Chapter 14 Octavius #2
Before Kara, my life had been simple. Predictable.
A routine I had settled into without question.
I helped the people of this town, took what they carried, drained it from them, released it into the ocean, then returned home only to do it all again the next day.
There had been purpose in it, but it had also been...
solitary. Lonely in a way I had long since stopped acknowledging, because I had grown used to it.
But now? Now everything had shifted.
Now, I actually talked to people—not just my clients, but the people around town.
The ones I had lived alongside for years without ever truly knowing.
I found myself having real conversations, laughing—actually laughing—and even joining the Friday night Moonlight Market these past few weeks.
I surrounded myself not only with Kara, but with everyone.
Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
Because of her.
Because Kara had this quiet, effortless way of pulling me into things I would have once avoided, changing my world without even realizing she was doing it. And somehow, I didn’t mind.
I ran a hand through my hair, tightening my ponytail as we approached the front of the restaurant, pulling the door open for her.
“Ah, such a gentleman,” she cooed as she stepped past me.
“Gentle now,” I said with a wink, leaning in just enough for her to hear me clearly. “But wait until I get rough later.”
A deep blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.
The place was quiet and quaint, traditional lanterns casting a soft glow over the tables while the faint scent of rice and sea salt lingered in the air.
It was one of the few places in Crescent Cove that leaned heavily into my culture, something that always settled in me the moment I stepped inside.
She glanced down at the menu, then back up at me. “So, since you’re the Japanese food expert, what do you suggest? What’s good?”
“It’s all good,” I said simply, because it wasn’t a lie.
“You have to say that,” she teased.
“Well, it is my homeland,” I replied with a small shrug, like that was reason enough.
Truthfully, I had never had a Japanese dish I didn’t enjoy, as long as it was made right.
Sushi, especially, could be a hit or miss depending on who was preparing it.
But here, they always got it right, and I was honestly surprised I hadn’t brought her here sooner.
Then again, public appearances around town were still something she was easing into, but I had to say she had been doing a great job so far.
“Right,” she said, nodding like that was a perfectly acceptable answer. Then her tone softened just slightly. “Do you miss it?”
I considered that for a moment. “From time to time,” I admitted. “But I never truly fit there.”
“Do you feel like you fit here?”
“Well,” I said dryly, gesturing vaguely around us, “I’m surrounded by people with tentacles, gills, claws, or something else that sets them apart from the boringness of the ordinary. So yes, I’d say I fit in just fine here among my own kind.”
She gave me a look, her eyes dropping for a moment, and I didn’t need my tentacles on her to know exactly what she was thinking.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, meeting her gaze, my voice softening. “We may be different, but believe me, Kara, you are extraordinary all on your own. And despite what I just said, you are the one who makes me feel more at home than anyone else. Right here, with you.”
She smiled, and I knew she understood. We let the moment settle between us as we placed our order. When the food arrived, the sushi was laid out in a perfect display, almost too prefect to disturb.
“So...” she said, leaning forward slightly, clearly far too pleased with whatever thought had just entered her head as she toyed with one of the rolls. “Serious question.”
I sighed internally. “That’s never a good start,” I said, lifting my glass and taking a sip of sake.
“For a seaside town, with creatures that are part octopus, crab, fish, and whatever else belongs to the sea, do you think eating sushi is technically cannibalism?”
I choked on my drink at her question before I dissolved into a coughing fit, turning slightly as I tried to recover. Then, against my better judgment, I laughed.
“What?” she said. “That’s a valid question!”
“No,” I managed between breaths. “It’s not.”
“It is!” she insisted. “You can’t tell me no one’s ever thought about it before.”
“We’re not fish, Kara,” I said, finally catching my breath. “We have magic in our blood, and yes, we may have evolved from similar origins, but we aren’t related in that way at all.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “So you’re saying there’s no moral dilemma here.”
“None at all,” I said as I let out another laugh.
She nodded as if she were completely satisfied with my response, then immediately picked up another piece of sushi and popped it into her mouth. “Good,” she said after swallowing. “Because this is delicious.”
