Page 11 of Emerald Waves (Primordial Protectors #2)

Chapter Seven

Caro

Our mate was in our home, and we couldn’t be more thrilled, but now that everyone else had filtered out, it was time to show him our horde, and I was nervous.

I’d slipped away earlier, while he and Alex were conversing in the living room, to retrieve and place on a shelf inside the horde, the stature that had still safely been seated on the front seat of the car Odem had brought home for me.

Would he think of it as a glorified aquarium?

Would he scoff at our efforts to save creatures simply because they’d been harmed, despite them not being on the verge of extinction?

While I knew that some of my brothers collected some pretty exotic, rare and valuable items, I’d always felt like my own horde would never measure up to that, because I’d never had the same kind of interest in those things as my siblings had.

There were times when I considered myself too different and sought out the sea as a place to swim deep with the whales, brood and daydream a little about what the fates maybe had in store for me.

And maybe a part of me had also kept my distance from Emerson after sensing he was our mate because I’d worried that our archivist would have no interest in the world around us and little way of understanding why I loved it so.

Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face and turned away from the balcony I usually brooded on alone, to see my mate, standing in the doorway, head cocked to the side as he studied me.

“You’re thinking extremely hard about something while trying to keep me and my dragon from sensing what it is,” Emerson said without preamble.

“Why? Are you having second thoughts about having me here, now that everyone is gone and you’ve had a chance to really think about what it will mean for us to live together? ”

“No,” I replied, crossing the room to wrap him in my arms.

“But something is wrong,” he said, standing stiffly in my arms where this morning he would have melted against me and been thinking naughty thoughts to boot.

“It’s not with you.”

“Nice sidestep, but your evasion techniques need work,” Emerson said. “Especially when you won’t even look at me.”

“I’m holding you,” I pointed out. “Which makes it hard to look you in the eyes with the difference in our heights.”

“How about now?” He asked, stepping back out of my grasp and gazing up at me.

No excuses now, I had no way of avoiding this situation any longer. I just hoped I’d be able to bare his disappointment when the only glittering things he saw inside of my horde were the lights in the tanks of those who needed them.

“We need to put your things in the horde,” I explained, trying to ease into it, since I’d never been the rip the bandage off type.

Truthfully, I was more of a brood and stew, poke, prod and dab at each individual speck of blood one bead at a time type, drawing out the pain while trying to ignore what had caused the wound.

“Yes, we do,” Emerson confirmed. “But right now I care more about why you have that look on your face and what you find so interesting about the floor rather than me, since you’ve been paying a whole lot of attention to it since you turned around and spotted me standing here.”

“It’s just that my horde isn’t what you’re probably expecting,” I explained. “I just hope you won’t be too disappointed.”

“Disappointed? Why would you think I’d feel that way?” He asked, eyes having narrowed some as he stared up at me like he was trying to read me while I was busy trying to ensure my dragon shut the fuck up and didn’t give away my secret before I could just show him.

“You’ll see,” I said, reaching out and snagging his hand gently.

Resolved, I walked him to the horde room sensor, so we could program his biometrics into the machine, giving him the ability to open it on his own from here on out.

I couldn’t deny that twin sensations of worry and dread coursed through me as we were doing it, prompting my brothers to try and check in, only for me to slam the door on them the same way I had the day I’d encountered the cave and the turbulence and blinding, deafening sounds that had disoriented me so completely that I’d become lost and confused in one of the few places that I’d truly considered home.

When the door opened, I held my breath and stepped inside, holding his hand again, as the door slid shut behind us. Several steps inside the door he gasped, as the first tank came into view.

Built into the stone wall behind it, to offer natural anchoring points for the barnacles, coral, and sea anemones that were a huge part of the ecosystem of the tank, was a giant aquarium.

Colorful clownfish of all varieties lived among them, feeding off the plankton and tiny shrimp that also dwelled in the tank.

