Chapter 2 Octavius #3
The woman clasped her hands together in front of her, fingers twisting slightly, before apparently realizing it made her look nervous. She let them fall quickly back to her sides, smoothing her coat as if that might recover the moment.
“I heard your massages can help with stress,” she said, the words coming out just a little too carefully now. “And I thought maybe that might be... you know, helpful. Since I have some.”
I looked at her for a long moment, and I could already tell “some” was an understatement when it came to her stress.
“You’re the one with the so-called magic touch, right?
” she asked, a little sheepishly. “Unless I’ve just been begging some random guy—” she went red.
“Oh no, are you not the owner? Of course you’re not, the owner is apparently an octopus shifter and I don’t see any tentacles.
You must have been his last client. I’m sorry for talking your ear off, I—”
“Stop,” was all I said, holding up a hand to cut her off before she could keep rambling, because her talking wasn’t doing her any favors.
“Kara,” Mina cut in, like she knew I was about to say something rude—which I absolutely was—“this is Octavius Yasu. He’s amazing at what he does and can definitely help. Octavius, this is Kara Thompson.”
Kara offered me a small smile that looked a little forced. “Oh, so you are the guy. Nice to meet you Mr. Yasu.”
“Octavius,” I corrected, dipping my chin once in acknowledgment. “You’re new to the cove I hear?”
“Yes,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear, though it didn’t quite stay there. “I just bought the little cottage up near the cliffs, and, well... the refurbishment hasn’t been easy.”
The cottage on the cliffs?
I thought that place had been condemned years ago.
It was basically one strong storm away from collapsing into the sea, but suddenly things were starting to make sense.
If I had invested even a single dime into that death trap, I’d be carrying tension like a second skin too.
And she... she didn’t exactly look like someone who specialized in home improvement.
She wasn’t just tense. She looked like she was barely holding herself together, and whether it was from simply being new in town or from her bad investment causing all that anxiety I felt in the air, I couldn’t be sure.
Either way, it was clear she was crawling in her own skin under the weight of it.
And I knew I couldn’t let her walk out of here carrying all of that for another day.
I should have told her no. I should have sent her away and told her to come back tomorrow, when I actually had the capacity to take on whatever she was carrying.
But even though I was already close to my limit, I could take a little more.
Stress from a rebuild was a lot, but manageable.
I could fit it in, as long as I made it to the cove tonight.
I exhaled slowly. “Come with me.”
Kara let out a breath, clearly caught off guard. “That means yes?”
“It means come with me before I change my mind.”
She moved immediately, following me into the back room as I silently cursed myself for agreeing to this in the first place.
“This is beautiful,” she said, her voice softer now as she stepped inside, her gaze drifting along the walls as her fingers brushed lightly over the carved patterns of rolling waves etched into the wood, small details most people overlooked entirely.
“It’s not designed for beauty. It’s designed to make you feel comfortable and calm,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. It wasn’t her fault I had suddenly developed a bleeding heart and taken her in at the last minute.
“Well,” she said lightly, like she was tiptoeing around my mood, which only made me feel like more of a dick, “you nailed it.”
“I know,” was all I said, trying to get through the evening.
I turned away, crossing to the side table and selecting a bottle of oil infused with sea fennel and white kelp, something mild and suitable for a first-time client. I set it beside the folded towels before gesturing toward the massage bed.
“Take your coat off, then lie face down here.”
She obeyed, though not before glancing once more around the room, her gaze lingering just long enough to suggest she wasn’t simply taking in the space.
It looked like she was mapping it, noting doors, windows, or the lack of them, like she was studying possible exits.
The kind of awareness that came from habit, not curiosity.
I wasn’t interested in small talk though, I just wanted to get this over with. Still, I found myself watching as she carefully slipped out of her coat, trying not to stare too long. Even if she was an inconvenience, she was nice to look at.
Her dress looked like something out of the 1950s, fitted in a way that suited her perfectly, soft curves and a certain kind of elegance.
