Away in a Tentacle Lair

16. Kai

Chapter sixteen

Kai

S wimming in this bay is second nature to me, the minimalist approach of a man who's spent more life in water than on land. Leo swims across the bay, staying on the surface above me. He's either leaving the bay or wants me to join him on the surface. I head up, and he turns towards me, treading water.

"Ready, Aquaman?" Leo grins up at me, his deep blue eyes teasing. His emotions have evened out.

The devastation that had filled his expression when I refused to deny being a werewolf is gone. The confusion that replaced it when I confirmed my family isn't in a criminal organisation has also gone. He's back to the smiling, happy man who walked down the cliff path with me.

"Born ready," I shoot back, giving him a thumbs-up. "But the real question is, are you?" I tap his borrowed air tank, and it emits a hollow, reassuring thud.

"Let's see if this high-tech gear can keep up with a merman," he retorts, and we laugh.

As we set off, we stay close to the surface. I play tour guide, pointing out the jagged cliffs that guard our coastal haven. Each landmark feels like an old friend, with secrets of the bay that only I know.

"Bet you a beer; I'll spot more fish than you," I tempt as we work our way out of my favourite bay into open water.

"Challenge accepted." Leo's smile is wide confident. "Just don't get distracted by your reflection down there."

"Ha! As if I need to look for beauty when I have the whole ocean showing off for me." My grin matches his as we swim away from the awkward issue I created in the cave.

Leo flips over to dive under, lifting his feet as he submerges head first. His feet kick at the surface, splashing me with water before he disappears below the surface.

I follow, slipping quietly into the embrace of the familiar coolness below, with nothing but a deep breath. Underwater, the world transforms; the soothing silence of the depths replaces the chatter of our banter.

I glance at Leo, who seems enraptured by the vibrant coral reefs sprawling like underwater metropolises—neon fish dart through their nooks and crannies, flashing colours against the muted blues and greens. A school of silverfish moves as one, a fluid mercury ribbon threading through the water, and I can't help but feel pride in sharing this tranquil wonderland with Leo.

He catches me staring and grins, bubbles escaping from around his regulator. Then, something remarkable happens. Curious and bold, a tiny octopus ventures out from its rocky hideaway. It's a small, eight-armed wonder, tentacles tasting the water cautiously. I'm no stranger to these intelligent creatures, but seeing one up close always feels like a secret shared with the ocean.

Leo watches, enraptured, as I reach out a hand. The little cephalopod approaches, tentative at first, then with more confidence, its skin shifting colours in a mesmerising dance of pigment and light. I reach out, and the little sea creature slides its tentacle around my finger. As it crawls gently across my hand as if I'm part of the landscape here, I glance up at Leo, and our eyes meet. I sense a feeling of understanding in his expression, and then he moves closer. With the octopus half on my hand and half gripping the rock, I'm prepared to push my breathing, but Leo slips the regulator from his mouth and offers it up to me.

I take a breath, and he puts the regulator back in his mouth. Watching him respect my choice to free dive distracts me from the octopus. Most people think if I need a breath, then I've lost my ability to free dive. If I take one breath from an air tank, they assume I rely on it. It's nice to know he thinks I can manage. As the octopus leaves my hand and disappears into the rock, I turn to Leo and smile.

Has he figured it out yet?

Leo inhales deeply, then offers me a breath I don't really need. Leaving the regulator out, he grabs my hips, pulling me to his mouth. We kiss, our limbs tangling around each other. Our tongues explore each other's mouths as we float weightless and free. Then he pulls away briefly to breathe.

Again and again, he breaks our kiss to breathe, highlighting how long I can manage without oxygen.

It's a kiss of discovery, of silent confessions and unvoiced promises. There's a weightlessness that has nothing to do with being underwater—a sense of floating, untethered, in a space where only we exist. When we part, I’m gasping for air, not from lack of oxygen but from the intensity of this moment between us. He shares his breath with me, exhaling into my mouth. It’s an odd process, and part of me is wary in case I inhale water, but we somehow make it work.

It's playful when I take a deep breath from his offered lifeline, his laughter bubbling through the water, mixing with mine. Our foreheads press together in a silent conversation passing between us. He knows I’m sure of it. He may not completely believe what his mind tells him, and that’s okay. Whether Nicholas decides to tell him tomorrow or not, it won’t be a complete shock to him.

We surface, arm in arm, gasping for breath. I’m momentarily blinded by the sun reflecting off the spraying water we displace. It doesn’t matter. I’m in his arms and know everything will be fine.

"Thank you, Kai. For... today." His sincerity washes over me warmer than the afternoon sun.

"Wait until you see Christmas at the Braireus household," I tease, lightening the mood. "It will take your breath away for other reasons."

“I wouldn’t miss it for all the world,” he chuckles, and we swim back to the bay together.