Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
It was still mostly dark when Macy opened her eyes. She wasn’t sure what had woken her — a noise, perhaps, or a dream already faded from memory — but she knew instinctively that she wasn’t alone. She turned her head to see Jax nearby.
He lay on his stomach, arms folded under his cheek, breath slow and deep in his slumber. One tentacle was stretched toward her, its tip only centimeters away.
Macy rolled onto her side and cradled her head in the crook of her arm. This was the first time she’d seen him sleep. He always seemed to be awake and doing something, so she hadn’t been sure if kraken slept or not. It reminded her of an old conversation with her father.
They’d been out on the water, riding the waves in his boat, when Breckett had insisted to seven-year-old Macy that fish slept.
She hadn’t been able to hide her skepticism — how could anything sleep, with water in its eyes?
— and demanded to know how he was so sure.
Even at that age, she knew his response — because I just know — was grown-up talk that really meant I don’t know, but I’m right so be quiet.
Macy smiled sadly. She missed those days. Missed her family and friends, but this was for the best — for both Macy and the kraken.
With his face relaxed in sleep, Jax appeared more human; it was likely because his unusual pupils were concealed.
Her gaze settled on his lips. She touched her fingers to her own, and — not for the first time — wondered what kissing him would feel like. Not a peck on the cheek, but a kiss, like Camrin had given her on the dock. She’d longed for Camrin’s kiss to end; from Jax, she yearned for more.
Macy’s eyes continued their slow trek over his body; first over the well-defined muscles of his shoulders, back, and arms, and then down to his inhuman lower half.
His skin darkened below his waist, but the stripes that ran along his tentacles — the same pattern from his head and shoulders — were clear in the gloom.
Though it was difficult to distinguish one tentacle from the next in the dim light, she knew them well from their days together.
They were thick at their tops, tapering gradually to narrow tips.
She followed the flow of the one he’d stretched toward her.
It was twisted slightly, exposing the lighter, suction-cup-lined skin on its underside.
Had he reached out to her before or after he fell asleep?
She moved a hand toward his tentacle, stopping only to watch his face and ensure he was still asleep. Lightly, she touched her finger to the skin on his tentacle’s underside, running it along the edges of his suction cups. His flesh was different there. Softer.
The tentacle twitched, its end curling.
Macy grinned. He was ticklish.
With another glance to make sure he hadn’t woken, she slid her finger around the rim of a suction cup. It twitched. She released a muffled laugh.
“Macy?”
She yanked her hand back and met his gaze. Jax had lifted his head and propped himself up on an arm, pupils large. She tried — and failed — to keep the amusement from her face.
“Good morning,” she said, biting the inside of her lip to curtail her smile.
Jax furrowed his brow and twisted to look up at the opening; the sky displayed on the earliest gray of approaching dawn. When he turned back to her, the end of his tentacle flicked back and forth. “That felt strange. What were you doing?”
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“I felt your touch. Tasted your skin.”
“You what?”
“Tasted you. Or smelled…perhaps both. They are the same, in many ways.”
“You can taste with those?” She pointed at his tentacle.
His eyes followed her gesture, and a smile — as amused as hers had been a moment before — spread across his lips. He shifted his position, torso upright but tentacles coiled beneath him. “With the cups, yes.”
Macy immediately thought of their first encounter, how his tentacle had slithered up between her legs, brushing her inner thigh…
She’d been shocked, then, just as she was now, but the memory kindled something more. Fire blazed in her core. Macy pressed her knees together, suddenly aware of just how short her dress was.
Clearing her throat, Macy smiled and sat up. “Did you know they are ticklish?”
“Ticklish? What is that?”
She held out her hand. “Give me one of your tentacles.”
He extended one and lowered it onto her waiting palm. It was heavier than she would’ve guessed. The suction cups moved against her skin, and she raised her gaze to his, arching a brow.
His smile didn’t falter.
“So, that’s how you’re going to play.” She turned his tentacle over into her other hand and curled her fingers around it firmly. Then she ran the tip of one finger along the underside in a long, light stroke.
The tentacle’s muscles contracted, and it naturally recoiled from her touch. Jax flinched. His pupils narrowed as he looked at her. “That was a strange sensation. Not unpleasant, but…strong.”
“Mhmm.” She repeated the motion, but this time, she didn’t let up, brushing her fingertip back and forth and wiggling her fingers against the sides of his suction cups.
