by Sonya Blake
“Hm. Kind of,” Samuel replied.
“Not same, not same.” The boy waved his hands wildly. “Your idea. Different than my idea. I give it to you. Then it’s yours. Like language.”
“No, it’s not exactly like language,” Samuel said. “It’s more like… music.”
“Music?”
Samuel realized he had not yet introduced the boy to music. Though he didn’t have a regular radio or television, he did have a record player and records stowed in the back of his closet. They were a painful reminder of the only woman he had ever really loved, who had left Quolobit Harbor and him many long and sad years ago.
“Show me music,” Sam commanded.
Samuel looked down at the kid, his messy mop of black hair, sunburn across his nose and cheeks, his huge, curious eyes. His eagerness was hard to resist.
“Please, Dad,” Sam said. “Show me music.”
Samuel could have chosen any record of the two dozen or so he had, but most were flash-in-the-pan folk or rock bands, and it struck him as important to give Samuel the best education he could before sending him out into the real world and putting him in school. So he chose an album of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons and plugged a headset into the record player so the boy could get an undiluted experience of it.
At first the kid went wide-eyed, twitching his head this way and that as he listened to the music, but then he grinned, gasped, and laughed. Samuel sat across the room and watched him all the while, seeing how the child did not disguise what he felt while listening. Tears fell from his eyes at a certain point, and Samuel came over to put a hand on his shoulder.
“The ocean,” the boy explained, holding his fingers to the headset as he looked up at Samuel through his tears. “Music is the ocean.”
Samuel showed him the back of the album case and pointed to the title of the work. “The Four Seasons,” Samuel said. He realized he had put the record B-side up, and the boy was probably on the second track or so. “You’re listening to Autumn.”
“What?” Sam pushed the headset off his head.
“I said, this music is called The Four Seasons. That’s what the composer—the artist—named it. And the part you are listening to now is called Autumn. The season, autumn. You remember the seasons, don’t you?”
“Spring, summer, autumn, winter, yes,” said the boy. “I remember. But I thought this was music.”
“It is. Your painting is of the ocean.” Samuel said. “This music is about autumn.” It was a limited explanation, but it was the best Samuel could come up with.
“Ocean… ” Samuel’s gaze drifted off as his mind worked. “But I heard the ocean.”
“Sure. That’s how all art works. Music, too. The artist doesn’t have that much control over other people, what they will see, or hear, or feel. That’s the point of art, I think. To make people see or feel something for themselves. That’s when it’s good.”
Sam nodded. “Good.” He replaced the headset on his head and lay back on the cushions of the sofa beneath the window, gazing up at the sky as he listened to the rest of the record.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I just remember constantly thinking this body was so… strange,” Sam told Kaia. “Every inch of it was weird and unfamiliar to me. I’d stare at other humans, trying to figure them out, or at myself in the mirror, or just, like, at my body, at my hand, or my foot, or whatever.” He shrugged. “And going to school, ugh, forget it. What a nightmare. Before I really grew into myself and became bigger than most of the other guys, those first few years were really rough.”
“Did you get beat up?” Kaia asked, wincing.
He snorted and nodded, folding his arms across his chest. He felt a sense of relief to be telling someone about himself. These were secrets he’d kept for so long that the truth behind them had almost faded into utter oblivion. It was important that he didn’t forget his truth, and he’d felt it slipping further and further from him in recent months, like it was being leeched away somehow.
Kaia dipped her head and stared at the glow in the glass window of the woodstove door. He knew she’d sensed something was up with him, but she was choosing not to push the issue. He was glad for that, because he didn’t know what he’d tell her. It was just as he’d said—he had suddenly felt that he needed to get home, for no particular reason. It was as strong an urge as the one he’d felt to turn back to her when he was going to leave Foley’s Point after dinner, only that had felt right, and this—this sudden compulsion to sail back to Thursday Island—had felt strange and oily, like a thought that wasn’t his own.
Kaia yawned and stood. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Take one of the lamps with you,” Sam told her. “Just be careful not to drop it, or you’ll burn the place down.” He pointed her toward the kitchen and into his darkened bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Not wanting the pressure of destroying Sam’s home, Kaia opted to bring a long taper candle in a pewter-handled candlestick instead of a lantern. She trailed into the bedroom, which smelled of cedar and linen. She found the bathroom and shut the wrought-iron door latch as she set the candle down on the edge of the sink.
A massive, porcelain claw-footed tub took up most of the long, narrow space, which was lined with raw wood on the walls and ceiling. The floor was covered in a colorful woven rag rug, and a set of fresh, fluffy white towels hung on the rack. Sam’s toothbrush and a scattering of beard trimmings decorated the sink, but the tub was sparkling clean, and beckoning to her.
After peeing, she turned the faucet on the tub and wiggled her fingers under the stream until she got the right temperature. As the tub filled, she dumped in some Epsom salts found in a jar on the shelf and sniffed at Sam’s collection of handmade soaps from Wilde’s Apothecary. One was labeled Winter Forest: sandalwood, smoke, and vetiver. It smelled manly and dark. The other was labeled Moon: lavender, palo santo, and patchouli, which smelled earthy and celestial at the same time, and was perfect for her mood tonight. She ran the bar under the stream and let the water take up its intoxicating scent.
