by Ann Gimpel
She felt his heartbeat against her lips when she ran kisses down to the hollow in his collarbone and across to his neck where a pulse was. They traded licking, sucking, and biting as they kissed each other. Salty residue coated his skin, and she licked it up, savoring his taste and how it blended with the sea that was part of her too.
Deep yearning rose within her. She wanted the man covering her mouth with his own. Wanted him with a blind desire that had nothing to do with the heat traveling through her. She hungered for a life with him, one where they’d be together always.
It seemed so farfetched, so impossible, she pulled away from his embrace, her breath coming fast. “We, uh, we should stop.” She stumbled through the words.
“Aye, that we should.” He circled her shoulders with an arm. “I doona want to. I could kiss you forever and still want more, but the Selkies will be here soon.”
“How do you know?”
“I understand my kinsmen. A pod requires leadership, and this pod has been rudderless for too long to imagine.” He took a measured breath. “We still have a wee bit of time, and I wish to talk about us.”
She shook her head. “Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
She inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring at the nearness of him. “Same reasons as before. You’re a Selkie king, and I run a bakeshop.” She offered a rueful smile. “Never mind I’m not certain I’ll be able to coax myself back there. Not after dragon riding and Arcadia and magical trees and fighting evil.”
He smiled, but then his expression grew serious. “I shouldna say aught. I promised myself I’d keep my feelings to myself until ye’ve had a chance to mourn your da.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “I’m not quite done, lass. Gregor may have been a bastard, but ye need time to absorb all of it. Who he used to be. What he did to your mum. Who he turned into. Why he sold his soul to demonkind.”
“For power, why else?” she sputtered.
“My first guess too.” Aegir did smile then, soft and sad. “He needed killing, but I’d have spared you the task if I could have.”
Raene met his direct gaze, drawn by the changeable hues of his eyes and the silver flecks dancing around his pupils. “What is it you weren’t going to tell me?”
“Curious, lass?”
“Aye, that would be me.”
He untangled his arm and stood in front of her, tipping her chin up with one finger so she had to look at him. “Ye’re amazing. Brave. Beautiful. Resourceful.”
Heat rose from her belly and swooshed up her chest and over her head. “You’re romanticizing the hell out of me. I’m not anything special.”
“To me, ye are. I want you to be with me always.”
Her eyes widened. “Not possible,” she blurted. “We scarcely know one another. We—”
“We have all the time in the world.” He grinned crookedly. “Mostly, I wanted to plant the idea. Ye’re a verra special woman, and I’d kick myself forever if ye swam away without me telling you as much.”
She was still looking right at him, so she saw his eyes narrow, felt his concentration arrow away from her. Had she done something? She didn’t see how, unless the lack of instant capitulation meant all his words were just fancy window dressing to get her to sleep with him.
She’d have done that anyway, but he had no way of knowing.
He bent forward and brushed his mouth across hers, leaving a trail of sparks and heat. “We’ll pick up this conversation later. The Selkies are nearly here, and Krise just called me. I’m needed in Arcadia.”
“Who’s that?”
“My father. The one who was king when the pod turned you away.”
Raene winced. “Gee. Can’t wait to meet him.”
“He’s not a bad sort. Old and traditional. He’ll have a fit about adding fifty odd Selkies to our pod, but ’tis the right thing to do.”
“Your da would have made a different choice?”
Aegir scrunched his forehead in thought. “He’d have come to the same place as me, eventually. But his preference would have been to offer nothing.”
“Why?”
“He’s not overly fond of change. He gets around to embracing it, but not easily. With this many Selkies, ’tis verra possible at least one of them will cause trouble. ’Twill require work keeping a close eye on them all—without being obvious about it.”
“I like you,” she said. “Further, I respect you.”
“As I do you, lass. ’Tis a decent start.”
“How so?” She wasn’t certain quite what he meant.
“Anyone can be lovers. Being friends is much harder—and far more important over the long haul.”