His tentacle writhed in her grasp, and she felt a shudder ran up its length and spread through his entire body. He tugged his limb out of her hold. Macy laughed, dropping her hands.
Jax shook the end of his tentacle, as though the sensation lingered, and examined its underside. “What was that?”
“I was tickling you. You’re ticklish. Haven’t you been tickled before?”
“Kraken do not often come into such contact.” His expression was questioning, but not suspicious. “Are humans also ticklish?”
“Most are.” Macy frowned. She couldn’t imagine a child growing up without such little tastes of affection, without experiencing something as simple as being tickled. Jax had said he was brought up by a group of males, who taught him to survive and hunt, but had he ever been held, ever been soothed?
Had he ever laughed?
She was jarred from her thoughts by Jax’s sudden movement; he pulled himself forward and wrapped a tentacle around her ankle. Macy yelped as he tugged her leg straight, lifting it slightly off the ground, and leaned over it.
“Jax, what are you—”
He lifted another tentacle and lightly ran its tip along her sole.
Macy’s leg jerked, and she widened her eyes.
The look of concentration on his face shifted into one of amusement.
“Jax, don’t you—”
Holding her leg fast, he brushed his tentacle over her foot a little more firmly, up and down, from heel to toe. Peals of laughter escaped her. She yanked her foot, but Jax wouldn’t relinquish it, wouldn’t cease his relentless tickling.
“Jax! Stop!” she begged, thrashing on the ground.
He stopped abruptly, though he didn’t release her leg. “Is tickling dangerous to humans?”
Strands of hair hung in Macy’s face as she lay there, taking in great gulps of air. Her stomach ached from laughter. “Yes. And you just killed me.”
Leaning over her, he brushed her hair back. The mirth he’d worn a moment before had been replaced by deep concern.
Macy met his gaze, trying to appear solemn, but she couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I’m fine. I just…need a moment to recover. Tickling can get to be…too much.”
He frowned at her and straightened. Slowly, he ran his gaze down, over her body, settling it on her legs. Leaning back a little more, he tilted his head. His tentacle wound around her calf as it crept up her leg. A moment later, he settled a hand on her bare thigh.
Macy’s breath hitched, and her heart fluttered.
His eyes met hers as he slid his palm up her leg with tantalizing slowness. His fingers kneaded her flesh “This does not tickle?”
Macy could only shake her head. All her focus was on that hand — on the warmth of his touch, the tiny pricks from his claws, and his firm, but gentle grip on her flesh. Heat pulsed in her belly and her sex clenched with need.
Jax stilled his hand when it hit the hem of her dress. His tentacle brushed her inner thigh and halted, as well. “Your scent has changed. It is…sweeter.”
A different heat flooded her. Macy sat up and broke out of his grasp. Unable to meet his gaze, she scooted back, putting some distance between them, and tugged her dress down over her thighs.
How could something as innocent as tickling turn into…this? She’d been so mesmerized by his eyes, so enthralled by his touch, that she’d been tempted to part her thighs and allow him to explore her fully.
Was there something wrong with her, to have spurned Camrin’s touch, but crave Jax’s? Even the thought of his tentacles caressing her made her shiver — not with repulsion, but with want.
Jax didn’t pursue her. He eased down, his eyes never leaving her. He clenched and relaxed his jaw several times, as though he wanted to speak and didn’t know how to begin. Finally, he twisted his torso and fiddled with something behind him.
Curious, Macy lifted her head and watched.
When he turned toward her again, he held a black bundle in his hands. He took it in his tentacles and stretched them forward, placing the bundle on the ground before her.
“I think these are what you spoke of, Macy.” His tentacles withdrew.
She crawled forward, sat on her heels, and peeled the wet fabric back. Once each side lay flat, Macy recognized the item — it was the same sort of suit she’d seen in the museum. A second suit was folded up inside, tucked between two masks.
Macy’s excitement overcame her discomfort, and she flashed Jax a wide smile. “You found two sets?”
“I only brought two,” he said, “in case one does not work.”
“That’s incredible!” She inspected the suits. They were in even better condition than the one from home, despite how old they had to be. “I can’t imagine what else might be down there.”
“I could not tell you what most of it is.”
Macy looked at him. “Do the…ghosts not tell you?”