Page 29 of The Hunted

“Right.”

“Like what?” Eryx questioned.

“Another day,” Corval replied, “and we can discuss those details. For now …”

He came to a stop next to the one ship without nets hanging off the side with captured mermaids. Instead, Eryx had a plain view of the cages resting on the upper deck that had been moved to the side where they would be rolled down a loading plank.

It took him all of a glance at the two females inside the cages to know … she had not yet been caught. Yes, one was a redhead, although it wasn’t nearly as bright of a shade as his mermaid. Both had the signature violet eyes that he saw in his dreams—and nightmares—every single time he closed his eyes.

However, they were not her.

She’d been burned into his memory. Her image ingrained in the backs of his eyelids, where he was sure it would remain until the day he died. He’d had an entire year to think about the mermaid every single minute of his waking hours, and unfortunately, she seemed to like visiting him in his dreams, too.

Eryx had a terrible habit of obsessing over the mermaid and what he would like to do to her once he finally captured her. His previous thoughts of a violent end for her life to answer for his mother’s death had morphed into the kinds of visions that could only be described as darkly primal. He had the basest urge to find the merwoman and allow the rage that constantly festered loose as he broke her in every possible way.

Yes, an obsession was the right word.

Most certainly.

Today would not be the day he fulfilled those urges, it seemed.

“Neither are her,” he murmured.

He was careful when he spoke not to expose his anger or any other emotion currently pinging around in his heart like a ball that couldn’t be contained. It wouldn’t do him any good for people to see how much a merwoman affected him, especially when he didn’t even have his hands around her fucking throat.

And that is enough of that.

“My apologies,” Corval said from his left.

Eryx shrugged. “Mattue did say it might take a while to find her. I’m learning more about my own patience—and lack of it—during this process.”

“We have a handful of hunts left in this season if all goes well. The plans are already in the works. Care to have a look?”

Well, Eryx supposed if he couldn’t have the mermaid now … the next best thing would be engaging in the hunter’s plans to find her.

“I would care to have a look, yes.”

Once again, Corval led the way.

Eryx breathed in the scent of the sea as he followed.

• • •

Apparently, the mermaid hunter did the majority of his planning in a fucking fishing shack. Eryx could easily think of a hundred other places the man could do his business that wouldn’t smell as rancid as this building did, but he kept his mouth shut as a few scattered items were shoved sideways on a large slab of flat rock without care. Just as quickly, a map was unrolled across the surface and iron candle holders placed to the four corners to hold it in place.

“Here,” Corval said, his finger dragging along the band of Atlas Islands on the map, “is where it’s most dangerous for us to hunt because of the constantly changing water levels, and what’s beneath the surface that we often can’t see until it’s too late. Sunken ships, structures that were once on parts of the island. A bit of coral reef, and in some areas, very shallow water.”

“But?” Eryx asked.

Because of course, he could hear that unspoken word.

“This is also where we tend to find a lot of them. Hunting, living … whatever the case may be. It seems a good portion of their people use these islands as a safe haven for their activities. But without getting close enough, it makes a hunt difficult.”

“Yet, you said you catch a lot from there.”

“Exactly—from there, Prince.”

If there was anything he hated, it was word games.