Page 45 of Kiss for My Kraken
Ashuddering breath escaped Sam as he watched Nina and Ozzie disappear into the tavern. Something fundamental had shifted in him, like the tectonic plates beneath the ocean floor rearranging themselves to form a new world.
He dove deep, propelling himself through the water with powerful strokes of his tentacles, needing the cool embrace of the river to settle his thoughts. The morning light filtered through the water in dancing patterns, catching on silver fish and river stones. But instead of losing himself in these familiar rhythms as he normally would, his mind remained stubbornly fixed on Nina.
She loves me.
The thought burned brighter than the sun above, impossible and wondrous. He had lived on his own for so long, resigned to observation rather than participation, content with his island sanctuary and occasional, distant interactions with the other inhabitants of Fairhaven Falls.
And then Nina had fallen into his river.
As he climbed out of the water into his cabin, he immediately caught her intoxicating scent and his body responded.Later, he told himself as he looked around.
What had once seemed perfectly adequate for his solitary existence now appeared too stark—the sparse furnishings and the few concessions to comfort inadequate for her.
“This won’t do,” he muttered, his deep voice startling a pair of birds from a nearby branch.
If Nina was going to share his life—and the fierce surge of possessive joy at the thought nearly overwhelmed him—then she deserved better than a hideaway. She deserved a home.
He moved through the cabin, mentally cataloging what needed to change. The bed platform was adequate, but he needed more pillows and blankets. She would need storage for her clothes. The small kitchen area needed more cooking implements, not just the basic items he currently used to prepare the occasional meal.
The bathroom situation was another problem entirely. He had never required much in the way of human facilities—he bathed in the river, and his body processed waste differently than a human’s. But Nina would need more. Running water. Proper plumbing. Aidan might be able to recommend someone to help him…
That thought stopped him in his tracks for a moment—bring a stranger to his island? He would prefer to make any changes himself but if it were necessary for her comfort, he wouldn’t hesitate.
Pulling out a leather-bound journal he began to make lists, plans, sketches—all the changes needed to make this placeworthy of her. By midday, he had filled several pages with notes and diagrams. The cabin would need to be expanded. The dock strengthened. Paths cleared through the underbrush to make walking easier for her. Solar panels for electricity. A proper bathroom. Furnishings designed for human comfort.
He paused, pen hovering over the paper, struck by the enormity of the shift in his thinking. For decades, he had lived each day separately from the last, existing rather than building. Now, he was planning. Creating. Looking forward.
This is what love does, he realized.It makes you want a future.
The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.
He carefully placed the journal back on the shelf and moved to the cabin door. Standing on the porch, he surveyed his island with new eyes. The dense trees, the moss-covered ground, the river embracing it all—it was beautiful, yes, but also isolated. Insulated. Safe.
But safety, he was beginning to understand, came with a price. And that price was connection.
Nina had offered him connection. Had offered herself, completely and without reservation, despite knowing what he was. And in return, he had given her his heart. But there was more to give.
The river called to him, but he ignored it, transitioning into his land form. Being part of the town was important to her and if he wanted to be part of that life, he needed to adapt. He practiced until the sun had moved significantly across the sky, forcing himself to maintain the land form even as his body protested, craving the river’s embrace. By the time he allowed himself toslide back into the water, resuming his natural form with a relief that bordered on ecstasy, he had walked nearly a mile.
It wasn’t enough, not yet. But it was a beginning, and instead of retreating to the deeper channels as he usually would during daylight hours, he found himself drawn downstream, towards town. Towards Nina.
The river spoke to him in a language of currents and temperature shifts. This afternoon, it whispered of approaching winter—water cooling by fractions each day, leaves beginning their journey from branch to river bottom. He floated beneath the surface near her dock, his massive body nearly motionless except for the gentle undulation that kept him in place against the current.
Since she had come into his life, these waiting hours had become a meditation of sorts. Before, time had stretched endlessly, one day bleeding into the next. Now, each minute had a purpose—building towards the moment she would return.
He thought about the changes he’d planned, and other ideas to adapt the cabin for her comfort. A new shelf for her sketches, steps leading from the water to the porch, a second chair positioned to catch the morning light she loved.
The water around him shifted subtly—a boat passing upstream, fish responding to its wake. He remained still, his awareness extending outward like ripples. He’d grown especially attuned to the rhythms of this stretch of river: the morning fishermen, the occasional canoe, the predictable movements of wildlife. He knew immediately when something disrupted those patterns.
His gills fluttered as he drew in water, filtering oxygen and information simultaneously. The familiar scents registeredautomatically—algae, fish, the mineral tang of the riverbed, the more complex organic compounds from the forest. Nina’s lingering presence at the dock, hours old now.
He closed his eyes, settling deeper into the riverbed. He’d become adept at measuring time by the sun’s passage through the water, the changing angle of light penetrating the surface. She would return soon. He allowed himself to imagine her smile, the way her eyes brightened when she spotted him waiting. The way her body felt pressed against his, warm and yielding.
A sudden tremor disturbed his reverie—not physical, but a shift in the river’s energy. His eyes snapped open, nictitating membranes sliding in place to give him clear vision. Something had changed.
He rose slightly from the riverbed, tentacles extending to better sense his surroundings. The water carried new information now, molecules that didn’t belong in the river’s natural chemistry. Adrenaline. Cortisol. The biochemical signatures of fear.
Nina’s fear.