I shook my head, watching her with a fondness I didn’t bother to hide.
“I’ve never had sushi this good before,” she said, reaching for another piece before pausing. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve had much sushi at all.”
“Only microwavable dinners, right?” I smirked. “Luckily, sushi doesn’t come in a microwavable form.”
“Stop. I'm getting better at cooking now that my kitchen actually works,” she defended as I raised a brow in challenge, and she glared at me. “What? I am!”
I nodded slowly. “Of course.”
She crossed her arms in protest, and fuck, she looked so damn cute like this.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe,” I said carefully, just admiring her, “that you now have access to better tools and a very handsome octopus shifter who enjoys spoiling you with actual edible cuisine.”
She gasped softly. “Wow. So does that mean you didn’t like my meatloaf surprise?”
“Having my head buried in the toilet the next morning was certainly a surprise,” I replied, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. “One I don’t think you were prepared for either, considering you were clinging to the toilet right beside me.”
“Fine, you win,” she sighed, though there was a smile tugging at her lips. “But at least I’m trying.”
“And I adore you for it,” I said, my own smile softening.
The server approached just as Kara had taken an ambitious bite of a California roll while cramming another piece of nigiri into her mouth, completely unladylike—a stark contrast to how dressed up she was—only to act like a starving shark scenting blood in the water, and I adored her all the more for it.
“How is everything tasting?” she asked, refilling my sake.
Kara looked up, cheeks full, and gave an enthusiastic nod. “Mm—mazing,” she managed, the word slightly muffled.
I let out a quiet breath through my nose, the corner of my mouth twitching as I knocked back another sip.
The server smiled. “Good, I’m glad—” Her gaze shifted, catching on the pearl at Kara’s throat. “Oh, I love that necklace. Where did you get it?”
My shoulders tensed just slightly, that protective instinct rising before I could stop it.
Had this waitress realized what the pearl actually was?
Was she about to call Kara out? No. I couldn’t let that happen.
As I watched her, I was already planning ways to keep her quiet, my tentacles ready to snap.
But then I forced myself to settle. This was normal.
This was what people did. Women complimented each other on dresses, on hair, on jewelry—some unspoken kind of code.
Besides, Kara was good at this. I had seen it before, that effortless, practiced ease she slipped into when she needed it—her “poker face,” as she called it. She didn’t need me stepping in.
“Oh,” she said so easily it was almost nonchalant compared to how I was feeling at the moment. “It’s an old family heirloom belonging to my—”
“Fifth cousin,” I cut in dryly, not missing a beat.
“Yes. Fifth cousin,” she repeated seamlessly. “She used to live here years ago, and I thought it might be nice to come see where some of my family’s roots came from.”
The server tilted her head slightly, intrigued. “Oh, really? What was her name?”
Kara didn’t hesitate.
“Ashley,” she said, tapping her chin like she was trying to recall it.
“Ashley... oh gosh, I don’t remember her last name.
She changed it after she left Crescent Cove, so I only ever knew her as Ashley Thompson.
She was a sea sprite, but only half, and as the generations went on—well, you know how sea sprites are.
” She winked and let out a confident laugh, like she and the waitress were old friends just sharing a bit of gossip.
“I barely inherited any of the sprite magic, just enough to move a few small waves in the tide pool here or there.”
She said it so casually that even I might have believed her.
Thompson was the name she had given me the day we met, only for me to find out her real last name was DiMari the night she confessed.
I had to give it to her—Thompson was a much harder name to track than DiMari.
Though keeping her first name was probably risky enough, but somehow she had managed to fool us all.
Well, not all of us. My suspicions had been nearly correct from the start, but still...
she was good with her little white lies.
The server hummed softly, clearly turning it over in her mind. “A sea sprite named Ashley... I can’t say I remember one, but honestly, people come and go all the time. It’s hard to keep track.”
“That’s what I’ve noticed,” I added, leaning back smoothly. “I’ve only been here a couple of years myself, and I still don’t know half the names in this town.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie—just more of a strategically placed truth.