Page 15 of Kiss for My Kraken (Fairhaven Falls #8)

T he kitchen timer buzzed, and Nina pulled the cornbread from the oven. Golden-brown and fragrant, it released a buttery aroma that filled her small cabin. She set it on the counter to cool and glanced at the clock. Just after three—her shift had ended early thanks to Ben’s generosity.

“Don’t need you underfoot while I’m experimenting with this new venison recipe,” he grumbled, but his eyes had softened when he’d added, “Go on. Get some sun for once.”

A week ago, she might have protested, desperate for every hour of pay. Now, she had other priorities.

“What do you think, Ozzie? Should we surprise him?”

The dog’s ears perked up at his name, but his attention remained fixed on the cornbread.

“Not for you,” she chided, cutting a generous square and wrapping it carefully in waxed paper. “This is for Sam.”

Sam. Just thinking his name sent a pleasant shiver through her body. They’d met every day for the past five days—most of the time on her dock, and once more on his island. Each meeting left her more certain that whatever existed between them was unlike anything she’d ever known.

She changed quickly into a simple pink sundress, one she’d found at Second Chance for just a few dollars. The light fabric floated around her legs as she hurried down to the dock, Ozzie trotting at her heels.

The afternoon sun sparkled on the water, turning the river into a ribbon of diamonds. She squinted across to Sam’s island, wondering where he was. He was always watching, she’d come to realize—a constant, comforting presence just beyond her sight.

“Sam?” she called softly, settling at the edge of the dock.

The water rippled, then parted as he surfaced. First his dark hair, then those piercing blue eyes, and finally his broad shoulders breaking the surface. Every time she saw him emerge like this, something fluttered in her chest—part nerves, part wonder, all attraction.

“You’re early,” he said, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly.

“Ben let me go early.” She held up the wrapped cornbread. “I brought you something.”

A smile spread across his face, transforming his features from merely handsome to devastating. One powerful arm reached for the dock edge, and he pulled himself up enough to accept her offering.

“You made this today?” he asked, unwrapping the cornbread with careful fingers.

“Just now. It’s still warm.”

He took a bite, closing his eyes briefly in appreciation. “Perfect,” he murmured.

She watched him eat, fascinated as always by the subtle differences in his movements—the fluid grace, the controlled power.

Over the past week, she’d cataloged a hundred small details: how his skin seemed to shimmer in certain lights, how his eyes brightened when she arrived, how his tentacles curled and uncurled when he was thinking deeply.

“Take me to your island,” she said suddenly.

He paused mid-bite, studying her face. “Now? In daylight?”

“Yes.” She gestured to the sky. “It’s beautiful out. I want to see your home in the sunshine.”

He hesitated, glancing around at the open water. “Someone might see.”

“Who? There’s never anyone on this stretch of river.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Please, Sam? I’ve only seen it at night.”

His resistance visibly crumbled. With a nod, he disappeared beneath the surface, returning moments later with the small rowboat he kept hidden under her dock.

“Your chariot,” he said dryly, steadying the boat as she climbed in.

Ozzie hopped in after her, settling in the bow with the familiarity of a dog who’d made this journey before. Sam sent the boat cutting through the water with effortless speed.

The journey to the island took less than five minutes.

What had seemed mysterious and shadowy by night was revealed as lush and vibrant by day.

Weeping willows trailed their branches in the water.

Wild roses scrambled over rocks. Bees hummed lazily around clusters of wildflowers.

The island wasn’t large—perhaps half a mile across at its widest point—but it felt like its own complete world.

“It’s even more beautiful than I remembered,” she said, turning in a slow circle to take in the surroundings.

“You’ve only seen it twice,” he reminded her, but pleasure warmed his voice.

“Twice was enough to know I love it here.” She caught herself, wondering if the word “love” had been too forward, but he didn’t look alarmed. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ten years.”

“How old were you when you came here?”

“Twenty, perhaps. Or twenty-one.” He reached for the cabin door, holding it open for her. “I lost track of time.”

