Chapter Thirty-seven
Hale
Two weeks after the finale, life feels unreal in the best way.
Once the check clears (after an unbelievably rude amount of taxes), we waste no time hunting for a space of our own.
It takes exactly two days to find it: a two-story warehouse just off the Strip, all strong bones and potential.
We sign the papers before anyone can change their mind.
I’m pretty sure the sellers are relieved to be rid of it.
For now, Aksel and I carve out a small apartment on the second floor. Our parents rent a condo outside the city. Close, they say, for when we have kids. Someday. Far, far in the future.
After weeks of chaos, decisions, and renovation plans, we escape to a quiet cabin on a Utah lake to get some privacy, fresh air, and room to breathe. To shift.
It’s finally time for Aksel to pay up on our bet.
“Come on, big guy,” I tease, nudging him toward the end of the dock. He pretends to grumble, but his eyes keep drifting to the water, dark and eager. He’s been waiting for this.
I stop at the end, motioning for him to continue. He strips with exaggerated annoyance, dimple flashing, fully aware of the effect he’s having on me. By the time he’s bare, my pulse is racing, and his smirk tells me he knows exactly why.
“You gonna join me, Fylgja?” His voice is low, rough with want.
I fumble out of my clothes in a hurry, making him laugh.
“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” I ask breathlessly.
He studies me, then pulls me close, one finger lifting my chin. “Soulmate.”
The word hits hard. I search his face, heart pounding. “Not… fated, though?”
He shakes his head without hesitation. “Chosen.”
Relief crashes through me. My parents' terrible marriage is a distant memory, but still vivid in my mind. Fated mates mean nothing to me. I chose him, and he chose me. That’s all I’ve ever truly cared about. I kiss him hard, laughing as we tumble together into the lake, cool water closing over us.
Our mouths part as we partially shift, gills unfurling so we can breathe beneath the clear blue lake.
Mine are small, subtle against my neck, while Aksel’s bloom wide along his sides, dark and unmistakable beneath his ribs.
I trace them with my webbed fingers, slow and curious, and feel the shudder that rolls through him in response.
His lashes flutter, his pupils darkening as he leans into my touch instead of away from it.
At first glance, he looks almost human.
Broad shoulders. Strong arms. Skin still warm-toned and familiar from the waist up. blond hair darkened from the water against his forehead, jaw tight like he’s holding himself together by sheer will.
And then your eyes drop.
The transformation softens into something fluid and seamless. His hips narrow and melt into smooth, luminous flesh, the tone shifting gradually into a vivid, living pink. Not garish. Not bright like coral. Deeper. Rich. Almost opalescent where the light hits.
Tentacles unfurl in slow, deliberate movements.
They’re thick at the base, tapering as they extend, the undersides lined with rows of pale blush suckers that flex and release in subtle rhythms. The color makes them strangely mesmerizing, not monstrous, but exotic.
Fluid in the way only deep-sea creatures are, startlingly elegant instead of grotesque.
They coil with quiet control around his body, lifting and adjusting him with effortless strength. When one curls, the muscles ripple visibly beneath that smooth pink surface. When another stretches out, it does so with lazy confidence, like a cat stretching in a patch of sun.
There’s something disarming about the color. Pink suggests softness. Warmth. Vulnerability.
But the way they move tells a different story. They’re precise and powerful.
Half man. Half sea-born power.
And every inch of me is aware of the contradiction.
I stay close, unhurried, kissing my way down his throat, across his chest, lingering where I know he’s most sensitive.
When my lips brush his gills, he exhales a broken sound that vibrates through the water between us.
Only then do I move lower, finally letting my hand close around what I’ve been waiting for.
His cock has shifted into a thick tentacle, smooth and warm beneath my palm, suction cups lining one side.
I explore it slowly, feeling each ridge of the sensitive puckers as my hand glides along its length.
Aksel’s response is immediate but restrained, a low moan slipping free as his hips tip forward, seeking more.
“You weren’t kidding,” I murmur, my voice warped by the water, soft instead of teasing. “About it being more sensitive like this.”
I curl my fingers around him again, firmer this time, following the shape all the way to the base where I feel the swell there. I pause, “You have a knot in this form, too?”
