Wading with an Octopus Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

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  About the Author

  World of Aquatica: A day that starts like any other takes a sideways turn when a detective discovers that humans aren’t alone in the world.

  Over two weeks before, Detective Grisham Canton arrested the wrong guy—Solomon Lynch. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened and probably wouldn’t be the last. What made it stand out, however, was the stranger who’d been with Solomon. Grisham didn’t know his name, but the memory of his lean, sexy body, wide dark eyes, and distinctive black and red hair invaded his dreams. Waking with a hard-on was quickly getting old. Grisham heads to World of Aquatica, hoping to discover the identity of the stranger. When Grisham meets Cuzco Judson, the attraction is even more intense than his dreams. After a hot night with the man, Grisham learns a few secrets that turn his life upside down. Cuzco is an octopus shifter and believes Grisham is his mate. As Grisham is drawn into Cuzco’s world—where paranormals will do just about anything to keep their anonymity—will he be able to reconcile that the world isn’t black and white, right and wrong, or will the desire to walk away be too much temptation?

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Wading with an Octopus

  Copyright © 2018 Charlie Richards

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-2106-9

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

  Wading with an Octopus

  Beneath Aquatica’s Waves: Book Four

  By

  Charlie Richards

  Dedication

  ~The mystery of life isn’t a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.

  ~William Wordsworth

  Chapter One

  Detective Grisham Canton groaned roughly.

  Fucking hell. Again?

  Pulling his hand out from under his pillow, Grisham reached for the ever-present hand towel on his nightstand. He’d started leaving one there the week before since waking with a boner that wouldn’t quit had become a regular thing. It was becoming damn frustrating.

  Grisham shoved the towel beneath his groin. Groaning at the feel of the towel’s fabric against the sensitive skin of his erection, he arched, sinking his prick deeper beneath the folds. He slid his hands forward and gripped the edge of the mattress, using the hold to grind more pressure on his hips.

  Focusing on his cock, on the ache pulsing through him, Grisham spread his legs to give his tingling balls more room. He rutted swiftly, his ass flexing as he dug his knees into the mattress. His prick slid against the fabric, causing sparks to flare through his groin.

  Moaning, Grisham realized his orgasm seemed to be getting further away instead of closer.

  Grisham eased his hold on the mattress’s edge. Forcing his hips to still, he blew out a harsh breath. He rested his temple on his arm and focused on relaxing his body.

  Once he’d stilled, he brought up the picture of the man from the parking lot. He imagined himself bypassing the guy he’d arrested and rounding the hood of the car. Then he would be able to see more of the lean form he’d caught glimpses of through the windows of the car.

  The angle had sucked, and Grisham really wished he could have seen the rest of the guy.

  Focusing on what he had seen, Grisham imagined himself sinking the fingers of his right hand into the pretty man’s exotic red and black hair. He bet it would be soft, like satin. Wrapping his other arm around the guy’s waist, he skimmed those fingertips along his spine.

  Grisham would move that hand down and tease at the top of the jeans he was wearing, dipping beneath the waistband. The sexy man would gasp. His lips would part, and Grisham imagined dipping his head and taking advantage.

  The man’s flavor would be wonderful. He just knew it. Maybe he’d taste like butterscotch—sweet and smooth.

  When his imaginary man gave in to Grisham’s tug to tilt his head, allowing him to sink his tongue deeper, he imagined tightening his arm, bringing the man’s hard body against his groin.

  Grisham’s orgasm crashed over him. He jolted, snapping his eyes open, although he didn’t see anything. Instead, his focus glazed as his endorphins thrummed throughout his system.

  Breathing slow and deep, Grisham reveled in the blissful sensations. He allowed his mind to float, not wanting to process why he responded the way he did.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Once Grisham’s breathing began to return to normal, he rolled to his back. He grunted as he took the towel and rubbed it over his groin. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to get his scrambled thoughts in order.

  It was insane. Grisham knew it was. He hadn’t even met the guy.

  Almost two weeks before, Grisham had arrested a man named Solomon Lynch in the parking lot of the guy’s apartment building. He’d done his job, and ignoring his attraction to the friend who’d been driving Solomon, Grisham had cuffed the perp and walked away. That didn’t stop him from admiring the pretty man.

  And now I can’t forget him.

  Staring at the ceiling, Grisham struggled with what to do. He knew it needed to stop, but how could he make that happen? It occurred to him that there was only one way to fix an obsession such as the cute twink.

  Easing to a sitting position, Grisham swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He shoved off the bed, the towel in hand, and stalked to the ensuite bathroom. After dropping the towel in the laundry basket, he went about his normal morning routine.

  Driving up the coast with the top down on his Jeep, Grisham took advantage of his day off. He glanced at his GPS. He knew he was closing in on his destination, and his palms began to sweat. Growling under his breath, he glared as he refocused on the road.

