Chapter 8

I was wrong, and Brandon was right: I needed to take better care of myself. In my defense, I have never lived this far away from a water source, so I have never had to think about going out to one or making a point to get in the water. I just … was in the water. Even when I went to school, I still came back home to the lake. I thought I could get away with dousing myself in the shower—especially since I wanted to avoid Brandon and his friends, who were often at the river. But that was not enough.

Thankfully, Brandon is not gloating.

He is, however, even more irresistible than he was before, which is a major problem. He hauls himself out of the river and sits on the bank, his shorts soaked. The golden light of late afternoon highlights the beautiful planes of his torso under his thin, wet tank top. Water runs down his forehead. He is unbelievably attractive, and I remind myself—again—that I must not steal his soul. The fact that he saved me does not mean I should spend more time with him.

The idea of not spending time with him is getting harder and harder to fathom.

I lazily paddle around, letting the water rejuvenate me. Clay wades out, chats with Bran for a while, and says goodbye. Soon it is just me and Brandon, the sun's warm rays hitting us, Brandon sitting quietly and watching me.

"So should I come with you to practice tomorrow?" I ask, not ready to leave the river, although I am not feeling so sulky since I am in the water.

"Yeah, definitely." He nods. "Do you have a bathing suit?"

"I do not." In my true form, I do not need one. And, in the past, I have rarely swum in human form.

"Then let's go buy you a Speedo, Steve-o. Or you could borrow one of mine," Brandon says.

That makes my cock want to stand up. "No, I can buy one."

"Do you know where to go?"

"No, but Boo-gle is a thing," I say, a teasing tone in my voice for the first time since I arrived in Pennsylvania. The water really is a cure-all.

"I can come with you," Bran offers. "I'll take you to the Creelin sporting goods store."

"Why are you so annoying?" I huff playfully.

His face drops, which makes my stomach sink. "I'm sorry. I know I overstep sometimes."

"No, Brandon." I catch his eyes. "You are charming."

His cheeks flush. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes," I say.

"Are you ready to get dried off and go shopping?"

"What, now?"

"If you want to come to practice tomorrow, you'll need swimwear. I'll take you to town."

Once we are back at the dorm, Brandon says we need to shower before going out, which means I get to sit on my bed and listen to the water run and try not to think of him all soapy and naked. The way I have thought of him every day since I met him. When we are both cleaned up and dressed, we go out to where his car is parked.

"Why did you transfer to Creelin?" he asks as he navigates his older SUV toward the downtown area, Spookify playing on the sound system.

I bristle. "The opportunity came up."

Bran glances at me, and his expression tells me he knows I am lying. Or that there's more to the story.

"If you have to know," I say, "I did not … Things did not go well for me at my first university."

He furrows his brow. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"There are a lot of nokks in Norway, but even among them, I am different. I do not want the same things that they do. I know it is my true nature to take souls, but I do not want to do that." Normally . "My father wants me to play the traditional music of the nokk. I want to play the electric guitar. I felt left out, and I thought perhaps in a different place I could be more myself." I pick at the chipped black polish on my fingernails.

"Aww, Steve." He frowns. "I'm sorry that happened to you. No one's treating you badly here, right?" His voice takes on a more menacing tone than I thought he was capable of.

"No. The people I have met here are nice. I know I stick out, but at this school, everyone sticks out a little bit."

Brandon nods, and we drive to the store.

I walk up to the first bathing suit I see, one that's black and blue, pull it off the hanger, and move to go to the front to pay.

Bran stops me with an arm across my chest. I try not to lean into it. "Dude, no. Sorry. You can't just buy it. You have to try it on. You want it to be super tight. You don't even want to be able to get a finger in the waistband, because then the opposing team can grab hold of it and pull it down."

That thought is not pleasant. Well, it would only be pleasant if Brandon were the one pulling it down.

"Okay," I say.

"Get a size or two smaller than you think you are. Want some help?"

"No," I say, smirking. "I can figure out how to put on an obnoxiously small bathing suit without your help."

Brandon holds up his hands. "Okay." He slaps my ass when I turn away, and I want to lean into that, too—even a rough touch is still contact. "Go get 'em."

I glance over my shoulder at him as I enter the tiny changing room, my butt stinging slightly. He is not … interested in me, is he?

No. That is not possible. I believe Brandon is straight—based on his interactions with the harpy and whoever his "baby girl" is.

While I could shapeshift into a larger size to make the bathing suit fit properly, the size I am now is the same as my true form and therefore the easiest for me to maintain.

I shed my clothes, then shimmy the Speedo on. It is very tight. Ridiculously so. But I can see how that would be a good thing in competitive sport.

I gaze at myself in the mirror. In this form, I have a lean torso, not overly muscled. I wanted to be ideally proportioned. In this tiny garment, my cock looks big.

"You okay in there?" Brandon's voice interrupts my thoughts, and my cock gets a little plumper.

If he is going to interrupt me, then he is going to get the full effect. I slide the curtain open with a whoosh and step out. I show him that I cannot stick a finger in the waistband very well. My cock is surely outlined by the fabric.

