Kissing the Shark (Maritime Monsters #1)

Chapter 13- Karlo

CHAPTER 13- KARLO

“AND WHY COULDN’T you come with me?” I hiss on the phone. The sun is setting and I’m standing on a dock not far from Wavecrush Cove. It’s ironic, actually, that I’m about to willingly go into the sea with the same monster who saved me from this very shore.

The same handsome monster I’ve been dreaming of nearly every night. The shark man who makes me feel more special than anyone. The beautiful monster that’s crawled under my skin.

“Because this is your dream,” Skyler says over the phone.

“But…” I look around, and no one’s in sight. “What if…he kills me or something?”

“Then I’ll turn him into soup. But Mr. Shaughnessy is our friend. And he’d do anything for you. We’ve been working with him nonstop for months.”

I nod, knowing Skyler is right. I have yet to find a reason to not trust Razorjaw. He’s put so much of his trust in all of us, and now he simply wants to show me my literal dream.

“Why are you really calling me, boo?” Skyler asks.

I sigh. “The universe has been pushing me toward Razorjaw this whole time. And I keep finding all these…positive attributes about him.”

“Okay. That sounds awesome. Why fight it?”

“Because…” The words I’m not worthy , almost roll off my tongue.

I sigh and notice a small rowboat approaching. The shark man with a fin jutting out of his head is getting closer, and he seems to have actually rented a boat just for me. “He’s here. I gotta go.”

“Make sure you use a life vest!” Skyler says.

“I will.”

“Always wear protection,” he sings, and I can hear his smirk. My best friend sucks .

“Bye!” I say with a frown, then hang up.

A moment later, I approach Razorjaw in his boat. He looks so handsome in the darkening night sky, and the stars are nearly out over the ocean.

“Good evening!” he says, beaming.

“Good evening, Razorjaw.” I hoist up my camera bag.

“Are you ready?” he asks,

Isn’t that the million-dollar question?

Forty minutes later, we’re miles away from the dock near Wavecrush Cove. I’m not too cold in my black sweats, gray hoodie, and the life jacket over me. Razorjaw has barely talked, opting instead to focus on rowing— such strong arms .

He’s stopped rowing for several minutes now, and our boat is casually floating in the dark. I’ve been staring at the calm water, but the only lights I see are reflections of the stars. There hasn’t been a single semblance of manta rays anywhere.

“Are you sure this is the place?” I ask. “We’ve been here for a while.”

Razorjaw reaches over the side of the boat and grazes the water. “Yes,” he replies. “I feel the thrum in the ocean’s currents. This is where it will occur.” He rests his chin on his hands and smiles. “Please be patient.”

I chuckle nervously. While I don’t think he would hurt me, we’re so far from everything I know. Being afraid of the big wide water at night is natural when you don’t have gills. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were kidnapping me, caveman-style.”

“What is caveman-style?”

I snicker. “It’s when someone physically grabs you and forces you to be their…” I gulp. “Mate.”

After a long several seconds of quiet, Razorjaw solemnly says, “I have never forced anything on you, Karlo Castillo. That will never change. We are here to see the flock of Mobula birostris breach the surface, that is all.”

“Right.” I nod, unsure if he can see me. “So, like, when can we expect them?”

“It should not be long now. The darkness heralds their ascent to the surface,” he replies.

“Great.” I fidget with my camera for a few minutes more, prepping the lens and taking preliminary videos of the water. The boat rocks lightly, but I never feel dizzy. I’m too busy focusing on preparing to witness my dream nature event. The nerves are setting in, which is reasonable when your life goal is coming true. Being in the presence of my sexy shark friend, the man who has made it clear he wants me, does little to comfort me. Razorjaw makes me feel off-balance in ways I’ve never had to reflect on before.

“May I ask you a personal question?”

His voice breaks through the silence, and I clear my throat. “Okay.”

“Are you…good at surfing?”

I snicker. “Is this about the time I almost died here?” He nods in the darkness. “No, clearly, I’m shit at it.”

“Then why did you…?”

“Why did I go surfing on my own in literally the most dangerous area for humans?” I ask in a facetious tone.

