckers feel nice—especially when they start plucking.
The way his claws brush against my cheek as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear feels nice.
The approaching wall of rock snags all my attention. The gargantuan, round stone stands out against the expanse of sharp edges. It looks like the “he rose on the third day” type of tomb, minus the sentries. Some type of inscription has been engraved into the eroded surface of the wall and door. I gape when the sigils glow piercing blue before the stone painstakingly rolls to the side with an earth-rumbling groan.
Ordus tucks me closer to him, and I let him. He dives into the tunnel, slowly navigating the pitch-black darkness with what feels like ease. I use whatever energy I have left to force my muscles to comply and keep my limbs as close to his body as possible—which is nice too.
When was the last time I had my legs wrapped around someone, and they happily held me back? Nathan Chen when I first started university? He was an on-again, off-again biology major whose interest in me was purely physical, which was fine by me because I wanted the touch of another person.
Thomas Gallagher was never the cuddly type. I had foolishly assumed his way of showing me he cared about me was through gifts and quality time. In hindsight, he was only buying my freedom.
Blue light filters through the darkness, and I blink against the first pass of the glowing algae. We’re plunged into darkness again before the light grows until it’s near blinding.
The dome pops. Saltwater rushes into my mouth before I break past the surface, gasping for air. I swing my attention toward the sound of movement. Vasz perks up into a sitting position and patiently watches as Ordus lowers me to my feet.
My legs wobble from fatigue and overuse, and he catches me before my knees can slam against the hard ground. He sets me closer to Vasz, deposits my things against another wall, gives me a swift, “I will return soon. Stay,” and he’s off, leaving me in my jail cell for the indeterminate future.
I blink at the space he once occupied. Before I can begin to question where he’s going in such a rush, Vasz nudges my shoulder then stares down at the coconut skin he’s dropped beside me. His eyes flick between me and the fruit.
“Thank you,” I say, cautiously patting his head. “Keep it.” I sigh, pushing the coconut back to him. “You deserve it.”
Silver lining? I’ve always wanted a dog.
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