He doesn’t answer. Not with words. His reply comes in quiet sounds, and the way his body reacts, every muscle tightening, every breath heavier. It makes my chest ache with want. I move back up his body, hands and mouth tracing familiar paths, relearning him in this form as I go.
When I wrap my legs around his waist, it’s instinctive.
My fingers sink into his hair, grinding us together as we meet in a kiss that’s slow and deep, more emotion than urgency.
His hands find my ass, holding me there as I press closer, letting the lake rock us gently while we stay tangled together, suspended in the moment instead of rushing past it.
I’m nothing but a bundle of sensitive nerves and wanton desire as I writhe against my husband, seeking any friction I can find in the slick water.
Slick leaks out of me and into the water around us, acting as a pheromone itself.
Pressure on my hole gives me pause, and I blink up at him in askance.
He gives me another smug look as the pressure builds and his tentacle pushes inside of me.
I grip his hair hard, attempting to counter the burn in my ass.
He growls low in his throat as I whimper at the pain-filled pleasure.
As he slowly pushes inside of me, his slick, flexible muscle touches every single part of me.
The suction cups catch on my rim, making me gasp at the electric pleasure.
I need him to slow down and speed up at the same time.
I’m burning up. I don’t know what I need.
I cling to Aksel and beg him for something. Anything.
He rumbles deep in his throat. The sound is almost like a satisfied laugh, but darker. A purr. A dark, deep purr. Goosebumps rise along my entire body as I realize what he's about to do. I whine, nuzzling deep into his neck and biting hard into his scent gland.
His purr turns into a growl as he thrusts hard inside of me.
My body writhes at the shock of his whole member entering me all at once.
I cry out at the invasion, the burn almost too much.
Aksel keeps a tight hold on me, unmoving as my body slowly reforms to fit his.
My head is empty of everything except Aksel and the feeling of him inside of me.
I’m panting hard, bubbles flying from my mouth as I rest my head against his shoulder.
His knot isn’t even fully formed yet, and it already feels as if he’s ripping me in half.
I feel him move inside of me. Gentle. Not yet thrusting, but his tentacle is twisting, searching for that hidden spot within my passage.
Whenever he finds it, I yelp and clutch him harder to me, squirming in his hold.
His tentacle suctions onto the small bundle of nerves, sending me out of my mind.
My first orgasm moves through me with zero notice, sending me crashing into inevitable ecstasy.
My mind is a blur as he begins thrusting in and out, his wriggling appendage deep inside of me. I’m nothing but a toy used for his pleasure, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m oversensitive, my nerves on fire as he hits that spot over and over again.
I sob continuously, my hands clawing at him to pull him closer as my orgasm builds too soon. “Oh, fuck. Aksel. Aksel. Aksel.” I chant his name like a prayer while he continues taking me apart piece by piece.
My brain fogs and my body twitches as though I’ve been electrocuted when my climax washes over me a second time. I’m crying openly now, my body and mind exhausted and satisfied in an overwhelming sense.
Aksel’s knot catches on my hole, his thrusting slowing down as he grows inside of me. He shoves it in one final time, shuddering as he finds his own release. He roars as he fills me up completely.
Neither of us moves as we cling to each other.
Our chests heaving with the exertion of fucking in the water.
Our hearts pound as one as we come down from our orgasmic highs.
He kisses me slowly and thoroughly, his tongue exploring my mouth as we enjoy the feel of our bodies resting against one another.
Aksel’s knot slowly shrinks before sliding out of me with a pop.
I clench hard to stop his release from slipping out of my hole.
I hate how empty I am without him inside, but I love how stretched he made me feel.
After a while, he leans back in the water and pouts at me, lower lip pushed out in a way that’s clearly practiced. “I know I lost the bet,” he says, voice warm and coaxing, “but can I please see your tail, Fylgja?”
I roll my eyes, though there’s no real bite behind it. He’s ridiculous if he thinks I’m going to spend our entire vacation unshifted. I love my tail. I love the freedom of it, the power, the way my body feels right when I’m in my shifted form. I was always going to show him.
But I also love when he begs.
A slow, wicked smile curves my mouth, anticipation lighting through me. I push away from him suddenly and take off across the lake, laughter bubbling out of me as I go. I know he’ll catch me, but that doesn’t stop the thrill of the chase.