Footsteps pounded up the beach toward them. Johannes and two male Selkies from Gregor’s pod entered the cavern. None bothered to dress, which probably meant they weren’t planning to remain long.
Johannes bowed low. “We shall join you.”
“Yes.” A golden-haired Selkie with clear blue eyes nodded agreement. “Our undying thanks for your kindness. Look for us in about a month.”
“Ye’re not teleporting?” Aegir sounded surprised.
Johannes shook himself from head to toe. Water droplets flew everywhere. “We all feel we need the purification from a long swim. It’s better this way. Your pod will have an opportunity to plan for our arrival, and we’ll be better for having a span of time to eradicate Gregor’s wicked taint.”
“As ye will.” Aegir inclined his head. “Ye’ll be welcome whenever ye arrive.”
The Selkies turned as a group and trotted back outside. She felt the zing of power as they shifted to their sea forms.
“Ready to leave, lass?” Aegir asked, adding, “Doona fash about the robe. The clothes ye have on are far more practical.”
“Thanks. I was wondering whether to change, but I can just drape the robe over everything. I’ll be ready to go in a moment.” She walked purposefully to the pile of ashes that had been her father and knelt next to them. Perhaps sensing she needed to be alone, Aegir left the cavern.
“I’m not sure what to say,” Raene began, keeping her words soft. Aegir would hear every one, but she wasn’t ashamed of what she wanted to tell her father. “I wish I could have known you long ago, seen the man mum fell in love with.” She cleared her throat. “I’m grateful to be a Selkie. Thank you for making it possible, but you were always weak. Too weak to be faithful to your wife. Too weak to withstand the pull of evil with its promise of infinite power.”
She took a breath before continuing. “I’m not sorry you’re dead. I don’t know how I feel about being the one to kill you, but I’m sure I’ll work it out.”
She searched within herself, but nothing else clamored for ascendency. Empty, drained, but with a sense of closure over a part of her life that had always been a mystery, she rose to her feet and left the cave behind.
Aegir waited, their pelts stretched across his open arms. He gave hers to her and began to chant, summoning the spell to return them to the island with a gateway to Arcadia.
“What happens next?” she asked.
“I doona know but remain alert. Da would not have summoned me were the need not grave.”
Alert felt beyond her. She was stumbling with weariness but pushed it aside. Aegir saw things in her she’d never guessed existed. Falling on her face wasn’t on the menu. Maybe later, but not now.
“I’m ready.” She gave a curt nod. His magic swept them both into its maw. Her mind was a blurry muddle. What she needed most was some time by herself. Swimming time where she let the tides move her as they would and caught fish to fill her belly.
I’ll tell him. Just as soon as we’re back on the island.
But would she? If he needed her, how could she refuse him anything? If she hadn’t been in the midst of strong magic, she’d have buried her head in her hands and rubbed the ache from her temples. She remembered the feel of his mouth on hers. The swell of his cock against her belly. Desire rushe
d through her, adding to the confused mix of emotions and muddying the waters still further.
Because thinking was getting her nowhere, she blanked her mind. Even he had said she didn’t need to make any decisions right now, that they had time. But that was before his father had summoned him home. Would they be embroiled in one battle after the next—until one of them died?
Her carefully neutral mindscape shattered. She’d figure things out. She always had. Clinging to what felt like bogus reassurances because her old life bore zero resemblance to the one she was living now, she waited out the rest of the teleport spell.
Chapter 11
Aegir sensed Raene’s unrest but wasn’t certain what to do about it. Most of his attention had to remain focused on his spell to ensure they didn’t end up in the middle of an Amazon jungle or the Sahara Desert. He’d underplayed both his concern over Krise’s summons as well as his da’s probable reaction to the news about Gregor’s pod.
But Raene had been through plenty, and he hadn’t wanted to alarm her. Maybe she could regain some equanimity with his spell cradling her during their journey. Goddess knows, she deserved a break.
