Floating with a Sea Cow

  World of Aquatica: When a foolish dare goes horribly wrong, a human has more than one eye-opening experience.

  Tyrone has walked—or swam—the Earth a lot of years. Most of that time he’s spent alone. Working with dozens of other marine shifters at World of Aquatica finally brings him close to others that are sort of his kind—they’re marine shifters, anyway. He works security, seeing as he can’t be in an exhibit because, technically, his kind are supposed to be extinct. When he spots a skinny human shoplifting, he catches him... and realizes the man—Braylon—is his mate. Tyrone convinces his boss and alpha not to call the police. Instead, they give Braylon several shifts of cleaning the park as a sort of community service. During that time, Tyrone has to go about doing something he hasn’t had to do in over four hundred years of life. Can he figure out how to woo a human so very different from himself?

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Floating with a Sea Cow

  Copyright © 2017 Charlie Richards

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-1650-8

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  Floating with a Sea Cow

  Beneath Aquatica’s Waves: Book Two

  By

  Charlie Richards

  Dedication

  Life sometimes takes you into troubled waters, not to drown you but to cleanse you.

  ~Author Unknown

  Chapter One

  Do it, or we’re not going to hang with you anymore.

  Braylon Whitney knew he should have refused, but it’d been nice to have friends to hang out with—ones that weren’t stuffy, pretentious jerks, anyway. He didn’t want to lose that. He’d never before felt like he was being included because of him rather than his name.

  The guys—Daniel, Rian, and Curt—would invite him for lunch or ask him to join them at the club where they’d met or even just to hang out and play video games. He wasn’t even sure if they knew who his father was. Braylon would prefer to keep it that way, too.

  Do it, or we’re not going to hang with you anymore.

  Still, that didn’t mean Braylon wanted to shoplift. He didn’t understand why it was so important to them. Daniel had made the threat, but Rian and Curt had nodded. If it meant getting his friends to stop pestering him for a while, well—

  Braylon wandered through the gift shop—Aquatica’s Grotto. He’d talked them out of trying to sneak into World of Aquatica—a huge marine park that boasted displays not seen anywhere else in the world, including a tiger shark show, a captive great white shark, plus the largest saltwater aquarium in existence. While Braylon understood that his friends seemed to get some kind of thrill out of petty crime, he knew better.

  If I was ever caught, my father would tan my hide... even at age twenty-four. Then why did I agree to this?

  You’re such a stiff. Do it, or we’re not going to hang with you anymore.

  Right. That was why.

  Braylon just wanted to fit in.

  But is this the best way?

  Braylon glanced through the front window of the shop. He spotted his three buddies through the glass—two sitting on a bench and the third standing near them. They appeared to be talking and laughing together, although Daniel met his gaze and mouthed, hurry up.

  Heaving a soft sigh, Braylon turned back to the shelves. He stared at the pretty blown-glass figurines. They were small and would easily fit into his jacket’s pocket.

  Turning away from them, Braylon took a few steps down the aisle. He was suddenly grateful for his six-foot height. While it made him too tall to be considered a cute, sexy twink at the club—which sucked—it meant he could see over the tops of the display cases and notice where the store employees were. A woman was behind the cash register, ringing up a customer. The second, a happily smiling black-haired guy, was chatting with a customer near a clothes rack.

  Braylon turned again and headed back up the aisle. He swiped a figurine and quickly shoved it into his pocket. Even as he sauntered toward the store’s exit, doing his best to appear relaxed, he felt the hairs on his nape prickle.

  When Braylon made it out of the store, he heaved a sigh of relief. He headed left toward his friends. Daniel and Curt rose from where they’d been sitting on the bench. Rian turned and focused on him.

  Ten feet away from his friends, Braylon felt a large hand clamp onto his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir,” a deep voice sounded behind him.

  Braylon immediately tensed and froze as his eyes widened. Daniel actually smirked as he turned away from him. Rian winced and quickly looked in another direction. All three of his friends started striding away from him.

  Fear slithered up Braylon’s spine. Somehow, he managed to turn around. He looked up... and up... into the stern face of a thickset, deeply bronzed-skinned male with deep gray eyes and a serious pinch to his goateed face.

  To Braylon’s surprise, a surge of arousal swept through him. The man had to be six-foot-eight, had short brown hair with a touch of gray at his temples, sported a goatee which did nothing to soften the stern tilt of his full lips, and had super wide shoulders. His arm and pectoral muscles could be clearly seen through his tan polo shirt, and even the small spare tire at his waist seemed to add to the man’s presence.

  Unfortunately, the emblem on the stranger’s shirt chilled Braylon to the bone—World of Aquatica Security.

  Oh shit!

  “I’m going to need you to come with me.”

