Jax was uneasy, leaving Macy alone; there was a sinking feeling in his gut, and his throat was tight. He couldn’t shake the sense of blind, nervous anticipation. Something was going to happen.
He kept his hunt short, gathering a few of the hard-shelled bottom-dwellers scuttling amidst the rocks and vegetation below the tunnel opening. He slid a claw between the armor segments behind their eyes to kill them; their underbellies were unprotected, the meat sweet and easy to access. Hopefully, humans could eat them without getting sick.
Though collecting his prey was a simple task, his hearts were racing by the time he finished. He hurried to the tunnel and dragged himself through rapidly. Perhaps she’d talk to him again, as the food cooked, and he’d be granted another glimpse of the female behind the sorrow and anger.
I am the reason she is sad, the reason she is angry.
The truth was unavoidable. He was keeping Macy against her will. It was just as damaging as her need to give everything to the other humans without leaving anything for herself, if not more so.
Arkon had a word that seemed fitting now; Jax was a hypocrite.
Though he railed against being contained, though he resisted the commands of others and sought his own path, he’d stolen Macy’s freedom without a second thought. What did it matter that she was a human, or that their peoples shared a violent history? She was a thinking being, an emotional being, and seemed to possess many of the same yearnings as Jax himself.
He emerged from the tunnel, lifted his head over the surface, and swam to the island. As he laid the hard-shells on the ground, he glanced at her shelter. Even through her anger, she’d cast appreciative glances at him each time he’d returned with fresh food; he longed to see that expression now.
She wasn’t there.
Jax pulled himself onto the island and moved to its center. She wasn’t looking through the containers, and he didn’t see her in the water. It was only when his hearts resumed their pounding that he heard a rustling of leaves.
He turned to the waterfall just as a small rock fell from the cliffside. It clacked noisily on the ledge and rolled into the water.
Jax tilted his head back. The breath fled his lungs when he saw Macy clutching the vines, halfway up the cliff face.
Surging forward, he plunged into the pool and called her name as soon as he had air enough to make the sound. Though he spent little time outside the water, he knew things worked differently in the air. Things fell differently.
Macy gasped and looked down at him. Just as their eyes met, the plants she held tore free. She screamed and fell backward. The vine caught with a jolt and Macy slammed into the cliffside before the plants snapped. She dropped.
He heard nothing but her scream and his thundering hearts as he leapt onto the ledge. Cold fear flowed through him, but his chest burned. He couldn’t tell if his lungs were too full or too empty.
She hit him in the chest. He wrapped his arms around her as the impact knocked them into the water, reaching out with his front tentacles for some purchase on the rocks. Macy thrashed, kicking wildly and swinging her arms. They were under for three heartbeats before Jax gained a strong enough hold to pull back onto the ground. He kept her in his arms.
Macy coughed, spitting up water. Her soaked hair hung around her face, and her fingers clutched his arms tightly enough for her blunt fingernails to feel like claws. She sagged against him and breathed raggedly.
She was frightened, but he didn’t think she was hurt.
If he’d returned even a few moments later…
Jax’s relief was swept away on a tide of fury. If he understood the danger of what she’d done, Macy had undoubtedly known the risk.
“Were you trying to kill yourself?” he demanded.
Macy stiffened and reared back. “I had to try!”
Her response should have cooled him. He had offered similar reasoning in his youth when his early explorations had resulted in injury or near-death. But it only angered him further.
He caught her wrists with two tentacles and pressed her against the wall, pinning her with his body.
She arched her back and strained to pull free. “Let me go!”
He took hold of her face, forcing her eyes to his. “So you can die? If I wished you dead, I would have let it happen during the storm!”
“Why didn’t you?” She glared at him and bared her teeth. “If I’m going to die in this damned cave, why not let it be now? Why are you keeping me here?”
“Because you are a treasure I plucked from the sea, and you are mine!” he roared.
Macy gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. She’d gone completely still.
Only her shocked expression made him realize what he’d said. It was the truth, the heart of his motivation, the thing he’d denied — even to himself. He desired her, was drawn in by her allure, and she roused his curiosity…but it wasn’t enough. He needed to claim her. Had needed to since his first glimpse during the storm.
“You are mine,” he repeated, “and I will not let you go.”
She struggled to free her arms, holding his gaze with hers. “You’re a monster.”
Jax’s chest constricted. Hearing that from her, spoken with such fury, was more painful than he could have imagined.
He released her, and she fell her knees.
Vision clouded by rage, he lashed out, tearing the vines off the cliffside with claws and tentacles and throwing them into the pool behind him. Brittle, dead growth snapped and poked at him, and bits of rock and dirt tumbled down, but he didn’t stop. He attacked them like they were his most hated foe.
They had nearly taken Macy from him.
When there were no more vines within reach, he turned to Macy and leaned over her, chest heaving.
Shock and fear had replaced her anger.
“Kraken are exactly what humans made us to be,” he growled.
