Chapter Ten
Jackie
"Seriously?" I say to the empty harbor. "What kind of man kisses a woman and leaves her like that afterward?"
I stand alone on the dock, staring at the ripples spreading across the water's surface where Orvik disappeared moments ago. My lips still tingle from his kiss, and my skin is glowing with faint blue-green patterns that are slowly fading.
I touch my cheek where his tentacle beard wrapped around my jaw with surprising gentleness.
The sensation was unlike anything I've ever experienced.
It was cool and smooth, with a subtle pulse that seemed to match my racing heartbeat.
And then those glowing patterns, transferring from his skin to mine.
Those patterns. Frustration wells inside me at the memory of the nearly sleepless nights I spent researching them. I know krakens are secretive people and don't mix with land dwellers in general, but you'd think this kind of information on their biology would be documented somewhere.
No such chance. I found the vaguest traces of information in some old painting, showing a kraken couple embracing in the middle of a high-sea battle, but nothing else. In the painting, the couple was covered in beautiful glowing patterns, but of course, it's only a painting.
Ugh. I'm so done with this push and pull.
Part of me wants to dive in after him, which is ridiculous.
He's a kraken. I have as much chance of catching up with him as I have of sprouting wings and flying away.
Another part of me wants to scream in frustration.
Instead, I pick up the empty carrier and head back toward the center, my thoughts swirling like the tide.
What just happened? One minute we were celebrating Captain Peck's successful release, laughing together for perhaps the first time, and the next… that kiss. That mind-altering, world-shifting kiss. And then Orvik, glowing like a deep-sea creature, diving overboard without a word.
Men. Even the ones with tentacles are emotionally stunted.
Inside the rehabilitation center's bathroom, I lean close to the mirror, examining my skin.
The luminescent patterns have faded now, but unlike last time, they're not entirely gone.
There's just the faintest blue-green trace along my jawline and neck.
I run my fingers over the marks, remembering the way his tentacles curved around my face, how his large hands cradled my cheeks as if I were something precious.
I taste salt on my lips. Whether it comes from the sea spray or from him, I'm not sure. My body still hums with the warmth that spread through me when we touched, a current of electricity that left me breathless.
And my entire body is still buzzing from the push of a very sizable erection as I pressed myself along his muscular, hard body.
He's so different from a human, I have to admit I'm a bit afraid of what I would find down there. Afraid, but definitely not enough to stop fantasizing about it.
What if he has more of those tentacles down there? The thought sends a thrill down my spine that lands right between my legs.
"Get it together, Jackie," I mutter to my reflection. "You have work to do."
I get back to work, but focusing proves nearly impossible.
I check Rumple's charts twice before realizing I haven't actually registered any of the numbers.
I organize supplies that were already organized.
I keep touching my lips, remembering the press of his body against mine, surprisingly soft despite his otherwise tough exterior.
Why did he run? Or swim, rather. Was the kiss that bad? Was I that bad? Or was it something else entirely? Something to do with those strange, beautiful patterns that glow every time we touch and that no one will tell me about?
"There you are!" Sylvie's voice shatters my reverie as she bursts into the treatment room, her pink wings beating rapidly.
She's dressed in a sparkling green jumpsuit today, looking like she belongs in a nightclub and not a wildlife rehabilitation center.
"I've been looking everywhere for you! How was the—" She stops abruptly, her lavender eyes widening as she hovers in front of me.
"Holy sea sprites, what happened to you? "
I freeze. "What do you mean?"
"You have patterns on your skin!" She circles me like a hummingbird on speed. "It's practically screaming! Oh. My. Gods." She lands directly in front of me, hands on her tiny hips. "You and Orvik did it, didn't you?"
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
"Did what? We just took Captain Peck for his release. We didn't have time to 'do it,'" I say, using air quotes.
"Uh-huh." Sylvie's expression is pure disbelief. "And I'm secretly a mountain troll. Spill it, Jackie. Right now."
I sigh, knowing resistance is futile against Sylvie's pixie determination.
"Fine. Yes, something happened."
Her wings flutter with excitement.
"I knew it! Tell me everything. And don't you dare leave out a single detail. Pixies can be very stubborn, especially when it comes to juicy gossip!"
