Epilogue

Marin

S ix months later.

I stood in the middle of the Muses & Peculiarities Art Gallery and took in the crowd of people. Everyone was decked out in coats that were expensive only because of the tag on them, looking down at my art over the rim of flutes of champagne they weren’t enjoying.

I searched for that feeling of euphoria that should surely hit at any moment now.

After working for eccentrics for years, I could differentiate between those who appreciated art and those who didn’t. I’d had a nerdy lawyer hug me with tears in his eyes after I turned the walls of his apartment into a work of art. He’d told me he needed the place to be his sanctuary, and I’d filled it with murals and paintings in bright colors he’d never have had the guts to pick himself, making it the home he’d always dreamed of.

Then, a few weeks back, I’d been hired by a family with two children. The boy had asked for a magical forest in his room and the girl wanted to feel like she was in space. I’d studied the Amazon jungle and maps of the sky for three weeks during the project, and turned their rooms into vibrant landscapes. Both kids had cried with joy and the parents had taken an entire stack of my business cards to give to their friends.

Now, I was searching for the feeling in me I had when those people had first seen how I’d painted their house. It wasn’t there.

I loved seeing my art in a gallery. I wouldn’t lie. But I knew now that I couldn’t let go of my work as a painter and seeing genuine joy on people’s faces—when I turned their living spaces into a scene of their favorite movie or TV show, or that place the couple had visited on their honeymoon.

After I’d shown DeeDee my Kert paintings, she’d sent the pictures to the curator and organized the exhibit lickety-split, inviting everyone on her list. The turnout was way bigger than I’d expected, and people were still coming. My friends lingered in the periphery, letting me breathe after their initial greet, knowing how insanely stressful this event was for me.

Evelyn, or as Kert called her, ‘the hot ogre lady’, stood in front of the painting of Central Park in summer with Kert’s ass visible as he stretched on the grass. She crossed her massive arms and nodded.

The petite Rowena was holding her husband’s hand as they stood in front of another painting, the leash in her grip discreetly hidden in his sleeve. My kinky friends had come to support me, and the appreciation for Kert’s ass was palpable. Showing the art to the public turned out to be less awkward than I’d expected: I was proud of it, and Kert was feeding his exhibitionist streak.

“Are you okay?” Kert’s voice soothed me like a balm, and his touch on my tentacle let me release a sigh.

“Yeah. People love your ass and I don’t blame them.”

Kert preened. “They adore your paintings.”

“Maybe. I’m happy to share these with my friends, but it doesn’t make a huge difference that it’s in a gallery, to be fair.”

“It’s not what you expected?” Kert stroked my tentacle, gently playing with the suckers.

“You know what? Maybe it was, and that’s one reason I was reluctant to share these paintings. I feel like these people don’t appreciate your ass enough.” I pulled him to my side and kissed his horn.

He snorted. “But others will. When your exhibition becomes open to the public, legions will be inspired and awed by your art. With recognition comes pressure, but also a semblance of freedom. You’ll get to pick and choose what to share, when and where, reaching an audience that may have never seen paintings like yours before.”

“You’re right. Rowena said we should do art night at the BDSM club and have the paintings there as the first exhibit.” I took in Kert’s grin and gauged what he thought of the idea.

“I’m totally attending that naked.” He poked a sucker on my tentacle with a finger. “Wearing only your sucker marks.”

“Mmm… can’t wait.” I kissed his hair, inhaling the almondy-marzipan scent. “DeeDee said that quitting my other work and sticking to art on canvas would give more worth to my paintings, but I don’t care.”

“You’re still gonna paint that hospital in Wisconsin, huh?”

“Yup. And all the other ones I got the offers for. I’ll make time to finish painting our apartment too, I promise.”

“DeeDee offered good insight, but in the end, you need to go with your gut.” Kert leaned into my side, snuggling his slim body into my tentacles. I loved the way he gave me constant support, yet remained a voice of reason—the solid sounding board I needed.

Kert always knew the right answer. He’d moved to New York, where he wasn’t half as renowned as in Europe, and taken a job at a local college. He’d been offered the chance to do an art installation for the college’s yard, and the smaller sculptures he’d been doing in our flat had been displayed in several exhibits in the area. We’d turned the storage closet into a tiny art studio where he’d do the dirty clay work while I painted on canvas in the living room. Some days, we’d work side-by-side, others we’d use our bodies to roll around among the chaos of art supplies. We’d found a balance of sex and art at home, even if our life outside it was still in artistic disarray.

The exhibition today had given me perspective of what I’d want to do with my skills, though.

DeeDee was at the door, wearing insanely high neon pink stilettos and greeting people. I waved at Gabriel, who barely fit his huge gargoyle wings through the door and dazzled everyone with his Hollywood smile.

