Page 5 of Drown Me Gently

Panic and thrill collided inside him. Every instinct screamed run, dive, disappear. But he couldn’t move. Not when someone was looking at him like that.

Like he was something beautiful.

Auren’s heart beat hard enough to hurt. He felt alive. Exposed. Burning.

That’s when the man whispered, so quietly Auren almost didn’t hear it:

“I knew you were real.”

The sound of it broke the spell. Auren turned, tail flipping seawater onto the deck as he dove beneath the surface. He was already vanishing into the depths when another cry reached him.

“My name is Elias!”

It followed him like an anchor, and Auren let it drag him down, deeper, into the dark.

Elias.

The name echoed in his mind like a bell rung underwater. And even as the cold swallowed him whole, Auren knew: he wanted those eyes to find him again.

He needed them to.

Auren couldn’t stand it any longer. Living off the memory of Elias alone was no longer enough. He had to see him.

Gathering supplies, Auren left the cave. Outside, the water remained inky. Dawn was still plenty far off. He had time. Auren swam to the cave entrance and gave a short, sharp whistle.

A shape moved in the gloom. A massive orca, streaked with scars, surged forward, letting out a series of playful clicks.

“There you are, Iska,” Auren whispered with a smile.

The orca floated to his side, her good eye shining with recognition. Her dorsal fin curved in a graceful arc—at least from a distance. Up close, it was clear most of it was crafted from leather, strapped in place with buckles that wrapped around her belly. The original fin, along with her left flipper, had been shredded long ago. When Auren first found her, the wounds were raw and bleeding, barely clinging to life.

She’d been just a pup, thrashing weakly near the reef, her body surrounded by a haze of red. Her fin was torn off, her left flipper mangled beyond use. Abandoned by her pod, too injured to keep up, she’d begun to sink. Auren dove to her side and lifted her toward the surface. Her blowhole sputtered as she desperately gasped for air.

The healing took moons. With painstaking care, Auren crafted her replacements. He returned day after day, guiding her to the surface when she couldn’t reach it on her own. And when he couldn’t stay by her side, he built her a floating sling out of salvaged driftwood and woven nets—just wide enough to cradle her body and suspend her blowhole above the waterline. There she’d float, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, breathing shallowly but alive.

After weeks of healing, Iska swam. Fiercely. Freely. Now she could’ve gone anywhere. She had the whole sea. But instead, Iska stayed with him.

The orca bumped his chest affectionately and let out a high trill that vibrated through his ribs.

“I missed you too,” Auren murmured, brushing his fingers along her scarred side. “Ready to break a few rules?”

She responded by diving under him, letting him rest onto her back and grip the worn strap he’d stitched along her spine.

Orcas weren’t slaves. They were never haltered, not even by the Deepguard. But Iska’s injuries made straps and leather a necessity. That’s why Auren took extra care to ensure every movement she made was her own. Never his command. Iska wasn’t a pet. She was an equal—fierce, proud, and untamed, with the right to choose her own tide.

And somehow, she had chosen him.

“Let’s go.”

With one powerful kick of her tail, she shot forward like a torpedo, dragging Auren through the deep.

To the forbidden shallow waters dominated by Atlantis’s number one enemy.

Humans.

The moon hung high and silver when Auren reached the human shipyard. He drew in a long breath, gills fluttering shut along his neck.

He loved this part.