His lips drew back in a silent snarl. Zachary had gone into the water alone and unwarded. Dangerous enough for an
inexperienced shifter with no guidance or instruction. But for Zachary . . .
Cold fingers traced Morgan‟s spine. There were demons in these waters. Gau knew the boy was finfolk, had threatened him
already. “We will take them from you. The boy and the woman both . ”
Morgan‟s throat closed. Swearing, he yanked at his boots, tore off his jacket. He ran for the water, breaking the surface in a
low, fast dive.
If Gau touched the boy, there would be Hell to pay.
The orb rested on the sea floor, glowing with blue green phosphorescence. It was the light—not warm, not cold, eerily
beautiful—that had attracted Zack the first time, almost a week ago. He‟d felt it flickering like a fallen star and followed it to
this crevice at the base of another island, hidden in the roots of the earth.
The glow spilled from a fissure in the rock. He felt a catch of excitement. Like when he and Ryan used to go into the
woods behind the middle school looking for snakes. Once they‟d found a copperhead coiled under a log and poked it with a
stick to watch it strike.
The danger was part of the thrill.
The light pulsed like a heartbeat, piercing the darkness, reaching, seeking, drawing him on. Everything else faded and fell
away from that blue radiance, the flowing kelp, the twisting worms, the armored crabs and mollusks. The sea bottom around
was barren. The odd light played over stones and bones and the shells of small creatures that had died.
Zack felt a brush of caution, a moment of misgiving, an instant‟s unease.
He shook it away. He was invulnerable in the water.
He was close enough now to see the orb itself, half-buried in the sand. The opaque surface ran with color like a garden
globe, blue, green, silver, pink. The light throbbed around him, moved into him, its beat reflected and magnified by the
surrounding rock
like the surge of the sea
like the flow of his breath
like the rhythm of his blood
like a mother‟s heartbeat to the child swimming in her womb.
Closer. The whisper reached into his head.
Closer. The command twined around his heart.
Touch me. He shivered with excitement.
Release me. Entranced, he drifted nearer, trapped by the primal beat.
The water shivered. Faint vibrations dragged along his skin, tugged at his attention.
Not the orb.
His sharpened senses identified turbulence. Something coming, hard and fast. Boat?
Predator.
Panic pumped his heart. The globe. The thought slid into his primitive brain, sharp as a heated knife. He couldn‟t let his
precious orb be seen, touched, taken by another.
A small, rational part of his mind protested another shark would hardly covet a submerged garden ornament, but its voice
was drowned by the rush of fear, the possessive swell, the compulsion beating in his brain.
Hide. He must hide it.
He backed clumsily, confined by the narrow crevice in the rock. Sand stirred and settled over the orb‟s surface, veiling the
glow. Yes, yes. He writhed around, swept the sea bottom with his tail. A great dark cloud of debris boiled and billowed,
choking him, cutting off the light.
Yessss.
He shot from the cloud into the clean salt dark, his blood pounding as he raced through the open sea, adrenaline and
triumph coursing through his veins. Free, clear, fast, fearless, at the top of the fucking food chain.
WHAM.
The impact exploded out of nowhere, catching him broadside, slamming his ribs, knocking him yards off course. He
floundered, struggling to orient himself in the dark sea.