Guarded by the Kraken (Monster Security Agency, #4)

by Cassie Alexander

“Just what will you be guarding me from?” He considered this deeply—and I would’ve sworn I felt the rumble of his thoughts between us, like a purring lion. “Knowing humans?” he eventually offered. “Most likely yourself.”

Does a bodyguard count as a stalker?

“My wife and child died. He was still unhatched—but I sung to him through his egg sac.”

“Oh, little pearl,” Ceph breathed when I was finished. “I am so very sorry for you.”

“How am I supposed to ignore that?” I put both my hands on my hips and stretched my back. “I don’t know what to tell you, Marcus. Don’t look at it, maybe?”

Pain was the knife with a million different blades.

I loved her. And I was mated, even if she was not. Mates did not run away.

“Would you date a kraken?” She stared at me as her eyes went wide, and then she got a serious look. “Girl, I have been down here so long I would date a fried fish sandwich.”

“No,” he answered. “I’m asking you because my knowledge of human breeding cycles is limited, and I would like to court you—but only if it is appropriate.” I thought I felt my heart stop. “Are you all right, Elle?” he asked, and I nodded, so he continued. “You have hurt, and I have hurt. Let us not hurt, anymore, together.”

“You cut off your very breasts to defeat death. There is nothing that can stop you.”

I had an opportunity to let it lie there. I could have just appreciated them for what they were, and taken them home to use as bookends and have a very good story, in my imaginary future where I did sane things.

“Oh, because, little pearl,” he began, and I felt his heart thrill. “I know that if I found you and you found me and there were some true way for us to be together, a chance at that happiness is worth all the pain in your air, or in my sea. Because I know what it was like to have it once before—I am willing to risk it all, to have it once again. And if it doesn’t happen, then so be it, but at least I know I tried.”

“Whereas I am here, swimming, telling you, you definitely should not do that, as your mate.”

“I like it when things make sense too, Ceph, believe me—but in this one case . . . does it have to?”

“Your mind is so interesting, little pearl,” Ceph mused. “But it is also very loud. Let me pump you quiet again.” For a millisecond I resisted—I wanted to be too smart to ever be fucked stupid—but then in action . . . fucccccckkkkk.

“You’re a historian, aren’t you? How well does giving only one side gunpowder usually work?”