by Nara Malone
Beside her the foal shifted to her belly, stretching her neck and bumping her damp muzzle against Maille’s arm. Maille got to her feet.
The distant bang of the screen door told her Ronin was leaving. She should have handled that better. She’d taken the coward’s way out, but when she looked into those eyes of his—dark and compelling as a moonshadow—she never wanted to look away, let alone tell him to go away.
The foal’s hot breath tickled Maille’s toes. The filly scrabbled at the ground, trying to get her legs under her, but only managed to push herself back over on her side.
Maille backed out of the nest and knelt beside a tide pool a few feet away, washing resentment from her heart as she washed sand from her hands.
Gram had made the best of a tough situation when her daughter, Cara, had left her newborn and never looked back. Not until Gram’s death and the county social worker forced Cara to return.
Ronin, moving up the beach toward her rather than away, distracted her. Still interested in finishing what he started?
Maybe it was the knowledge that her grandmother and her mother had both had their lives irrevocably changed by a tourist on a moonlit beach. Not that it was possible for Ronin to change hers in the same way. Maille used birth control religiously. But she watched both women get that far-off look on nights like this, never having taken another man after that one, looking longingly to the sea as if he’d been carried off and might someday reappear there. That longing, probably even more than her strange, silent infant, had driven Cara to live in the desert as far from the ocean as she could get.
It was a remedy Maille finally understood. Being here, with the sea ringing in her ears, made her long for things that could never be. Made her wish Ronin could be real. Wish he could be hers for more than a night.
If she let Ronin take her over, let go with him, there were only two possible outcomes. Either this man she wanted more than she had ever wanted a man was real. Was a tourist who would be gone in the morning, leaving her to a lifetime of looking at the sea where she’d found him and wishing it would give him back. Or he wasn’t real and she’d break free from this limbo into whatever waited on the other side of life. Neither option included keeping Ronin.
Fear zapped at her belly. She was tired of being controlled by perceptions with no grounding in fact. She would give Ronin what he wanted and deal with the consequences as they came.
Chapter Five
Cursing himself as seven kinds of a fool, Ronin scrambled through the deep sand, following what he hoped was the stallion’s trail. She’d gone off with Trey. If Ronin just left her to it, he’d be free to walk away from the curse when the sun rose.
Still something about Mere’s admissions smacked of a trick. He just hadn’t worked out what the trick was. Did she fear Maille might have the power to set Ronin free? Had she goaded Ronin with her story so he would try harder with Maille?
Or was Maille the one who needed protecting?
It wasn’t Mere’s nature to be maternal and concerned about anyone but Mere. She’d left something important out during their chat. Perhaps breaking the curse would confer some level of power to Maille. Power that posed some threat to Mere. That sounded more like Mere.
Question was, did he really care about the power struggles of the Goddesses and mortals? Or hybrid mortals? Or whatever sort of magickal being Trey and company were?
He didn’t.
Should he care?
He did care about Maille. He cared beyond the guilt over his past failings. He cared beyond the usual bond he shared with an intended.
He’d check on Maille and be sure she was okay. He’d wait out the dawn with her, or perhaps leave her with the stallion if that was what she wanted. He just had to be sure she was safe. She could break the curse, give him back his life. While every instinct screamed he should head the other direction and keep walking until morning, he couldn’t.
He wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but he’d acquired a bit of a conscience—royal bother that.
He followed hoof prints as far as the water. He’d miss his night vision when he was mortal again. The fully risen moon cast more light than he needed to find his way. The trail vanished. But his binding spell was still in place to guide him. It may not have as much impact on Maille as he’d like, but Ronin could feel a tug when he turned in the direction that led to Maille.
She knelt by a tide pool. No sign of the stallion. Soft scrabbling and miniature snorts of a foal nearby caught him off guard. He stopped, keeping the tide pool between them. Still too close. The whole ocean between them wouldn’t be enough to curb the rise of desire at the sight of her lithe body in the moonlight.
“I know you said I should go,” he explained when she looked up. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay. Stallions can be dangerous.”
“Sorry to run off on you. There’s a newborn filly tucked in a nest between the dunes. Abandoned from the look of it. I’m just keeping a watch, hoping the mother will be back.”
It was time to go. She’d handed him all the excuse he needed. Time to look away. But when she lifted her chin, when the wind caught her hair, when the moonlight illuminated her sadness… He couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t turn away.
He resisted moving closer. “Is there something I can get you? Your clothes? You must be cold.”
She chewed her bottom lip then ducked her head. His attention followed hers, down to those ten dainty toes wriggling in the sand. “A robe would be nice.”
Up on the cliffs, the wolves launched into a chorus of howls. A mournful whinny from the stallion, barely audible he was so far off.
Maille hugged herself. She added in a rush, “Maybe a lighter and paper would be good too. I’ll build a driftwood fire to hold back the wolves or lurking threats until the mare returns.”
The wolves were no threat. Ronin couldn’t say so without some explanation of how he knew.
“Right then, I’ll get some things for you. Won’t take a minute.” He turned away and then back again. “Stay right there. Don’t go off again.”
