Page 5 of Salt and Knot

Chapter 3

Dylan

“You nearly fucking killed her!” I scream as soon as I’ve part shifted. My kraken form—half of myself that I can barely control—doesn’t answer in words, but I know he hears, and understands, from the wave of emotion.

Triumphant, unrepentant.

He’s a smug fucking bastard because he found our mate.

Six hundred years, and he felt her, dragged me to the water exit from the house, and swam right to her.

My mate.

If I weren’t so terrified she might die, I’d wonder at how lucky I am that my kraken-half sensed her. But there’s no time for that.

“She wasn’t ready!” I growl as I drag myself out of the dark circular pool, linked to the sea by an underwater tunnel.

I barely wait for my lower body to shift, pulling myself with my arms even as my many tentacles reform into legs. I’m on my feet and running. Up the spiral stairs, to my bedroom. I snatch up a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and yank them on. Training shoes, then I’m out of the house, not bothering to shut the door.

I have to get to her.

The sprint over the path is a blur. I throw myself down the cliff track that leads down to the tiny cove.

I smell her before I see her. The merest hint of a sweet citrus scent that instantly makes me feral. I know that’s what my kraken smelled too, and no wonder he lost it. Then I’m on the sand, and she’s there, and my heart leaps.

But she’s unmoving. Face down.

The spurt of speed has sand covering me as my feet kick up. If she weren’t my mate, and the scent of her wasn’t so intense, I could almost believe she was just a normal human woman sunbathing a bit awkwardly. I throw myself down beside her.

“Are you okay?” I don’t even know my mate’s name, but her bright, sweet scent—orange and lime—fills my nose.

The sight of her tugs at me. She’s small, my mate. Fragile. And naked. If I weren’t in a blind panic, I’d admire my first look of how beautiful she is. My heart turns painfully inside out. She can’t be dead. That’s impossible. Not when I’ve waited for her so long, looked for her for centuries.

“Please, please.” If I’m begging her, yes, fine. Or any god that is listening, I’ll take that too.

But thankfully, I’ve picked up a few things in my life on helping people who have been in the water.

I check her pulse with two fingers, and that small touch is a zap of electricity that steals my heart. If I had any doubt that she was my mate, the instant connection squashes it.

There’s a beat. Low, fluttering, but there.

I tip her mouth wide and it’s the same, and relief surges through me when I feel her breath on my hand.

“You’re going to be okay, little omega. I’m going to turn you onto your side.” I’m shaking.

I’m about to roll her when she groans, and her eyelids blink open, still having droplets of water on them that sparkle in the sunshine.

“Hurts.” Her voice is soft, then she coughs, and instinctively, I shift her as she ejects more seawater from her delicate lungs.

Oh my poor little mate. The water she swallowed will be painful, and she’s clearly exhausted. I stroke her hair as she drools and splutters.

“We’ll get that fixed, don’t worry.” I pause, but this is the right thing to do. “I’m going to carry you home.” To her new home, though she doesn’t realise that yet. Just one of them, as well. I have a dozen different houses, mostly on the coast—although a few are in cities, on rivers or estuaries that lead to the sea. The kraken doesn’t like the sweet water, and grumbles whenever business takes me to London or Bristol.

“Hot.” She rolls slightly, and then shudders. “Ow.”

“You’re hot?” I’m blocking the sun with my big body, so I’m surprised, given she’s soaked to the skin.

“Make it stop,” she whimpers, and shifts her hips, bringing my attention to her nakedness. The perfect rounded arse, and the strong legs of my mate.