Authors: Daisy Harris
The worst part was that he’d stopped wondering what she saw in a dragon mate. What the hell did he have to offer? He had five grand in his wallet and a stolen boat. Not exactly mate material for a dragoness noble.
Boats appeared up in the distance, a couple of them motor-yachts. Raider felt an unexpected jolt of pride. Most sharks lived on barelyfloating stolen fishing boats and ancient tugs. These were the cream of the crop, the smugglers. He’d dreamed all his time in the hold for a chance to work in this crowd.
Sophia’s hand poked out from between the checkered folds separating the V-berth from the main cabin. Her tiny brown fingers splayed wide as she stretched, then her delicate wrist turned in circles. He longed to see those fingers wrap around his cock. Hell, he wanted to see them pressed on his naked chest again, feel them stroke his face.
Her yawn filled the cabin as the stolen vessels drew closer. “Raider?” she called. Considering someone was driving the boat, she must know he was there.
Still, he touched her hand with his. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
Her little fist pulled his into the cave of the V-berth. He felt her cheek caress the back of his hand. “Good morning!” she yawned.
He turned the wheel to the side, edging around the outside of the boats while texting his contact on Rhoaver’s boat about his approach. He received word back a moment later where to tie in, and Raider looked for the
Sharazzor’s Edge
. The yacht’s bow appeared around a corner in a blinding white flash.
“Um, you might want to get up, Sophia.”
She emerged from between the curtains. Her dark hair flopped around her face. She rubbed at her eyes and looked like she wanted to come closer, but stood her ground, as did he.
“You should get ready. They’re going to want to see you.” His voice sounded rough and grumpy to his ears, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Okay.” Obedient as ever, she opened the door to the head and he heard her humming as she brushed her teeth.
He shouted over the sound of the motor and her pleasant murmurs. “Word should get out that we’re here pretty fast. Sharkshifters are gossip like schoolgirls.”
She exited the head a moment later, finger-combing her long black hair. “So, you’re just going to take me out and…introduce me as…”
He looked her up and down quickly before turning his eyes back on the looming fiberglass giants. “I’ll have to tie you up to lead you out—your hands at least. Otherwise no one will believe our set-up.”
He heard her fidget behind him and couldn’t resist looking back to see her reaction. To his surprise, fire burned in her eyes. Her lips parted, “Okay.”
Fuck, this female could get herself in serious trouble. “Just keep your mouth shut.”
She nodded, wide eyed, and his cock throbbed. “Get over here.” Her small steps brought her closer, and her lip curled up into a tiny smile. He couldn’t tell if she was playing or just really enjoying herself.
He reached to the side to grab a length of rope. “Here, steer for me. But hold your hands close.” She put her hands up on the wheel and he looped the rope around her one wrist in a clove hitch, then attached her other wrist to the first. He wished they didn’t have to steer so he could bind her elbows at her back. That would jut her breast forward. His mouth watered just thinking of it.
She gasped when he pulled the bonds tighter, a breathy exhalation between wet parted lips. Her head tilted up to him, an offering. His eyes traced those plump, young pillows.
A shout sounded from outside, one of Rhoaver’s lackeys wanting to throw them a line to tie alongside. Raider pulled away from the temptation of Sophia’s kiss and went to link into the shark-shifters’ network.
David led Nereus through the concrete hallways as loudly as possible. “And don’t you try that again!” He stifled a laugh when Nereus pinched his side in retaliation.
Dendric experimented on ocean shifters, but it wouldn’t punish one. At least David hoped not. DORC may be breaking every code in the Declaration of Helsinki, but it wasn’t a concentration camp.
“My apologies, Dr. Weber.” Nereus said it quietly, but as they walked down the hallways, David knew the words carried. The merman had never addressed any of the other staff. His acknowledgement of David would carry quite a bit of weight.
David swept his card through the reader. He heard Friedson’s footsteps echo down the hall, but hurried through the door, flipping aside the thick slats of rubber. The faster the merman got back in the tank, the sooner everyone could pretend things were back to normal.