I find myself smiling despite my confusion as I recount the morning, the peaceful boat ride, Captain Peck's successful return to his colony, his final attempted attack on Orvik, and how we'd laughed together.
When I reach the part about the kiss, Sylvie actually squeals, rising several inches off the ground.
"And then his entire body just lit up, like it always does," I explain, my voice dropping to a whisper even though we're alone. "The pattern appeared on my skin, too, just like the last time we touched."
Sylvie's expression shifts from excited to all-out psychotic. She's that into my story.
"And then what happened?"
"He jumped into the ocean and swam away." I shrug, allowing my annoyance to show. "Not a single word after he saw the pattern transferring to my skin. Nothing. Zip. Nada."
Sylvie squeals again and claps her hands in front of her like she's applauding a particularly entertaining show.
"Of course he did." Sylvie rolls her eyes. "Typical Orvik."
"Sylvie." I grasp her tiny shoulders gently. "I need to know what this means. The glowing, the pattern."
Her expression falls flat and she bites her lip, wings fluttering nervously.
"Oh, Jackie. It's not my place to explain, really."
"That's what you said at the bar," I groan in frustration. "But I need to understand what's happening. These patterns appeared on my skin!"
Sylvie nods, clearly wrestling with some internal debate. Finally, she sighs.
"Look, all I can tell you is that it's a biological response unique to krakens. It's tied to certain kinds of connections. Deep ones."
My heart does a funky little flutter and a stupid poke of happiness raises its naive head in my mind. A connection? A deep one?
"What kind of connections?"
"The permanent kind," she says carefully. "It's like a recognition. At the cellular level."
"Recognition of what?"
"Kraken biology is different from human biology, Jackie." Her expression is unusually serious. "That's all I can say. The rest has to come from Orvik. It wouldn't be right if I told you."
I sink onto a nearby stool, my knees suddenly weak.
"So this glowing thing only happens with certain people he has a connection with?"
"Something like that." Sylvie pats my hand. "But seriously, Jackie, you need to talk to Orvik about this. It's his biology, his culture. It wouldn't be right for me to explain more."
I nod, though frustration still simmers beneath the surface.
"If I can find him. He seems to have a talent for disappearing whenever things get personal."
"He'll surface eventually," Sylvie says with a small smile. "He can't stay underwater forever, even if he is a kraken."
We're interrupted by barking from the recovery pool, Rumple demanding his midmorning feeding. The familiar sound centers me, pulling me back to the present moment and my responsibilities.
"That's my cue," I say, standing up. "Duty calls."
Sylvie follows me to the saltwater pool where Rumple is swimming excited circles, his whiskers twitching with anticipation.
His wounds from the fishing line have healed remarkably well, pink scar tissue now visible where raw cuts once were.
He's gained more weight on his special diet, his body filling out with healthy blubber.
"Look at you, handsome!" I coo, reaching for his chart. "Ready for breakfast?"
Rumple barks enthusiastically, splashing water over the edge of the pool.
"He's doing so well," Sylvie observes, peering at the chart over my shoulder. "Do you think he's ready for the outdoor enclosure?"
I nod, making a note on his progress report. "I'd like to move him this week, but I'd like to have Callum's opinion first. He needs to reacclimate to natural temperature variations and learn to catch live fish before we release him."
I prepare Rumple's formula, though he's now taking some whole fish as well, a good sign that his hunting instincts are intact. The kitchen smells strongly of herring and vitamins, a scent I've grown oddly fond of over the past weeks.
"Has Dr. Enid signed off on his outdoor transfer?" Sylvie asks, pulling out her tablet to update the center's social media. "His fans will be thrilled to hear he's progressing toward release."
"I still can't believe Rumple has 'fans.'" I laugh, measuring fish oil.
"Are you kidding? He's our most popular patient since Penelope the Attitude Porpoise. The Rumple's Recovery fundraising campaign is doing amazing. We're already halfway to the target for the new communal seal pup enclosure."
"That's fantastic!" I genuinely mean it. The new enclosure will allow orphaned seal pups to interact with each other during rehabilitation, improving their social development before release. "I'm glad my ridiculous naming choice is paying off."