Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Orvik
I should have gone for a swim.
Sleep eluded me all night as I battled the glow lighting up my body like fireworks, my aroused state on full display and my cock hard as a rock as I tried to chase images of Jackie Durand from my mind.
It didn't work. Not even after I furiously masturbated twice in a row.
My cock and its tentacles still rose to attention, begging me to seek her.
Seek my mate. I know there's no point in trying to reason with my treacherous body. I'll just have to avoid her until my glands give up and I can be myself again.
It won't be soon enough.
The predawn sky is still dark as I pull into the deserted parking lot of Flippers and Feathers. Mist clings to the ground, wrapping around my ankles as I exit my truck. Perfect timing. Early enough that no one should be here yet.
I just want to check on the seal pup we rescued yesterday. That's all. A quick in-and-out mission to ease my mind before I start my harbor patrol. I'm certainly not hoping to see her. In fact, I've specifically chosen this ungodly hour to avoid running into Jackie.
Just thinking her name causes a faint tingle under my skin, my bioluminescent glands warming in anticipation.
Shit. I'm in more trouble than I've realized.
I clench my jaw, forcing the sensation down. This ridiculous biological reaction needs to stop. Now.
I find the door unlocked, which is concerning from a security standpoint. The main corridor is dim, but I can see light spilling from the marine mammal recovery area. Perhaps a night volunteer forgot to turn off the equipment. I make a mental note to discuss protocols with Callum.
Just a quick check on the seal, then I'm out of here.
The treatment room is bright, clinical, filled with the mingled scents of antiseptic and fish oil.
The saltwater pool system hums quietly, bubbling filters providing white noise in the otherwise silent building.
I approach the recovery tank where we placed the seal pup yesterday, expecting to find it sleeping.
Instead, I find Jackie.
She's slumped in a chair beside the tank, her upper body folded over the edge, head resting on her arms. Her blond hair has mostly escaped its bun, cascading across her shoulder in golden waves.
Her back rises and falls with each deep breath of sleep, and her jacket is draped across her lower body like a makeshift blanket.
A clipboard with detailed notes lies on the floor where it must have slipped from her grasp.
Did she sleep here? It sure looks like it.
I should go. I know I should. But my feet refuse to move as I stare at the fragile human woman who has haunted my dreams for two nights in a row.
My gaze lingers on her even as my mind screams at me to look away. I just can't. In sleep, her features are softened, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed pink. Kissable and soft. So unlike the smooth, sturdy hide of my kind.
I wonder how they would feel underneath my own. How her face would feel as my tentacle beard wrapped around her chin, her jaw, her cheeks.
Would she like it, or would she find it repulsive?
She looks so vulnerable like this. Like prey, unaware of a predator. It stirs something protective in my chest. My eyes trace the gentle curve of her spine, the delicate arch of her neck, the shapely legs peeking from beneath her jacket.
How would those legs feel wrapped around my waist? Would she let me hold her in my full kraken form? Images shoot into my mind of her naked body, submerged with mine, deep in the water. Her lungs breathing air from my gills, my arms wrapped around her in a mating hold.
My cock and its tentacle deep inside…
Shit. I'm falling into dangerous territory.
My tentacle hair shifts beneath its binding, straining toward her like seaweed reaching for sunlight. The beard tentacles on my chin wiggle with interest, and I quickly press a hand against them to still their movement.
This is more than inappropriate.
She's a colleague, nothing more. And I am a kraken in exile, with no business forming attachments to anyone, let alone a human woman who makes my skin glow like a jellyfish. Damn those bioluminescent glands and their impulses.
I need to go. Right now.
I step back, but my boot catches the edge of a metal feeding bucket. It scrapes across the floor before falling on its side with a screech that shatters the quiet.
Jackie jolts upright, disoriented, her eyes wide and unfocused.
"What? I'm awake!" she blurts, blinking rapidly as she takes in her surroundings. "I was just resting my eyes."
Then she looks directly at me. Of course she does. I'm the kraken looming over her in an empty room. I'm impossible to miss.
Recognition dawns in her eyes, followed immediately by a flash of embarrassment. She straightens, patting down her rumpled sweater and pushing back strands of hair from her face.
I clear my throat. "Good morning, Ms. Durand."
"Harbormaster Fenmoor. You're here early." Her voice is husky with sleep, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine.