Halfway around the floating dock, I let the shift roll through me. My body reshapes smoothly, familiarly, and suddenly the water feels like home again. My tail propels me forward with effortless speed, slicing through the cool lake in long, powerful strokes.
I slow only when I sense him close, too close, and turn just in time to find myself face-to-face with my husband. His expression steals my breath every time: awe, hunger, pride, all tangled together.
The muscles in my tail coil and release with barely a thought, thick and powerful near the base, tapering down the length of me. When I flex, the motion travels in a smooth wave. Built for speed. Built for endurance. Built for depths most creatures wouldn’t survive.
The fin at the end spreads wide when I want it to, the dark membrane stretching between sharp spines, elegant and lethal. One flick is enough to send me gliding forward. Two, and I’m gone.
On land, black can look severe. Intimidating.
In the water, it blends seamlessly. I don’t shimmer or glow.
I belong to the night sea. The cold, quiet places where light doesn’t linger and sound carries farther than it should.
“Well,” I tease lightly, circling him as he treads water with infuriating ease, “that’s not the color I imagined.”
I keep my voice controlled and measured. If I don’t, he could be spellbound.
Even when I’m not trying, there’s still a rhythm to it. Words roll instead of snap. Consonants soften. Vowels linger a fraction longer than they should. I’ve learned to cut sentences short on purpose, to keep from drawing them out the way instinct wants me to.
He flushes instantly, brows knitting in mock offense. “And your tail isn’t what I expected either,” he shoots back, sulking adorably. “But you don’t see me complaining.”
I glance down at my glossy black tail, watching it move through the water like ink swirling in glass. I shrug, entirely unbothered. “I wasn’t complaining,” I murmur, drifting closer. My fingers trace the sharp line of his cheekbone, lingering there. “I quite like surprises.”
His breath stutters when I nip his nose, playful and soft, and I dart away just as his arms reach for me. My laughter echoes across the lake as I speed off again, heart racing with the joy of it.
“If I catch you,” he calls after me, voice low and dangerous in that way I love, “I’m going to fuck you in that form.”
“Promises, promises,” I sing back, my voice carrying over the water.
When I laugh, it carries. When I whisper, it lowers into something warmer, closer. Something that brushes against skin instead of ears.
And if I let go?
If I let the melody slip free?
The tone deepens. Resonates. It hums in my chest and spills outward like a rolling tide. I’ve watched it happen, shoulders relaxing, pupils widening, breath hitching for no reason they can explain. It doesn’t sound louder. It sounds nearer.
That’s the trick of it. I don’t have to shout. I just have to mean it.
Most of the time, I keep it leashed. Ordinary and human. It's always there, though. Waiting.
I use it now, pushing the melody into my voice as I laugh and swim faster. The water opens up around me as I dive, cool currents sliding over my skin. I twist through a column of light, letting my tail snap behind me in a playful kick. I’m built for speed. Streamlined and efficient.
He’s built for overwhelming force.
There's a low churn behind me as tentacles slice through the water. I don’t look back. That would ruin the playful drama. Instead, I dart through a narrow rock pass I know he’ll have to think twice about.
I hear the faintest rumble of amusement through the water.
He’s enjoying this.
I loop upward in a spiral, black hair fanning out
around me, tail flashing in the dim light. The lake carries sound differently down here. My laughter travels, bright and teasing and sensual.
A tentacle brushes past my tail.
I shriek, pure theatrics and joy, and swim away faster.
He’s closing in. I can feel the displaced water around me. The warm pulse of his movement. Kraken speed isn’t flashy, but it’s relentless. He doesn’t need to rush. He just has to wait for me to tire.
Rude.
I angle toward open water, then fake left at the last second, darting right in a turn only someone with one tail and zero self-preservation would attempt. My shoulder grazes something smooth and pink as I slip past him.
“Two slow,” I sing.
A tentacle curls around my waist.
Not tight, but I’m definitely not getting out of this.
I go still, suspended in the water, breathless and grinning.
“I was winning,” I inform him.
His smile tells me he doesn’t agree. I’m wrapped in him, and I couldn’t imagine another place in the world I would want to be.