He lifted a trembling hand. His palm hovered an inch from the rough skin, hesitation a storm inside him. Then, carefully, he pressed it against the shark’s nose. The skin was sandpaper-rough, the pressure of its immense presence radiating through his fingertips. For a long breath, neither of them moved.
Diver and predator, suspended together in the silent cathedral of the sea. Marcus’s chest loosened, awe flooding through his fear. He had touched living history, power distilled into flesh and blood, and it had allowed him close. Then, without warning, the shark shifted. Its body surged forward, pressing into him, nudging hard enough to send him sliding through the water.