Inside the cabin, sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes and turning them to gold.

“It looks different in daylight,” she observed, moving to the window that overlooked the water. “More like a home and less like a dream.”

He watched her from near the door, his expression guarded. “Does that disappoint you?”

“No.” She turned to face him fully. “It makes it real. I like real.”

Something shifted in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or hope.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I have fruit. And bread from Grondar’s bakery.”

“I’m fine. May I join you?” she asked, gesturing to the open hatch where his lower body rested.

He hesitated, then nodded. She moved to sit at the edge of the channel, her feet dangling in the cool water. From this position, she could see more of him—the powerful tentacles that replaced legs, the gradual transition from human torso to something altogether different.

“Does it bother you?” he asked quietly, watching her face.

“No.” She meant it. The strangeness of his form had faded with familiarity, replaced by appreciation for its beauty and function. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

Their eyes met, and something electric passed between them. He moved closer, the water rippling around him, and reached for her hand, his touch sending shivers up her arm.

“I want to understand your world,” she said quietly. “Not just watch from the shore.”

A complex emotion flickered across his face—vulnerability mixed with longing. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering him, she rose to her feet, then reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head, revealing the simple cotton underwear beneath. His eyes widened, his skin darkening with what she now recognized as desire.

“Nina—”

Before he could continue, she walked to the cabin door and outside to the small platform that extended over the water. The afternoon sun warmed her skin as she stood at the edge, looking down into the clear depths. He followed, his expression a mixture of concern and something hungrier.

“The water’s cold,” he warned.

“I don’t mind.” She met his gaze steadily. “Unless you don’t want me in the water.”

“It’s not that.” His voice roughened. “I want—” He broke off, seeming to struggle for words.

She understood. Over the past week, they’d shared increasingly passionate kisses, their hands exploring each other with growing boldness. Each encounter left them both breathless and wanting more. The unspoken barrier between them had always been the water—his domain, not hers.

“I trust you,” she said simply.

Something flashed in his eyes as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the platform, her legs dangling in the water.

The cold shocked her at first, but she acclimated quickly as he lifted her away from the dock and gradually lowered her into the water.

Water rose to her knees, then her thighs, then her waist as she descended.

“Okay?” he asked, watching her face intently.

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump of emotion in her throat. This felt monumental—stepping into his element, crossing a divide that had defined their interactions.

By the time she was standing on the bottom, the water was almost to her neck and he moved closer, his body solid and reassuring against the current. His arms encircled her waist, holding her secure.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.” She shivered, but not entirely from the temperature. His proximity affected her more than the chill.

“I can warm you,” he murmured.

Before she could ask how, she felt it—a subtle change in the water around them, as if a warm current had suddenly found them. The sensation spread, enveloping her in comfortable heat.

“How did you?—”

“Thermal regulation,” he explained. “It’s a natural ability.”

“Convenient,” she managed, distracted by his closeness.

His skin felt different underwater—smoother, more supple. His tentacles moved around her, not quite touching but creating gentle currents that caressed her body. Her heart raced with anticipation and a touch of nervousness. This was unknown territory in every sense.

“May I hold you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Please.”

His arms tightened around her waist, lifting her slightly so her feet no longer touched the bottom.

At the same time, his tentacles wrapped gently around her legs and lower body, supporting her weight.

The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—being completely enveloped, held from all sides by powerful but incredibly gentle pressure.

“Okay?” he asked again, searching her face.

In answer, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips, cool and firm, opened beneath hers. The kiss deepened rapidly, their shared hunger evident in the press of mouths, the stroke of tongues. His tentacles tightened reflexively around her, drawing a gasp from her lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Don’t be,” she breathed. “I like it.”

That admission seemed to break something loose in him. His tentacles shifted, wrapping more securely around her thighs, her waist, one sliding up her back to cradle her head. He kissed her with newfound intensity, one hand tangling in her wet hair.