Chapter 5
Rainse
The sea welcomed me like a heartbeat. It pulsed around me, cool and familiar, washing away the confusion that the human stirred in my chest.
I caught two fish within minutes, slicing through the water with ease and trapping them in my hands. They were small, silver creatures, all bones and salt, but they’d do for now. Humans needed to eat often, or their strength faded.
When I returned to the island, the sun had sunk lower, turning the world to copper and rose.
She had fallen asleep, a fragile shape beneath the kelp.
Her breathing was shallow but steady. I could still see the faint bruising beneath her ribs, dark marks blooming where the sea had struck her.
Humans healed slowly. She would need warmth and stillness for several sunpasses before the pain eased.
I scaled the fish with a shell and placed them on a flat rock near the waterline.
Then I remembered that humans didn't eat raw fish.
They liked their food cooked or roasted.
But I had no fire. Back on Finfolkaheem, I knew which kind of rocks I could beat together to create sparks.
Here, I was out of my depth. And there wasn't much dry wood on this islet.
Kelp could burn if dry, but it wouldn't sustain the fire for long.
I cursed softly in my own tongue. The sea swallowed the sound.
There was driftwood scattered among the rocks, sun-bleached and dry. I gathered what I could, snapping longer pieces across my knee until I had a pile the length of my arm. I could build her a shelter of sorts, a place to hide from the wind.
By the time I finished, my hands were raw. I sat back and looked at what I’d made — a crude nest of wood and leaves, the beginnings of a camp. The fish still needed cooking.
Her lips were pale, her skin cold to the touch. The sun would sink soon, and once it did, the air would cool fast. Humans lost heat quickly.
She would need fire.
I crouched beside her, running my fingers lightly through the kelp covering her shoulders.
It had begun to dry, losing the moisture that had kept it cool earlier.
I didn’t dare touch her skin again for long — it stirred something I couldn’t afford to feel — but I could tell her temperature was dropping.
The agency island wasn’t far. I could swim there, unseen, and return before she woke. There would be tools, blankets, maybe even food that wouldn’t make her sick.
The thought filled me with guilt and relief in equal measure. I was already lying to her. What was one more secret?
“I will be back soon,” I murmured, though she couldn’t hear me. “You will not be cold.”
The horizon had deepened into shades of violet when I slipped into the water again. The sea was calm, reflecting the first faint stars. I dove deep, letting the current pull me toward the faint lights in the distance — the agency’s island, my brothers’ new home, the place I’d sworn not to betray.
My chest tightened with the familiar mix of defiance and loyalty. I wasn’t stealing from them, not really. I was protecting what was mine. And once I was ready, I would introduce Verity to my brothers and the agency.
I surfaced once halfway there, the line of the island clear against the dusky sky. The air smelled faintly of smoke and oil — the humans cooking their evening meal. I tasted it on the wind, the warmth and salt of it, and thought of the fragile woman lying alone on the sand.
They would call this wrong. Reckless. But I’d spent too many years obeying rules that had done nothing but hurt me.
Tonight, I’d break many of them. And I realised I didn't care. It was for my mate. For her, I'd break all the rules in the universe.
The island glimmered ahead, scattered with lights from the huts and resort buildings that lined the inner shore. I kept to the shadows beneath the water until I reached the quiet side, where the beach curved away from the main settlement.
The air was heavy with warmth and the faint hum of human voices. Laughter drifted across the sand. It should have made me smile, but it only pressed on my chest. That was the sound of belonging, and tonight, I didn’t have it.
I pulled myself out of the surf, moving low between the rocks until I reached the line of trees. The sand here was cool, the path to the huts easy to follow.
Fionn’s new house came into view first, lit softly from within.
I could see movement through the open shutters — him and his mate, Elise, talking over a shared meal.
Her laughter carried into the night, light and full of life.
The sight steadied something in me, even as it twisted my gut.
I was happy for him. I was. But I also knew what it would cost if anyone found out what I’d done.
Kelon, the finman who had financed our trip to this planet, had been sent back punished and in disgrace after he'd kidnapped Elise and tried to take her for himself.
She hadn't been his mate. That was the big difference between him and me.
And I hadn't kidnapped her. I'd saved her from a creature that had been about to attack her and the other human.
Yes, I could have brought her here, but I had witnessed my brother Cerban's struggle with the dating agency's fixed rules and regulations when he'd found his mate in Maelis.
They had tried to keep them apart just because there hadn't been any evidence that they were mates.
I'd personally had to smuggle Maelis into his room while he'd been under house arrest.
I didn't want that for myself. I'd rather break the rules and stay away from the island until... Until when? Until Verity had come to the realisation that we were mates? Until I'd somehow got a DNA sample off her to add to the Hot Tatties database, proving that there was a match between us?
I pulled myself from my thoughts. I shouldn't linger here for longer than necessary. My clutch-brothers were surely wondering already where I'd disappeared to. Hopefully, they assumed I'd gone on a long, solitary swim in the ocean and would return soon. Tomorrow, I'd be expected to work.
Cerban’s hut was next. He and Maelis had been assigned the house after their relationship had become official.
Its door stood open to the warm night, soft music drifting out from a small device Maelis treasured.
They sat close together on the porch, heads touching, the glow of a lamp turning her hair to dark gold.
A wave of guilt hit me hard. My brothers had found peace here, and I was about to break the trust we’d built together.
I ducked into the shadows, keeping to the trees as I slipped past them.
My old quarters were in the main accommodation block where all the single finmen were housed.
I avoided the main door, where a few other males were lingering, and instead headed straight to my window.
I was glad my room was on the ground floor.
And as luck would have it, I hadn't closed the window properly.
I pushed it open, then climbed into my room.
The room smelled faintly of salt and oil, the scent of home.
My belongings were few — some clothes, a knife and other weapons, an old waterproof bag from my navy days.
I stuffed it with what I needed: a blanket, a towel, a fire-starter, fruit from the bowl the local staff always refilled in the morning, a chocolate bar - I'd come to love that human treat - and a small metal cup. In the wardrobe, I found a human-sized shirt that I’d forgotten to give to the staff.
At the last moment, I added a light waterproof cloak; it would drown her in fabric, but at least she’d be covered.
Footsteps crunched on the path outside. Voices followed. I froze. I'd lingered for too long.
“Still no sign of him?” That was Fionn. Calm but wary.
Cerban’s reply came quieter, but edged with concern. “He’s not on patrol. I checked the logs. He left hours ago.”
“Maybe he’s sulking again.” That was Elise, teasing. “He does that when he’s moody.”
“I don’t think so,” Fionn said softly. “He seemed… restless today. If he’s gone too far, the current might—”
“No.” Cerban’s voice was firm. “He knows these waters better than most of us.” A pause. “But if he’s not back by dawn, we’ll send a drone. Or look for him with the Tidebound's scanners.”
The words sent a jolt through me. They couldn’t find me. Not now. Not with her.
I scanned the room for paper and found a scrap torn from a shipping manifest, the back still blank. I hesitated, then wrote quickly in blocky human letters:
All is well. Do not search. Will return when ready.
It wasn’t a lie, not really. I’d return — just not yet.
I left the note on the little desk, then I slung the bag over my shoulder and climbed back through the window, into the night.
The path to the sea ran quiet now. Voices had faded, replaced by the soft murmur of the tide. I paused once, looking back at the glowing huts, at the place that had been home. For the first time, it felt distant.
“Forgive me, brothers,” I whispered. “You have your mates. Let me have mine.”
The water closed around me, cool and clean. I kicked off from the sand and swam hard, the dark current carrying me toward the small islet where my future waited.