“Exactly.”

I sigh and look up at the stars. “It’s…really embarrassing.”

“If it is too much, you do not need to tell me.”

“I might as well fess up.” Playing with my fingers, I say, “I did it to prove I was…manly.”

“Manly?”

“Strong, athletic, virile, masculine. My ex loved watching surfing, but he always put me down for being bad at swimming and, thus, not wanting to surf.” I laugh at myself and look at my knees. “I kind of wish he really liked basketball instead; then at least I could fuck up on the safety of the ground, and not in shark-infested waters.”

When I finish laughing at myself, Razorjaw is still silent. “So yeah. That’s that.”

“Your ex-boyfriend made you feel…not manly enough…and it drove you to do a sport in the water?”

I laugh. “Exactly.”

I sense him tense up, and it’s so damn quiet out here in the middle of the sea. I should have brought a flashlight, a radio, anything to break the tension. “I know I made a vow of nonviolence to humans. But if I ever meet him, I will make him regret ever making you feel anything but special.”

I chuckle despite his words making my insides bounce up and down. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He leans forward, nearly touching me, but keeping a safe distance from my skin. “Karlo Castillo, you are perfection. Anyone, man, woman, monster, or anything else would be lucky to have the privilege of your attention.”

My breath catches in my throat. This damn pedestal that Razorjaw has placed me on since day one, a title I refuse to acknowledge, is so frightening to me. For the first time ever, I actually feel worthy, and it’s all because of this handsome, charming, chivalrous shark shifter sitting three feet in front of me.

The whole ocean feels too small because right now, the gravity between us is tremendous. Maybe it’s the power of the starry night sky, but I know in my heart I want to kiss Razorjaw. And judging by his words and actions, I think the feeling is mutual.

Despite getting to know the real me for weeks, he still hasn’t stopped wanting me.

I lean forward and touch his hands. “Razorjaw, I —”

My words are cut off by him sitting upright. He points behind me and exclaims, “Look!”

I turn and see it beginning; in the dark ocean, among rolling waves, I spot a blue light moving just below the surface. It’s a solitary occurrence, but after another minute, to my right, a second blue light appears. The outline of each shadow is like a large triangle. Oh my stars and seamonsters, that’s Mobula birostris alright !

My pulse picks up, and I scramble to get my camera in focus. Once I aim at the water beneath me, the lights really pick up. Tiny blue and lavender hues flicker all around me. Within minutes, enough manta rays pass by to streak below the surface, like a meteor shower down below. They’ve absorbed enough bioluminescent krill to make an aurora glow on the surface, the night shining into the day.

“Holy…” I whisper. I’m out of words. I recall my mission and switch between photo captures and short videos. I record as smoothly as I can, but my hands are shaking. I’m actually witnessing the great migration! Researchers go their whole lives waiting for photo captures like these.

Dozens of manta rays hit the surface, and some even fly right out and splash back down. It’s an awe-inspiring parade of luminescent beauty. The glow of moving creatures lights up our entire boat, like a wildfire on the water. We’re bathed in flecks of blue and purple radiance.

And by we, I mean Razorjaw. I take one photo of him turning to his right, grinning at the magnificent creatures. He’s magnificent, the epitome of beauty, a sight to behold. Then, he turns to me and shrugs. “Have you finished with all of your photography?”

I gulp and put down the camera. Seven minutes worth of footage should be okay, right? “Um, yeah,” I say with a scratchy voice.

“Then come.” He leans forward and places my camera down. My skin prickles when his blue fingers brush mine. “Live in the moment. Witness it with your own eyes.”

I gulp and lean back, trying, as instructed, to live in the present. The boat rocks as a few manta rays splash about. The phenomenon continues and lights cascade all around us. Brilliant galaxies of ocean creatures swirl, with us in the center of a microcosm. I get chills just by observing it all, knowing I’m part of this brilliant moment. The wonder of nature overwhelms me, and I feel humbled and integral all at once.

With a satisfied sigh, I turn to see Razorjaw already looking at me. As the natural blues and purples illuminate his blue shark skin, one realization hits me like a tidal wave—I want him.