Krise would be furious about incorporating Gregor’s pod, but there was nothing to be done but ride out his temper. He’d walked away from being king over Aegir’s protests, but once the baton passed from one Selkie to another—not always ones related by blood, either—it was permanent.
Krise could rail all he wanted, but Aegir wouldn’t rescind his invitation to the survivors he’d left north of Siberia. To set out on a long-distance swim meant they were committed to doing whatever was necessary to ensure their new home worked out for them. The ocean would remove any residual wickedness.
From those willing to move beyond it.
Aegir shut his eyes for a moment and willed it would be all of them. He didn’t want to deal with his da’s recriminations if a few bad seeds created problems.
He’d like to have bid Tarika farewell, but dragons weren’t bound by Selkie conventions—or any beyond their own. The dragon had what she’d come for. No reason to hang about for a round of goodbyes. A thought rose. He turned it around, looking for holes, but didn’t find any.
Evil was rising. He felt it in his bones. Gregor had been an arrogant jerk, but he’d never have succumbed to the dark side of power if it hadn’t shown up front and center and tantalized him. The boundaries meant to keep Hell’s minions contained must have thinned. It explained the Fae attacking Arcadia, and perhaps a whole lot of other events he didn’t know about.
He should have talked with Angus, but he’d been so upset with the seer, he hadn’t thought to grill him about current events. The Celts knew a lot, and Angus was their pet errand boy. Where had they sent him lately? And for what reasons?
Perhaps paying him a visit was in order. Him or his da, Cathbad. Locating the ancient Druid—first of their line of seers—might be problematic. Or not. He bet the Druids on Arcadia knew exactly where the First Seer resided in time. It was the kind of thing they’d keep tabs on. Aegir had met Cathbad a time or two, but so long ago, he barely remembered the man other than that he and Angus could have been twins.
The pull of his island popped them through the veil holding teleport channels separate from the warp and weft of Earth. He didn’t have to work very hard once he neared the island because it recognized and accepted his power.
He had an arm around Raene, and she drowsed against him. He did his damnedest to set them down gently. If he managed not to wake her, he’d carry her inside and let her sleep for as long as possible. He’d been vigilant and hadn’t sensed anything untoward as they neared the island.
Maybe he’d catch a short break to breathe a little before Krise showed up.
Aegir tossed his pelt behind the same enchantment he always used. When he tried to lever Raene’s from her arms, she held tighter. Of course. It was reflexive. Selkies protected their skins at any cost, even while asleep. He swept an arm beneath her legs and carried her and her pelt toward the shielded entry to the cave.
A bleak-and-stormy dawn cast plenty of light, but it was cold and raw. A brisk wind drove rain, sleet, and saltwater across the spit of land. He rolled his eyes and bent his body protectively around the woman in his arms. Scotland’s weather was beastly, but the incessant rain yielded greenery in the most unusual spots. He could have lived anywhere, could have relocated the pod once he became king. But it never occurred to him.
Scotland was his home.
He was nearly to the cave when Krise stepped forward. Framed between the two stones that formed the entry point, he stood tall. Years hadn’t touched him, and he’d lived through close to a millennia. Snow-white hair streaked with silver fell to his knees. Ropy muscles crisscrossed his tall, spare frame.
He wore his usual: buff hunting leathers that encased his arms and legs as if they’d been made just for him. Who knew? Perhaps he had a tailor hidden in a small hamlet somewhere.
“Took ye long enough.” Krise skewered Aegir with his unrelenting gaze out of emerald green eyes.
“Ssht.” Aegir shook his head.
“It’s okay. I’m up.” Raene thrashed in his arms until he set her upright. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“Who is she?” Krise demanded, directing the question at Aegir.
Raene craned her head around to look at Krise. “I’m right here. If you want to know something about me, ask me not him.”
A sputtering grunt passed Krise’s lips. “Fine. Who are you? Beyond that, how do ye come to be here with my son?”