Once the tub was filled and she had sunk herself into it, there came a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she called, sinking deeper into the cloudy water, slightly self-conscious now that they were no longer in the heat of the moment.
Sam ducked in, significantly taller than the bathroom door. A smile brightened his face. “Great tub, isn’t it?” he said.
Kaia lifted a brow. “I think there’s room for two.”
Sam bit his lips and looked down at her with heavy-lidded eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate—perhaps a vestige of his unfamiliarity with his own form—and steam swirled around him as he pulled his shirt overhead and began unbuckling his belt. Kaia let herself greedily take in his body, lean but muscled, with hands and arms that were thick from his work. The elaborate tattoo was striking against his fair skin. Kaia felt her heart quicken as she watched him push down his jeans and boxers. He reached for his toothbrush, utterly un-self-conscious as he began brushing his teeth.
His back to her, she now observed the long, thick scar along his spine where his sealskin had been cut from him and stolen away. The scar was the length of her forearm and thick as her thumb, raised and pink. Other than that, his back was lean and muscled too, and marked with the occasional freckle. His butt-cheeks were firm and downy, giving way to the dusky hair of his thighs. Brushing vigorously, he turned to face her again, giving her a full view of everything else.
“Where’d you learn to make sushi?” he asked, his words garbled by his brushing.
Kaia laughed, impressed by his nonchalance. But of course he had no shame. He’d never learned it. “Took a class,” she answered. “It was a Christmas present from my dad when I was in high school. He got sick of me begging for sushi takeout. Said it was too expensive. I sucked at it at first, but, as with all things, practice and Youtube make perfect.”
Chuckling in agreement, Sam spat and rinsed, then
came to step into the tub. To make room for him, Kaia had to sit up a bit, revealing the tops of her breasts, her nipples bobbing at the top of the milky, clouded water. Sam didn’t seem to be interested in ogling her, though. He groaned with satisfaction and closed his eyes as he sank into the bath.
Eyes still shut, he lifted his arms out of the water and extended his hands to her. “Come,” he said, beckoning her close.
Kaia drifted through the tub’s deep water, sliding in beside him, tucking herself into his body as he wrapped his arms around her. She clasped one of his legs between her thighs, deciding that they were far more comfortable and familiar together—after after only a few days of knowing each other—than she’d been with anybody else, ever.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sam wrapped a towel around Kaia’s shoulders as she stood from the tub. She smiled up at him with soft, sleepy eyes as she scrunched a hand towel against the ends of her curls, which had turned a dark fawn color with the water. He had never felt anything like this before—this urge to take care of another person, to protect them, to shelter them.
“Let me get a look at that gash on your cheek,” he said.
“Oh, it’s not a gash.” Kaia laughed, but consented to let him examine the wound and put some antibiotic ointment on it.
“Your bed looks like a cloud,” she said, when they left the bathroom and he rested the candle on the table beside the bed. The rumpled goose-down coverlet, in a soft gray linen duvet cover, glowed silver as the moon crested the square skylight window directly above. Kaia looked up at it and grinned. “Wow.”
“That’s why I put the skylight in,” Sam explained. “So I could lie here in bed and look up to see the moon and the stars, like I used to from the water.”
Sam sensed that Kaia was feeling shy now, possibly sleepy, maybe even sore from their earlier encounter. He didn’t want to her to feel like he expected anything of her at this moment, other than to sleep in his arms. “I’ll go grab your bag,” he said, making for the door.
But she stopped him with a touch. He let her draw him to the foot of the bed, his pulse quickening as she ran her fingertips over his shoulders and chest. A shiver went through him as she touched his sides, making his muscles flex involuntarily. His skin felt more alive than ever, conscious of every millimeter where hers connected with it. The scent of her shampoo, reactivated by the humidity in the bath, wafted around him like a cloud of hothouse flowers.
“I don’t need anything but this,” she whispered, gently pulling at the back of his neck, bringing him closer as she stood on her toes to kiss him.
She sucked on his lower lip, her warm little tongue darting to meet his with a dancing stroke. His body reacted quickly, heart racing, temperature rising. Soon she was pressing a hand against where he was hard and straining against his tightly-wrapped towel.
He sank onto the bed as she knelt on the floor and tugged at the towel around his hips. When she took his cock in her hand he shut his eyes for a moment to revel in the reality of her touch. But when he felt the heat of her mouth close over him, he had to look at her. Her full, gorgeous lips surrounded his cock as she locked her gaze with his, as she slid her hand up and down, as she squeezed till he thought he’d burst, as she took more and more of him. He wanted to throw his head back and howl, to come like a rocket, but he grabbed the comforter in his fists and trembled, sinking into the pleasure and hanging onto his restraint like a lifeline.
Seeing his state, she drew her mouth away and smirked. She let her towel fall to the floor. He groaned, out of his skull with desire at the sight of her. Cupping her face, he kissed her as he stood and brought her to her feet, his body brushing hers.
“I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.” He wrapped one arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her into the air, swinging her around and bringing her to the side of the bed.
