Page 15 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle
What in the fuck am I supposed to say to that?
“Okay.” I look off into the middle distance, like I’m on a TV show and I’m making a vacant face at the camera. “Anything else I should know while we’re laying all the weird, supernatural bonding cards on the table?”
He glances up at me, cautious, but his eyes have lightened. “You’re taking this quite well.”
“How else should I take it?” I ask. “You said it wasn’t a choice, right?”
He hesitates. “It wasn’t… deliberate. But it’s real. And I’ve never—” His voice falters for a second. “I’ve never bonded with anyone else.”
Something strange and primitive shifts inside of me. A low, deep, possessive hum, like a string pulled taut in my sternum. My chest tightens, and I’m ashamed of the heat that comes with it. I shake my head sharply.
“Wait. Does this affect me? Like… physiologically? Psychologically? Are you doing something to me?” My voice wavers, because even as I say it, I don’t want it to be true. “Is that why I want you? Are you screwing with my head or something?”
Cal’s lips part, and the pain flickers in his face, naked and plain, like I struck him. I feel its keen sting a heartbeat later. A ghost of the same pain, like a blade slicing straight through me.
“No,” he says hoarsely. He drops his gaze, and his tentacles practically wilt around him. “I— God, no, Neviah. It’s not like that. Your wants are your own. But if you don’t wish to act on those wants, then you should probably keep your distance from me.”
Ihatethat he won’t look at me.
I step forward and let my hand slide over his hip, soft and slow and instinctual, like we’ve done this a hundred times. Like I alreadyknowhow he likes to be touched. His body leans into it without hesitation, as if I’ve called on something in him.
His tentacles move toward me like vines reaching toward light, and they seem less sad. It’s fucking absurd, because I’m not sure how a tentaclecanbe sad, or how I’d know—but it feels like I do.
“I felt that,” I say softly. “What I said… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
I press a kiss to his collarbone through the fabric of his hoodie. His body is warm, radiating heat like a furnace, and he’s trembling slightly.
“I don’t want to stay away from you,” I whisper. “But what you want is important too. Do you want me to keep my distance? Do you want to be alone?”
“No, it—” His teeth click as his mouth snaps shut.
I bring my other hand to rest gently on his other hip, slipping under the damp hem of his hoodie, and my thumbs roll circles over the soft skin there as I nose along the line of his jaw. Stubble scrapes, but I like the feeling. “Tell me.”
He exhales, long and quiet. “It hurts when you’re not close.”
I still.
“The pull is constant,” he murmurs. “If you’re too far, if I can’t feel you nearby—it’s like my skin doesn’t fit right. I can’t think. I can’t focus. It’s… painful.”
My heart kicks so hard behind my ribs it makes me lightheaded. “I think I feel it too. Maybe… maybe that’s why I was drawn to the water. Even in the storm.”
His eyes flick to mine, sharp and searching.
I hold his gaze. “That’s where you were, right? In the water.”
The strong column of his throat works with a swallow. “That’s why it’s too dangerous.”
My brows draw together. “What is?”
“This,” he grits. “You and me. I’m not human, Neviah. I have no right to… tothis.”
Where my palm rests over his heart, I can feel its frantic rhythm, so I try to keep my voice low and soothing. “What do you mean?”
“You. I have no right toyou.” His jaw sets hard, tendons jumping. I reach up instinctively to soothe the tension. “You’re pure. Untouched by darkness.”
I lift a brow. “I’mnotpure.”
He huffs a breath through his nose, almost like a laugh, but it’s mirthless. “Compared to me, you are.”
