Page 25 of Echoes of the Tide

It wasn’t much of a display. But he’d never been one for big displays of affection. He’d tried before, he’d just never been able to do it. And yet right now, with this little achromo, he wanted to make those gills shake so hard she’d feel the wind of them on her face.

“Do I?” she asked, her tone amused and her gaze never moving from his. “Yours are entirely black.”

“I know.”

“I thought there would be some color in them.”

What was he supposed to say to that? He already felt like an idiot talking about her eyes. But then he leaned forward and he could smell her. The soft scent of her, like the warmth of the sun after a storm. Electric and heated.

“You smell so good,” he muttered, his eyes drifting shut as he told himself not to put his head back down. “I’m sorry I touched your breasts.”

She made a choked sound, and when he looked back at her, she was bright red. Even the tips of her ears seemed to burn with some emotion he couldn’t name. But he was quite certain it was his favorite color on her.

“Get up.” She struggled underneath him, and he released her. “The cabinet I just pulled out should have a directory in it, and then I can get to the office and find that damned key.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I heard you,” she muttered, those ears somehow turning even deeper red. “Just... Help me find the key.”

He might have teased her further. He wanted to see if he could make her ears so red they turned purple, but then he heard a sound from the door. Frowning, he looked in that direction, only to see a group of people standing there. At least five ofthem, one with a weapon already raised and pointed at Ace’s head.

Maketes didn’t think. He just moved.

In one moment, he was staring at the achromos he knew he could kill in an instant. And the next, he chose her. He lunged in front of her. His body became a shield, because he was faster than the weapon that struck his shoulder.

He grunted, feeling the sharp edge of what seemed like a harpoon sinking deep into his flesh. The barest hint of the tip came out of the front, hovering right in front of her eyes. A bead of blood welled and then dripped down his chest.

A soft sound came out of her mouth, and he pretended there was no one here but them. Slowly, ignoring the shouts from behind him, he lifted his hand and tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear. Then he nudged her glasses up her nose.

“Get underneath the desk,” he said calmly.

“Maketes—”

“I don’t want you to see what I’m going to do.”

She stared up at him with big brown eyes, swallowed hard, and then nodded. He waited until she ducked beneath the stone that would keep her safe, and then he turned upon the men. Slowly. He controlled every movement so he could glare at them with all the hatred he harbored in his heart.

Achromos were not the women he knew in his life. These were the achromos he knew. The men and women with weapons that bit and tore at all those they did not understand. These were the creatures that were a plague upon his ocean.

Crouching, all the gills on his body flared wide and stiff as he hissed at them. The sound of his rage echoed in the room, filling it until there was nowhere these creatures could run without hearing him.

The shouts turned into anger. A few of the men raced into the room, weapons in their hands that looked like sticks with shardsof glass coming out of them. Did they really think that would hurt him?

Maketes might not be as big as his siblings, but he was faster. Even on land, he was not some massive elephant seal who struggled to move on land. No, he was stronger than that. He easily lunged forward and grabbed the arms of the first man, who raised a weapon to him.

Maketes dragged the man forward, staring into his terrified gaze as he snapped the man’s arms backwards. The scream of pain that echoed throughout the room was music to his ears. This was what he was good at. No matter how much he was the funny sibling, the brother who always found humor in every situation, he was also one of the deadliest warriors in his pod.

Coiling his tail, he used it to leap forward onto the next man. He hit the floor hard with the other man in his arms, chewing through his throat as he rolled them both. Another he caught with his tail, wrapping the woman tightly in his scales as blood poured down his throat. She shrieked in pain as he tightened, gripping her harder and harder until her bones cracked through her flesh.

Another bolt when through him. This time, he raised his arm as a shield and it sliced through his forearm, sticking halfway through the skin.

“Ow,” he snarled at the man who couldn’t understand him. “You’re going to pay for that. You’ll be the last to die. Now watch your companions writhe in agony.”

There were only two left, so it would be a brief battle. He let the woman’s limp body drop onto the floor. He released the man in his grip who gurgled as he fell, frantically pressing his hands against a neck so mangled there was no healing it.

Dragging himself through the blood that only made it easier for him to slide toward the last two men, he dodged another bolt and casually lashed out with a claw. The second to last man fellonto his knees, grabbing at his stomach where ropes of innards spilled out. He hadn’t even realized he was hurt until the weight dragged him forward.

And then it was just him and the man with the bolts. Maketes knew their kind. He could see the man was shaking so badly he wouldn’t even be able to pull that trigger on the weapon.

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