Letting her down gently, he crawled beside her, guiding her onto her belly. Kaia bit her lip and brushed her curls away from her face. She watched him with wide eyes as he knelt beside her and admired the perfect creamy softness of her skin, running a hand down the curve of her spine, and lower.
“I want to look at you,” he said, tracing her curves with his fingertips. “Is that okay?”
“Mmhm,” she hummed, a smile on her lips. She turned her face bashfully to the pillow and kicked up one foot. He caught it, bringing his lips to the tender inside of her arch. He kissed her there, her toes curling against his fingers.
Ducking under her shin, he maneuvered himself between her legs, kneeling with wide knees to nudge her thighs apart. He lifted her hips toward him a fraction and gazed admiringly down at her ass like a split peach in front of him. Seeming to know what he wanted, she lifted and arched her back against his touch, opening herself more as he squeezed her cheeks apart with both hands, gazing down.
Kaia groaned, perhaps in pleasure, perhaps in frustration.
“Tell me,” he said roughly.
She moaned into the pillows. “I want you so bad, it actually hurts.”
He could practically see the ache in her glistening flesh. “Me too,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. His cock felt like it might explode.
“Just feeling you looking at me,” Kaia said, “it’s… it’s driving me insane. Don’t stop.”
“You’re so beautiful,” he told her. The most beautiful human body he’d ever seen. The only one he’d ever seen quite like this.
Kaia was so full of trust, so willing to let him explore; he wanted more and more, but was afraid of pressing boundaries too quickly. Still, he couldn’t resist touching her and gorging himself on the sight of her, pink as a wild rose. Somehow, with one hand and only a very small percentage of his brain, he got the condom on.
“We’re going to have to take this one real slow for my sake,” he told her as he drew her hips to him and pressed inside, feeling her quiver again. “Does it hurt?”
“Only a little,” she peeped, “but in a good way.”
“If it’s too much, you just tell me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the self-control he needed not to pound the living daylights out of her and blow his load in a matter of heartbeats.
Chapter Twenty-Five
His cock burned into her, somehow bigger, harder, better than she remembered. She felt tears sting her eyes as he took her, inch by inch. Finally he filled her. He stayed that way without moving, hands on her waist. Adjusting, she could breathe, at last.
“Okay?” he asked.
His concern was touching; it made tears come hot and fast. She groaned and flexed her spine, rocking her hips in reply to him.
Sam had exposed her like no one ever had, touched her and made her open herself to him in a way that might have made her feel embarrassed and ashamed—yet she didn’t, not with him. She felt beautiful, wild, and strangely at peace.
As he picked up the pace, he struck her core, again and again, and she felt her body coiling, heating toward a massive release. When it happened, she felt like she was suddenly in an earthquake, at its very center, and was only distantly aware of him squeezing her waist with his strong hands and bending over her back, crying out as he came with her.
Kaia collapsed onto the bed, Sam still inside her and partially covering her body with his. He thrust slowly, lazily, hips grinding against her ass as they sank into the mattress together, panting.
“Holy fuck,” he said.
“Holy fuck,” she agreed.
They lay for a long time in silence, bodies cooling together. At last, he rolled toward her and slid one hand over her belly.
“There’s more I need to tell you… about me being a selkie.”
She looked at him across the pillow in the pale moonlight and touched his cheek, glided the backs of her fingers over the thick, glossy brush of his beard.
Sam’s dark eyes rested long on hers before he spoke. “If I ever get my sealskin back, I’ll go back to the water and swim away from here.”
The
way he said it, there was no negotiating the fact. Kaia felt it sink into her like an anchor falling to the sea floor.
“Because… that’s what you would want to do?” she asked.
“I used to think I wanted nothing more than to go back to the water,” Sam admitted after a thoughtful pause. “But no. That’s not how it is for me, now. I don’t want to leave land forever. I’ve lived half my life here. I have friends here. My dad lives here. Anyway, that’s not how the curse works. If someone takes a selkie’s skin he’s enslaved to them. And if he gets it back, he’ll be compelled to leave land, forever.”
Kaia felt some part of her heart that had been dancing go still. He was trying to tell her he’d leave her. He called it a curse, yet he spoke with such frankness, as if he’d already accepted his fate.
“You must feel like it’s a time bomb ticking, waiting to go off the minute you get your sealskin back,” she said.
“It makes me cautious,” he said, “about getting too settled here on land.”
She could easily read between the lines on that one.
“Now don’t—don’t think like that,” Sam said, moving closer, cradling her face. “You’re changing everything for me, Kaia. Changing my whole world.”
“But you’re not sure what that means yet.”
“My world has changed once already,” Sam said, “and it was traumatic, I’m not gonna lie.”
She felt his chest fill with air, then deflate as he sighed. Part of her wanted to comfort him, to tell him no more harm would come to him, but she couldn’t make him a promise like that any more than he could tell her he’d never leave her. For the moment she had no choice but to resign herself to being suspended between the deep satisfaction she felt with Sam and the certainty she knew he couldn’t give her.
“Let’s take it one day at a time, then,” she suggested, running a hand through his hair.