Page 17 of Hot Monster Summer

His silence is all the confirmation I need, and something in me aches for him, for the solitary existence he describes. It feels strangely significant that he’s sharing this with me and letting me see this side of him.

Tentacles lift me gently onto one of the cushioned ledges, and he follows, pulling himself from the water to sit beside me. “It’s less lonely now,” he admits, his voice a low rumble.

“I’m sure you say that to all the reckless women you drag to your secret cave,” I tease, trying to lighten the unexpectedweight of the moment. But how he looks at me, with those deep, searching eyes, makes breathing hard.

“I don’t,” he says, brushing a wet strand of hair from my face. The touch is so gentle and tender.

I’m about to say something sarcastic because that’s what I do whenever I feel this exposed, but he’s already diving beneath the surface. He reemerges with a necklace unlike anything I’ve ever seen—opal shells woven together with strands of gold. He drapes it over my head, the shells cold against my skin, and I’m speechless.

“It’s beautiful,” I finally stammer, my voice more breathless than I’d like. “But I don’t—”

He’s gone again, cutting off my protest with another offering, this one even more dazzling. A tiara encrusted with precious stones; it looks like it belongs on the head of an undersea goddess. Caspian carefully settles it on my hair, ignoring my wide-eyed disbelief as he arranges it.

“You don’t need to give me things,” I manage, though I can’t stop my fingers from tracing over the treasures.

“Oh, but you do need them,” he counters, eyes twinkling.

He disappears once more, determined to shower me in riches.

The next piece is an impossibly intricate diamond bracelet. Then, another necklace, the largest yet, with an enormous emerald.

“Matches your eyes,” he says, his voice low and full of something that makes me shiver.

“I can’t possibly wear all this,” I finally manage. “I’ll never make it to the surface.”

“Then I’ll keep you here,” he says, not even pretending to be joking.

“You don’t have to give me anything to impress me, you know,” I say, gesturing to our glittering surroundings.

“But I want to,” he replies. He reaches behind a rock, pulls out a sword, and places it in my hands.

A freaking sword.

It looks old and expensive, like everything else I’m already wearing.

The blade is impossibly light despite its ornate design—silver inlaid with what looks like flowing water patterns that seem to be moving.

"This is..." I turn the sword, watching light dance along its edge. "This is ancient, isn't it?"

"Forged by water spirits three thousand years ago," Caspian says, his voice reverent, "it was lost in a shipwreck, and I liberated it. The blade will never dull, never break."

I nearly drop it. "Caspian, I can barely handle a butter knife without injuring myself."

His laugh is warm, tentacles curling around my ankles playfully.

I should protest more, but the girl inside me—the one who’s been overlooked for so long, the one who lost herself in her past relationship—can’t help but feel giddy right now.

“Caspian…” I start, trying to find words.

There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You doubt my intentions, so allow me to be more specific.” He slips a string of perfect pearls around my neck. “These suit you.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already draping another one.

“Thank you,” I say, sounding less overwhelmed than I feel. “I love them. I do. But you don’t have to buy my affection. I’d rather have something real... something that means more.”

His expression shifts, going from confident to something that looks vulnerable.

“You want”—he hesitates, a bit unsure and hopeful—“something personal?”

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