  Gulping, Braylon squashed his attraction. So not the time. Plus, there was no way a burly security guard would be interested in a skinny, too tall to be a twink, guy like himself. That was even if the man hadn’t just caught him for shoplifting.

  Drawing on his upbringing, Braylon forced his features into a haughty expression and gazed back at the man. “And why would I need to do that?”

  “You know why,” the man responded, his black brows creasing as his eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared for an instant, then a soft growl escaped the man. “Don’t make a scene. You won’t like the consequences.”

  Braylon knew a losing battle when he saw one. That didn’t mean he had to act like a lamb to slaughter, though. “Very well.” He rolled his eyes as he heaved a put-upon sigh. “Let’s get this over with. I have places to be.”

  The way the security guard swept his gaze over Braylon’s form, from head to toe and back again, coupled with the gleam in the man’s eyes actually caused a tingle of awareness to work down his spine. Goose bumps broke out on his arms. Even his prick plumped as his blood flowed south.

  Was that attraction in the man’s eyes? No way!

  Burying the incl
ination under wishful thinking, Braylon allowed the security guard to turn him. The guy moved his hand to the middle of his back and guided him forward. As they walked, the guy teased his fingertips down Braylon’s spine to his lower back, then skimmed his hand back up again.

  Heat flooded Braylon’s groin at the intimate contact. His nipples beaded. Only the shock surging through Braylon kept his dick from going ramrod straight in his jeans.

  What the hell?

  Then the huge man pointed to the right. “Turn here.”

  Braylon obeyed, turning down the aisle. A large sign that read Security Office in bold, black, blocky script hung on the building to the left. The man reached past him and opened the door, guiding him inside.

  Spotting the blond male sitting behind a reception desk as well as a brown-haired Caucasian leaning against the wall near a door behind the other man, Braylon felt a tremble work through him.

  “Hand over the fish and have a seat,” the guard ordered. He held out his left hand, palm up, waiting to be given the stolen goods even as he pointed at a chair in the waiting area near the desk.

  Braylon figured he didn’t have any other recourse. He pulled out the fish, placed it into the man’s hand, then crossed to a chair and took a seat. As he watched the huge man lumber past, telling the blond behind the counter, “Keep an eye on him, will ya,” a fresh wash of fear slithered through him.

  * * * *

  Tyrone Coonan slipped past Eban O’Gillie and headed into the head security guard’s office. Eban also happened to be the head enforcer for their loosely classified pod of shifters. Tyrone trusted the other male’s judgment and hoped he could give him some advice.

  Hearing the door close behind him, Tyrone crossed to Eban’s desk. He placed the stolen blown-glass fish on the enforcer’s desk, then turned to face his boss. Seeing Eban’s lifted brow, he shoved his hands into his khaki shorts’ pockets.

  “So, I just hauled in my mate for shoplifting,” Tyrone rumbled softly. “Any advice?”

  Eban opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. His brown eyes widened. Then he scoffed, and his lips curved into a wry smile.

  “Wow, okay,” Eban began slowly. He shook his head, although his eyes did dance with mirth. “Congratulations?”

  Tyrone shrugged, then rubbed his chest with the forefingers of his right hand. “I know we have a strict policy, but how can I report him and send him to jail, then try to—” He snapped his mouth shut and heaved a sigh.

  “Let’s get his ID, see if he has any priors, and go from there, huh?”

  Nodding, Tyrone realized he should have already gotten the man’s information. It just went to show how out of sorts he was for him to screw up standard procedure from step one. He headed back out of the room, doing his best to breathe shallowly because the skinny, dark-skinned guy’s scent was already permeating the room with a musky, spicy goodness.

  Sweeping his gaze over the shoplifter’s body, Tyrone admired the way the slender, toned human sat up straight. The man wore designer blue jeans, a form-fitting pale-blue polo shirt, and comfortable-looking Dockers on his feet. His shortly buzzed hair had been bleached blond, which made his skin appear an even darker chocolate. He sported a bored expression on his lean face as he stared in the other direction.

  Only noticing the slight tensing along the tendons of his long, slender neck told Tyrone that he had noticed his approach.

  At least he’s not ambiguous to me. And I know I didn’t imagine the scent of his arousal.

  Yum!

  Pushing aside the thought for later perusal, Tyrone stopped before the human. “I need your identification.” He held out his hand.

  The human peered up at him. Holding Tyrone’s gaze, he demanded, “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here first?”

  Tyrone had to give the guy props. He had balls, what with his show of bravado. The desire to tie the human to his bed and spank his ass filled him. His blood heated at the idea.

  “I watched you steal that fish,” Tyrone replied bluntly, forcing his brows to furrow into a frown when all he wanted to do was kiss the scowl right off the human’s face. He wiggled his fingers. “I’d ask if you can provide a receipt, but then you might give me some bullshit story about losing it or throwing it away.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Holding Tyrone’s gaze, he flipped it open, pulled out his license, and held out the ID to him. He lifted a brow in silent challenge.

