Page 15 of Captured by the Cthulhu (Monster Mates #3)

Chapter 15

Old Friends

Roark

Three days without Ashe feels like drowning in air.

I pace the empty beach near my cabin, scanning the horizon for her silhouette against the coastal path. Every shadow, every distant movement sends a rush of excitement through me, only to dissolve into disappointment.

The rational part of me knows she can’t make the treacherous journey frequently—the lighthouse demands her attention, and the path itself is punishing even for someone as capable as she is.

The irrational part of me fears she’s already decided this arrangement is too complicated. Too dangerous. Too much effort for too little reward.

I find myself at the water’s edge and let the familiar embrace of the sea calm my restless thoughts. The cold Atlantic has always been my solace, but now I wonder if Ashe is looking out at these same waves from her lighthouse perch. If she’s thinking of me as I’m thinking of her…

After completing my patrol of the coastline, I collect a basket of fresh oysters and clams for dinner. Perhaps preparing a meal will distract me from this unfamiliar ache of absence. I’ve spent years alone; why does solitude suddenly feel so hollow?

As I approach my cabin, something feels wrong. The air carries a disruption—faint but unmistakable. My tentacles tense beneath me, suckers contracting defensively as my clawed hands flex at my sides.

The door stands ajar.

I set down my basket, body compact and poised for confrontation. I move silently to the entrance, peering through the gap. What I see freezes the water in my veins.

Sebastian Walsh sits in my captain’s chair, examining one of my old logbooks with casual interest. Not in his human form, but in his natural selkie state—stout and round with glossy fur, his mustache-like whiskers twitching as he turns a page.

His bulk fills the chair uncomfortably, and there’s nothing comical about his presence—especially not with those cold, black button eyes that have watched their share of storms and shipwrecks.

“The prodigal captain returns,” he says without looking up. “I was beginning to think you’d abandoned your land legs altogether.”

I push the door open fully, letting my frame fill the entrance. “Breaking and entering is still a crime, Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s grunt holds a hint of amusement. He closes my logbook with surprisingly deft flippers. “Is it a crime to visit an old friend? The door was practically falling off its hinges, anyway.”

“Former friend,” I correct him, arms crossing over my chest.

He hoists himself from the chair, his movements fluid despite his round form. His human clothes—tailored pants and a half-buttoned dress shirt—strain against his girth, giving him the look of a museum director who’s had far too many expense account dinners.

“Still the stickler for details,” he says, gesturing to the logbook. “The Crown of Nova was quite a vessel. You ran a tight ship.”

I move deeper into the cabin, keenly aware of how Sebastian has positioned himself—between me and my most prized possessions. It’s not accidental. Nothing Sebastian does ever is.

“What brings you to my doorstep? I doubt it’s for my cooking.”

“Can’t I simply visit an old colleague?” Sebastian waddles over to my maritime instruments displayed on the shelf. “We both lived as humans once. Both captained ships. Both kept our true natures hidden.”

He runs a flipper over an old barometer. “Though I must say, your situation was far more complicated. Must have been exhausting, pretending those legs weren’t actually these magnificent appendages.”

“The Great Unveiling changed things,” I say, straightening slightly—a captain’s posture I can’t seem to shake even now.

“For some of us.” Sebastian’s whiskers twitch. “Others adapted. I still walk among them. They respect me. Value my contributions to the town’s cultural heritage. Benefits of being a selkie—transformation without magic. Quite convenient when all the glamours failed.”

I notice the careful emphasis on “cultural heritage” and feel something cold slither down my spine. “You mean the hunting displays. The trophies.”

“History,” he counters. “Their history with our kind. Fascinating, isn’t it? They celebrate killing creatures like us while I stand among them, directing their museum, planning their festivals.”

I move to the window, ensuring the path outside remains clear. “Don’t tell me you came all the way here to discuss museum exhibits.”

Sebastian’s expression shifts, becoming something almost genuine. “No. I came to discuss our local lighthouse keeper.”

My entire body goes rigid. A faint ripple of light flashes across my skin before I can suppress it. “What about her?”

“Beautiful woman. Capable. Intelligent.” Sebastian examines his flippers. “She’s made quite an impression on the town. Tourists love her. The Maritime Committee respects her input.” He pauses. “She’s also been putting up quite a fuss about our town’s treacherous past, when before, she’d never speak up about such things…”

“What are you implying, Sebastian?”

