It's a lie. I know he hates slugs. Any sane creature with functioning taste buds knows they taste like rubber dipped in rotting mud.
But he's lying to protect my pride.
The selfless kindness of his lie shatters my defenses. My dark face brightens. A tiny, relieved spark lights up my eyes. I nod at him. I hurry over to the glowing copper cage. It doubles as a cooking stove. I begin to prepare our terrible meal.
We all eat the meal together in silence.
The gray slugs are as terrible and chewy as I remembered. But Vaelis heroically eats every bite on his plate. I watch his throat work as he swallows the tough meat. I gain spiritual nourishment from watching him consume calories.
When the makeshift plates are empty, I rise.
I move to a high salvage shelf. I retrieve a corked container containing clean ocean water, placing it near the engine's hot exhaust pipe until the water is warm and soothing. I grab a clean, soft cotton cloth from my limited supplies. I grab the small glass jar of green poultice smelling of numbing-weed.
I swim back over to the bed of nets. I point a heavy finger to his injured shoulder.
Clean, I gesture with my scarred hands.
Vaelis nods, his golden eyes tracking my every motion. "Okay."
He reaches his good right arm across his body, the movement stiff with disuse. He grips the ragged hem of his transparent mesh vest. It's the exact same shredded, ruined uniform he was drafted in.
He attempts to pull the ruined garment over his head. The awkward upward movement pulls at his torn shoulder muscle. A sharp gasp escapes his lips, his body freezing mid-motion.
My hands are there in a heartbeat.
I stop him from moving. I shake my heavy head.Let me do it.
The small, razor-sharp hunting knife appears in my hand as if by magic. I move with surgical precision. I slide the cold metal under the straps of the ruined vest. I cut the fabric away. I peel the bloody mesh from his pale skin. The ruined vest falls to the floor. He's bare from the waist up, lean and fiercely sculpted by the harsh currents of the Reef. I trace the hard line of his collarbone with my thumb.
I abandon the hunting knife in the dirt. I use the clean cotton cloth with the heated water. I drop to my knees in the white sand, aligning my scarred bulk right beside the bright flare of his crimson fins.
I reach across the small space between us.
My calloused fingers graze the smooth, bare skin of his uninjured right shoulder.
Vaelis flinches at the contact.
It's not from pain. It's from the harsh texture of my own body.
My skin is nothing like his. It is not smooth, slick, or beautiful. It's composed of tiny dermal denticles. It feels like fine-grain sandpaper. My rough hand scrapes against his softness.
I freeze in terror.
I snatch my hand away, burying my rough fist against my own chest. Panic floods my vision. I'm a clumsy, ruinous beast. I am a monster built for violence. The sheer proximity of my body causes him pain.
"No," Vaelis whispers, catching my frantic expression. "It's alright. Please don't stop."
I search his pale face for any sign of deception. There is none. The pain has vanished from his golden eyes, replaced by something else. Something warm and deep.
I reach out again. My movements are agonizingly gentle.
I run the warm, cloth over the elegant curve of his neck. I wash away the dried sweat and the bitter ocean salt. I clean the center of his chest, my movements slow and rhythmic. I avoid the torn shoulder wound, circling around the injury with a reverence that makes his breath hitch in his throat.
My rough, calloused fingers trace the fine ridges of his ribs. The physical contrast between us steals the breath from my gills. The grit of my shark skin gliding over the silken slide of his scales is a potent drug. It creates a friction sparking electric in the charged water.
His breathing quickens. His chest rises and falls with a jagged, frantic rhythm beneath my palms.
I force my focus back to the simple task. My pupils blow wide in the dim light, eclipsing the dark iris. I watch my scarred hands move over his flawless body. The stark difference between beast and prince should shame me, but I crave it. I love the way his sun-kissed, luminescent skin glows against mine. I love the trusting sigh of his rigid muscles softening under my rough touch.
