Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Rose

O nce the kraken leaves, I stagger into the living room just before my legs give out. I collapse onto my couch, soaking wet and trembling. I almost lost him. He could have died, and there was nothing I could have done to save him. But something did. Something plucked that enemy kraken from the water and slung it out of sight.

Magic. I just witnessed actual magic. Though, really, should I be surprised? I’ve been spending time with a kraken who understands English. And there’s been other things I’ve noticed in town that?—

My phone chimes, making me jump so violently I nearly fall off the couch. My hands shake as I fumble with the device, almost dropping it twice before I can focus on the screen. It’s a text from Levi, canceling our date.

The disappointment hits harder than it should. I’d been holding myself together, barely, but something about this simple cancellation breaks the dam. Tears blur my vision as I curl into myself, my whole body trembling. I need someone to hold me, to tell me I’m not crazy, to help me make sense of what just happened. But the one person I want to run to isn’t here – he’s stuck out on a fishing boat somewhere beyond the harbor. A sob escapes my throat, then another, until I’m crying so hard I can barely breathe. It’s everything at once – the terror of almost being taken by that monster, the heart-stopping fear of watching my kraken fight, the impossible magic I witnessed, and now this crushing loneliness. By the time I’m cried out, my body feels like it’s been wrung out, exhaustion seeping into every muscle as the adrenaline finally drains away.

I don’t remember closing my eyes. One moment, I’m gasping through tears, and the next, I’m jerking awake, my teeth chattering and my still-damp clothes clinging to my skin. I groan as I force myself upright, my neck punishing me for falling asleep like some awkward marionette with its strings cut. I must have been out for hours, twisted in the same uncomfortable position.

After a shower hot enough to turn my skin pink, I put on my oldest, softest sweater and pad to the window. Levi’s houseboat sits dark and silent, the empty deck illuminated only by the marina’s security lights. My heart aches a little at the thought of him still working so late – he must be exhausted. The memory of his apologetic text message surfaces, and I bite my lip, remembering how let down I’d felt. But now, standing here in my warm, dry clothes, I feel guilty for wallowing in that disappointment. He’s been working all day, probably bent over an engine in the cold and damp.

A thought strikes me – when was the last time he ate? Knowing Levi, he probably skipped lunch to keep working. My stomach growls on cue, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast either. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull on a pair of leggings, grab my keys, and head to the Salty Dog Diner. It’s one of those little local places that smells like french fries and coffee, with vinyl booths worn smooth from decades of use. After a moment’s consideration, I order a burger and get Levi a fried fish sandwich with extra tartar sauce. He practically rhapsodizes about their fish whenever we’ve eaten here – something about how they use fresh-caught local fish and a secret beer batter recipe. Once, he spent fifteen minutes explaining to me why their tartar sauce was superior to every other restaurant in town, his eyes lighting up like he was sharing the secrets of the universe.

When I pull into the marina, I spot what I think is Captain Mike’s fishing boat. The commercial fishing vessels occupy the north section of the marina, hidden from my view by the long pier of private boats and the harbormaster’s office. I can only see it because I drive past that section on my way in. Perfect timing – Levi’s back. I head to his houseboat and knock, but there’s no answer. I knock again harder, just in case he’s in the shower or something. Just as I’m about to leave, the door opens. Levi looks exhausted, his hair mussed like he’s been sleeping.

“Sorry if I woke you,” I say. “I just thought you might need a hot meal after your tough day.”

He blinks, looking startled. “Oh, yeah. The boat gave us a lot of trouble today.” He invites me in, and I realize I’ve never been inside his houseboat.

The clutter surprises me. Shells crowd every surface, bottles that look salvaged from the ocean floor line the windowsills, and a few gold coins fill a heavy glass bowl. Ornate silver candlesticks sit beside a couple of old-looking porcelain figurines while a tarnished bronze compass leans against an ancient sextant. Near a well-worn leather couch, paperback books are stacked precariously high, their spines cracked and faded with age. It’s like stepping into a treasure hunter’s den. I hide my smile behind my hand as we sit at his small kitchen table.

Levi devours his food like he hasn’t eaten all day. He moves stiffly when he gets up to grab drinks, groaning slightly.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Just sore muscles from work,” he says, waving off my offer to get the drinks instead.

After we finish eating, Levi’s eyes droop, his head nodding forward before he catches himself. He looks like he’s fighting to stay awake.

“Hey,” I say softly, gathering our empty containers, “you’re exhausted. I should head home so you can get some sleep.”

“No, stay.” His voice is rough with fatigue, but his eyes find mine. “Please? I already told Captain Mike I’m taking tomorrow off.” He runs a hand through his messy hair, looking almost shy. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

Something in his vulnerable expression makes my heart flutter. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’d like that too.”

I borrow one of Levi’s t-shirts to sleep in, the soft cotton falling to mid-thigh. It smells like him – a mix of salt air and something deeper, more primal. Levi doesn’t even change out of his clothes, just crawls into bed still wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants. He moves carefully, his motions slow and heavy with fatigue.