“What I’m saying,” Sebastian sighs with exaggerated patience, “is that the lighthouse keeper has been behaving differently. Making waves in committee meetings. Defending sea monsters with surprising passion.” His eyes narrow. “Almost as if she’s developed a personal investment in the matter.”

My tentacles curl tightly beneath me while I keep my arms rigid at my sides to prevent any visible reaction. “Ashe Morgan is her own person. Maybe she’s just a decent human with a moral compass.”

“Oh, please.” Sebastian snorts. “I’ve known plenty of decent humans in my time. And I can tell the difference between abstract moral outrage and something…” he pauses, whiskers twitching, “personal.”

He waddles toward my collection of nautical maps, picking one up with surprising delicacy. “Cape Tempest has always been a dangerous place for our kind, Roark. You remember the stories. Hell, you lived through some of them.” His eyes flick to me. “The town hasn’t changed as much as you might hope. Under all that tourist-friendly charm lies the same old prejudices.”

I move to the window again, staring out at the distant sea. “You’ve managed well enough.”

“Because I’m careful. I’m respected. I’ve spent decades building a place for myself.” His voice drops. “But a cthulhu? You’re what they fear most. The monster of monsters.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me things I already know.”

Sebastian sets down the map and sighs, suddenly sounding tired. “We were friends once, Roark. Good friends. So let me speak plainly about this… dalliance of yours.”

He pulls himself onto the chair again, adjusting his bulk. “I loved a human woman once. Years ago, before your time in Cape Tempest.”

“You did?” In all our years sailing together, he never mentioned this.

“Marie was her name,” Sebastian continues, his voice softening. “Beautiful. Fierce. Fascinated by what I was.” His eyes grow distant. “It was exciting for her at first—secret meetings, forbidden romance, the thrill of loving a monster.”

The word ‘monster’ hangs in the air like an accusation.

“It didn’t last,” he says flatly. “The excitement faded. The secrecy became a burden. She began to resent having to lie to her family, her friends. Having to meet in shadows or empty beaches. She wanted a normal life—children, Sunday dinners with her parents, walks through town without fear.”

I remain silent, but something cold and heavy settles in the pit of my stomach.

“Human lovers are fickle, Roark.” Sebastian’s voice hardens. “They imagine themselves capable of living outside society’s bounds, but few truly are. They need their community. Their kind.”

“Ashe isn’t like that,” I say. “She’s different.”

“They’re all different,” Sebastian says with a bitter chuckle. “Until they aren’t.”

He shifts his weight, flippers adjusting his shirt. “But even if she is a rare exception—even if she truly doesn’t mind living half her life in the shadows—I’ve seen what this town does to those who sympathize with monsters. They may not hang humans from the rafters, but they have ways of destroying lives just the same. Your lighthouse keeper? She’d lose everything. Her position, her reputation, possibly even that lighthouse she cherishes.”

I turn fully toward him now. “Are you threatening her?”

“I’m warning you ,” he counters, seemingly offended. “As someone who once called you a friend. I’m telling you what you already know but don’t want to face.” He heaves himself up from the chair. “She could have a real future here. But not with you. Not unless she’s willing to live in the shadows forever.”

The truth of his words burns like salt in an open wound.

“If you truly care for her,” Sebastian continues, moving toward the door, “you might consider what’s best for her, not what you want.”

With that, he slips out, leaving me alone with thoughts more tangled than fishing nets in a storm.

I move to my captain’s chair, still warm from Sebastian’s presence, and sink into it.

Sebastian’s words replay in my mind, mixing with my own doubts. Every moment of strain I’ve noticed—Ashe’s exhaustion from maintaining our secret, her careful lies to lighthouse visitors, the constant risk of discovery—now feels like evidence of my selfishness.

My plan had been to see her when the next storm comes, if she hadn’t managed to find the time to hike back here, that was.

But perhaps I shouldn’t. Perhaps it would be kinder to pull away now, before she grows to resent me. Before the town turns against her. Before she has to choose between the life she’s built and a monster who can offer her little but shadows and secrecy.

“It would be better this way,” I tell the empty room, not believing it for a second.

I stay in the chair, surrounded by remnants of my human life, wondering if I have the strength to do what Sebastian suggests is right.

To let her go before I destroy her life.

Or if I’m brave enough to believe what my heart says—that Ashe deserves to make that choice herself.