by Rosanna Leo
He sighed, running a hand over her curls. “I don’t need one, Maggie. I only need the sea and the skin. They’ll heal me.”
“That’s rubbish. You need a surgeon … and lots of Band-Aids.” Her words came out choked.
He smiled tenderly at her. “Have faith in me, Maggie.” He kissed her gently on the mouth, allowing his tongue to slide between her lips to melt with her own. And then, he drew away from her with reluctance and moved toward the cliff’s edge, staring into the waves.
Maggie reached out a trembling hand. “What are you doing? You can’t jump. We’re
too high. You’ll die!”
Suddenly her grandmother’s tale of the selkie came rushing back to her. Especially the part about them always wanting to return to the sea.
He really was leaving her.
“I love you, Maggie. Don’t ever forget it.” With another of his heart-wrenching smiles, Calan turned and dove off the cliff.
“No!” Maggie screamed, and threw herself down on the ground at the cliff’s edge. She watched in horror as he plunged headlong toward the surf below, thinking he was a goner. “Calan!”
But, about twenty feet above the waves, Maggie saw something incredible. His jeans somehow flew off, and his body twisted, curled up in the sealskin. His limbs seemed to shorten, flatten. His glorious mane of hair retreated into his scalp, until all that was left was the soft fuzz of the pelt. He became the seal. And just before he hit the water, Maggie saw the limpid eyes of the animal turn once more toward her.
Then he broke through the waves and was gone.
Maggie didn’t know how long she lay there on the cold ground, staring. Eventually, Liz came and put a hand on her back. She cooed and patted Maggie’s back until Maggie finally turned and rolled into Liz’s arms, sobbing.
“Well,” Liz said, stifling a tear herself, “if anything calls for a cuppa, this does.”
Chapter 15
Maggie returned to the sea every day and night, aching for a glimpse of that bobbing head in the waves. For two weeks, she’d walked around in a stupor, craving his touch. Needing to hear his deep, lilting voice. She endlessly walked the stretch of beach where she’d first seen him arise nude out of the water.
But he never came.
Liz began to worry about her. “The selkie are an unpredictable race. Of course, they are part animal. You can’t keep them on land,” she’d confided. “He was never meant to stay.”
Still Maggie waited, while Liz waited for her to stop grieving.
The old lady had been wonderfully true to her word, even finding a way to explain the bloodbath at the house to her police chief grandson. She claimed the men killed their auntie Phyllis out of greed, and that her body had been conveniently swept out to sea. When local law enforcement found Donald and Malcolm, cowering in their home, the men were happy to be led away by the police. The nephews seemed crazed, both muttering nonsense about a selkie man coming back to life, wanting to haunt them. They eagerly confessed to all their crimes and seemed keen on finding sanctuary in the local prison, so they might escape the wrath of the vengeful selkie. Local law enforcement was so pleased to be rid of Donald and Malcolm that they happily swept the whole matter under the carpet, glad in obtaining confessions to so many previously unsolved crimes.
Not being accused of homicide was the one bright point for Maggie. Now, as she once again pounded the beach in her gran’s Wellies, she was mad. Mad that she missed Calan, a man she could never have. And mad that her heart ached for him so much.
She found the spot where she’d first seen the seal. Even now, in the blue of evening, the water shimmered and danced, playing tricks with her eyes. But as much as she peered into its depths, no Calan appeared.
She walked to the water’s edge, tempted to walk into the frigid deep, wondering if he’d come to find her then. Would he swim to her, and carry her away to whatever Atlantean home he inhabited? It seemed too ridiculous to contemplate.
No, she told herself for the umpteenth time, he’s dead. How could someone, even someone like him, survive a hailstorm of bullets and plummeting into the sea? Would the sea really have healed him, or was his body moldering somewhere under its depths, after having endured unspeakable agony?
That was the part that really hurt. Maggie couldn’t bear the thought that Calan was dead.
She loved him, after all.
She hadn’t cried since the day he left. She’d been too dazed. But now that she really contemplated his demise, the tears poured from her and she wiped feverishly at her face.
“It’s no good,” she whispered, sniffling. “I love you, Calan. Good-bye.”
And then she turned and began the lonely walk back to Nora’s house.
* * * *
The house was cloaked in blackness as she approached, but she felt no jitters. She felt nothing. Nothing but the great, anguished void left by Calan.
Without thinking, she stuck her key in the lock and entered. Without turning on any lights, she plodded through the main floor and up the stairs. Wanting only her bed, and the sweet oblivion of sleep, she stepped into the bedroom and made her way over to the window. She slipped out of all her clothes by the light of the moon, and then collapsed into bed. Only then did she flick the switch on her bedside lamp.