“Ah I see why the exhibit is called The Little Devil.” He approached us and reached out to Kert for a handshake. “Lovely to meet the muse, the legend.”

Kert grinned and shook his hand. “And the owner of that ass?” He waved his tail at the walls full of my art.

“Don’t feed his ego, Gabriel.” I chuckled, bumping knuckles with the guy. “Although it deserves to be fed.”

“Lovely to see you happy, my friend. I contacted Spiros, and he’s game for renting my house next December.” He waved to someone behind me. “I see that our club gang showed up. I’ll go say hi.” He patted my shoulder and joined the crowd.

I nuzzled Kert’s neck. “I’m inspired for something tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I have a box of body paint with your name on it. You’ll be my canvas tonight, Kert.”

The Following December.

I sat on the double bed in my childhood room in my parent’s house, inhaled the mixed aromas of Christmas food, and closed my eyes.

Kert and I had spent the past three weeks with his dads in New York, showing them around. This year, I’d planned trips before Christmas better to avoid being snowed in, or any other winter disasters, and invited Kert’s dads to my family home for Christmas. We’d had several days of our parents bonding with scary enthusiasm, singing karaoke, and yelling obscenities about the stupidity of the politics regarding cryptids.

After that, I’d taken Kert to the beaches I’d loved swimming at when I was a kid, and had shown him around my hometown.

Now we were waiting for the rest of the extended family to arrive at my parents’ house and quite possibly attack Kert with a gazillion awkward questions. He’d charm everyone, I was certain.

This year, it was Spiros’s turn to be away for the holidays. Hopefully, he was having the time of his life, or discovering what he wanted to do with it while staying at Gabriel’s house in Chicago.

“Hey, everyone is looking for you.” Ner poked his head through the door. “Kert’s horns are the talk amongst the ladies at the table, and he’s cracking jokes. And his tail—like a bullwhip. The entire family adores him.” The perks of having Ner as an older brother were far beyond him, paving a way with the parents for me and Spiros to do whatever we wanted. He’d also tell me the truth, even if it was harsh.

“And do you?” I asked Ner. Kert was easy to love, but winning over extended family was not the same as brotherly approval.

Ner’s expression softened. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and how you smile when he does it. I’m happy for you.” A low murmur came behind him. “I found him.” Ner turned around and kissed his boyfriend, Rick. The big, muscled rockstar had awakened the love of music in Ner, and I’d be forever grateful to him for that. They would soon be back on tour with their band Swimming with the Sharks to promote their fourth studio album, and life on the road seemed to agree with them.

“We’ll have two days in New York after a concert in February,” Rick said, squeezing past Ner. “Could we see the gallery with your paintings in?”

“Yeah, of course.” I stood up and followed them out of the room.

“We can pop into the new gallery you painted in Chicago when we have a festival there in June too.” Ner added. “I’d love to see it.”

“I can meet you there. Just tell me when.” After my paintings gained recognition in the art circle, word had gotten around about my work in hospitals and galleries, and I’d been getting offers to paint walls in museums, schools, and wedding venues. Since I could have my pick, my art was now adorning children’s wings in ten different states.

“Marinos! You’re on my shitlist!” Grandma’s voice boomed through the house.

“You’re so fucked.” Ner chuckled, grabbed Rick by the hand, and dragged him away.

“What did I do?” I marched bravely, facing my grandma, her huge, purple tentacles floating in the air. “You didn’t tell me Kert’s parents were in the resistance in the nineties.”

“We fought against the Cure and the idiocy of the policy so the next generation wouldn’t have to,” Sam said, reaching for his husband’s hand.

She chuckled, smiling at me. “I’m just fucking with you to get you out.”

I looked at everyone’s grinning faces, from Tomek and Robert, the cousins from Poland, to my mom with her tentacles loose and pulling my father to her.

“Marin?” Kert’s voice sounded behind me.

I turned to see the light of my life, my sneaky devil on one knee, grinning at me.

“I learned that I can’t wait for you to make the first move.” He lifted a purple box containing a simple band with tiny tanzanite stones embedded in it, matching my necklace. “Would you marry me?”

“Yes. A thousand times, yes!” I kneeled with him, kissing him breathlessly, wrapping him in my tentacles. “You stole my moment,” I whispered against his lips.

“You stole my heart.” He placed my hand on his chest and I felt it beating fast for me.

All the pieces of my life I’d scattered around the globe finally came together, and my search for home led me to Kert. He was my heart and my life, the soulmate I hadn’t known I’d found when I wasn’t yet looking.

Thank you for reading!

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To read Marin’s brother’s story, check out Tentacles Rock , a standalone book 1 from Tentacled Christmas series” In it you’ll meet Ner on his trip to Miami where he meets a hot and broody rockstar, Rick.

Keep an eye out for book 3 coming in December 2025!

You can check out my other books, free reads, and character art on my website: kccarmine.com.

THE END