Page 13 of Kiss for My Kraken
CHAPTER 8
Sam dove to the bottom of the river, cursing under his breath. He’d almost let himself be seen. Even though he hadn’t consciously admitted it to himself, he’d hoped that by clearing the way down to the dock Nina would come down to the river’s edge. Just as he’d hoped that trimming back the bushes would allow her to see more of the river—and allow him to see her.
But then she had come down to the dock, looking across at his island with that wistful look on her pretty face. He’d recognized the loneliness in her posture—a loneliness he knew all too well—and the urge to comfort her had almost overcome his better judgment. He’d almost broken the surface before he remembered that his presence was more likely to terrify her than to soothe her.
Had the indication of his presence frightened her? Unable to resist, he drifted closer to the surface again. She was no longer on the dock, and for a moment, he was afraid she’d run away. But then he saw her standing on the porch, smiling. She seemed to be looking directly at him when she blew a kiss out towards the water, and he found himself clenching his fist as if he couldcatch it.What would a real kiss be like, he wondered. How would those pretty pink lips feel beneath his? He was sure they would be soft and sweet.
Too soft.
His mouth was designed for attack, not for gentleness. One of the scientists who’d been careless enough to get too close had discovered that. Sam had paid for it, of course, but he could still remember the satisfying crunch of bone between his teeth.
The lights went on in the shack, briefly illuminating the interior before she pulled the sheets that served as curtains across the windows. But the sheets were old and threadbare, and he caught glimpses of her as she moved around the shack.
The lights went off downstairs, and then a lamp glowed briefly through the upper window. That window wasn’t covered, and he saw the way her slender shoulders drooped as she climbed into bed. While he was happy that she was close by, he regretted the fact that she’d had to spend so much time working on the shack. Perhaps he could help with that while she was at work tomorrow…
He wrapped a tentacle around one of the dock posts to hold himself in place as his body relaxed. It wasn’t quite the same as sleeping, not as humans understood it. He could rest beneath the water, but enough of his consciousness remained that he would be aware of any changes on the surface. He liked being in the river at night, but most evenings he eventually returned to his cabin. Tonight he had no desire to do so. He would remain where he was and keep watch.
The next few days followed in a similar pattern. He waited in the river until she left for work, then followed her silentlydownstream. Once she was safely at the tavern, he returned to the cabin. He cleared out the remains of the overhanging bushes and vines that surrounded the cabin and clogged the small parking area behind it.
Emerging onto the land was a risk, one he normally wouldn’t have taken. Not only was changing into his land form difficult and uncomfortable, he did not want anyone to see him. But very few people ever took the river path, especially not at this time of year, and there were no other houses close by. He was unlikely to be discovered. Except by Flora.
He was getting ready to haul away some of the junk she had moved out to the porch when he looked up and found Flora rocking back and forth on the porch swing. She was wearing a fluffy pink tracksuit today, looking like the harmless old lady she most certainly was not.
“Doing a little fall cleaning?” she asked.
“I’m just getting rid of this junk.”
“Ben said he’d take care of it.”
A noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl came out of his mouth before he could prevent it. He didn’t need the damned rabbit taking care of his female.
“I can handle it,” he snapped, even though he knew he was playing into Flora’s hands.
“Of course you can, dear.” Her innocent smile didn’t help his mood one little bit.
“What do you want, Flora?”
“To tell you to quit lurking.” Her face turned uncharacteristically serious for a moment. “That girl’s going to need you. And you’re not going to be able to help her if you’re hiding at the bottom of the river. Show yourself.”
“She’d be terrified,” he protested.
“Would she? Or are you the one who’s terrified?” With that Parthian shot, she hopped down from the swing with the agility of someone one quarter her age and disappeared down the path.
Damn Flora. Her words had an uncomfortable ring of truth, but he wasn’t convinced that Nina would be as accepting as she seemed to imply. Humans tended to accept some Others more easily. Hundreds of tales have been told about vampires and werewolves, but very few about kraken. He was a creature of the water, not of the land, but even on land he was big and powerful.
But perhaps there was a way to ease her into knowledge of his existence. She seemed to have an affinity for the river, gazing at it in the morning as she drank her coffee on the porch and coming down to the dock each night when she came home. Perhaps that was where he could start.
He waited under the dock as she came down the steps that evening and immediately spotted his offering.
“Oh, how beautiful,” she said softly, and the wonder in her tone filled him with satisfaction. He’d taken the smoothest, most colorful river stones he could find and arranged them in an intricate design.
“Look at this, Ozzie. Isn’t it gorgeous?” He heard the dog sniff at the stones before flopping down on the dock, and she laughed. “I suppose the way to your heart is with a bone, not with a beautifularrangement of stones. It’s like a message in some language I can’t read,” she added thoughtfully.
He jerked, sending the water lapping against the dock post. She was correct. This was one way that his people communicated with each other. His father had taught him some of it before his death, but it was only a fraction of what a free kraken would have learned as a child. She gasped at the movement and he immediately went still, preparing to submerge, but she didn’t try to look beneath the dock.
“Thank you for the gift,” she said, her voice low but clear. “I’m going to come back tomorrow in the daylight and sketch the design so I can place it properly in my home.”
And she’d done just that, returning to the dock not long after daylight. He’d watched through the gaps in the boards as she sketched the design in a small notebook, then carefully placed the stones on a tray she’d brought with her. When she returned to the cabin he surfaced and discovered that she had left him a gift as well—a plate of still-warm cornbread topped with honey butter. He worried about the fact that she was feeding him when she had so little herself, but the fact that she had prepared food for him satisfied some deep, instinctive part of him.