A simple pearl necklace rested at her collarbone, set on a chain wrapped in a delicate silver coil.
It was simple but elegant, and either a very good fake or, more likely, a family heirloom passed down through her line, whatever that might be.
I would have guessed sea witch bloodlines, since she looked human enough.
Then again, so did I at the moment with my tentacles tucked in.
“So,” I said before I could stop myself, my curiosity getting the better of me as I studied her, annoyed that I was even engaging, “do you have family in town?”
“I did,” she said quickly, almost too quickly. “My, uh... third—I mean fourth—cousin lived here years ago before moving to the west coast. You know how sea sprites are.”
Ah. So she was part sea sprite.
That made sense. They had a habit of mixing with humans—always the horniest of creatures—thinning their bloodlines over generations. But even a trace was enough to grant access to Crescent Cove. Places like this preferred to keep things... selective.
“No, how are they?” I asked, not even realizing I had slipped into the very small talk I had told myself I had no interest in.
“Oh, you know" she said with a breathy laugh that sounded fake "they're just kinda flighty. Going wherever the sea takes them. I guess that was the west coast for my,” she paused, hesitating, “fifth cousin.”
I lifted a brow slightly. “You mean third... or fourth?”
She let out a nervous laugh, and from the way her shoulders tightened just a fraction afterward, I got the distinct impression she was enjoying this conversation just as little as I was.
Good. At least we were aligned on something.
“Just lie down on the table,” I said, turning back to prepare the oils.
As I unfurled my tentacles from my back, she gasped.
It wasn’t fear, more like she had simply been caught off guard.
The way her eyes followed them made something in me shift as heat rose under my skin.
It was like she had never seen an octopus shifter before, and the way she looked at me, like she was taking it all in, had my body reacting in a way I didn’t like... or maybe I did.
“Question,” she said, and I was almost grateful for it, for the distraction from my own thoughts. Her gaze lingered on my tentacles, something unreadable in her expression. I couldn’t feel lust from her, just hesitation, leaving me to wonder if it was fear or something closer to disgust.
As a shifter, I could choose to half-shift, letting only my tentacles free while the rest of me stayed in a more palatable, human-like form.
For years, back in Japan, I had hidden what I was, so it had become second nature.
It had been a while since I’d fully let go, though, and there was something relieving about allowing my tentacles out.
They looked like any other octopus tentacles, just longer and thicker, usually a shade of orange.
The color could shift depending on my environment, or, more often in my line of work, my emotions—ranging from soft pinks to deeper oranges to dark, flushed reds.
They were far larger than those of a typical octopus, unmistakably different, and people tended to react one of two ways.
They were either put off or very much drawn in.
So which one was she?
I paused, my fingers stilling briefly over the glass bottle. “What?”
“Um... those things...”
“Tentacles,” I corrected, letting the irritation I assumed was judgment on her end slip into my voice.
“Yes, tentacles,” she said, letting out another small, nervous laugh. “Is that what has the magic? Like, are those the things that take the worry away? Because they look like they mean business.”
Ah, so not disgust, just curiosity.
The tension in my jaw eased slightly at the realization, and I turned back toward her. “Yes,” I said, my tone more even now. “I use them to work through the tension and draw out the stress. Your muscles will benefit from it as well.”
I caught the flicker in her eyes as she took them in again, subtle at first, then lingering just a fraction too long. Something shifted there, and I noticed a soft blush creeping along her freckled cheeks.
“Can’t wait,” she said, her voice still touched with nerves, but now breathier, softer in a way that didn’t quite match the words.
And then I felt it. A small shift in the tension I’d been sensing from her, loosening into something warmer as it lingered in the air around us. And there it was, that unmistakable hint of desire.
She was drawn to them, that much I was sure of, and it wasn’t a reaction I was unfamiliar with.
Tentacle kinks weren’t exactly rare, and from the way Kara’s gaze lingered, paired with that subtle shift in her energy, it was becoming increasingly clear which of the two reactions I usually got she fell into.