He pulled the door behind him, closing Friedson out. When they neared the tank, he wished he could pull Nereus close, take one more kiss from him before he descended back into his holding tank.
The sharks all around shifted. The ones in the larger tank below circled. Several of the lab hands approached. David muttered, “I’m sorry,” to Nereus through clenched teeth.
“I know.” Nereus’s turquoise eyes flash with sadness, then just a hint of mischief. David could have cried for wanting him.
The merman ran up the thick metal staircase and jumped into his tank, limbs twisting into his mere form. He curled into a ball and settled in the corner, playing whipped puppy.
“Dr. Weber!” Friedson’s spat as he plummeted through the door, “What…”
David stood his tallest, for once his six feet two inches not slumped over. “I saw him getting away last night. He must have broken into my office and stolen my key card.” The lies slipped from his tongue so easily, as though he’d been doing this all his life. He threw his shoulders back, acting not only his strongest, but also his straightest.
“Oh, um...” The older scientist clenched and unclenched his fists. David could tell he wanted to argue, but he also knew that people would rather believe that which was most convenient.
“Well, I guess all’s well that ends well.” Friedson lowered his brows and raised a scolding finger but lowered it a moment later.
The corner of David’s mouth curled. It occurred to him at that moment that he was a hot commodity. If possible, he stood taller right as Friedson turned on his heel and headed back through the rubber boundary.
He turned back to the tank, flashing his lover a huge, self-satisfied grin. Nereus’s forehead knit together, like he was seeing David in a whole new light.
And the scientist wondered what he saw.
* * * *
Raider’s calloused grip tightened on her arm, and he tugged her around the deck to the bow of their tiny ship. The ropes bit into her wrists. Four thick-set shark-shifters stood before them, wearing the types of clothes she’d seen on human TV shows catering to youth culture. Their cotton shirts held turned-up collars and their loose pants hung low on broad hips.
Raider leaned in, close to her ear, and whispered, “You getting hot yet?”
She blushed and fought a giggle. His hand found the small of her back as he led her forward. The males ahead terrified her, but she trusted Raider to keep her safe. Her head fell to the side, a few inches from his ear and she murmured, “Maybe a little.”
She found his resulting low-pitched growl inordinately satisfying. She knew the backwards-hat wearing thugs couldn’t hear them over the knocking of boats and rumbling of motors.
Nearby, a pair of scantily-clad females and a husky male rode a jet-ski. The vehicle blasted rap music.
When they reached their welcome committee, Raider held out his hand in greeting. “I’m a Raider ShaCrayz. I beg leniency at your raftup.”
Sophia’s head pitched to the male beside her. She’d never heard his last name. A thrill shot through her at this new insight and intimacy. Apparently, at this phase of her cycle most things excited her.
“I have taken this female dragon prisoner. She shall remain on my boat while I meet Rhoaver Sharhazzor.”
The second part of his statement sounded alarm bells. Did he say Rhazzor? The famous warlord?
The largest of the welcoming committee, a male about as wide as he was tall, with a shaved head and five o’clock shadow, narrowed his eyes at the couple. “I think Rhoaver’s going to want a look at both of you.”
She felt Raider’s hand firm on her back. Her nerves started rising.
“Sure, no worries.” Raider led her forward, off the boat that she associated with safety, and onto the tilting platform of someone else’s vessel. He removed his hand from her back and started tugging her forward by the short leash he’d created from the rope.
The loss of his touch sent a buzz of warning through her mind. She scanned his face as best she could from a couple paces behind. His countenance was as blank as she’d ever seen it. He looked exactly as he had when she’d first met him in the dank hold of that ship.
They crossed from one yacht to another. At one jump, he yanked her forward so that she knocked her knee tripping on the lip of the boat. She bit back the yelp of pain, not knowing if or how he would respond.
Raider grabbed her arm to haul her onto the largest boat in the tieup. She hoped his hand would re-assure her, but his fingers transmitted nothing but cold utility, lugging cargo from one vessel to another.
Finally they wound around the side of the monstrous vessel. Sophia heard shouts from above followed by a splash. There must be a pool on top of the boat. Toward the aft, a large sunning deck glowed in the morning sun. A hot tub lay sunken in the middle.