  Tyrone used his peripheral vision to take the ID, recognizing the defiance in the human’s eyes. The animal he shared his spirit with wasn’t an aggressive beast by nature, but his mate was human. His acute shifter senses told him the male wasn’t dominant, but he seemed to be hiding behind a mask.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  Continuing to hold the human’s gaze, Tyrone bent at the waist and leaned forward. As their faces drew closer, his mate’s eyes widened. When they were within six inches of each other, the slender human gasped and turned his head.

  Tyrone’s heart thudded in his chest at the ever-so-slight display of submission. Excitement filled him. He wanted to nuzzle the human’s neck, lick up the slight sheen of nervous sweat he saw on his skin.

  Instead, Tyrone placed his lips a hairsbreadth away from his mate’s ear. “You’re here because you stole a blown-glass fish. I’m Tyrone Coonan, a security guard, and I caught you. I’m going to run a background check on you and decide whether or not to call the cops.” He heard the man’s breathing hitch and had to smile. “Is there anything you want to say in your defense?” Tyrone straightened and finally took a look at the driver’s license in his hand. “Braylon Armando Whitney the third?”

  Damn. What a mouthful. No wonder the guy is acting out. And why does that name sound familiar?

  Braylon’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath, his lean torso expanding. He snapped his gaze back to Tyrone’s and opened his mouth. Just as quickly, he snapped it shut again and glared at Tyrone.

  Spitfire. Nice!

  “Then you enjoy that comfortable seat, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Tyrone held Braylon’s gaze once more. It didn’t take long for his mate to break their stare-down, moving his focus to a picture to his left. His gaze appeared vacant however, and Tyrone could just imagine the wheels turning swiftly in the man’s head.

  He’s probably trying to figure out a way out of this.

  Turning away from Braylon, Tyrone wished he could offer some words of encouragement. That wasn’t his place, however. He didn’t know the man, his background, or his reasons for turning to petty crime.

  So I need to change that. Returning to Eban’s office, Tyrone realized something else. I can’t do that if he’s not here.

  After Tyrone had shut the door, he crossed to the desk and handed over the license. He turned toward a chair. Relaxing his bulk into the comfortable seat, he rested his hands on the arms and tapped his fingers restlessly.

  “A third with his name,” Eban muttered. “Huh.” He typed at his keyboard swiftly, entering the ID’s information. After a moment, he leaned back in his seat and focused on Tyrone. “This should only take a moment. I also called Kaiser and William. Figured they should be here for this.”

  Tyrone nodded as he met Eban’s concerned dark-eyed gaze. “Are you sure he’s the one? Your mate?”

  Chuckling softly, Tyrone smirked. “I think once you meet your own mate, you’ll realize how ridiculous that question is.”

  “Ha ha,” Eban responded dryly. He still smiled though. “I’m sure looking forward to that day.”

  Nodding, Tyrone understood the slight wistfulness that had entered Eban’s tone. Never had he been more grateful than now that Kaiser and William Roush had gathered a number of marine shifters together and suggested they build World of Aquatica. The marine park attracted humans from all over the globe.

  Walking amidst the thousands of guests that
visited on nearly a daily basis, every shifter’s opportunity to meet their mate—the one person who was the other half of their soul—was greatly increased. It sure beat the alternative. As marine shifters—paranormals that shared their spirit with a water animal—the chances of a human swimming or falling into the sea anywhere near where they swam was almost non-existent.

  That was why at over four hundred years old, Tyrone had never met his mate.

  Six years working at World of Aquatica, and Fate has already blessed me.

  How to woo him?

  A soft chime emanated from the computer at the same time as Eban’s office door opened. Eban clicked on something as he offered a nod of greeting to the two black-haired, green-eyed men who strode into the room. The brothers who owned the majority share of the park took a seat on the sofa to the right.

  “Well, holy shit,” Eban hissed. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly as his gaze roved over the computer screen. “This could cause a clusterfuck.”

  “Talk to me,” Kaiser ordered, his deep voice expressing his concern. “What’s going to cause a problem?” He glanced Tyrone’s way, then refocused on Eban. “Is Tyrone’s mate part of a gang? Is he a hardcore criminal or something?”

  “He sure didn’t look it,” William cut in, a smirk toying at the edges of his lips. While Kaiser was the older brother, the pod’s alpha, serious and down-to-earth, William was the beta and had more of a sense of humor, finding amusement in many situations that most probably wouldn’t think were so funny. “The amount of tension coming from the human in the lobby said this was a new experience for him.”

  Tyrone had kind of thought the same thing.

  “Not that kind of problem,” Eban stated, pulling his gaze away from the computer. He glanced between everyone as his eyes filled with a concerned gleam. “Braylon’s father goes by Armando Whitney.”