Tiny crabs and mollusks lived there too, food for the anomalies

“It’s um, a reef tank,” I explained when he said nothing after coming to stand in front of it for several moments, peering inside.

“Clownfish and sea anemones have a symbiotic relationship and share the same food. The sea anemones protect the clownfish, not that there is anything in that tank that will harm them, but in the wild, they hide among the anemones when something threatens them, and in exchange, they keep the anemones clean and free of any growths or parasites that could harm them.”

“Is that why their colors are so bright?” Emerson asked. “They’re kinda big too, well, some are. There are so many different kinds in there.”

“Yeah. Some have really grown. They were all tiny when the tank was first constructed.”

“I’m surprised you keep it in here and not the living room,” Emerson said. “Is there a reason?”

“I spend more time in here than any place else in the house,” I explained, knowing he’d understand in a moment, when I led him around the bend in the cave that held my horde, where the rest of the tanks resided.

“And what are all of these charts and books?” He asked, curiosity piqued as he crossed the cave entrance to the long shelf that I’d built into the cave wall, carving it out with my claws before fitting the polished driftwood I’d harvested, shaved, and sanded to make the shelves.

“Tide charts, ocean mythology, a history of the creatures discovered and lost,” I explained. “I keep the ancient writings down here and the more modern ones in the library. The shelves run all the way back along this side, with a great deal of empty space for all your treasures.”

“What’s this?” He asked, drawing my attention to the statue gotten situated earlier. I’d placed it there, not wanting to add it to my horde until I’d had a chance to study it and determine exactly what it was and if there was any meaning behind it.

Many times, I found artifacts beneath the sea, some I’d been able to match with legends and old images, others were too degraded and were kept under glass in the part of my horde that resembled a museum.

Everything was perfectly preserved in those cases, with detailed notes and rough sketches of the scene around it when I discovered it.

Whenever possible, I returned the artifacts to the people they originated from, having visited many fishing villages, seaside towns and other remote places in order to ensure that the items got back to the descendants of those who’d originally owned them.

Along the way I’d been treated to stories I’d never come across in any book.

Passed down through generations, there were times when I learned why something had been forged or crafted, it’s intended purpose as well as the legends of the users, many who were still revered to this very day.

“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “I found it the day you had your fall and stashed it here until I have time to dig into its origins more.”

“We could always dig into it together, it is what I do, you know,” Emerson said, a slight bit of reproach in his tone that made my stomach roil at having been the cause of it.

I was fucking this up already.

Day fucking one.

Hadn’t I expected that?

“I know,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s just that it’s become a special project of mine, to keep, catalogue and research the things I salvage from the sea.”

“So, you could avoid bringing them to me,” Emerson murmured, ducking his head.

“No, Emerson, it was never like that at all,” I said.

“I try to return them to where they belong, or at least, to the descendants of those who lost them. So they have a piece of their culture to keep passing down to future generations. It was never about cutting you out of the process or steering clear of you, I swear. It was only recently that I sensed you were my mate. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for centuries.

Diving old wrecks in my dragon form is a Saturday afternoon outing for me.

Hell, it’s a Monday morning one too, when Ionus frees us from training.

Truth is, I love being beneath the waves and when I find things, I’m like a crow with a shiny object. ”

“So you bring them home with you.”

“Yes.”

“And then give them away when you learn where they belong.”

“Yes.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I house them in here and continue my research whenever I come across new information.”

“That’s what I do in the archives too,” Emerson said. “If you’re willing, perhaps we can work on some of them together. The answers you need may already been in the material I brought over.”

“I’d welcome that,” I admitted. “It was never my intention to hold on to them for so long.”

“How many do you have?”

“More than I’ve ever taken the time to count,” I admitted.

“Things like coins are easy, it’s the artifacts that have, at times, proved to be difficult due to the deterioration.

I’ve taken extensive classes and undergone training in how to properly clean and store them, but even with cleaning, some of them are just beyond my ability to decipher. ”

“Then let’s hope they are not beyond mine.”

“Yes, that is a good hope to have.”