Sophia kept her head down as Raider had told her, but her fear simmered just below the surface. He pulled the rope attached to her wrists again, dragging her forward, but this time she came to a stop right next to him. The hand he placed on her back stroked her once, a tiny reassurance. She released the breath she’d been holding.
“Rhoaver Sharhazzor, I’m Raider ShaCrayz.” She chanced a look at Raider and saw his shoulders were thrown back. She hadn’t really noticed before, but he’d washed his hair and combed it as well. He’d replaced his ragged clothes from the ship with the country-club hoodlum look donned by the other sharks. Trepidation crept up her spine. Other than his mark, he could almost be any shark on these boats.
“Nice to meet you.” Her eyes followed Raider’s gaze to the large shark-shifter half-reclined in a lacquered lounge-chair. So this must be the leader of the raft-up. Rhoaver motioned to Raider to come closer, but when her faux-captor tried to bring her along, Rhoaver motioned to his men. “They can keep track of your sexy gecko.”
She watched from behind as Raider shrugged. Panic leapt into her throat. A couple of Tommy Hilfiger-clad goons closed in, one at each of her shoulders. A squeak escaped her lips, and Raider turn slightly, looking at her, but not meeting her eyes. He scanned the thugs next, a snarl playing at his lips. “I don’t do sloppy seconds.”
Cruel cackles surrounded her, and the sharks turned her, leading her to the back of the boat. The males who took her laughed the whole way, and when they led her to a sliding glass door and into the center of the boat, one passed his hand over her hip, then down the crease of her buttock to her inner leg.
She struggled to keep her lips pressed together, though tears filled her eyes. Her head whipped around to call out to Raider, but she couldn’t see his location, and the males shoved her through the door and closed it behind them.
* * * *
The second the last of the cleaning crew left the lab, the shark’s chuckles rose up around him.
“I don’t know what pisses me off more—that you ran for it and left us behind, or that you got caught by that fucking patsy.”
Nereus called back in mere song. “You don’t know crap about it.”
Khrour snickered. “You think I don’t? I watched Sksella fuck a staff member for months before she got sliced to pieces.”
His tail batted hard, working off steam. Nereus remembered all too well the teenage shark who’d fallen for one of the lab hands. “I chose to come back. He would have let me go.” His teeth grit together. He knew he’d made the right choice, but at this moment, he wished he’d left when David had given him the option.
“Why?” Khrour prowled back and forth along the plastic wall of his tank.
“To get you all out, you ungrateful fuck.”
The shark swam in the other direction but gurgled as he went. “Maybe we don’t need your help, mere.”
Nereus’s temper welled up as he shouted out the top of his tank. “Well, you need his help.”
The shark zipped through the water, swimming so fast he threatened to nose right into the glass. “You think he’s going to help us all escape now? He’s the golden boy. He was already the prized new recruit, now he’d captured the escaped subject. Power like that goes to humans’ heads.”
Nereus gave the shark the finger. “You don’t know him. That shit won’t matter to him.”
Growling laughter erupted not just from Khrours’s tank but from enclosures all around. “You don’t think status matters to him? Why the fuck do you think he took a job here in the first place? You think this operation hires just anyone? He may be pretty and all innocent looking, but a guy like that is as much of a shark as I am.”
* * * *
Raider sipped his rum punch and pulled his shirt up over his head. Next to him, Rhoaver signaled for his men to leave. Raider’s pulse sped up, though no one would know it from looking at him.
“So, Raider. What kind of work do you do?”
Whipping boy and hired boogey-man.
“This and that. I’ve sailed rigs up to seventy-two feet, some
shipping experience.” He concentrated on relaxing every muscle in his body. It wasn’t a total lie. He’d sailed a lot before his father found him. And in his early days on the
Fear
, Crayz had used him for everything from gun running to navigation.
Hope pumped through his veins. Getting work from this crew would mean the difference between begging for scraps and earning a good wage. He wondered whether to play his ace in a hole. His father had always warned him to keep his “special skills” under wraps, but now Raider was here, among the wealthiest sharks in the world. Fuck his father.