Brandon eyes me from the top of my head to my webbed feet. He bites his lip, and his nostrils flare. "Yeah, that works. You look good, Steve."

His words make my heart rate increase. "Thank you. I will buy this one," I say, and slip back inside. I put on my clothes and emerge holding the scrap of fabric.

"Can I ask you another question?" Brandon asks, as we head toward the cash registers.

"Yes."

"Why don't you tell people your real name?"

I decide the reason doesn't need to be a secret. "If someone uses it who isn't another nokk, my family, or bound to me, it will kill me."

Brandon gasps. "No way."

"Yes, it is true."

"I guess most monsters have some sort of weakness or Achilles' heel, huh?"

I smile at him. "I believe so. But the ways of the nokk can be unusual. We have a flair for the dramatic. Just ask my uncle, who shapeshifts into an old boat so he can sink, taking people down with him."

We pass a group of surly monsters who are loudly looking at the bathing suits. They give off vibes I do not like.

"Are they on the team?" I whisper.

"Not on Creelin's team. They must be from Shuford," Brandon murmurs. "Our rival. That's what I'm guessing, anyway. Phil told me Shuford's team has at least one werewolf and a hydra, plus some mermen." He inclines his head, and I take a look.

"Yes," I confirm. "That is a werewolf and a hydra."

"There's no point trying to whisper," someone sneers behind my back. "Werewolves have superior hearing."

"We didn't mean to insult you," Brandon starts.

"You're too weak and harmless to worry about. What are a couple of pretty boys like you doing in the Speedo section? You're Creelin Cockatoos?"

Brandon puts his hands on his hips. "Yeah. So?"

I turn and see the werewolf, who scoffs. "Just nice to see that there won't be any competition this year. Can't believe they have humans on their team. It's like they want to lose."

A sudden anger comes over me, and I want to protect Brandon with everything I am. I will not let any monsters hurt him. Ever.

Including me.

"Be quiet," I say, my voice low, and they all turn to look at me.

"Who are you?" the werewolf asks. "You weren't on the team last year."

I do not answer. Instead, I say, "You will go now."

The werewolf makes an incredulous noise. "Don't tell me what to do. Prick."

" You will go now ," I repeat, with emphasis. While humans are more easily affected by my powers, nokks have some sway over monsters as well. The merman, especially, looks at me oddly.

"What are you?" he asks, finally.

"I am a nokk," I say menacingly.

"Come on, guys," the hydra says. "We'll beat them in the pool. We don't have to do anything now."

I don't know if it is due to my enchantment or not, but they turn and leave. I glance at Brandon, who does not look scared. More like curious.

"What?" I ask.

"That was so cool of you." I flush at his praise. "I'd heard that Shuford were a bunch of dicks, but I didn't realize they were that bad. I think we'll definitely be needing you on the team."

"I just want more time in the water."

"Win-win, like I said. Come on, let's buy your suit and get out of here."

I nod and follow him to the cash register.

The following morning, Brandon wakes me up with coffee. "Time for practice," he mutters, and ruffles my hair. He is leaning over me, and I want to reach up and pull him into bed with me.

Then he moves to his side of the room, drops his pajama pants, and slides on a Speedo. I stifle a groan. I only get a brief view of his taut, round ass, but having him changing in front of me is starting to be a problem, because he is so mouthwateringly beautiful.

I slip on my new Speedo—with difficulty, because it is very tight—and a hoodie and sweatpants and go with him to the pool, where he introduces me to his teammates.

The coach, a walrus shifter, takes one look at me and grins. "You're the nokk Fernandez mentioned? Jobs?"

I nod.

"I'm Coach Rosmarus. Let's see what you can do." He gestures to the pool.

I jump in and immediately feel energized. I cut through the salt water, going to the other end and back in a flash. Then I do it again.

When I come to a stop at the coach's feet, he whistles and nods. "You definitely have the water skills for this game."

"You're faster than a cat up a staircase," Phil, the Sasquatch, says.

"When have you seen a cat go up a staircase?" the Loch Ness Monster shifter with the Scottish accent—Nick, his name was Nick—asks him.

"My mom loves cats."

"Regardless, he is fast," Nick says.

Coach grins widely. "While this is unprecedented, I think we can find a place for you, at least provisionally. Welcome to the Creelin water polo team, Steve. You're a Cockatoo now."

We practice with a yellow ball, and while I am not as adept with it as the other players are, my speed and natural instincts in the water make up for it.

Bran grins at me, and I wish I could belong to him.

But I cannot.

"You're coming with us to Scareoke when we go, right?" he asks at the end of practice, when we are headed to the lockers.

"Um," I say.

"Come on! It's gonna be my birthday. You can finally sing ‘Let it Go' for me."

I agree, because I am obliged to teach him music in exchange for his offering, and this seems to be how he is interpreting that. Even though it is a terrible idea. I nod.

But I will still do my best to stay away the rest of the time, because he is much, much too tempting. Even if I want to see him, it is best for him if we do not interact more than necessary.