Snippet #2534957

He had forgotten how turbulent the four-legged creature was. Mako uncomfortably clutched the saddle as the horse banged its hairy back against his crotch. The ride had to have been more comfortable for the human as he sat upon his leather seat, while Mako grimaced in discomfort the rest of the way. It had to pay off soon.

The two were silent the whole trip too focused on their getaway and watching out for those who could have been following them in secret. The smell of the sea became potent, the salt filling his nostrils and its roars in the distance causing his heart to race. The human was actually taking him to the sea. Mako had actually been suspicious of his hero for the last man that had saved him had him enslaved, but this human was very unusual. He could easily leave him—dive into the ocean and never return to Nassau, leaving the man with the drama that had been started, but what kind of a Mercurian male would he be? Even after being banished, there were still some ethics that stuck imbued in him by his Imperial father.

The horse stopped on the beach and while Dorian calmly dismounted, Mako seemed to slowly slide off. Once his feet landed in the soft sand, his hands grasped his loot, holding it soothingly as a low groan rolled from his throat.

Mako sounds like a fine name.

“Does it now?” Mako asked facetiously. Normally, humans didn’t give two @#$% about his name.

Straightening, the shark cast his sights to the churning sea and Dorian would see the creature’s stern expression brighten. His brows lifted and his eyes widened as though he were witnessing a miracle; having a religious experience.

You know I could have used a Banshee Wail, but then again, you might have died too. I’ll make sure Barnabus pays in one way or another. Maybe we could sell him to a Khalidoran slaver? Those ones are cruel and it would be fiting.

“’E be mine,” Mako reminded Dorian. “’E be a smart man. Too smart fo’ ‘is own good. I want mine…”

Despite standing before his old home, he hadn’t taken a single step toward the welcoming waves. Dorian went to go rest himself upon a log of driftwood and almost shyly the fish cast his dark eyes his way as though to silently ask for permission. Seeing the magi’s hand motion, Mako looked back toward the water and started toward it.

“I’ll be back, ‘uman. ‘Don’chu die jus’ yet,” Mako told him.

He waded into the rolling water until the waves crested over him. As they came crashing down and the water went flat, the fish was gone. The brown, ripped breaches of the fat keeper he had killed were all that washed up on the sandy shore.

Feeding Time…one hour later…

Mako erupted from the water with a burst of salt and foam. The wave he had rode up to the beach crashed behind him, rolling past his hips as it lapped at the sandy shore. Clenched between the fish’s teeth was a large, silver-bellied mackerel, flailing about as it tried to tear itself free of the shark’s vicious grip. The fish man leisurely walked over to the trousers that he had left on the beach and stooped to retrieve them, putting them on one leg at a time. Once they were strung up on his hips, he started over to the human if he was still there and alive, his teeth biting down on the fish as its blood began to roll in red rivulets down his argent flesh.

The mackerel continued to flop until Mako stopped just before Dorian to toss back his head, which flipped the fish around so that it was angled down his throat. His two sets of teeth and neck muscles worked like a grinder, his throat swelling to accommodate the creature as it fought to the very end. It wiggled its way all the way down into Mako’s protruding full belly, its delicious end announced with an explosive belch that left the shark’s mouth on a long, gassy breath. Patting his belly, the Mercos laughed joyful. It had been such a long time since he had felt so full—probably more than full, but at least he wasn’t starving anymore. There was definitely a strong, revitalized energy about him that brightened his complexion, making his skin gleam like the first snow.

“Aah, I didn’t think I’d eva’ taste fish like that again,” Mako said with a large grin.

He then dropped to his knee and took Dorian’s hand if he’d let him. Extending the human’s bandaged finger, he pressed the tip to the pointy crown of his teeth, and even with the lightest pressure, the man would see the bubble of blood that soaked into his rags and began to drip through the hole that was made. Mako extended his black tongue and licked his fingertip, gathering the human’s blood to be stored within his memory. Releasing his hand, Mako smirked and told him:

“There. I know the taste and smell of yer blood, so if it spills on the air or in the water, I will come. I will come and whoever spilled yer blood will wish they ‘ad never summoned the likes of me. It woz all I could think ov’ to give ya mate. A life fo’a life.”