I’ve spent months denying him, letting him know I am no one’s mate. But here, in the bioluminescent glow of nearly one hundred manta rays, I know I desire him. Not just in a physical sense, but every facet of him. Razorjaw is hardworking, generous, knowledgeable, and not-to-mention handsome. The monster is a dazzling phenomenon.

This shark swam into my heart weeks ago, and before I could realize it, he claimed it as his own.

“I should…probably get us back to the shore now.” His words break me out of my trance. Looking around, the ocean is back to being as dark as ever. The migration is over?

“Oh, uh…”

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Razorjaw says as he sits back. He’s farther from me now, and his focus is on the oars. I sigh and finagle with my camera. The moment is lost.

“I…did,” I reply, meekly.

“I am glad I was able to help a coworker. I trust this experience will be most beneficial for the Institute.” With that, he rows back to shore with ease. With his muscular shark body, we’re able to make meters fly by. As the land gets closer and closer, a sense of dread forms in my gut.

Coworkers. Of course, that’s all this was, I told him that a hundred times. We were bathed in a heavenly parade of glowing beauty, all alone, and I lost my chance. I had my perfect moment, and now Razorjaw thinks I’m still not interested. I should have leaned over and kissed his stupid beautiful shark face when I had the chance. I’m an idiot.

We get to the dock, and he swiftly leaps off the boat. In a blur, he has the vessel secured, and he’s reaching his hand out to pull me up. He’s such a gentleman, and I use his strong arm to get myself onto solid ground.

“Allow me to get your camera bag. May I walk you to your car?”

“Of course,” I reply wistfully with a smile. He retrieves my gear while I shuck off the lifejacket. With the vest back in the boat and him holding my bag, we proceed past the dock to the gravel road. Even in the dark, I notice his tail wagging slightly. The butterflies in my stomach won’t stop bouncing around. How could I keep denying this sexy, generous man-shark? But now the moment is lost.

A minute later, he pops the massive camera bag into the trunk and shuts it.

“You’ve gotten used to cars already, huh?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

“My aunt has a vehicle. I have loaded one in the past.”

“Gotcha,” I reply.

He turns and grins at me. I clap my hands and bounce on my toes. Why am I so awkward? My inner voice chides me, “ Just tell Razorjaw you like him!”

“So…”

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

I sigh and smile. “Yes.”

“Was it everything you wanted?”

“And more,” I murmur.

“Then I am content. Anything for you and your research.”

Yes, research —nothing more, just like I wanted. “Thanks again.”

“You are very welcome.” He pauses like he wants me to reply, but I’m frozen with self-doubt. The fear of being unworthy renders me silent. After a moment, he clears his throat and continues, “I am going to sleep in my home cave tonight. In the morning, I shall return the boat to the appropriate vendor.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, despite my heart deflating. He’s so gorgeous, gentle, and sweet. I want you so much, Razorjaw.

He looks like he wants to say more, even in the dark. But instead, he nods and waves his webbed hand. “Goodnight, Karlo Castillo.”

“Night,” I whisper. With that, he saunters down to the dock. My soul caves in, mourning over lost opportunities. I close my eyes and picture his glow in the blue-and-purple lights of the manta rays. My heart beats faster, yearning to take this chance. I can’t let him go, not yet. I won’t mess this up.

“RJ, Wait!” I shout.

Razorjaw turns, and fortunately, he’s underneath the one lamp by the dock. No one is around to witness me rush up to him like a weirdo.

“Karlo, what is the matter?”

I don’t reply, not with words. I run up to him and grab his neck and shoulders. On my toes, I reach up and place my mouth on his. His mouth is soft, yet firm, and tastes like a hint of saltwater — perfection .

He’s taken aback at first, and I’m afraid my crazy romantic gesture was just crazy. But after a moment, I know I did the right thing. I step forward twice and he steps back, then stabilizes, all while my mouth never leaves his. Then, his lips move around mine, and he gives me that delicious pressure I’ve craved all night. His blue lips taste sweet, my new favorite flavor. There, on the dock, underneath the stars, I’m kissing the shark, my shark, and I couldn’t be happier.