Page 47 of Jewel of the Sea

“So are you,” she shot back with a glare.

“None of this is necessary,” Arkon said calmly. “I will go with you, but I will not be restrained. If I am expected to trust you, then you must extend similar trust to me. I would like us to be friends. My understanding is that humans do not make captives of would-be friends.”

Randall hesitated, seeming conflicted.

“Shut your mouth and put your hands behind your back,” Cyrus growled. “I’ve had enough of her running her mouth. I’m not in the mood to hear you, too.”

Cyrus tugged the rope out of Joel’s hands.

“Take it easy, Cyrus,” Joel said. He hadn’t removed his eyes from Arkon. “We don’t know what this thing’s capable of.”

“We don’t, but I guarantee you my gun can put a hole in him as big as it would in anything else.” Cyrus grasped Arkon’s wrist.

Aymee leapt forward and grabbed hold of the rope. “You’re not taking him.”

Releasing his hold on Arkon, Cyrus backhanded Aymee across the face. The force of it sent her to the ground.

Something within Arkon broke. Though it happened in a fraction of an instant, he was acutely aware of the process — it was as though a wall had collapsed, and rage like he’d never felt poured in through the opening. His skin shifted to crimson.

Randall took a fistful of Cyrus’s shirt and hauled the man backward, shock and anger on his features.

Cyrus scowled. “Stupid little—”

Arkon wasn’t interested in hearing anymore. He swung his left arm, the back of his hand connecting with Cyrus’s mouth. Twisting, the human tumbled to the sand.

The other hunters were quick to overcome their surprise. Joel stepped forward and hooked Arkon’s arm with his own and extended a leg behind Arkon’s tentacles, pulling back as though to drag the kraken off-balance. It was little surprise that a land-dwelling being would resort to such tactics — someone with legs would have fallen.

Arkon shifted his weight, spreading his limbs wider to remain upright, and wrapped a tentacle around each of Joel’s legs.

“Stop!” Randall shouted.

Arkon pulled Joel’s feet out from beneath him, and the man hit the sand hard, the back of his head striking the cliffside as he fell. Ignoring Randall, who hadn’t moved to attack, Arkon returned his focus to Cyrus.

The man had regained his feet. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he wore a ghastly grin. He pulled a long knife from his belt. The blade glinted in the evening sunlight.

“Come on, then. Nothing wrong with a little sport.” He spat crimson onto the beach.

“God damn it, that’s enough!” A desperate tone had entered Randall’s voice; the situation had spiraled out of control. Arkon knew well how that felt.

“I accept your challenge, Cyrus,” Arkon said.

“This has gone far enough! Both of you, stand down!”

“Quiet now, Randy. Let the adult settle this.” Cyrus advanced toward Arkon.

Randall drew the gun from his hip, raised it, and fired into the sand in front of Cyrus. The boom was deafening, amplified by the rock walls.

Cyrus halted, turning a furious, wide-eyed gaze to Randall.

“Isaidstand down, ranger. That is an order,” Randall said.

“This pulling rank shit doesn’t work in the field, kid. Only thing that matters out here is respect, and you don’t—”

“Don’t what? Have yours? You think I care, Cyrus? I gave you an order. We’re doing this my way, so back up and put your knife away.”

“Arkon isn’t going with you,” Aymee said, voice hard.

All eyes turned to her; Cyrus’s blossoming smirk quickly faded. She stood beside the prone Joel, clutching the man’s sidearm in both hands. Her arms were steady, keeping the barrel pointed toward Cyrus and Randall. Arkon recognized the fire in her eyes. It was more intense now, but it stemmed from the same passion she displayed for art, for joy, for life.

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