  “Why the hell am I nervous?”

  Grisham had brought down murderers, serial killers, and drug dealers. He couldn’t figure out why he was torn up over one cute twink. After a shake of his head, he tightened his grip on the wheel and forced his crazy thoughts to the back of his mind.

  Spotting the massive road sign advertising World of Aquatica, Grisham verified the exit he needed. He tapped his forefinger on the wheel restlessly, going over in his mind what he intended to say. By the time he turned off the highway and took the road to the massive marine park, he still didn’t like how ridiculous he would sound.

  Whatever. I’ll just wing it.

  Paying for parking, Grisham fou
nd a spot half a dozen rows away from the front gate. Damn, the place is packed... and on a weekday. He swept his gaze over the open vehicle’s interior, making certain there was nothing of value in sight. Having to report a theft on his vehicle, the Jeep of a detective, would be damn embarrassing.

  Satisfied, Grisham pulled on his jacket, hiding his shoulder holster. He adjusted his belt, making certain his badge was visible. Shoving his keys into his pocket, he headed toward the gate.

  One good perk of his job was being able to bypass the line.

  Grisham strode past the others, tapping his badge whenever someone looked like they were going to say anything. Grabbing it from his belt, he watched the customer at the window take his receipt. Then he stepped forward and held it up so the cashier could see it.

  “How can I help you, sir?”

  Smiling at the woman, Grisham returned his badge to his belt. “I need a few minutes of time with one of your employees. Can you grab someone from security to help me, please?”

  No sense in saying Solomon’s name in public and making trouble for the man at his work.

  “Of course, sir.” She immediately turned away from the window and picked up a handset. Grisham couldn’t hear what she murmured, but then she turned back to him and offered him a smile. “Can I get your name, please?”

  “I’m Detective Grisham Canton.”

  She relayed that into the phone, then listened for a few seconds before hanging up. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a plastic badge and slid it into the tray where money and tickets were usually passed back and forth. “Just wear this on your jacket, please, Detective, and wait inside the gate there.” She pointed. “Our Chief of Security, Eban O’Gillie will be right over to help you with whatever you need.”

  “Thank you.” Grisham took the badge, seeing it read visitor pass, and clipped it to the top of his jacket.

  Heading into the park, Grisham nodded at the man checking tickets at the gate. He strode inside and immediately turned to the left. Spotting a bench, Grisham headed over to it and sat down, sweeping his gaze over the area.

  There were several shops near the entrance. Through the windows, he spotted plushie toys of dozens of different marine animals. There were also large and small knick-knacks, some that looked like they were made out of stone and others that were blown glass. Some even looked like they were made out of tiny seashells, and others were crystal. Another store held clothes of all kinds. A third store offered essential items—sunscreen, disposable cameras, single-serving packets of pain meds or other pharmaceuticals, as well as hats, visors, and sunglasses.

  “Detective Canton?”

  Grisham turned his head. Seeing a brawny, six-foot-four male in tan shorts and a dark-blue polo shirt with the word Security embroidered on it, he rose and held out his hand. “Yes, thank you for seeing me.”

  Eban nodded and took his hand. “It’s never good form to ignore an officer of the law.”

  After they shook, Grisham shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “You are Eban O’Gillie, right?” After the security man nodded, Grisham asked, “Can I call you Eban? Or would you prefer Mister O’Gillie?”

  Good god, I’m babbling.

  “You can call me Eban.” The corners of the big man’s lips twitched. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  “Please, call me Grisham. I’m not here in an official capacity right now.” Offering a rueful smile, he added, “I’m hoping to speak with Solomon Lynch. Off the record.”

  “Well, we can ask him,” Eban stated, turning. He beckoned. “Let’s get out of the traffic.”

  Grisham nodded and fell into step beside the larger man.

  Eban lifted a walkie to his mouth and stated, “Ovram, I need Solomon Lynch’s location. Is he working today?”

  “Yeah, boss,” Ovram replied, his voice coming clearly through the device. “He’s working patrol at the shipwreck aquarium.”

  “Thanks,” Eban replied. He turned right down another walkway. “This way.”

  * * * *

  Cuzco Judson strode swiftly along the pathways of World of Aquatica. The condominium complex attached to the park had been his home for over a decade. In all that time, he’d never been pulled off his octopus aquarium duty.

  As a shifter, Cuzco shared his body and mind with a coconut octopus. He could change into the small cephalopod at will, and he even carried some of the traits and instincts with him in human form. The most notable one was his hair, which was black with deep, russet-red highlights interspersed throughout it.

  Humans assumed he dyed it, but it was all natural. Before hair dye and coloring hair became popular, it sure had been hard to explain. He’d often had to hide it when he went on land to interact with humans.

