Page 62 of Kiss for My Kraken
A small group of children raced past, dressed in elaborate costumes that ranged from traditional witches and werewolves to more fantastical creations. One girl, no more than seven or eight, stopped abruptly when she saw Sam. She was dressed as a fairy—no, she was an actual fairy, she realized as the girl’s face lit up with delight and her wings fluttered.
“You’re the river man!” she exclaimed, pointing excitedly. “My daddy says you saved the lady from the bad humans!”
He froze, clearly unsure how to respond to such direct acknowledgment.
“That’s right,” she answered for him, smiling at the child. “He’s very brave.”
The girl beamed, revealing a missing front tooth. “Are you a sea monster? Like the ones in my book?”
“Katie!” A harried-looking fairy hurried over, placing apologetic hands on the girl’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. She’s been obsessed with sea creatures since her father told her about what happened.”
“It’s alright,” he said, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. He knelt to the girl’s level, his movements careful and deliberate. “I’m a kraken. But I live in the river, not the sea.”
Katie’s eyes widened with wonder. “Do you have tentacles? Can I see them?”
“Katie, that’s enough,” her mother admonished, looking mortified.
He chuckled, a low rumble that Nina felt more than heard. “Not right now. They’re… resting.”
“Oh.” The girl looked momentarily disappointed before brightening again. “Can you show me tomorrow? Please?”
“Katie!” Her mother looked ready to sink into the ground.
“Maybe someday,” he said diplomatically. “If your mother agrees.”
Katie nodded solemnly before racing off to rejoin her friends, leaving her flustered mother to offer another apology before hurrying after her.
She watched him as he straightened, an odd mixture of surprise and pleasure on his face. “Not the reaction you expected?” she asked, unable to keep the hint of smugness from her voice.
“Not… exactly,” he admitted, looking thoughtfully after the child.
“I told you people here would accept you. You’re not a stranger.”
“There’s a difference between not running away screaming and genuine acceptance,” he said, but his expression had softened, some of the tension leaving his powerful frame.
“Well, then, let’s see just how accepting Fairhaven Falls can be,” she challenged, pulling him towards a booth where Ben was grudgingly handing out fried dough drizzled with honey and cinnamon.
The rabbit’s long ears twitched as they approached. “Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he grunted at Sam.
He shrugged. “Flora insisted.”
Ben snorted. “Can’t argue with that.” He pushed two paper boats of fried dough across the counter. “On the house. Consider it payment for dealing with those Haven’s Grace bastards.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Sam spoke first.
“Thank you,” he said simply, accepting both the food and the gesture.
Ben gave a curt nod before turning to the next customer, but she caught the flicker of approval in his eyes. She filed it away as another small victory.
As they moved through the festival, similar encounters repeated. George clapped Sam on the shoulder as they passed, invitinghim to “stop hiding in the river and come have a proper drink sometime.” The Sheriff, keeping watch over the crowd, greeted them with a grin and told them that the Haven’s Grace van had broken the speed limit racing out of town. Even Dr. Jackson, normally reserved to the point of aloofness, drew Sam aside for a brief conversation.
With each interaction, he seemed to stand a little taller, his movements becoming more natural, less guarded. His eyes, while still watchful, lost their hunted look. He even began to initiate conversations, asking Grondar about some cookies and complimenting Elara on the intricate face-painting she was doing for a line of eager children.
It was a slow, almost imperceptible thawing, but with each passing encounter, she sensed him relaxing further. By the time they made it to the bandstand, he was no longer moving like he was anticipating an attack from every direction.
“You’re practically a social butterfly,” she teased as they paused by a display of carved pumpkins, some depicting scenes so detailed they resembled fine artwork.
He gave her a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Hardly.” His expression softened as he gazed down at her. “But it’s… not as difficult as I expected.”
