Chapter Four
Kaos
After I left my dignity in the bathroom, I rejoined Spiro on the couch where the news was still on. The presenters discussed further updates about which parts of Chicago were affected the most by the snow.
Unwilling to break the awkward silence between us, I sent a quick text to my mom to let her know I was fine, then texted my bestie, who’d been blowing up my phone since last night.
Cillian: I saw the news about the snowstorm! You okay?
Kaos: I’m safe and staying at the house as planned, but the plot has thickened. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it.
Cill: You better. Don’t disappear on me again. WTF.
Kaos: I won’t. My phone is charged now.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask about your dietary needs.” Spiro’s voice brought my head up. “I just assumed, I guess. Since you’re a feline species…”
“I must love milk.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced, running a hand through his lush hair.
The silver bracelet around his wrist gleamed in the morning light from outside, but it was the jewel embedded in it that drew my attention. The red gemstone matched Spiro’s burgundy complexion, and I made a note to ask him about it later.
“I do. But my body doesn’t. It doesn’t tolerate lactose. Or gluten.” I curled my legs under me and shoved my tail under my hoodie.
“I’ll remember that.”
“I don’t expect you to. Or anyone else. It’s my problem, and I should double-check everything before I eat, but then I feel weird if I do that when I go out with my friends or family. I either have to be a big nuisance, or have regular food and suffer the consequences.”
“That’s shit. I’m sorry.” He patted my thigh with a tentacle, then grabbed it with his hand, taking it away. “I have black tea, ginger, and chamomile. Would any of that help now?”
The brief touch on my leg was warm, and I craved its immediate return. Ugh, I was so na?ve and needy. “I took some pills, but black tea would be nice. Just let me know where it is. I’d rather make it myself.”
“It’s in the top cupboard in the kitchen.”
Springing to my feet, I pulled my hoodie down to my mid-thigh. “Would you like some?”
“Nah, I’ll grab some orange juice.”
Pleasantly surprised by the presence of an electric kettle, I brewed a bag of Lipton in a mug I found next to the sink.
My ancestry was predominantly Icelandic, but the cousins from England had insisted on using a kettle whenever they visited and beat the idea of microwaving water for tea out of me.
The glasses took up the top shelf in the cabinet, so I climbed on the counter to reach one.
I slipped, losing my balance. With a squeak, I tumbled to the floor, sending the glass shattering as well as another mug that I knocked off with my tail on the way down.
Spiro was by my side within a split second, lifting me up with his tentacles under my arms. “Are you okay?”
I looked up to see his worried face.
“I’m fine. I’m used to falling over, but be careful.” I pointed to the mess I’d made.
“I will.” He shook his head, looking at the mess. “I have four tentacles out and do less damage than you with one tail in less than three minutes in this kitchen.”
“I’m sorry.” I felt like crying, but I wouldn’t. This guy let me stay with him, and all I was doing was making it more difficult than it needed to be.
“It’s okay. I’m just not used to having anyone in my kitchen. Or people not doing what I told them.”
I blushed.
He scooped me up and sat me on the counter so quickly that I yelped in surprise.
“Shit, sorry.” He patted glass shards off my socked feet. “I didn’t want you getting hurt. I won’t do that again.”
I wiggled my toes. “Oh, I don’t mind. You can carry me around anytime.” I bit my lip and regretted my words instantly. What the fuck, Kaos? I did mean what I said, though.
He met my gaze, his tentacles sliding down my legs like a delicate caress that promised much more than cuddles.
The static electricity between us returned, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as my heartbeat quickened.
I didn’t really know Spiro, but I wanted to find out everything about him and how he could touch me.
Spiro stepped back, shaking his head. “Noted.” He licked his lips, then looked away. “Stay here.”
I nodded, but the feeling of guilt over making such a mess remained.
He picked up the biggest shards with his tentacles and swiped the rest into a dustpan.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” I jumped off and found another piece of glass under the fridge. “I’ll buy a new one—ouch!” My finger oozed blood. Shit, I pricked it.
“I told you to stay put.” Spiro glared at me and sat me back on the counter like a doll, his tentacles picking me up with an ease that was as scary as it was hot.
“It’s my fault! I want to help!”
“Now you’re injured. How bad is it?” His voice was calm, but I was looking for signs of anger.
“It’s nothing.” I crossed my arms.
Spiro put his hand palm up.
I rolled my eyes but placed mine in his.
He inspected the cut. “Can I?”
“Sure,” I agreed, not really understanding what he’d asked about.
He wrapped his lips around my finger and licked it, sending a bolt of heat straight to my groin.
I squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“My saliva is like the slime I produce from my suckers—it has antiseptic qualities, so your cut will get better quickly.” He was trying to calm me down, but all I could do was imagine his tentacles producing a slick substance and what that would mean.
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” My words came out quiet, but I kept my hand in the air, watching him roll his tongue over the cut like it was a slow-motion erotica.
He then eyed the wound and nodded, satisfied. “This will do. It’s already closed. I wouldn’t expect you to know. We’re all different. I had no idea about your dietary needs.”
“My issues are problematic, while yours are useful. They’re not the same.” Would it be weird if I licked my finger to taste him? Yeah, it would.
“Nah. If you don’t assume, but instead ask questions, then you get to know people for who they are.” He pointed at me to stay put and made quick work of the mess, using his tentacles to pick every shard and wipe the floor.
