Chapter 58 – A Freak With Money
Rava leaned back in her seat, exhaling hard.
She was not okay.
Nope.
Not even close.
The boutique’s glass doors closed behind Lux, swallowing his silhouette into luxury and fluorescent lights, and for a few seconds, she just... stared.
Like her brain needed time to catch up with what had just happened.
What he said.
What he did.
The tentacle kiss.
Gods.
The driver cleared his throat gently through the intercom. "Miss Bluewave... shall I move the car to the parking lot?"
Rava blinked. Once. Then again.
She hadn’t even realized the vehicle was idling in front of the entrance, hazards blinking in polite neon.
"...Yes," she answered, her voice quieter than usual. "Go ahead."
The car eased forward, a smooth roll of wheels across polished pavement, and turned toward the underground lot. Dimmer lights. More shadows. Less people.
Just what she needed.
Once they parked, the driver stayed respectfully silent.
And so did she.
No music. No background noise. Just quiet.
Rava sat there in the backseat, shoulders tense, hands folded neatly in her lap as if she was in court again.
But this wasn’t court.
There was no trial.
No judge.
Just... her.
And the memories she’d been keeping in a nice, locked box that apparently decided today was the day it would break open.
She stared straight ahead, but she wasn’t seeing the dashboard.
She was back there.
Back in that stupid marble-tiled private school with uniforms too stiff and hallways that smelled like bleach and fake politeness.
And the whispers.
Oh, the whispers.
"She’s weird."
"She has things under her skin."
"Did you see her hands? Ugh."
"Why does she twitch like that?"
They didn’t say "tentacles" out loud back then.
Too polite for that.
They’d just implied. Over and over.
Until even silence started to feel sharp.
She was the girl with a monster bloodline.
The Kraken Heiress.
Born from some deep-sea ancient deal, they said.
Part of a "legacy line," they said.
Inherited the old powers, they said.
But really?
They meant she was a freak with money.
Her family was rich.
Bluewave Shipping dominated half the trade between underwater metropolises and coastal floating cities. Her mom practically rebuilt the tidal logistics economy.
Her dad could outbid politicians before breakfast.
And yeah, for a while, they tried to buy her childhood normalcy.
Private tutors. Custom uniforms to hide the twitch of her forming limbs. Therapists who specialized in aquatic hybrids.
Even friends.
Sort of.
They paid for events, threw themed birthday parties where every kid got a gift bag worth two grand.
And Rava smiled.
Because she thought maybe—just maybe—that meant they’d like her.
But it didn’t work.
Not really.
Kids weren’t subtle.
They took the gifts, ate the cake, and still whispered behind her back.
"Her skin’s too cold."
"She smells like saltwater."
"I heard she’s got suckers on her back."
It wasn’t even true.
Not all of it.
She wasn’t even fully awakened back then.
But facts didn’t matter when the rumors were louder.
She tried.
Tried to ignore it.
Tried to smile. Be graceful. Be rich enough that it didn’t hurt.
Didn’t work.
She was still alien.
Too human for the deep sea. Too kraken for the surface world.
Too much of everything and not enough of the one thing that mattered.
Belonging.
She hadn’t realized she was clutching her own elbow until she felt her fingernails digging in.
She loosened her grip.
Swallowed hard.
There were people who accepted her. Eventually.
Mira.
Elyndra.
Fiera.
Her girls.
Mira had been the first—blunt, sharp-tongued dragon who looked at her and said, "You twitch. I set things on fire when I sneeze. Wanna be lab partners?"
Just like that.
Elyndra followed—regal and cold at first, but soft once you got past the holy-forged arrogance.
Fiera... gods, Fiera had no filter. She’d yelled at a teacher for banning Rava from swimming class. Said it was speciesism. Almost got suspended.
And Naomi...
Well.
Naomi was different.
They weren’t close close. Naomi’s parents were old money, very uptight, very image-obsessed. Didn’t like their daughter mingling too much with "elementals."
But Naomi never looked at her like a freak.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t stare.
Didn’t whisper.
That meant something.
Still, even with that circle...
Love?
Romance?
Whole different beast.
That’s where things got worse.
Because now she was grown.
Rava Bluewave.
Heiress. Kraken-tier bloodline.
CEO trainee. Powerhouse.
And single.
Very single.
It wasn’t like there weren’t men around. There were always men.
Suitors.
Inheritors.
Billionaire boys with ambitions too big for their egos.
They came in waves.
Until they learned.
Until they saw.
Until the second date, or the swim spa, or the moment she got too relaxed and her tentacles stirred.
Then?
Gone.
They ghosted.
Or worse—they stayed.
The clingy ones.
The desperate ones.
The ones who saw her like a golden meal ticket.
They didn’t care about her laugh.
Her taste in music.
The way she always ordered spicy food and regretted it.
They just saw the money.
The vaults.
The brand.
She wasn’t a person to them.
She was a lifestyle upgrade.
And that’s when she decided...
No more broke men.
No more fake smiles.
No more building someone up from scratch just to watch them feed off her.
She got... careful.
Strategic.
Rich. Handsome. Emotionally stable or at least good at faking it.
Those were her standards.
Had to be.
It wasn’t snobbery.
It was survival.
Because she’d seen what happened to women like her who fell for the wrong type.
They got drained.
Used.
Devalued.
And she had too much on the line.
Her legacy.
Her family name.
Her own goddamn heart.
So yeah.
Maybe she was a little cold sometimes.
Maybe she was picky.
Maybe she did measure people with a calculator in one hand and a prenup in the other.
But it kept her sane.
It kept her safe.
Until Lux.
Until him.
That arrogant, bleeding, too-handsome bastard with a voice like sin and a job title straight out of a myth.
Who looked her in the eye and kissed her tentacle like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And meant it.
She shut her eyes.
One breath.
Two.
She didn’t know what this was.
Didn’t know what he wanted.
But for the first time in a very, very long while...
her heart wasn’t curled up in defense mode.
It was curious.
Dangerous, maybe.
Reckless, definitely.
But curious.
And that, in itself, was terrifying.