How could I have been so blind? The way they both tilt their heads when confused, their shared gentle nature, the fluid grace they both possess in their domains. Even the way they touch me is the same. Most telling of all – Levi’s striking blue-grey eyes that I’ve always found so captivating – are the same shade as my kraken’s skin. How often have I looked into those eyes in both forms and never seen the truth staring back at me?
My kraken. Levi is my kraken. The truth pulses through me with each heartbeat, undeniable now that I’ve seen it. He’s the same soul in two forms – the kraken who saved me from drowning and protected me today. And the man I’ve been falling for.
My hand hovers over his shoulder. I should wake him right now, demand the truth. Make him answer all the questions burning in my throat like bile – How long were you going to keep this from me? Were youevergoing to tell me? Do you trust me at all?
But uncertainty freezes me in place. What right do I have to demand answers when I’m not sure I’m ready to hear them? When I’m not sure what those answers would mean for us – for whatever this is between us?
I need to think.
Moving like a ghost, I gather my clothes and slip out of his room. Each step toward the door feels like moving through mud; part of me wants to return to Levi and pretend I didn’t see anything.
Only when I’m safely inside my houseboat, do I let my legs give out, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.
I press my hands to my face, but it doesn’t stop the room from spinning. The man I’m falling for is also the creature I’ve grown to trust and care for. I shared my deepest dreams andsecrets – hell, I shared my body. He’s become my dearest friend – in two different forms. And I have no idea what to do with that information.
I need to think.I need time. I need… I don’t even know what I need anymore.
Around me, the gentle rocking of my houseboat continues, unaware that everything else in my world has shifted irreversibly off its axis.
CHAPTER 26
Levi
For a moment, I drift in that hazy space between dreams and waking, wondering why my body feels like I’ve been battered by a thousand angry waves. A deep ache pulls me from sleep, my muscles stiff and tender. Yesterday’s battle crashes back – the other kraken’s massive form, Rose’s terrified face, the taste of blood in the water.
Rose. My hand automatically reaches for her, but I find her side of the bed cold and empty. The indent where she slept has long since faded, leaving no trace of her presence except the faint scent of her shampoo on the pillow beside mine.
“Rose?” My voice sounds rough, even to my own ears.
I push myself up, wincing at the deep ache in my muscles. I look around my room and find no trace of her left.
Something feels wrong. There isn’t even a hastily written note. I get up and check the rest of my houseboat, but there’s nothing on my nightstand or the kitchen counter. And there’s a notepad and pen left untouched in plain view.
My phone shows no messages. The knot in my stomach tightens as I type:Hey, where’d you disappear to this morning?
In the bathroom mirror, I look as rough as I feel – dark circles under my eyes, skin pallid, and hair wild from sleep. I peel off the bandage on my hip, holding my breath until I can see the wound. Relief floods through me as I find only a fresh pink scar where yesterday’s gaping injury had been. Another thing to hide from Rose, another excuse I’ll have to make if she happens to see it. Or perhaps it’s time I told her the truth.
The hot shower helps ease some of my stiffness but does nothing for the worry gnawing at my gut. I check my phone as soon as I’m out – still no response from Rose. She always texts back in the mornings. But it’s fine, I tell myself, trying to keep the panic at bay. She probably got distracted working on her art, or her phone died, or perhaps she’s grabbing coffee at the diner – they don’t have the best signal there. There are a dozen perfectly normal reasons she might not have texted back. I don’t need to jump to conclusions.
I throw on clothes and practically run to her houseboat. When I knock, I don’t get an answer. I try again, louder this time, and worry makes my movements sharp. Still, nothing.
“Rose?” I call out, pressing my ear to the door. The houseboat sits silent.
I circle around, peering through her windows. The kitchen is empty; even her ever-filled coffee pot sits cold and empty. The living room looks exactly as it always does; her laptop is in its usual spot, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Her bedroom blinds are open, showing an empty, perfectly made bed.
My heart rate kicks up when I realize her rental car isn’t in the parking lot. I hurry back to my houseboat for my keys, barely remembering to put on shoes before I’m in my car, heading toward town.
The Salty Dog is my first stop. Dark clouds gather overhead as I park, the wind picking up enough to send trash skittering across the pavement. Doris, the morning waitress who knows us both, shakes her head when I ask if she’s seen Rose.
The convenience store and a couple of shops I know Rose likes yield nothing. By now, the sky has darkened to an ominous grey, matching my growing unease. Wind whips down the narrow streets, carrying the sharp scent of approaching rain. Papers and leaves dance across my path as I hurry from store to store, the storm building with each dead end.
Finally, I try the bakery. The wind chime above the door clangs wildly as I enter, and I have to wrestle the door closed against the growing storm. The cashier hasn’t seen her but calls back, “Hey Koko, have you seen Rose today?”
Koko emerges from the back, dusting flour from her hands. Even in a simple apron, she radiates an otherworldly grace that reminds me exactly what – who – she is.
I bow my head slightly. “Thank you for your help yesterday, Mokosh.”
She waves off my formality with a smile. “Just Koko is fine, Levi. And I haven’t seen Rose today. Is something wrong?”