  For that reason, before Cuzco had begun working at the shifter-run marine park, he’d rarely bothered to interact with the dominant species on the planet. He was getting better, although most thought of him as shy. It worked, since normally Cuzco was tongue-tied, having no idea how to make small talk with a human.

  Their interests were just so very different.

  Cuzco sure hoped that being pulled from the aquarium halfway through his shift wasn’t because of something he’d done. His job was to skitter around the rocks and look photogenic. As a small, reddish-brown octopus with vibrant, pale-blue suckers on his eight legs, it really wasn’t all that hard.

  So why on Earth would Enforcer Eban want to talk to me right away?

  What could have been so important that he’d had Enforcer Westram use a net to pull him from the aquarium?

  Cuzco had never had that happen before, and he couldn’t think of a reason for it to happen now.

  Knowing he would just worry himself to death if he continued to dwell on it, Cuzco picked up his pace. He dodged between humans entering and exiting restaurants and weaved around patrons heading to and from exhibits. When his destination appeared—the Mini Barrier Reef Cantina—Cuzco took a second to slow his pace so he could catch his breath.

  At least Eban asking him to join him at a restaurant meant it couldn’t be anything too terrible.

  Right?

  Cuzco sure hoped so.

  Inhaling deeply through his nose as he grabbed the door handle, he paused, furrowing his brows. A faint odor tickled his senses. He found it to be a pleasant smell, masculine yet yummy.

  Taking another breath, Cuzco tilted his head, trying to figure out if he’d ever scented anything quite like the tasty aroma. Maybe one of the chefs was trying a new recipe. Mini Barrier Reef Cantina was the nicest restaurant at the marine park, after all. Some of the dishes were pretty classy, and everything tasted amazing.

  The door to the restaurant opened and nearly smacked Cuzco in the face. He quickly took a step back, offering a weak smile to the couple leading a trio of children out of the place. The woman smiled brightly at him. The man ignored him as did two of the kids.

  The third child, a boy of about fifteen, glanced at Cuzco. He immediately grinned. “Sweet hair, man!”

  Cuzco felt his smile become more genuine. “Thanks,” he replied softly.

  “Johnney, come on!” the man called.

  The teenager, Johnney, offered another grin and a thumbs up, then hurried after his father.

  Glancing at the man, Cuzco spotted the guy’s scowl. His expression of disdain said it all.

  Cuzco returned his attention to the door and pulled it open with a sigh. Yep. That’s why I steer clear of humans. He entered the establishment and spotted Peggy behind the hostess stand.

  “Hey, Cuzco,” Peggy greeted, grinning widely at him. “Eban said to tell ya where he’s at. A table in the back on the left.” She pointed.

  Nodding, Cuzco murmured, “Thanks,” then headed in that direction.

  Cuzco reached the bend Peggy had indicated, turned the corner, and swept his gaze over the area. Looking along the row of four-seater tables lining the restaurant’s wall, he easily spotted Head Enforcer Eban. Cuzco realized Solomon was in another
seat, and there was someone else across from the enforcer.

  Pausing, taking in the man’s profile, Cuzco tried to place him.

  His jaw sagged open. His heart sped in his chest. A shiver worked through him as his blood flowed south.

  It’s the handsome detective!

  Cuzco rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to get his racing pulse to slow. When he’d given Doctor Keller’s new mate, Solomon Lynch, a ride to his soon-to-be ex-apartment, the detective had been waiting. He’d arrested Solomon, and Cuzco had immediately called Alpha Kaiser.

  The uncomfortable situation hadn’t kept Cuzco from noticing how handsome the detective was. Of course, he’d felt a little guilty thinking the human was hot since the guy was cuffing a fellow shifter’s mate.

  Since then, Cuzco had thought about the detective now and again. He’d even dreamed about him, not that he would ever admit to having erotic dreams to anyone. There was just something about the human.

  Cuzco had figured he would forget about him eventually... hopefully. He’d focused on his work. Sliding along rocks and into coral crevices as an octopus meant he wasn’t thinking about the handsome human. Instead, he’d been trying to find the snails and other crustaceans that were stocked in the tank for him to eat.

  So what is he doing here?

  Enforcer Eban looked up right then and spotted him. He met Cuzco’s gaze. Lifting a hand, he beckoned with a wiggle of his fingers.

  Cuzco swallowed hard as he got himself moving again. As he crossed the last dozen paces, both Solomon and the detective turned to peer at him. His friend smiled, the look encouraging.

  Then Cuzco glanced at the human detective, and his breath nearly caught in his chest.

  Was that a look of hunger in his eyes?

  Chapter Two

  When Grisham had noticed Eban beckoning to someone, he’d turned to follow his focus. His breath had immediately caught in his chest, and his mouth had watered. The slender male was just as sexy as he remembered.