Tiberius paced the length of his posh office, pausing only to glance at the screens displaying every floor, every room. All was well.

Bait was having another banner night. Beneath him, the pounding bass pulsated almost subliminally, a throbbing heartbeat to which humans danced, drank, and enjoyed one another amongst the undersea décor so reminiscent of his homeland. The marine theme provided a small measure of familiarity in a still unfamiliar world.

“Have you seen the night’s receipts?” Quintus asked, appearing in the doorway with a huge smile on his face. “Every time I think we cannot possibly surpass our intake, the humans prove me wrong. Veni, vidi, vici, indeed.”

Tiberius answered him with a grunt.

Quintus plopped down in the ergonomically designed, supple leather chair, his long, muscled limbs flowing over it in a very human-like pose. Unlike him, Quintus had taken to their new home like a fish to water and had had no difficulties immersing himself in the local culture.

“This does not please you?” Quintus asked.

“It pleases me.”

“I sense a however.”

“There is no however.”

Quintus sat up, a frown now creasing his features. “Now I know something is amiss. There is always a however with you.”

Tiberius felt slightly affronted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Quintus clarified, “that you do not allow yourself to be happy. You have done well, my friend. Accept this. Enjoy it.”

Tiberius turned toward him. “We have done well, Quintus. And I do. I am.”

Quintus snorted inelegantly. “Yes, so I see. Is that why you continue to imprison yourself alone in your office when there is so much to experience and relish just beyond the threshold? These people are at your beck and call. They would do anything their beloved Shark asked of them and be happy for the privilege.”

The Shark. That was the name by which the humans referred to him. Sugar had told him it was because the animal was high up on the aquatic food chain, a ruthless predator and protector that instilled fear in the bottom feeders around him. What had begun as a term of teasing affection had become the name by which he was known to outsiders.

Quintus found it amusing. The humans, entertaining. Tiberius supposed that, in a way, it did demonstrate a measure of respect. And Quintus was right—he should be happy.

Yet, he wasn’t. For all intents and purposes, he had everything a male could want. So, how could he begin to explain the persistent uneasiness that had been growing within him over these last few months? This sense of impending fatum, what the humans called destiny, looming just beyond reach?

“I do not wish to appear malcontent. We have accomplished a great deal.”

“And yet it is not enough,” Quintus said softly, “because what you really desire is a princess with which to share it.”

That was one of the things Tiberius appreciated about his friend. Despite his enthusiasm for hedonistic pursuits, deep down, Quintus was exceedingly thoughtful and insightful. He would have made some fortunate female a good mate.

Once again, the heavy mantle of guilt weighing upon Tiberius’s broad shoulders grew heavier.

“Stop feeling guilty,” Quintus admonished him, as though reading his mind. “I made my choice. You did not make it for me. I am quite happy to partake of that which is so willingly offered. Unlike you, the thought of being shackled to a single female for eternity horrifies me.”

Tiberius smiled, but his heart remained heavy. This was a discussion they’d had often over the years, and each time, Quintus vehemently rejected the idea of a mate, insisting that such devotion and faithfulness was not in his nature. Tiberius believed that part of Quintus’s staunch anti-monogamous stance was rooted in his humble beginnings, and that deep down, Quintus didn’t see himself as worthy of such a gift. Tiberius would never insult him by saying so, however, and instead countered that it was only because he had not met the right female. Finding one’s destined mate changed everything.

“Do not forsake all hope, my friend,” Quintus continued. “You have only to look to our ancestors to know all is not lost.”

Tiberius raised his brows, causing Quintus to laugh.

“Ah, so you were not simply pretending to sleep during our mandatory intergalactic history lessons. No, my liege, we are not the first Aequorians to visit Earth, nor are you the first prince to be exiled here. The last was approximately three millennia ago and gave rise to what the humans refer to as Ancient Rome.”

A tiny spark of hope lit in his chest. “Verily?”

Quintus smirked. “I thought that, with all the hours you spend watching History Channel, this would not come as a surprise to you. Your namesake played quite a role in human history.”

It was true that Tiberius had developed a fondness for the network, eager to learn what he could about his new home and the people who inhabited it. He found the series theorizing the contributions of alien civilizations particularly interesting. Though most of the claims were ridiculous, sometimes the so-called experts managed to edge remarkably close to the truth. Once they moved beyond conjecture and discovered what was and was not real ... well, the universe wasn’t ready for that.

“Legend has it that your ancestor even managed to find his mate.”

Tiberius stilled then realized Quintus was having fun at his expense. “A jest in poor taste, my friend.”

Quintus looked offended. “You wound me, Tiberius. You of all people should know that I would never mock such a matter, especially when it is one so near and dear to your heart.”

Rightfully chastised, Tiberius inclined his head. “My apologies, Quintus. I do know that. However, your words may light a dangerous flame if I allow myself to hope for the improbable.”

“You and improbability share a close alliance,” Quintus quipped. “It was improbable that a noble young prince would befriend an orphaned urchin. It was improbable that a highly intelligent and fiercely loyal member of the royal family would be exiled for treason. That said prince would establish a kingdom in the human realm and be loved by all. Shall I continue?”

Tiberius’s lips quirked. “No, that is quite enough, thank you. You have made your point.”

“Good. My job here is done.” Rising, Quintus rubbed his hands together, his expression clearing. “Speaking of matters near and dear to our hearts, there are dozens of scantily clad beauties downstairs who are aching for the opportunity to experience the unmatched skill and stamina of an Aequorian male in his prime. I shall deny them no longer and leave you to your solitary ruminations.”

After Quintus made his exit, Tiberius wasted no time in pulling out the tablet that was touted as the latest and greatest in digital technology. Perhaps it was impressive by Earth’s standards, but it was woefully primitive and cumbersome when compared to the sentient artificial intelligence Aequorians had perfected centuries before.

With his long finger, he gracefully tapped a virtual key then spoke his request. “Search Tiberius, Ancient Rome.”

An eternity—several milliseconds—later, a series of links appeared on his screen. He began at the top, scrolling through the articles in quick succession until he had devoured every one.

Unsurprisingly, the human account referred to the ancient Tiberius as “one of Rome’s greatest generals.” That was logical. His people would be considered great warriors to humans, as evidenced by his own experiences.

What Tiberius was most interested in was not his ancestor’s heralded military prowess, however, but his personal life. More specifically, the possibility that an Aequorian had actually found a mate among the females of this realm.

Historical accounts mentioned two women the would-be emperor had taken as wives. The first appeared to be a love match; the second, a purely political machination, and a mistake that ancient Tiberius had rued for the rest of his days, transforming him into the “gloomiest of men,” according to scholars.

Such pathos over the loss of a female would support Quintus’s claim that the ancient had indeed found his mate. Why he had forsaken her was the mystery. Once joined with his fated female, an Aequorian male suffered terribly without her. That was one of the primary differences between his kind and humans—humans often entered into nuptial bonds multiple times over the course of their lives. An Aequorian only did so once, and once forged, were unbreakable.

Tiberius cleared the screen with a swipe of his finger. His gaze returned to the multitude of live security feeds from the public and private areas below, searching the ebullient crowd, his mind churning.

Was it possible to hope that he, too, might find his mate while in exile? One thing he knew for certain: if he ever was granted such a gift, he would not be fool enough to let her go.