“And I can walk on land. So that makes my work all the easier.”
Rhoaver didn’t respond for a second, and Raider almost wondered if the famous Czar hadn’t heard.
The shark next to him pulled a pouch from the side of his deckchair and started rolling a joint. “You want some?”
He knew his only option. “Yeah, thanks.” He took the blunt between his fingers and when Rhoaver handed him a lighter, he lit up. The smoke burned his lungs, but he swallowed his cough. Raider’d waited his whole life to leverage his skills. He wasn’t going to ruin that shit for anything.
Rhoaver took a long drag, paused, and then blew out while coughing his lungs out.
Raider let a smile play over his lips, even though a hint of paranoia crept in with his high.
“And ah, why can you walk on land? You look like a shark to me. Or should I be sending you down to work the kitchens like a fucking mere?”
Raider leaned back further and pulled a pair of stolen sunglasses out of his pocket like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Accident of genetics I guess. Probably a random mutation, like this fucking mark on my face.”
Rhoaver didn’t respond, and Raider resisted the urge to keep talking. Realization dawned on him why Sophia did it. When you’re nervous it can be hard as hell to resist.
Rhoaver toked his jay again. “Yeah, lucky fucking mutation if you ask me. I’m surprised there isn’t a price on your head.”
Raider smelled the Czar’s excitement. Control flowed through his veins, making him heady. He took another deep drag, all anxiety evaporating like so much smoke.
“I might be able to use a man like you.”
I bet you would.
“What do you know about my operation?”
Raider outlined his knowledge based on what he’d overheard in the hold of his father’s boat. It wasn’t much, but he got the sense that Rhoaver was pleased. Hell, if he knew more it might be because Rhoaver had a security leak.
An hour, and several more drinks and blunts later, the Czar slowly rose to standing from his position in the lounge chair. “Come on. Let me show you my set-up.”
Raider pressed down on the armrests and rose, surprised when he swayed on his feet. In the mere habitat where he grew up he’d been no stranger to drinking and drugs. But that was over ten years ago, and now that he thought about it, he’d had more meat on his bones back then.
He followed Rhoaver around the side of the boat, in through a sliding glass doors, then up a winding staircase to a huge fly bridge. The yacht was badass. All white, brand new everything. Hot mere females perched on every shark-shifter’s arm. A few tough-looking shark females lounged near an enormous pool, yelling at male mere waiters to bring more drinks.
His eyes scanned the scene. It was a long way from his damn pallet on his dad’s ship. He wanted to find Sophia and kiss her like crazy for giving him a chance like this. Depending on the wage Rhoaver offered, she might even want to stay with him.
He caught her aroma, faint as it drifted over the ocean air. His cock went hard as a rock. He couldn’t wait for a good stiff victory fuck. The picture of her bent over and whimpering played in his mind. Damn, that female was perfect.
And maybe she could be his.
He listened close, and her yelp carried across the sounds of reggae and the hoots of Rhoaver’s men. Her brown skin flashed from one of the pillars holding up an awning. Though her hands were still bound, someone had given her a bikini to wear. The tiny swaths of material barely contained her tits, and a small triangle of fabric covered the sweet little patch between her legs. An appreciative groan rose in his throat.
“Not bad, huh?”
He knew Rhoaver wanted amazement at the yacht’s grandeur, but he also knew that giving it to him would lower his pay grade by half. “Yeah, pretty good.” He bobbed his head casually. Funny how easy an act became once he got the hang of it.
His eyes fell back on Sophia’s body. Several of Rhoavers’ thugs sat near her, occasionally reaching over to pat her ass or pinch her. She swerved to escape a roaming hand and Raider saw that the strap of a thong disappeared in the crease of her brown behind.
He clapped his hand on Rhoaver’s shoulder. “I’m going to have some quality time with my bitch, man. We’ll talk more later.” He took a risk dissing his boss, but he couldn’t resist taking Sophia somewhere and biting that soft flesh where her thigh met her rear.
A real shark would give into that urge, right? Fuck it, he was a real shark. Mere part or not.