Page 68 of Hunters and Prey

Two hours until breakfast. Three until his next series of ass-beatings. He had confidence, but he wasn’t insane enough to think he could overcome her preternatural strength and speed until he took her on a few more times and learned her fighting style.

He needed to study her.

Sleep took him under again. The next time he opened his eyes, another hour had passed. He crawled out of bed, slipped into a tee and cargo pants, and meandered to the dining hall where they’d taken supper with their new companions the previous day. Atlantian food was…bearable. Mostly baked or raw fish with unfamiliar herbs and spices. He would have killed for a fucking steak and potato. And now he’d kill for a plate of eggs and a mountain of greasy, crispy bacon. God. His stomach growled at the thought of it when he entered the room to find an assortment of mers partaking in breakfast, all with unusual-colored hair in varying intensities. That was typical, he’d learned, a trait among their people who were the descendants of ocean nymphs or created by the goddess Thalassa.

No matter how many pretty merwomen he passed with tresses in shades of green, blue, pink, and coral, nothing surpassed the beauty of El’s fiery hair.

“Greetings, Colonel Rossi,” a mer greeted him, falling into step at Matteo’s side. He wore scales and a tough breastplate in dark blue that could have been shark skin, and his violet streaked black hair reached his shoulders.

“Hey,” he greeted the one sergeant among a small handful who didn’t tower above him like a sea-giant. “Morning, ah, Zuz—Zu—Zeus—shit. I’m sorry.” Atlantian names had a steep learning curve, the majority originating from Ancient Greece or Rome. Roman names, he had a better chance at remembering, after a childhood of attending a strict Roman Catholic education and spending weeks at a summer Catechism school at his Italian grandmother’s urging. He’d actually enjoyed learning Latin and Aramaic, studying them long after.

Not that either helped him worth a damn now. Ancient Greek was a hell of a language, and he only knew enough to identify it, not to understand a word of it.

The mer waved it off. “Our names are different for you. I understand. I am Zeuxis.”

Of course, he felt like the world’s biggest human douche. The Atlantians had no difficulty learning the names of their surface guests. He covered his guilt with a low chuckle. “Yeah! Awesome name, shit memory,” he apologized, while the mer only chuckled and waved again, evidently expecting it.

“Join us? Commander Elpis should be down shortly, though it isn’t uncommon for her to miss the first meal. I believe she’s discussing properly outfitting your men with Master Alohi.” His smile brightened, absolutely genuine. That was another thing he’d learned about the merfolk in Elpis’s company. None of them resented humans the way he’d experienced from other magical beings, like the elves. If they did, they were professional enough to bottle that shit up and stuff it where it belonged. “You’ll be the first humans in a thousand years to don Atlantian armor.”

“I’m assuming that’s a pretty big honor.”

“It is indeed. As many years have passed since we faded into obscurity and legend among your people to protect ourselves.”

Zeuxis led Matteo over to the table designated for the ship’s officers. Most of the faces appeared friendly, a combination of men and women uttering polite greetings.

He choked down salmon sashimi, green wafer-thin crackers with salty caviar dip, and baked clams on the half shell with cheese he presumed didn’t come from cows. And every bite was fucking delicious because his rumbling stomach couldn’t wait another second for anything else.

Besides, he’d eaten worse in boot camp.

Hell, he’d eaten some true crap while out in the Middle East during his youth, holed up and hiding in the desert during secret operations. Compared to that, Atlantian cuisine wasn’t bad after all.

“We didn’t expect to see you up and moving so soon,” said a man across the table. He wore one silver starfish pinned to each side of his collar, whereas El wore two and they were gold.

“I’m tougher than I look.”Seconds later, the other members of his squad entered, proudly sporting the previous day’s bruises. Matteo grinned. “So are they.”

He guzzled tea and excused himself from the table, only pausing to wish his guys a good morning before he left to find El.

Matteo didn’t have to go far. She met him at the door,a wrinkle creasing her forehead.

“You’re up earlier than expected,” she said, stepping aside.

Goddamn. They really didn’t expect much of humans. He shrugged it off and flashed her a weak grin. “Don’t underestimate me because I’m human.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown. “It isn’t because you’re human,” she said, “but that I fractured one of your ribs. Only the day prior to that, you were burned by a scylla.”

“You fractured one of my ribs?”

She nodded.

He hadn’t noticed, despite being no stranger to broken bones. He shrugged. “Must not be as serious as it looked.”

“Maybe so,” Elpis muttered. “Just the same, we will go easier on you today.”

“I don’t need your people to go easy on us. Easy won’t save our lives.”

“It benefits no one if you are all crippled before the training can truly begin,” she replied, tone even and patient. She had a serene quality to her voice that set him at ease, each syllable kneading the stress from his body. God, how hadn’t he noticed her beautiful voice before?

The tension melted from his shoulders and spine, and whatever offense he’d taken faded. “You’re right, I—” Alarm shot through the tranquility and spiked his pulse. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You enchanted me.”

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