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EIGHT

Noah

Kraken Cove is a dead-end town at the best of times, but on a Monday afternoon it feels like the ass end of the world.

I’m reaching for a jar of burger pickles on the shelf at Woolies when a strange noise from the aisle opposite jolts me from thoughts of whether I can be bothered cooking dinner tonight.

There it is again. A guttural sob. A horrible indrawn breath. My whole body is instantly on alert and I can’t explain why. All I know is my heart is racing a million miles an hour and I have the wildest urge to knock down the whole shelf of groceries to get to whatever it is on the other side.

Shoving the jar back onto the shelf, I leave my trolley where it is and dart to the end of the aisle and around the corner only to be met with a mess of red hair and the particular sweet and fragrant scent I’ve come to resent after getting far too close and personal far too many times in the last few days.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Olivia spins mid sob, hands covering her mouth and wide eyes blinking at me above them. Her whole body goes still, and I’m struggling against the urge to tear down the whole supermarket and fight whatever made her cry like that.

Fucking stupid kraken genes.

“Well?” I fold my arms across my chest and wait for her to answer.

She mumbles something, but it’s so muffled by her hands that I can’t make it out.

Irritated, I reach for her and realize a little too late just what I’ve done.

As soon as our skin makes contact, two things happen. I feel an instant sizzle of energy. A wild excitement that does nothing to soothe the rapid beating of my heart.

Then my hands come into contact with her tear-soaked fingers, and my whole body shivers.

Shit.

There’s a rip. My jeans burst at the seams. My legs transform into tentacles and ruin my clothing, and I curse, trying to stay still as the transformation happens in order to keep the front of my pants intact and preserve a little of my modesty.

Olivia’s wide eyes practically bug out of her face, but at least she stops crying. “Oh god. I’m sorry.”

I’m fuming, but I really have no one to blame but myself. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, your clothes.” She bends as if she’s going to put my jeans back together by hand, and of course my cock and tentacles all jump to attention, the glowing tips of every limb that’s not absolutely necessary to keep me upright coiling toward my fated mate.

Not that I believe in that bullshit. Just obviously my body has other ideas.

“Really. It’s fine.” I move back as far as I can make myself, and Olivia straightens.

There’s an awkward pause as we look at each other. Her lip wobbles and my anger rises again.

“Really, what the fuck are you doing here, Zeston?”

She tips her head, the motion drawing my gaze to a rack of magazines behind her. I narrow my eyes, trying to read the headline before it dawns on me.

That asswipe in the photo on the front cover is her ex-boyfriend.

And yeah, I did some Google stalking. That does not mean I’m interested in her or I care about her situation. I just wanted to reassure myself that the guy’s an idiot and he deserved to lose her.

That’s all.

“Oh shit.” I look closer, spotting the woman in the photo. “Is that her?”

Olivia nods and her eyes well with tears again.

For fuck’s sake. I’m making this worse.

Any moment Brenda from Mum’s book club is going to come into the aisle and spot me standing here in ruined clothes, berating Olivia while she cries, and next thing you know I’ll be sitting through a three-hour lecture at my parents’ kitchen table or, worse, an intervention with my older brothers.

I barely dodged her in aisle nine when I came in.

It sure is hell having two charming, perfect older brothers who both act like the sun shines out their asses and butter wouldn’t melt on their fins.

“Well fuck.”

At that moment a trolley rounds the corner of aisle five, but it’s not Brenda at the helm. Oh no. Far worse.

It’s my older brother, Jack. He has his head turned, looking at rolls of toilet paper on the far side of the supermarket, so I have about thirty seconds to act.

I can hardly leave Olivia standing here weeping in the middle of the supermarket, but I can’t let Jack see this. He’ll assume the worst. That I’ve made her cry—haven’t I?—that this is yet another girl who got the wrong idea about me despite me saying a hundred times I don’t do relationships.

I glance down to where my glowing tentacles are still trying to touch every part of Olivia I can reach and realize just how dire the situation is. My brother will get some stupid idea in his head about what that means and I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Come on.” I put my hand around Olivia and instantly regret it. It makes all my tentacles seethe harder toward her, and I have to grit my teeth and force them away from her ass and thighs. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“But I need breakfast!”

I swivel my head to stare down at her in astonishment. “Breakfast? I thought I kept mad hours. It’s almost two o’clock.”

Her jaw drops.

Shaking my head, I tow her toward the exit. “I’ll cook you something.” I don’t really need groceries today. I have plenty in the pantry. Not knowing what else to do, I hustle her out of the store and onto my bike.

Why the fuck did I make that promise?

I’ll blame it on the pressure of not letting Jack know my secret.

I’d rather not admit that the thought of taking her home and feeding her feeds something buried deep inside me.

That the thought of helping stop those tears and rescue her from her mini-crisis is satisfying to me on a level I didn’t think I was capable of any longer.

She gets on the bike willingly enough, and I’m able to shift back to my two legged form, which makes it much easier to ride with her there.

Olivia’s arms around my waist feel a little too good, but I ignore that and kick the bike into gear, cursing my bad luck at running into her again like this.

At not being able to control my reactions to her.

At allowing my impulses to take over once again.

I should be looking for an excuse to be rid of her. But when I stop the bike in the carport below my apartment and Olivia gets off, she looks at me in embarrassment. “I thought you meant at The Snapper!”

I shrug. “It’s closed on Monday. Today’s my day off.”

Her cheeks flush an even deeper red, making the freckles over her nose stand out. “Oh, please don’t worry. I’ll just go. I—”

I cut her off, unwilling to let her talk herself into leaving now. “Come on. You’re here now. Might as well let me make you something to eat. You won’t get anything at Bella Vista. Will you?”

She shakes her head. “No. Apparently not on Monday. Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” I tell her gruffly. Then I turn away so she won’t see me smile when she follows me up the stairs and waits while I unlock the door.

Another big mistake, no doubt.

I just can’t seem to help myself where Olivia Zeston is concerned.