She shot him a shy smile over her shoulder. “I’ll be waiting.” Did that sultry tone carry more weight than the words themselves conveyed or was his imagination running off with him?
He ran back to the cottage when he should have walked. Would that he was back in a selkie body and had to wriggle across the sand on his belly. Anything that could get the sun to rise before he did something stupid. Yet he hurried, grabbing things she had requested and grabbing more than that, things that would probably ensure he spent eternity at the bottom of the sea.
The binding spell gnawed at his belly, set his nerves a jitter. He couldn’t bear having her out of sight. Maille, however, hadn’t seemed disturbed by separation. He ran back to her.
Once he had Maille snug in a robe, they moved quietly around the edge of the dunes, gathering driftwood and stacking it on the far side of the tide pool where they could keep watch over the little one.
It surprised Ronan how easily they fell into step, their motions mirroring each other instinctively. Usually mirroring was something deliberate and calculated on his part, meant to build rapport with the woman he was seducing. With Maille it happened without thought. Perhaps the practice had evolved to habit, but he didn’t think so. It was more her mirroring him than the other way around.
She didn’t speak as they worked—an air of resignation permeated the air. His that he’d have to resist temptation and give up the idea of making love to Maille. Hers… He didn’t know what she’d resigned herself to, but he wanted desperately to distract her. Contemplating the reasons for her sadness led to contemplating ways he could make her forget sorrow. His hands twitched with longing to skim over the exquisite silk expanse of her skin, cup those full breasts, dip in a finger to swipe a taste of her desire.
“Fuck.” He dropped the few sticks he’d gathered, hopping around on one foot before landing on his butt in the sand. He cocked his foot over one knee to examine the damage. “Fucking cock
lebur.”
Maille tossed an armload of wood on the pile they were building, before joining him. “Here, let me see.”
It had lodged in the tender part of his arch and already the spine’s oils were irritating like bee venom. Not that he’d admit it. “It’s nothing.”
Bracketing his foot between her hands, she leaned so close he could feel her exhale. Curiously the sting eased under her breath’s caress.
“There’s a trick to this,” she said. “If I still have the knack it won’t leave any fragments behind to irritate.”
She circled the spot, her fingertip dragging along the sensitive skin. He dug fingers in the sand and bit his lip to keep silent. Goddess! That tickled. With a flick of her nail, the offending burr was gone.
Maille kissed his arch. “All better.” She stood.
A fine shower of sand sprinkled his skin when the breeze caught her robe.
“I’ll get more wood. You get the fire going,” she said.
Ronin stared at the spot she’d kissed. His fire was going. He looked at the sky, gauging. Maybe an hour left.
She wanted him. He could scent her arousal. Nectar calling. How the fuck was he to make it another hour? He scraped his brain for a safe topic to discuss. After three hundred and twenty-two cursed years his polite conversation skills were rusty.
“How’s your knee, love?”
“Fine.”
He tried again. “Do you remember anything more about how you hurt it?” He knelt by the fire, coaxed a paper and kindling to light, then started feeding small twigs to the crackling flames.
She started shaking her head but stopped, scooping a handful of sand, then watching it sift through her fingers. She seemed to stare at the fire through the shower of sand.
“Snow and fire,” she murmured. The way she said it was more like a question, as if she wanted him to confirm it. When she reached to the flames, Ronin leapt, capturing her hand before she could burn it.
“Maille?”
“There was a wolf.” Her tone was dreaming and distant. “He had eyes like yellow flames. I’d collapsed or fainted or something. When he woke me, I was staring right into those eyes.”
His fingers tightened around her hands, he sat cross-legged and pulled her onto his lap.
“You said fire and snow. What does snow have to do with it?”
She nodded. “I was lost in the fog that rolled in after lunch. Then wind blew up a snow storm to take its place. The temperature plummeted.”
She was shivering. He hugged her tighter. “I wasn’t dressed for it. It was so cold.”
“I’ve got you. Keep going. What happened next?”
“I fell, cracked my knee against a rock. I did try to keep going, but I must have lost consciousness. Then there was the wolf. I must have been out of my mind, but I followed him.”
“Where?”
“To a shabby mansion. It looked like something right out of one of those old Goth movies.”
“Did it?” What the hell was a Goth movie? “Maybe if you describe it, it’ll help you remember more.”
“Tall, dark and spooky.”
“Ah, that’d be Shadowling Manor.”
“I still don’t know how I got from there to here.”
If she’d gotten here from Shadowling, it was probably best not to delve deeply into the how. She cuddled against his chest as he watched a small tongue of fire catch in larger branches, going to flame and then flame going to blaze. He maneuvered her back to the pile of blankets and pillows he’d arranged between dune and fire, sheltered from the wind. Her skin still unnaturally cold.
Her feet were like ice. He massaged them, gentle circles of his thumbs along the arches, fingers cupping and warming her toes. He made no move to take the intimacy to a new level, letting her have the control.
Maille nestled her head under his chin, her finger absently traced the pattern of a heart on his chest while she considered what he’d said.
“I grew up here. I must have hiked those cliffs a thousand times. I have never seen Shadowling.”