"I could say the same about you," I reply, keeping my tone neutral. "Though it looks like you never left."
"Well, someone needed to monitor him through the night."
Jackie gets up from her chair and stretches, wincing as her stiff muscles protest. I try not to stare as her curvy body moves this way and that, but it's simply impossible.
And my body is still glowing.
I glance at the seal pup, now sleeping peacefully in the shallow end of the recovery tank.
"You could have set an alarm system. Or called in another staff member to relieve you."
She shrugs. "I didn't mind. First nights are critical, and I wanted to be here if anything changed."
She gathers her clipboard and checks the monitoring equipment. Despite clear signs of fatigue, dark circles under her eyes, sweater wrinkled from sleep, her movements are precise and professional.
"How is he doing?" I ask, moving closer to the tank to peer at the pup, who rolls over in the shallow water.
Jackie's face lights up, exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"Much better than expected. His temperature stabilized around midnight, and he's been keeping fluids down. The antibiotics seem to be working already, and the inflammation around his wounds has decreased significantly."
She circles the tank, gesturing to the pup with obvious pride.
"I'd like you to meet Rumplestiltskin. Rumple for short."
I blink. "You named him Rumplestiltskin?"
"Yes." Her chin lifts slightly, a challenge in her blue eyes.
And that challenge echoes somewhere deep in my body. I like it way too much, that fire she has.
"That's ridiculous."
At least, my voice is even, although there's no helping the ripple of glowing blue light along the patterns on my arms.
"It's charming," she counters. "He's small but scrappy, and he fought against those fishing lines like he was spinning straw into gold."
"It's impractical. And entirely too long."
"Hence the nickname Rumple." Jackie crosses her arms, looking entirely too amused at my discomfort. "Besides, naming helps with the public outreach materials. 'Help support Rumple's recovery' gets more donations than 'Seal Pup Specimen 47.'"
I grunt, unconvinced but unwilling to continue this absurd argument. The seal, Rumple, stirs in the water, lifting his head to peer at us with liquid dark eyes. To my surprise, he barks softly at Jackie, almost in greeting.
"Good morning to you too, handsome," she coos, immediately leaning over the tank to check on him. "Are you ready for breakfast?"
Her smile as she speaks to the animal is genuine, warm, reaching all the way to her eyes. Something in my chest tightens at the sight, and I feel the telltale warmth beginning to spread under my skin. I step back, putting distance between us.
I’ve made enough of a fool of myself already.
"I see you've developed a detailed recovery plan," I observe, noticing the whiteboard filled with her neat handwriting: feeding schedules, medication timelines, rehabilitation milestones.
"Eight to twelve weeks minimum," Jackie confirms, her attention still on Rumple. "The line cut pretty deep into his left flipper."
"That's quite a commitment," I say, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.
Jackie turns to me, one eyebrow raised. "That's the job. We don't give up on patients just because recovery takes time."
The words land somewhere they shouldn't, and I feel the glow pulse brighter along my arms.
Before I can respond, the treatment room door swings open, and Callum enters carrying a cardboard tray with coffee cups and a paper bag that smells of cinnamon and butter.
"Thought you might need this after your all-nighter," he says to Jackie, then notices me standing by the tank. His eyes widen as his gaze latches on to my glowing patterns. I know he understands what this means, but he has the grace to remain silent on the issue.
"Orvik." He nods in my direction. "I didn't expect to see you here so early."
I straighten my uniform jacket. "I was checking on 47's condition."
"Rumple," Jackie corrects, accepting a coffee from Callum with a grateful smile. "His name is Rumplestiltskin. I'm sure Sylvie will be all over it for our social media outreach. It's much catchier than 47."
Callum chuckles and shakes his head.
"Rumple it is." He hands me a coffee as well, which I accept with a nod of thanks. "Well, your timing is good. I've got some staffing news that affects both of you."
My tentacles tighten against my scalp. I don't like the way he avoids my gaze. Or the way he stares at my straining tentacle hair.
"Mira called last night," Callum continues, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Her sister went into early labor. She's headed to Portland as we speak."
He turns to Jackie, who looks at him with a blank expression on her face.
"Mermaids and their newborns need to stay submerged for the first few weeks, and her sister's partner is a land dweller."
Jackie's eyes widen. "Is everyone okay?"