Page 43 of Kept By the Kraken

It’s a quiet intimacy. The start of a life full of color and adventure, but mostly peace. The knowledge that we get to do it all again tomorrow, that we have lifetimes to love one another, settles into my soul and I send a prayer of thanks to the gods and the sea. They sent me salvation in the form of a curious human who isn’t afraid to love a beast, and I’m going to make sure she never regrets the chance she gave me.

Epilogue

Penelope: Five months later

“That’s the last of it. Do you want to go down to the cliffs one last time?” Bjorn’s rumbly voice calls from behind me.

I look over my shoulder as he checks the connection on the hitch, making sure the Airstream is secure. That will be our home for the next… well, however long. We don’t know exactly where we’ll end up, but we’re heading south for now.

“One last time. I want to take a picture down by the rocks.”

“I left your camera out. Let me grab it and I’ll walk with you.” Bjorn smiles that secret one that’s barely there. The one he makes when he’s amused by something.

It might be that I’ve taken “one last picture” of every spot of the reserve. Realistically, it could be decades before we come back to the place I met him. So I’ve been on a mission to capture all of it. I want to turn them into illustrations and make them into the story of us. Next time we return, I want to add the story to his collection. He doesn’t know that, but he indulges me all the same.

He pulls the camera strap over my head and plants a kiss on my hair. “Come on, Wildcat. One last picture.”

Bjorn takes my hand, and we amble down the trail. The rocks are slick and the path narrow. Bjorn helps keep me steady as we slowly make our way down the cliff. The winter wind is icy, and the sea is frothing this morning. But the sun is shining and nothing could dim the happiness inside me.

I finished my research project at the end of January, four months after meeting Bjorn. The first week of February, Bjorn returned with me to the university, and I formally dropped out of the postdoc program, handing over my final research but refusing to continue.

Next, I contacted my parents and officially broke ties. They had already made their opinions clear, but I wasn’t after their money. I let them know I would be traveling, and I wouldn’t stay in touch. After, I didn’t bother staying in town. We cleaned out my storage unit, sold my car, and hauled my stuff in a rental to Claw Bay.

It’s taken us another three weeks to pack up and prepare. But that might be because we’ve spent a good chunk of our time in the ocean and the other half in bed, so we didn’t leave ourselves much time for prep. We’ve been researching and talking about this trip for months though. What was left to do but enjoy our last days at the preserve?

We have three days before we’re expected south. Bjorn’s got a contract with a historical society to repair a lighthouse off the coast of Florida with a small crew. While we live there, I’m going to study the native wildlife. But this time, the way I want to—with hiking boots, a canvas, and a camera. Maybe I’ll even turn it into a book.

Bjorn stops abruptly and I bump into his muscular back, lost in thought. He picks me up and carries me the last of the way over the slippery rocks. The sea spits, and I gasp at the mist coating everything. It’s enchanting, ethereal. I memorize thesmells and the feel of the salty air, trying my best to take in every moment.

My camera is next, and I take several pictures before making my gruff mountain man cheese with me for my secret project. He groans but complies, picking me up and twirling me once so that when I take the picture, I’m breathless and laughing, our faces half out of the frame. It’s perfect like this, a moment in time of what we are.

He sets me back down on the rocks and cups my face, kissing my nose and my lashes before settling on my lips. It’s a kiss made with grins, more excitement than lust, though there is always that there too.

I pull away from the kiss and tug on his hand, pulling him toward our future. “Want to start with the playlist or the audiobook?”

Bjorn follows me, bracing his hand on my hip. “Depends on whether it’s a slow burn or not.”

“Can’t stand the heat for that long?” My laughter trails behind me.

Bjorn crowds against me, hands roaming over my hips and ass, and sucks along my neck. “Definitely not with you next to me, teasing me for hours.”

“Yeah, that’s usually your job.”

He swats my ass. “Yes, it is. Now let’s get a move on, Wildcat. We want to get to the campground before dark.”

Bjorn: Four months later

Iwish that my magic allowed me to stop time so I could freeze this moment. Penelope’s dark hair glows almost purple in the fading light of the sun. She chews on her bottom lip, staring at her easel, lost in thought. But whatever she was thinking about has put a dreamy look in her violet eyes.

My tool belt drops on the picnic table, and in two steps, she’s in my arms. She softens as my hands find her hips and my lips nibble along her neck. I kiss her hair and pull her back against my chest, swaying and squeezing her tightly. The feelers in my beard circle her throat, tasting and scenting her after being away from her all day.

I hold her for a long moment, reacquainting myself with the feel of her. It’s always like this between us, magnets being pulled together. I’ve been on this job for months and coming home to her at the end of the day is always the best part.

Penelope dances from my arms, twirling to crook her finger at me. “Come on. Let’s go for a swim.”

She hastily tugs off her tank top and drops it in the grass, darting down the trail.

Our camp site in the reserve for this job is in the brush and only about a quarter mile from the water on the protected side ofthe inlet. We usually swim in the evenings after I get home from work before heading in for dinner. This place has become our own little slice of the world, away from the caretaker’s grounds where the rest of the crew is lodging.

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