“It’s remote. Hard to find even if you’ve been there before.” Truth was you couldn’t find it at all except on special nights when sex magick called it up from the ether.
Her skin was warming and her breath quickening, all signs she was growing more ready, but her thoughtful sigh was weighted with sadness.
“What, love?”
She shrugged. “This sounds crazy. I had this idea at first that I must be in a coma or something. That’s why I couldn’t figure out how I got to the beach. That maybe a coma is like a lucid dream. I know I’m dreaming and I can’t get out.”
“You feel like a real flesh and blood woman to me.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say he was a real flesh and blood man. He wasn’t sure what he was anymore. Well, he was sure of one thing. He was not a liar.
She pressed one palm over his heart. As if by magnetic pull, a responsive tug stirred in his chest.
“I thought you were like a grim reaper or something,” she said, “here to escort me to the other side.”
He covered her hand with his. Could feel the beat of both their pulses cupped in his hand. As if he held their fates safe. He didn’t. Should he grasp what pleasure they could share now, or toss it away—as if casting dice—and see what fate would deliver?
“Ah, Maille mine, I don’t know much about the afterlife. I would suppose grim reapers don’t need anyone to rescue their sorry asses from rip currents.”
She giggled. “Good point.”
He pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her softly herbal scent. Mistake, that. He was drunk with hunger for her.
“Maille, love, could I ask you something more personal?”
“You can ask. I may not answer.”
“Have you ever… How can I put this delicately? Have you let go with a man? In bed I mean?” His hand wandered over embroidered silk coming to rest on her thigh.
Her legs parted. Slightly. An ever-so-subtle invitation.
“Ronin? I know I haven’t really been that great a lover tonight—”
“No… No. It’s just I get the feeling… I’m twisting this all up, I know. I just had the feeling you haven’t ever let go with a lover.”
“If you’re asking if I’ve ever had an orgasm, yes.” She wriggled in his lap. Edged away, putting a little space between them. A movement that had him grinding his teeth to keep from groaning aloud. That sweet bottom scooting over his lap was not tamping down desire.
“Have you now?” He made his tone playful, nipped her shoulder. “Just not with a man?”
“Um…” He didn’t need to see her face to guess a lovely blush was creeping into her cheeks before she stammered out, “N-n-not with a woman either. If that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Ah. Then solo.”
She looked left. Then right. Then ducked her head. “I should check on the foal,” she mumbled.
“Now, see there. You’re off again. You either run out or fake your way out or reason your way out. What are you afraid of?”
She tried to rise, but he wouldn’t let her go. “I want an answer first.”
“I don’t know. It’s just this feeling creeps up on me, a sense that something bad will happen if I do.”
“And it’s like that with everyone?”
“Well no.” She fidgeted, kept her chin tucked to her chest.
“Maille, love. Trust me. Tell me. Help me understand.”
“With everyone…well not really everyone. With the, I mean my…my boyfriend. It wasn’t exciting. I mean I just wanted it to end and he never noticed when I pretended.”
“I notice when you do.”
She swallowed noisily. “Sorry.”
“And this boyfriend who doesn’t notice, he is what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want because he broke it off for someone he really wanted later on.”
“Ah, so this doom you feel. It’s only with me and you don’t think what happene
d with him has something to do with it.”
“No.”
“Care to put that to the test?”
“Haven’t we done that a couple of times tonight?”
He chuckled. “You decimate my ego.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounds.”
“No apologies. I deserve it. Believe me I do.” He captured both her hands and brought them to his lips. Held them there. Reverent.
An idea took root. The curse, as far as he understood it, only kicked in if the intended had an orgasm through sex with the selkie. Nothing kept her from taking pleasure in her own body. Doing so with him there, encouraging, sharing in a hands-off way, could be enough to “unlock” her as Mere had said. Letting go with him in a small way might banish her demons and allow her to be comfortable with another. Man.
Trey?
He wasn’t going to think about whom. He could only get her through this night. The rest was up to her.
Could he get through it? Could he watch her come and not touch? Not take her beyond. An inner voice screamed at him to back away from what he was about to suggest. He ignored it.
“I was just thinking,” he said, putting her hands back in her lap. “Since we know you enjoy an occasional solo, why don’t we start with that?” She opened her mouth to argue, but he put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out, love. I will hold you. That way it’s not entirely solo or entirely at my mercy.”
“Um-m-m. No.”
“You gave that a lot of thought.”
“No. Just no.” She said it with such fierceness that he laughed.
“Don’t be shy, Maille mine. Everyone does it.”
“They don’t do it with someone watching. I can’t do that with you looking at me. It’s like getting drunk with a whole bunch of sober people looking on.” She shuddered.
“There’s just me here. If it makes you feel better, I’ll do it too.”
She went still, and a new heat warmed his thigh, right where that little pocket of pleasure was parked in his lap.
“Ah, what’s this? You like that idea.”
Her face glowed brighter than the fire. She shook her head no, but the words of denial weren’t making it out of her mouth. She’d gone still like that when she’d watched him touch himself in the shower.