It was not enough that Gavin’s friend Pauric continued to pepper him with what he considered well-thought-out reasons, but he also swam around Orin, attempting to distract him while he tended his coral garden.

Nothing gave Orin more pleasure than working the reefs, distributing the vital minerals needed to improve their glory. Tending the purples and reds, the brilliant yellows and blues of the living corals, and the creatures that made their home among the nooks and crannies, like the sea anemone waving their tentacles invitingly. If anyone wanted to find him, they need only visit the reef, where he spent his time relaxing and finding his calm. When he wasn’t fighting, training, or listening to his people’s concerns, he sought peace in his garden.

And, of course, Pauric knew this. His role in Orin’s world was more of a brother than a friend, no matter what silliness he currently displayed.

“What do you want, clownfish?” Orin remarked.

Pauric was without his ebony trident with its sparkling tips, a striking complement to his reddish hair. Yet the merman still resembled a clownfish, his antics supporting the perception.

“It’s nesting season.” Pauric smirked as he swam backward, a brow lifted and his arms crossed.

It wasn’t as if Orin didn’t know that nesting season marked the time merpeople would try their hardest to find their mate. Most merfolk were convinced that a random series of dates in Neptune’s calendar would suddenly make such an impossible task probable for all.

Ridiculous.

Orin didn’t believe it and refused to entertain his tragically romantic friend. He admired Pauric’s hopes, but setting such a goal for himself merely frustrated him. He had better things to do with his time.

Nudging the manta ray sliding along his side out of his way, he dipped a hand inside his bucket. He gathered a handful of plankton, groaning when the manta moved in and bumped him again, the flirt. Laughing, he pushed it away once more and opened his hand, allowing the plankton to fall on the reef’s surface.

Pauric spun in place, his reddish curls catching the light from the sun, his scales nearly glowing. “While I admire your unfailing dedication to caring for our coral reefs, can’t they sort of do that themselves?”

Orin lamented the fact that Pauric had apparently failed to listen to him in the past, clearly unable to recall the many times they’d discussed his garden. Then again, Pauric’s perfectionism regarding his profession as the armorer for the Guardians of Neptune didn’t necessarily lend itself to maintaining observations and random facts for other interests. Despite Pauric’s forgetfulness, his constant support plus his joy and laughter had found its partner in Orin’s soul.

While Pauric might not remember why Orin cared about the reef, he never forgot that he did. Hence, the buckets of plankton Pauric had procured that morning and brought to Orin for the task. He could forgive characteristics in Pauric that would typically annoy him to no end as a Tetra—leader of the Guardians—and still feel infinitely fond of his friend.

He smiled at Pauric and explained one again. “Over time and with humankind’s inability to leave the natural world alone, our coral reefs suffer. They taint them, destroying them without care. As people of the sea, it is our duty to protect them. Of course, some humans work to protect this gift, but there are not enough.”

Even now, as Orin sought to educate Pauric, Pauric’s focus drifted elsewhere. The familiar daze appeared whenever Orin waxed on about preserving coral reefs.

“Yes, so important.” Pauric worked hard to contain a threatening yawn, but one tiny bubble escaped his lips.

Orin shook his head and went back to tending the reef.

Pauric clapped his hands. “Now, about my request. Look at that overflowing vessel there. I even found your favorite crustaceans for our friends to savor. Surely that will ease your stance and save me from another lecture.” He smiled, pointing at another bucket, and the bits he’d procured were indeed lovely.

There had once been a moment when Orin believed Pauric, with his eagerness to please, could be a viable candidate for his bed. Perhaps something even more permanent. Pauric was beautiful in form and heart, supple in his movements. He would be a work of art tied up, one worthy of his brother Trillian’s paintings.

But no…

Pauric would never submit to Orin, see Orin as the master of his body, a must Orin desired of his lovers. Simply put, he and Pauric were better as friends and brothers. Though Orin had three brothers of his blood—Kamau, Batair, and Trillian—he considered Pauric the bother of his heart.

Orin sighed. In all his years, he’d never found a lover capable of satisfying his needs adequately. He’d accepted this, making his peace with sampling nubile lovers who failed to last beyond a lustful evening. While they enjoyed each other, the need to possess never rose—the desire to mate and share young was never a consideration. Instead, he would satisfy their needs but never his own.

Orin needed to own. Mark. Destroy. Wreck. He craved his fingerprints upon flesh. He hungered to hear raw screams as he took and bruised. He visualized streaks of tears when he obtained his partner’s complete submission. And then he wanted to hold, gently pamper, and worship. But no one could take that. Before he could satisfy his urge to care after his joy of brutally pounding between hot thighs, words complaining of too big, too hard, too rough, and too deep would commence.

He used to believe he would find someone destined for him, but as years passed and none appeared, he surrendered that dream. He accepted.

So why, in this time of nesting, should he think differently? Did Pauric genuinely believe he should cast his hopes on a world of humans?