She pursed her lips into a sour expression. “I’m a Selkie, same as you.”
“Nay. Your blood isna pure.”
“Get over yourself, for Christ’s sake.” She formed a fist and punched the air.
Aegir fought back a grin. No one talked back to his da, but she just had.
“Is this the Selkie ye asked me about?” Krise’s tone held patronizing edges. “I assumed it was male.”
“Aye. Same one. I dinna give you reason to decide one way or another,” Aegir murmured.
“Mmph. Doesn’t explain why she’s here. Or why ye were carrying her. Explain.”
Raene crossed her arms beneath her breasts, squashing her skin against her body. Defiance marked her expressive features, the set of her shoulders, and her lifted chin. “We’re just back from a quest to save a young dragon. Along the way, we released a Selkie pod from an evil despot. One who happened to be my father.”
“Ye’ve an active imagination, lass.” Krise set his mouth in a tight line.
“What she said is true,” Aegir cut in. “All of it.”
“This must tie in with the conversation we had recently. The one where ye asked after Gregor’s pod.” Krise inhaled briskly. “So the lone Selkie was female. Keep talking. If ye’re Gregor’s daughter, ye must have been born out of wedlock, which means his life is forfeit.”
“He’s already dead.” Raene threw the words at Krise. If they’d been icicles, they’d have shattered around him and come to rest in a pile of shards at his feet.
Both of Krise’s silvery brows shot upward in surprise. “Now there’s a piece of good news. He always had a rotten core.”
Aegir cringed. It was one thing for Raene to understand her da was a bastard. Quite another to have his shortcomings tossed in her face.
She didn’t flinch, though. “I killed him, and what’s left of his pod will arrive in a month or so.”
“Arrive? Where?” Krise looked thunderstruck.
“Here,” Aegir inserted smoothly. It wasn’t how he’d have imparted the news, but the barn door stood wide open. No shutting it now.
“But, that’s impossible,” Krise sputtered. “How many? Wasn’t there aught else they could go? Why here?”
“Because Raene and I are who rescued them from unspeakable evil, along with Tarika.”
The dragon, Tarika?” Krise’s voice tone had raised an octave.
“Aye, the same,” Aegir replied.
Krise fell back a pace, but he did clap his mouth shut. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. When he spoke again, he muttered, “I believed the dragon quest was but woman prattle. Ye actually went with Tarika. How did such a thing come to be?”
“We’ll tell you the whole story,” Aegir said. “But inside. It’s cold out here, and I’m wasting magic right and left keeping Raene and me warm.”
“I can take care of myself.” She leveled her gaze at him, one that had cooled perceptibly.
He didn’t blame her. Krise could be a sanctimonious bastard, but he had a pure heart. No way for Raene to know about that part, though. Not the way his da had behaved toward her.
Krise turned and stomped back inside. Aegir gripped Raene’s arm and followed him. He’d be damned if he’d allow his da’s snarky temper to drive them from what he considered his home.
Warmth from the hearth eddied around them, and Aegir wondered if there was anything to eat that wouldn’t require preparation. The biscuits and fish would be gone. Krise, who always ate whatever wasn’t tacked down, would have finished them.
“We’ll sit and talk,” Krise told his son, “while the lass makes us a meal.”
Raene—who’d detached his arm from hers as soon as they entered the cave so she could set her skin to one side—spun to face Krise. “Not just no, but hell no. What century are you from? I’m not your servant. I’m not your subject. Last I checked, you’re not king anymore. You foisted that off onto Aegir.”
“Touchy, isn’t she?” Krise was still aiming his words at Aegir.
“I’m not a she. I’m a me. I’m right here. Do. Not. Objectify. Me.” Without waiting for a response, she strode to the cabinet where Aegir kept spirits and opened it. Without reading labels, she grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and drank deep.
Krise followed her, planting himself in front of her and snatching the bottle from her hands. “Now look here, missy.”
“No. You look here.” Anger blotched her face with patches of red.