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was walking — or swimming, rather — out of my life. I’d never see him again.
    “When we follow our migration route, we pass through some dangerous areas that aren’t hippocampus friendly. Imagine that you had a group of nomads in the United States, and everywhere the nomads went, marines from the military had to follow because terrorists were hot on their heels.”
    Terrorists? He must have seen the question in my eyes.
    “Sharks. Orcas. Predators of the sea who are larger than us. The rear guard is our military, and we stay behind to fight while the rest of the herd gets away safely.”
    “Do you guys win most of the time?”
    He shook his head. “It depends on the predator. A leopard seal might try to eat a foal, but even the mother can fend them off. I’ve done it before easily.”
    “And an orca?”
    “Takes about three of us, but someone probably won’t swim away.”
    “Why can’t you take a better route if this one is so dangerous? Where the hell do you guys go that it’s worth the danger? Kekoa protects the water here and keeps it shark free, but out there...”
    “Once we leave this territory and cross the Atlantic, we’re in orca territory again. Like I said, they’re not so bad. Great whites are our greatest enemy.”
    “The sharks,” I whispered, imagining four massive stallions teaming up beneath the waves to take on a great white. The image made my chest hurt and my eyes water. Nature was rough, I’d known it for years ever since I began studying marine life, but this man was my friend.
    “Once we return to our home in the Mediterranean, we’re also returning to seas inhabited by sharks. But it’s our home. We have no other home like it.”
    “Is it too late to get a mate?”
    “No, but it’s not going to happen by September. I’ve accepted that.”
    “Why don’t they want you?” I hugged him tight and set my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was loud, powerful beneath my ear, a reminder that he hadn’t gone yet, that he wasn’t a lifeless body floating in some shark’s gaping mouth.
    Dante wrapped his arms around me. We fit together well, his hugs too comforting over the years.
    When I cramped and had PMS, he’d show up with ice cream and sashimi, then we’d curl up on my couch and watch movies into the night together.
    When a guy broke my heart, Dante always found out, and he’d listen tirelessly to me as I droned on about how I wished I’d done things differently.
    When Dad died last year, Dante had held me throughout the night. He’d packed my bag for me and contacted Teo. My boss flew me home for the funeral on his private jet because Dante asked him to do it.
    How long have I been falling in love with him?
    “I don’t get it,” I whispered. “You’re a great guy.”
    “We don’t watch movies and do those kinds of things for entertainment out in the ocean, Alessa. I can’t impress a filly with my job, my wardrobe, or my music preferences. There, what matters is the color of your fins and whether you’ve got the most muscles in your tail. The biggest hooves. The fairest mane.”
    “You have big feet and muscles!”
    “I do, and I’m fairly large in my natural state,” he confirmed. “But black hair isn’t a favorable trait. Dark horses are despised and viewed with scorn. Some of the older hippocampi believe we bring blackness with us wherever we go and cause bad luck.”
    I tried to imagine him, a sleek fish body attached to a muscled stallion with a jet coat. I pictured wild locks, dark as obsidian, flowing free in the water. The image in my head was beautiful. “Well they’re dumb, because I’m sure you’re gorgeous.” I sniffled and ignored the tears threatening to fall. Dante had seen me at my worst after a breakup, an absolute snotty mess with red-rimmed eyes. I repeated the words he’d told me then, “If they can’t see how amazing you are, then they don’t deserve to have you.”
    Dante chuckled weakly. His heart wasn’t in it.