Page 25 of Wolf Fated
"I've never been out on the ocean this far." I copied his movements, planting my fishing pole as he'd done his. "My dad and I fished on lakes and rivers. Once we went out on a long pier in the gulf but didn't catch anything but half of a plastic bottle."
"Then you are in for a treat." He set the empty bucket down and whistled at the captain.
"Bought time you were ready," the man grumbled. "Been waiting forever." He dropped two buckets of fish bait at their feet.
"Thank you," I said.
He grunted, muttering something about bad luck for a woman to be on a boat.
"What about you?" I asked, suddenly wanting to know more about this man. "Who taught you to fish?"
"You won't believe me." He grabbed a fish head out of the bucket and pierced it onto his hook.
"What? You're self-taught?" I could see that. There was a commanding presence about him. Like he was a natural leader or something.
He wiped his hands on his fishing pants. "A Shaman taught me how to fish and build a fire. How to hunt."
"A Shaman?" I wrinkled my brow, trying to figure out if there was some hidden meaning to this. "I thought they dealt with magic and medicine." Did that mean that Axel was Native American? I looked at his profile to see any resemblance. Aside from his amber eyes, he did have chiseled cheekbones and an exotic look to his features. But his hair was dark brown and curly and his skin, though darker than mine, was fairer than someone of a tribe.
"That's what the history books teach, but history is far different from dates and boxes to check."
"You sound like you're talking from experience."
"Get your bait ready." He turned away, facing the ocean and I felt shut out of any further conversation on the subject, but that didn't mean I wouldn't try again.
The boat sailed out for another hour hitting the crust of the waves. I held onto the railing, fearing I'd be flung off at any moment. My stomach lurched with each passing second. If I could just hold on, when we stopped, it would get better. I kept telling myself.
And when the boat finally did slow, I sat down in one of the empty chairs and put my hands on my head. Nothing was working to quell nausea rushing through me. I slid off the chair and sank to the floor of the deck. My head spun and I grabbed the empty bucket and vomited over and over.
"Hey, there, Brook." Axel knelt beside me, rubbing my back. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling ill?"
I threw up again. My insides trying to crawl out my mouth. And I couldn't tell him that I wanted to do this for my father and for myself. That I hadn't gone fishing since my dad died. How I didn't want to disappoint him or Axel and yet, here I was, puking my guts out.
"Here." Axel pushed on my wrist and I tried to jerk back. "Stop, this will help. And take off your shoes."
"What?" I couldn't even fathom what he was saying.
"Your shoes, take them off." He eased me back. "I need to reach those pressure points."
I shook my head, my stomach heaving again.
"Charlie, bring the motion-sickness patches," Axel yelled.
Before I knew it, Axel had me pushed back on my ass, my shoes off and my feet in this lap. He massaged a point on top of my foot in between my toes and my ankle. Charlie had grudgingly brought a small box and Axel applied a circular patch behind each of my ears.
"Normally, you only need one, but we're combating sea sickness at the height of it now." He rubbed my feet again. "Don't look at me, look out on the horizon, feel the waves. Let them wash through you. Stop fighting them. Give in."
That was something I'd struggled with my entire life. I didn't do drugs because I wanted to be in control. Life was chaotic enough. I didn't need to add to it by not driving.
After what felt like forever though, I grew less aware of my nausea and more of Axel's touch on my skin. His fingers were trailing up my legs, massaging and stroking up and down. My breath caught in my throat, thinking that I should tell him to stop, that I was feeling better, but I couldn't. It was like he was stoking a fire in me... one that had never before been lit.
I didn't want him to stop. But this was wrong.
"Um... thanks." I squirmed out of his reach and cleared my throat. "I'm better now."
He tilted his head to the side, examining me, but didn't call my bluff. "All right." He stood, towering over me like a muscled mountain and reached out a hand to help me up. "Let's see just how good at fishing you really are."
"You're on." I took his hand and stood. "Winner gets bragging rights?"
