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The scientist’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was no fear in their depths. If anything, he looked almost…delighted. An odd reaction, to be sure, but of no consequence to Syrus.

“Why were you at the beach?” Syrus growled. “Why were you speaking to Luke?”

He had the human fully against the far wall now. Syrus used his bulk to keep him where he was, clenching his hands at his sides, afraid if he let them loose, he’d snap the man’s neck without getting any of the answers he sought.

Someone from the research institute—someone employed by those who’d caught and tormented Syrus so mercilessly—had been near his human. His human’s precious spawn. Close enough to touch. To take.

It could not be borne. Would not be borne.

The man peered up at Syrus. “I was at the beach because I thought you’d be there.” Again, there was no hint of fear in his words or his visage, no stutter or flash of uncertainty.

“Why?” Syrus demanded.

“Because that’s where I left you.”

Syrus could only stand there, breathing heavily, as the meaning of the statement took its time traveling through his protective rage.

“My escape,” he eventually managed to say. “You assisted me.”

The human nodded, his eyes darting across Syrus’s face. His expression was…strange. Curious and awed, almost reverent.

Except true reverence never held such a note of greed.

“I found you half-collapsed in the forest. We hadn’t known you could transform like that.” The man’s eyes went wide again, as if remembering some holy revelation. “It was still tough getting you in the truck, though, even without the tail. I bribed a guard to help. Luckily he hadn’t heard yet about the one you’d left behind.”

And there it was, that odd note of admiration. Like Syrus devouring one of this man’s own was something miraculous. As if Syrus wouldn’t do the same to him given half the chance.

Where in the oceans were this mortal’s survival instincts?

There were many other questions Syrus could ask—why this man had assisted him at the forefront of his mind—but he had other concerns to start with.

“Why did your institute want one of my kind?”

To his credit, the human didn’t play coy or dumb. He answered straightaway, as if he’d only been waiting for Syrus to come to his home and demand explanations. “They were interested in regeneration, youth, longevity. Your kind apparently live a very long time.” He licked at his lips, gaze darting down to Syrus’s feet and back again, as if he could sense they still pained him. “I told them though. Told them they’d get better data with a whole pod. That you’d heal better. Faster. I was right, wasn’t I? Their song…”

Syrus jerked his head back in surprise. “How do you know any of that?”

The man’s eyes gleamed, and he spoke in a rush, spilling his truths with abandon. “My adviser in grad school. He’d seen a pod. More than that—he’d been taken but spared. No one believed him—thought it was a joke he hazed his grad students with—but I knew. I could just…tell. We worked on developing a program to recognize the distinctive song. Higher pitched than whales, more melodic than dolphins. Unique. He remembered that much.”

Now Syrus did unclench one hand, pressing it to the human’s chest and shoving him back hard against the wall. “You helped them catch me, didn’t you?”

The human only nodded, not a trace of reservation about the consequences of his confession on his face. If he was in pain after the harsh shove, he didn’t show it.

“And the flesh they took from me…,” Syrus bit out. “They took it to you?”

The human nodded again, then shook his head. “I told them one wasn’t enough though. Told them it was useless to keep stabbing at you without your pod there.” The first hint of anger laced the human’s words. “They said it was too dangerous. Not enough resources to manage. I’m glad to be rid of them. They were too shortsighted.”

Shortsighted. Syrus pushed back his anger and took his time studying the man in his hold. Something wasn’t right with him. Something…off. An obsession grown too deep, perhaps, leaving no room for reason or fear. He’d caged Syrus, had been party to his torture, had apparently advocated for the capture of his pod, and yet he seemed to have no concept that Syrus might desire to exact revenge.

Syrus peered around the house, or what he could see of it from the front living room. It was quite bare for a human dwelling. White walls and a single couch, with a laptop in the corner and a pile of thick books stacked next to it. There was no sign of anyone else’s presence, no indication of how this man spent his time.

What had this human been doing with himself while Syrus recuperated? Simply waiting? Watching?

Syrus turned his attention back to his quarry. “Why did you help me escape?”

It couldn’t have been guilt driving him. The man didn’t seem to possess any at all.

“I want to see a pod. That’s where the real research is. Group dynamics.”