He’s asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, his breathing evening into a steady rhythm. I lie beside him, wide awake, my mind a tangled mess after today’s chaos. Every time I close my eyes, I see tentacles breaking through waves, water churning with that strange blue blood.

The small nightlight in the corner casts a warm glow across his skin, softening the sharp line of his jaw and turning his hair into silk. He looks younger in sleep and more vulnerable somehow. The mattress shifts as Levi rolls onto his side, facing away from me.

A slight sound escapes him – not quite a cry, but something distressed. His shoulders tense, fingers twitching against the sheets. Another whimper, and my heart clenches. Before I can stop myself, I reach out, running my hand gently across his back.

“Shhh,” I whisper, keeping my voice low and soothing. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay.” The words feel strange on my tongue – how many times today have I needed someone to tell me the same thing?

When he settles at my touch, I push up his shirt to stroke his skin. My hand freezes mid-motion, my brain struggling to process what I’m seeing. Scars. So many scars. Long, pale marks slash across his skin like whip lashes, but it’s the other marks that make my breath freeze in my throat. Circular marks… raised scars that I know – I know – as well as I know my own reflection. My fingers have traced these exact patterns so many times while we floated in the water, my body stretched out along my kraken’s back as I mapped every scar and mark on his hide.

The room spins. I pull my hand back, staring at my trembling fingers as if they might have somehow deceived me. But no – those marks are seared into my memory. How many afternoons have I spent trailing my fingers over those circular scars, wondering what could have caused such strange patterns?

What the actual fuck?

How have I never noticed them before now? My mind races backward, replaying every intimate moment with Levi. The way he’d catch my wrists when I’d slide my hands up his back, how he’d roll us over or distract me with kisses. He was so smooth and subtle that I didn’t realize it was deliberate. Calculated. I thought he’d just noticed how I liked to be held down. Now I realize he was trying to keep me from discovering these marks – because he knew I’d recognize them.

My heart pounds so hard I’m afraid it might wake him. With shaking hands, I trace my fingertips over the scars again to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Then I pause, thinking back to the injury my kraken suffered earlier. Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for his waistband, carefully pulling it back just enough to get a look at his hip.

A large white bandage covers his skin in the about the same spot where my kraken was wounded today, where that other monster had torn into him.

The evidence is right here under my fingers, but my brain keeps skittering away from the conclusion like I’m trying to hold onto a fistful of water. It’s insane. It’s unthinkable. But the proof is literally beneath my hands.

Somehow, impossibly, unbelievably, Levi is my kraken.

And he didn’t tell me.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. All those moments, all those shared secrets – me pouring my heart out to my gentle sea monster while Levi… what? Laughed about it later? Kept track of what pieces of himself he revealed in each form? How many times have I essentially been dating the same person without knowing it?

Panic drives me backward, my movements clumsy and desperate. The mattress dips treacherously beneath me, and I nearly tumble off the edge, catching myself at the last second. Heart thundering against my ribs, I go still as stone, watching Levi’s face for any sign of waking. But his breathing remains deep and steady, completely unaware that my entire world has shattered.

I slide off the mattress, my legs shaking so badly I need to steady myself against the nightstand. Each step around the bed feels like moving through water, my movements sluggish with disbelief. When I reach his side, the dim light spilling through the window illuminates his face, and I sink to my knees beside him. I study his features – features I’ve kissed, features I’ve memorized – searching desperately for some sign of the creature I’ve spent countless afternoons with.

How could I have been so blind? The way they both tilt their heads when confused, their shared gentle nature, the fluid grace they both possess in their domains. Even the way they touch me is the same. Most telling of all – Levi’s striking blue-grey eyes that I’ve always found so captivating – are the same shade as my kraken’s skin. How often have I looked into those eyes in both forms and never seen the truth staring back at me?

My kraken. Levi is my kraken. The truth pulses through me with each heartbeat, undeniable now that I’ve seen it. He’s the same soul in two forms – the kraken who saved me from drowning and protected me today. And the man I’ve been falling for.

My hand hovers over his shoulder. I should wake him right now, demand the truth. Make him answer all the questions burning in my throat like bile – How long were you going to keep this from me? Were you ever going to tell me? Do you trust me at all?

But uncertainty freezes me in place. What right do I have to demand answers when I’m not sure I’m ready to hear them? When I’m not sure what those answers would mean for us – for whatever this is between us?

I need to think.

Moving like a ghost, I gather my clothes and slip out of his room. Each step toward the door feels like moving through mud; part of me wants to return to Levi and pretend I didn’t see anything.

Only when I’m safely inside my houseboat, do I let my legs give out, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

I press my hands to my face, but it doesn’t stop the room from spinning. The man I’m falling for is also the creature I’ve grown to trust and care for. I shared my deepest dreams and secrets – hell, I shared my body. He’s become my dearest friend – in two different forms. And I have no idea what to do with that information.

I need to think. I need time. I need… I don’t even know what I need anymore.

Around me, the gentle rocking of my houseboat continues, unaware that everything else in my world has shifted irreversibly off its axis.