Dr. Poppy Flynn, twenty-seven, is a sex psychologist with a humiliating secret: she's studied eight years of human orgasms and experienced approximately none worth remembering.

She's done blaming herself. Maybe it's the species.

So she signs up for a year in Hearthpetal, a dimension where pleasure is literally holy. Tentacle priests dedicate their lives to studying, controlling, and transcending it. Poppy is here to collect data, not throw herself at the first set of suction cups that look like they could slurp her soul out through her lady portal.

Father Calder ruins that plan immediately.

He's the temple's golden heir, bound by vows of detachment and biology that's even crueler. Octopi get just one mating cycle. Full completion triggers semelparity and a death cascade.

Which is unfortunate, because Poppy is very much in the room.

Spice: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Tropes: Academic heroine. Forbidden love. Forced proximity. Grumpy/sunshine. Touch-starved MMC. Caretaking. Worship kink. Fated-but-doomed mates. HEA guaranteed. Octopus survival rates may vary.

CW: Plentiful explicit scenes with tentacles and creative monster anatomy.