Chapter 5 #2
Jax entered the corner of her vision. He held the fish in one hand, his clawed thumb hooked in its mouth. It curled its tail to one side, gills flaring.
Macy ducked into the shelter and removed the knife from its hiding place, unwrapping it. The grip was comfortable in her hand. She knew people in The Watch who would’ve killed for such a fine-quality blade.
“Where did you get that?” Jax demanded.
She stood and turned to face him, hiding the knife behind her back to keep him from grabbing it. “I found it in one of the crates.”
He extended his arm, holding his palm up. It was fast becoming a popular gesture between the two of them.
“I’m keeping it,” she said, lifting her chin. “I need it.”
“Why do you need it?”
“I need it as a tool. Not a weapon.”
“When I have more reason to trust you, you may have it as a tool.”
“Damnit, Jax! What do you think this is going to do to you? It’d be stupid for me to even try.”
His brow fell low, and his pupils expanded to a strange hourglass shape. Macy held her ground — and his gaze. Finally, he lowered his arm in silent acceptance.
“Thank you,” she said softly and glanced at the fish. She raised her empty hand.
Jax passed the fish to her without a word and followed when she went to the edge of the water. He eased down beside her to watch; she wasn’t sure if it was an extension of further trust, or if he’d realized she truly didn’t pose any threat to him, knife or not.
She worked quickly, slicing open the fish’s belly to gut it before cutting a slab of meat from each of its sides.
Her father had taught her the motions when she was young, and her hand moved with confidence and familiarity.
Whenever she cleaned a fish, she couldn’t help but remember those days spent with him, before they lost Sarina.
Her father often sang when he performed such tasks, making up the words as he went and never missing a beat in his husky baritone.
Her chest ached, and she paused. Her parents were likely worried sick if they didn’t already believe her dead.
One problem at a time.
After she’d stripped the skin from the two fillets, she rinsed the meat and her knife in the water.
“Are you not going to eat the rest?” Jax asked.
Macy glanced at the discarded pieces — skin, guts, bones, head, and tail — and wrinkled her nose. “No.”
“That is a waste of good food.”
“All yours,” she said, getting to her feet.
He gathered the scraps, leaving only the bones, and drew his tentacles together to raise his torso.
Macy entered the shelter, turned, and sat on the ground before the fire. She set the knife atop its cloth. Jax lowered himself into his version of a sitting position to her left as she selected the largest of the leaves from her pile. She folded them around her fillets.
The wraps sizzled when she laid them atop the crate, releasing a surprisingly sweet smell. She glanced at Jax and immediately regretted doing so; he was slipping fish guts into his mouth and chewing them slowly.
“That’s still gross,” she muttered, keeping her attention on her hands as she wrapped her knife in its cloth and tucked it away.
“Is that what you think of me, Macy? That I am gross?”
She looked up at him with a frown. Their differences were stark, but they didn’t matter; she’d grown accustomed to his appearance during their short time together. He was more intriguing than anything. There was undeniable beauty to his form and the way he moved.
“No, Jax. I don’t find you gross. Just…”
“Just good food.”
“It’s uncooked, and you’re eating its bowels.”
“There are no fires underwater, and all the soft bits are good. Perhaps humans don’t appreciate it because you have so many plants to eat.” He curled his lip slightly, giving her a glimpse of a pointed tooth.
“I doubt you’ve ever eaten the plants we do, so you can’t say anything about it. And humans don’t appreciate the parasites that come with eating raw meat.” She carefully flipped the meat, drinking in the aroma of cooking fish.
The sky was rapidly shifting to its normal blue, and the air was warming as sunlight streamed through the opening.
Jax’s nostrils flared. “The smell is…not unpleasant.”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
After giving them a bit longer to cook, she plucked both bundles off the crate and lay them on the ground beside her.
She opened one, barely allowing it time to cool before she tore into the juicy, flakey fish.
It was hot; she inhaled through her mouth to keep from burning her tongue as she chewed, but it was damned good.
“Its color is unnatural,” Jax leaned closer and studied the meat with unmasked curiosity.
Macy stopped her hand just before she slid another chunk into her mouth. She glanced down at it and held the piece out. “Want to try it?”
He accepted the offered morsel, lifting it close to his face to examine with narrowed eyes. After turning it from side to side and giving it a few squeezes, he brought up his other hand and, delicately, tore off a smaller piece with the tips of his claws.
“If you’re not going to eat it, give it back,” Macy said after swallowing another bite.
Jax swung his gaze to her. Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth and placed both pieces onto his tongue. His brow furrowed as he chewed. “This no longer tastes like fish.”
“It does. Like cooked fish. The leaves add some flavor to it, too.” She nibbled on another chunk; only a few tiny bits remained on the first leaf. “At home, we use spices to alter the flavor of our food and create variety in the tastes.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Like the smell, the taste is not unpleasant. But it seems like too much trouble when it already tasted fine as it was.”
She shrugged and picked up the other bundle. It had cooled enough not to burn her fingers. Unfolding it, she ate in silence.
“Still, it would be interesting to try these…spices,” he said after a while.
“Spices come from plants.”
Jax frowned, dropping his gaze to the charred leaves she’d used to wrap the fish.
“My dad loves his food spicy. He makes things so hot it feels like your mouth is on fire. I don’t know why he enjoys it, but he does, even if it makes him turn red and pour sweat.”
“So…spices make your mouth burn?”
“Not all of them. There are all kinds, and if you use them right, they can enhance the natural flavor of whatever food you use them on. There are even sweet spices we use to make treats.” She tilted her head. “You probably don’t know what most of that means, do you?”
“I don’t fully understand. I have heard some of the words before…but they have never held meaning to my people. Still, I think I understand enough.”
Macy finished her fish and slid the leaves into the fire through a slat on the crate.
She sat quietly; only the ceaseless burbling of the waterfall broke the silence.
This was the second day since she’d been brought here.
She didn’t know if Camrin had survived, didn’t know if anyone would even consider them missing, yet.
How long before her parents thought they’d lost another daughter to the sea?
Here, Macy had no one. Jax came and went, and they were two different people from two different worlds. She felt…lost.
Warm tears slid down her cheeks. She hurriedly wiped them away.
Jax leaned toward her, gaze intent on her face. “Why are your eyes leaking, Macy? Is it some sickness?”
Macy got on her knees. “I swear I won’t say a word about you or your people.”
“I will not argue with you on this again.” He turned away and moved toward the water, his skin darkening.
“Where are you going?” she asked, brushing away more tears.
He didn’t answer, didn’t slow his movement.
“Jax?”
He continued forward. Macy’s heart quickened, and she scrambled to her feet. She didn’t want to do it again. Didn’t want to spend endless hours alone, caged in with nowhere to go, with no one to talk to. All she’d have were her thoughts, her guilt.
Her fears.
“Jax, please!” She raced after him, and — without thinking — plunged into the water.
He finally turned toward her. His features were hard, but he watched silently as she waded toward him.
“Please. D-don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone here again.” Macy sagged forward, despair sapping her strength. This was all too much.
Jax was there suddenly; rather than falling face-first into the water, she fell into the solid, velvet-draped planes of his muscles. His tentacles brushed her legs, unseen beneath the surface. She threw her arms around him and squeezed.
The thundering of her heart filled her ears. After ten beats, Jax embraced her and lifted her from the water. He cradled her against his chest. She slipped her arms around his neck and buried her face against him, letting her tears flow freely as she sought comfort in his nearness.