He reached for the mugs on the top shelf with one tentacle, while grabbing the juice from the fridge with another.
He dropped a tea bag into the mug and poured boiled water over it.
His quick and fluid movements unfolded in a perfectly-choreographed ballet.
I could watch him do simple things like that all day and not get bored.
“Come here; I’ll carry you. The floor may still have some shards.” He stood at my side, close enough for our thighs to brush, and put his hand on my knee.
The proximity electrified me, and I wiggled to the edge of the counter. “But what about you?”
“The skin on my body is almost as thick as on my tentacles, so I’m safe from having tiny bits piercing it. Satisfied?”
I nodded and swished my tail in anticipation, trying not to knock anything over with it.
I expected him to step between my parted thighs, but he scooped me up into his tentacles in a bridal carry, walked to the living room effortlessly, and deposited me on the couch as if I were made of delicate porcelain.
Curling my legs under me, I sat at the edge as he took up the rest with all his limbs splayed out.
“What did you plan on doing if I weren’t here?”
“Cooking and catching up on some TV. I had Hell’s Kitchen on when you arrived.”
I shuddered. “That Ramsay guy is scary. Unless he teaches kids. Either way, I hate when people are screaming at me, so it’s not my favorite. Do you normally watch a lot of TV? I love a good binge on a rainy day.” I glanced toward the window. “Or a snowy day.”
Spiro took a white remote from the coffee table and turned on the fireplace. It sprang to life, flickering with flames. “No. I never find the time. This was supposed to be my quiet retreat.”
“Sorry.” I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and onto my lap. “You’re stuck with me, but I won’t interfere with your plans. What did you want to start with?”
“Stop apologizing. We’re snowed in, but you are—” He grazed my shoulder with an upper tentacle and shook his head. “I have a list of shows and movies my brothers wrote for me, but I haven’t decided what to begin with. Have you seen any of these?” He turned his phone my way.
I skimmed the titles. “Yeah, most of them actually.”
“Which should we watch now?” He dropped his head on the backrest, showcasing his sharp jaw, and flopped two of his upper tentacles next to me.
“How do you feel about serial killers?” I grinned, sitting upright.
Spiro frowned. “Uhh, what?”
“Movies, series, podcasts about them.”
“I saw Friday the 13th and Halloween on a movie marathon in the cinema with my brothers and some friends once. They were good. Is that what you watch?” He indicated my black attire.
I wrapped myself in the blanket from my lap. “I love horror. At least I know the evil there is fake. What else can you assume based on my looks?”
“I asked, not assumed.” He poked my foot with the tip of a lower tentacle. “But I wonder if you like night strolls in the cemetery.” He smirked, but not in a deprecating way. His playful side was peeking out and I wanted to lure more of it from him.
“Well, I do. I work there.” I thrust my chin up.
“What?”
“I couldn’t find a decent job, so I applied everywhere that paid more than minimum wage. Apparently, not many people want to be around corpses.”
The confusion on his face was priceless. “Please continue before I freak out.”
I giggled. “I’m a professional mourner. Which means I cry at funerals. My job is to look miserable and wear black.”
“I’ve never heard of that profession.”
“You’d be surprised how many families are so small or feud-ridden that they run out of people to say the last goodbyes. It’s quite sad.” I gathered the blanket to my chest. “Makes it easy to cry.”
“Do you like doing it?” His tone wasn’t judgmental, which was a nice change from the reactions I’d usually get.
Had anyone ever asked me so many questions about myself before? I couldn’t recall. As long as I could keep my most shameful secret hidden, I’d be okay.
“Most days, yes. I hope I’m helping people at least a bit. Maybe to find closure or release all that emotion brewing. Working at a cemetery is not creepy at all. Or not in a bad way, at least.”
Spiro twisted the bracelet on his wrist, his gaze focused on me. “You talk about your life as if it was boring, but it’s just the opposite. What do you mean by that?”
“Have you ever been on a stroll in the cemetery on Halloween, or on the Day of the Dead? All those candles on the graves make the place seem so serene. Almost magical. They fill the place with a strange kind of happiness. It’s heartfelt when people remember the loved ones who are gone and honor them by coming over to light a candle. ”
“I never thought of it that way.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’d like to see a cemetery in the snow? There’s a big one downtown here.”
I perked up. “Mount Carmel Catholic Cemetery is on my list to visit when I’m here. Al Capone was buried there.”
“So you’re a dark soul who’s into serial killers and gangsters, huh? You’re not a sweet little kitten at all.” Spiro poked my blanket-covered leg with a tentacle, and I caught it. He searched my face, looking as if he were about to apologize.
“I can be both.” I blushed and fumbled to point to a line on his phone. “We should watch this.”
“Dexter? Is it a science thing? Or was that an American cartoon back in the 90s?”
I giggled. “You’ll see. Your brothers have good taste, though. This list is peak.”
The show started, and I got sucked in as the first time I'd seen it when I was probably way too young to see justice being served by a sexy serial killer. Watching a series with someone who had no idea what to expect from it was a fun experience. Spiro leaned forward and commented when he was shocked, like a kid who hadn’t watched TV since forever.
I climbed onto the backrest and got comfortable lying along it, letting my tail swing back and forth behind us.