“Okay.” The last time a man told me he was going to teach me something he just took it away from me, called me stupid, and did it himself.
We’ll see how this showing me goes.
Vael refuses to do the work for me, though. Instead, he drops a handful of moss into my lap, places two chunks of rock in my hands, and kneels on the cave floor beside me.
"Strike," he commands.
I hit the rocks together. Nothing happens except a dull scraping sound.
“Again,” he says.
I try again, harder, missing the moss entirely and nearly bruising my thumb.
Vael lets out a heavy sigh.
Here we go. Here’s the part where he tells me I’m dumb and takes it from me.
But he moves closer, his heat instantly cutting through the chill of the cenote. Clamping his hand right over mine, he adjusts my grip, tilting my wrist a fraction of an inch to correct the angle.
"Down," he growls softly against my ear. "With force."
We strike together.
A spark flies from the stone, landing directly on the moss. A ribbon of smoke rises, and I quickly blow on the embers until a small flame catches the vines.
I have no idea how something that looked so green can catch, but maybe earth rules of thermodynamics or whatever don’t apply here.
Vael steps back, looking down at me with a mixture of pity and wonder. "A species that cannot command fire without a machine," he murmurs. "It is a miracle your species survived long enough to leave your atmosphere."
"Yeah, well, we're full of surprises," I grumble, though the heat of the fire is an instant relief. “Thank you,” I tell him. “You’re a good teacher.”
“I am not,” he says, frowning at me. “How poor were your teachers if that was an example of good instruction?”
That makes me laugh. “Well, lets just say that the last time a boyfriend tried to teach me something he called me stupid and took it out of my hands.”
His fangs show as he smiles. “Tell me this boyfriend’s name. I can teach him something.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What?”
“I will teach him what happens when one calls my female names. You are not stupid, Poppy. I will kill him if you like.” Vael slices into the fish with his claws, and frankly, it’s pretty damn terrifying.
I make a mental note not to let him touch me down there again with those talons.
“Ah,” I make a delicate noise. “I think we have bigger fish to fry.”
I snort at my joke.
“We aren’t frying the fish. That would require oil.”
A moment later, a thick fillet of the shark sizzles on a stick over our fire.Myfire.
While Vael watches the meat, I sit near the carcass with a flat stone, hammering the remaining rows of teeth out of the shark's jaw. They are sharp, and I have a feeling we’re going to need sharp.
Waste not want not shark teeth later or something.
Vael-Torin wrinkles his nose, his tail twitching in the dirt. "This collection is morbid, Poppy."
"It’s called resourcefulness," I say, wiping a smudge of fish blood onto my jumpsuit and stacking the teeth in a pile. “I don’t have talons. Or fangs. I can use some extra teeth.”