Jax plunged into the water before either of them could say anything more. He had never known such fury, had never allowed it to so fully drive his actions. A small part of him — a part that had somehow maintained a semblance of control — insisted he leave before he turned his rage upon her. Whatever she’d said, whatever she’d done, she didn’t deserve his wrath.
If anyone deserved that, it was Jax himself.
Chapter 8
You’re a monster.
Each time the words echoed through Macy’s mind, she saw the hurt in Jax’s eyes, the flicker of pain on his face that preceded his rage.
I didn’t mean it.
She stared at the dark water he’d disappeared into, willing him to come back so she could apologize. But he didn’t return.
Macy staggered to her feet, braced a hand on the cliffside for balance, and looked around. Torn vines lay everywhere. She glanced up, reminding herself just how tall the cliff was. Just how far she’d fallen.
It had been foolish. Dangerous and foolish. If Jax hadn’t returned when he did, she would’ve died. All because of guilt…and pride.
She stepped through the vines and dropped into the pool. Her body made her aware of every ache and pain as she swam. She pulled herself onto the island with weak, shaky arms, and for a time could do little more than lie on the ground with water pooling around her.
Macy felt more alone than ever.
She shifted her gaze, and her chest ached; three Halorian lobsters were piled nearby.
The fishermen back home often set traps for the bottom-dwelling creatures, but the lobsters were cautious. The traps needed to be left undisturbed for days at a time before they’d catch anything. As difficult as they were to obtain, they were one of Macy’s favorite foods.
And Jax had caught these for her.
She looked back at the shadowed portion of the cave.
Macy had always thought of herself as practical and hardworking — one problem at a time, just like her father always said. She woke early every morning, put in long hours tending the fields and greenhouses, and helped her neighbors however she could. Weaving baskets, co
oking meals, sewing clothes, repairing roofs; anything. Whatever urges to wander and explore she’d felt as a child had been quashed by Sarina’s death.
Everyone had a part to play in The Watch…and people rarely left.
There were other settlements out there, but the nearest was weeks away by land, and what would be different in any of them apart from the people’s faces?
You have not been feeding yourself, Macy.
Jax’s words had hurt because he was right. After Sarina’s death, Macy thought she needed to make up for her sister’s absence, that she had to be the best daughter she could be. She’d done the work of two people. All to ensure the people around her were happy and wanted for nothing.
She’d tip-toed around her mother, who’d never forgiven Macy for what had happened, and performed every chore without complaint, held her tongue through every hurtful comment. Despite her misgivings, Macy would have done everything to keep Camrin content after their joining.
Macy hadn’t been living. The people around her had slowly drained her life, a little a time. There’d been no maliciousness in it. They kept taking because she kept giving.
Her father and Aymee had tried, in their own, subtle ways, to steer her away from that behavior. She saw it now. But they’d been too gentle — or Macy too stubborn — to change anything.
The choice had never been theirs to make. It had always belonged to Macy; she was the only person who could’ve altered her course.
Would it be so bad? To…to remain here with Jax?
Could it even work? They were from different worlds. She had needs that he didn’t; he lived in water, and she on land. He was…other.
What would she be to him? A belonging, a prisoner?
Or…a friend?
Despite everything, she enjoyed her conversations with Jax. She took delight in the wonder and curiosity he exhibited. He awoke the same in her; Jax was fascinating, and she wanted to know more about him and his kind.
Let your people think you died in the storm.
Could she? Could she go on, knowing that her family and friends mourned her?
It was insane and selfish, but it was also…freeing. Her death would allow Camrin to move on. He had friends and family to comfort him through his grief, and, in time, he’d find someone to love him as he deserved. To love him like Macy couldn’t.
Ultimately, what choice did she have? Jax refused to let her go. It angered her, but she understood. His need to protect his people superseded all else. She could continue to fight against him…or, she could accept her circumstances and work within them.
If she wanted to eventually get out of here, perhaps the best route was to befriend Jax. To earn his trust in the hope that, one day, her word would be enough for him.
Though she was sore from head to toe, Macy stood up and went to work. She laid new grass and driftwood on the ashes of her last fire and covered it with the empty crate. After refilling the metal bucket with water from the pool, she hauled it back to the shelter and set it atop the container.
It wasn’t until she dropped the lobsters into the bucket that she realized she had no way to start the fire. Jax hadn’t allowed her to touch the gun.
She settled down under her shelter to wait. Soon, her eyelids grew heavy, and she gave in to sleep.
A splash startled her awake. She sat up, heart thumping. It felt like she’d only closed her eyes for a moment, but the cave was dim, with no direct sunlight coming through the opening.
Macy searched the water. “Jax?”
Movement caught her attention; Jax emerged from the shadows and swam toward the island.
Relief spread through her, paired with something more. She was wary, yes — what would he say, after what she’d called him? — but it didn’t explain the warmth spreading through her belly.
He’d come back.
He stopped at the edge of the island, eyes fixed on hers. They stared at one another in silence.
“Macy, I—”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted; she needed to get the words out, needed him to know. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you’re a monster. I should never have said that.”
