You’d think my biggest problem as a lighthouse keeper would be the drunk tourists. Yeah, no. It’s actually the infuriatingly hot cthulhu who’s decided I belong to him.
Cape Tempest has a history written in sea monster blood. So when I discover a wounded cthulhu in my boathouse, I know I should run.
Instead, I tend to his injuries.
I didn’t realize helping Roark would earn me his eternal devotion and protection. And I especially didn’t expect him to thank me with sensual worshipping…
Letting him …
