Nicolau do Rio gazed out at the ocean from the sea caves he called home.

The Pacific was in a wild mood this afternoon. A storm was blowing in from the west, whipping the waves to an icy froth. It called to his animal. Nic dropped his head back and howled, long and mournful, letting the power of the coming storm wash over him.

Behind him, his motley crew played cards in the high-ceilinged cavern they used as a combination kitchen/dining hall. All three men rejects—like Nic.

Marlin and Joe were both water fada like Nic, Marlin’s animal the blue marlin that was his namesake, and Joe a mako shark. The third man was Ben, a burly Navajo earth fada whose animal was a cougar.

Marlin appeared at Nic’s side. “Going for a swim?”

“Thinking about it.”

Marlin nodded. Tanned and wiry, with dreadlocks halfway down his back, he’d grown up in a California sea fada clan, but had been eking out a living as a Ventura bartender when they’d met. Marlin hadn’t told Nic why he’d been kicked out of his clan, and Nic hadn’t asked.

A week later, he’d arrived in a kayak at Nic’s hideaway on an uninhabited island off the California coast.

Nic had snarled threateningly. Marlin just laughed and spread his arms wide. “Kill me, then. What do I fucking care? I’m tired of living with humans.”

Nic had stared at him, baffled. Then he’d turned back to the fire where he was roasting fish. “You have to catch your own damn fish,” he said in a voice rusty from disuse. “I’m not sharing.”

Marlin had dragged his kayak onto the cavern floor and unloaded his belongings into one of the half-dozen caves that honeycombed the island. By then, the tide had come in, and the entrance was underwater. Marlin dove into the ocean, returning a half an hour later with four spiny lobsters.

He roasted them in the fire and cracked open a bottle of red wine. “Here.” He handed Nic a metal cup and a lobster.

Nic had taken it with a curt nod of thanks.

The wine slid down his throat, reminding him of home. In Maryland, his clan—the Rock Run River Fada—owned a large, successful vineyard. And the lobsters were a welcome change from the fish.

Despite what he’d said about sharing, Nic had reciprocated by cracking open a can of corn and another of black beans. Mixed with onions and chili peppers, they made a tasty side dish.

The two of them had been friends ever since. If Nic was the alpha, Marlin would be his second.

But Nic wasn’t the alpha. He didn’t even have a clan, just three men who were outcasts like himself.

Outside the caverns, the wind rose to a howl. Marlin stirred. “This is going to be a big one.”

“Yeah.” Nic’s grin was ferocious.

“But you’re going out into it anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Have I told you you’re one crazy amigo?”

“Not today.”

“Enjoy.” Marlin clapped him on the back. “I’m going to win the rest of Joe’s cash.”

“You can try, mofo,” the shark shifter called back. Joe was a lean, mean, ukulele-playing sea fada from Hawaii whom Nic had met when they were both in the Merchant Marines. Joe had shown up on the island one day not long after Marlin. Joe’s only explanation was that he’d tired of the human world, but his scarred body told a different story. Nic suspected that after the Merchant Marines, he’d become a freelance assassin. Those scars could only have been left by iron knives, and fada frequently hired themselves out as assassins and mercenaries to the fae.

And then there was Ben Nightwarrior. Nic wasn’t sure how or why a desert-born half-Navajo shifter had ended up on the island, but he suspected he’d lost a dominance fight and left his clan. The big, soft-spoken man was a world-class cook, and so was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.

Nic stepped out of his shorts and stowed them on one of the shelves carved out of the walls for that purpose.

All day he’d been restless. He’d blamed it on the coming storm, but it was growing worse. His Irish mother had been a powerful Seer. Nic couldn’t see the future like his mom, but he’d learned to trust his premonitions.

Trouble was on the way.

He dove into the water. The tide was low enough that he could stay on the surface as he passed under the archway to the open sea.

Out here, the ocean was a seething mass. A wave crashed over Nic’s head. Even in his man form, he could hold his breath much longer than a human.

But his animal wanted out.

Nic dove deep and let the shift take him. Energy rippled over his skin. For a few seconds, his body was a cluster of incandescent lights—blue, purple, green—then it shaped itself into the powerful body of his sea dragon.

Nic arced in and out of the waves, reveling in the slide of salt water over his skin. He had rudimentary wings and could fly in short spurts, but the ocean was his element.

A school of common dolphins scattered at his approach, chittering anxiously to each other. In this form, Nic measured twenty-five feet from nose to tail, and he had the teeth and claws to match.

Nic ignored them. He might be a half-savage dragon, but he drew the line at eating something as intelligent as him.

In the sky above, lightning flashed, followed by a crash of thunder. Rain slashed down, pelting his dark gold hide.

He dove beneath the waves. The ocean here reached depths as much as eight hundred feet, but he stopped a couple hundred feet down. Above him, the storm still raged, but this deep, the sound was muted, the black waters calm.

He glided through the midnight liquid, the premonition riding him like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, teasing at a part of him buried so deep, he could go weeks without thinking about it.

Trouble.

Cassidy O’Byrne.

Pain sliced through him, fresh as the day he’d left Ireland—and her. He gritted his teeth and bore it.

Then his spine prickled. His dragon was racing for the surface before his mind caught up.

Cassidy was here—and she was in danger.