Jax closed his mouth, brow furrowed. He searched her face. “You said it because of the way I’ve acted toward you. I am sorry for the way I’ve treated you, Macy. For taking away your choice.”
His guilt was plain on his features. He had as little choice in the matter she did. What would his people do if they knew he had her? That he’d revealed himself, revealed his existence, to a human? They clearly considered humans a threat, and there was something he’d said before he left…
“I know. I understand.” She folded her hands in her lap and dropped her gaze to them. “What did you mean, before, about kraken being as humans made you?”
“You truly do not know?”
“Know what, Jax?”
“Kraken were created by humans, long ago.”
“What? I don’t…” She shook her head. “You can’t mean…made you, right?”
“That is exactly what I mean,” he replied, gaze unwavering. “Humans used their technology to make kraken, in the ancient times.”
“But…there are no reports, no stories, nothing!”
“There are, in our home. The ghosts speak of it, and the Computer. We were created by humans to do work they could not.”
Macy’s mind raced, but she could barely comprehend what he’d told her. If it was true, it explained how his people existed, despite the pre-colonization scans of Halora — public record to this day — indicating the planet was devoid of sapient life. But why was there nothing in The Watch about them?
Why was there no record of wherever it was the kraken lived?
“How? How were you made?” she asked.
“I do not understand the words the ghosts use when they speak of such things.”
Macy stood and approached Jax. She knelt on the edge of the island, just in front of him, and held out her hand.
He looked at it and raised a questioning gaze to her. Hesitantly, he took her hand, but she turned her palm to press flat against his, lining up their splayed fingers. His hand was larger, but — apart from the webbing between his fingers and his sharp claws — was just like hers.
She studied his face next. There was so much human in him. Did he realize it? Could it really be a coincidence? She brushed her fingers along the ridge of his brow and trailed them down the side of his face.
His nostrils flared, and his shoulders rose with a deep inhalation. Slowly, he lifted his free hand and touched his fingertips to her cheek, running them downward to trace the line of her jaw. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch, and heat rippled through her, pooling in her belly. She locked eyes with him.
“Your skin has changed again.” His voice was rougher, huskier, seeming to rumble into her through the points of contact between them.
Her heart fluttered, and she felt a sudden need for more. Instead, she pulled back, breaking away from him. Nervously, she tucked her hair behind her ear and stood.
Jax caught her calf before she could retreat. Her breath hitched; his touch burned sweetly.
“What are these marks, Macy?”
“What marks?” She angled her leg to see. He didn’t remove his hand, maintaining that light, fiery contact.
Her leg was a patchwork of scrapes and bruises from the top of her foot to her knee, undoubtedly the result of slamming into the cliffside during her failed climb. She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing more bruises on her thigh. Based on the way her side felt, she was sure there was bruising there, too. It was minor compared to what she might’ve suffered.
He leaned forward, and his eyes trailed fire over her skin. It was ridiculous; there was nothing sexual about it, and she didn’t understand why she was reacting in that fashion.
“They are wounds, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Yeah. They’re bruises. You don’t…bruise?”
“Are they…tender? When pressure i
s placed on them?”
“Yes, and they change color as they heal.”
“I think we bruise, too,” he said. “Skin in such spots will not change color properly for a day or so, and touching them causes minor pain.”
He slid his hand down the back of her leg, following the curve of her calf and cupping her heel before allowing her to lower her foot. Their eyes were locked the whole time; Macy’s heart beat rapidly, her breasts ached, and her sex clenched.
What is happening to me?
Macy stepped away. She felt detached from her own body, no longer in control of it. Camrin’s touch had never elicited such responses.
“Would you start the fire, please?”
Jax was silent for a few seconds, brow creased — he was studying her again, searching her. She moved back as he pulled himself onto the island. Water sluiced down his skin. She watched the play of powerful muscles beneath his flesh, and the heat at her core was, for an instant, hotter than any flame.
He twisted, and a splotch of color caught her eye — the gun was strapped to the upper part of one of his tentacles with a piece of rope. He untied it and took the weapon in hand. Grasping it by the barrel, he met Macy’s gaze, and held the gun to her, grip-first.
Macy frowned. “I…don’t understand.”
“This is the power setting,” he said, pointing to a knob on the side. “And here, behind the trigger, is the on and off button.” He extended his arm fully. “This…is my trust. Do you understand now?”
“Even after what I did? Tricking you so I could escape?”
“I would have done the same if our places were reversed. I do not want you to be my prisoner.”
Her chest tightened, but it wasn’t from pain or sadness; it was elation. She smiled and took the gun.
“Thank you. I…” Her smile faded, and she bit her bottom lip.
“What is wrong, Macy?”
She walked to her shelter, running the words through her mind as she crouched to light the fire. She felt Jax’s eyes on her; he was awaiting an answer. Lowering herself to the ground, she placed the gun aside, took a deep breath, and looked at him.
“I thought about what you said.”
The Kraken Series Boxset: A Sci-fi Alien Romance Series Books 1-3 with Bonus Exclusive Short Story Page 8