And saw Calan.
He was standing by the window, not far from where she’d stood, looking utterly beautiful. Nude. And healed.
Maggie couldn’t move, sure she was seeing things. She’d had that sip of brandy earlier.
Angling his eyebrow slyly, he grinned at her. “Now what kind of greeting is that?”
With a squeal, she jumped out of bed and ran to him, wrapping herself around his body and holding on for dear life.
Calan’s chest rumbled with deep laughter, no longer sounding wheezy and racked. He crushed her into his arms and carried her to bed. As he slid his body over hers, he groaned with pleasure. “How I’ve missed you.”
He covered her in kisses, and she lay there smiling, taking him in. He smelled so good, salty and sweet at once, and completely manly. Hungry. And she hungered for him just as much. He kissed away her tears, and ran his hands through her curls. And then he stopped to just gaze at her. As if she were the apparition, not him.
“Where were you, Calan? I thought you were dead.”
“That’s the fortunate part of being mostly immortal. You don’t die,” he teased, nipping softly at her earlobe.
She put her hands on either side of his face, feeling for any leftover wounds. “But how?”
“Hmm,” he murmured, cupping her breast. He tweaked her nipple, making her convulse. He laughed quietly at her body’s immediate response. “Always with the questions, eh? Well, I suppose you deserve a few answers.”
He pulled himself off her and sat on the bed, drawing her on top of him so that she was sitting on his legs. She crossed her legs behind his back, and he enfolded her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. “Selkie folk do have ridiculously long lives, but I could have died from those wounds. In order for me to heal, I needed to be back in the sea.” He looked sad then, remorseful. “I just wish I’d been able to tell you more at the time. But, if there had been a chance I was too far gone, a possibility that I might not heal, I couldn’t bear to give you false hope. So, I waited until I was strong enough. I just needed you to cry those tears into the sea to call me back.”
She was crying way more than seven tears now.
Calan smiled and wiped her tears away. “I was fine. I found my family and my mother took infinite satisfaction in tending to me, as much as I would rather have had you do it for me. But, on the plus side, I did get to see Elsie’s wee babe. A lovely little girl.”
“That’s wonderful,” Maggie cried, happy Elsie was no longer in agony. Despite the short time she’d known her, she felt an indescribable affinity for the other woman.
“So, I’m all yours now,” Calan said, sighing, his voice a silky promise.
Maggie ran a hand up
and down his spine, not really caring at the implausibility of
his existence anymore. She was just happy he was there. “But aren’t you supposed to return to the sea anyway? The selkie never stay on land, right?”
He breathed in deeply, gazing at her through hooded, sexy eyes. “Ah. Well, that only goes for selkies who haven’t mated. It’s always been convenient for me to escape into the sea, but that was before knowing and wanting you. When I bit you that time, Maggie, when we made love, I was marking you as my mate.”
Maggie thought her heart stopped in that moment. Certainly her breath stopped. “Really?”
He held her even tighter to his lap, and she felt his cock pushing against her derriere. He cupped her bottom, squeezing it. “Be my mate, Maggie. My selkie wife.”
“How?”
“When a selkie man falls in love, he can bind his woman to him by mating with her in the sea. She then becomes selkie too, and he can never lose his skin to another. They mate for life. Just like Angus and Elsie did.” He slid his hands up to her shoulders, and his face crinkled with a sad smile. “Be my goddess of the sea. I know it’s a lot I ask. You’d be giving up the life you know. But we’d be together forever.”
He kissed her then, a sweet, innocent kiss that made her heart fly into her throat. And then she laughed nervously. “Me. A seal?”
“That’s the best part. You’d be able to change forms as I do, and yes, the call of the sea would be strong for you too. But we could be human as much as we like. We could live here, in your gran’s house.” He pulled away a fraction. “I know you’ll need time to think on it.”
Maggie did take time to think about it. All of ten seconds.
“I love you, Calan,” she said, smiling. “And I’ll be your mate.”
He’d been holding his own breath just then, but it now poured out of him in a long sigh. “I love you, Maggie Collins.” He slid out from under her, stood and carried her away, kissing her all the while. Out of the room, out of the house, and down the path to the shoreline. Only when they’d reached the sand did he set her down, reaching for her hand.
They walked to the water and she jumped when she felt its cold kiss on her bare toes. “You sure this’ll work?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, turning to her with his devilish grin. “I worked out all the details with my uncle, King Neptune. I’ve arranged for the mermaids to be your bridesmaids, but if you prefer, we can just find some agreeable salmon.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Nice. I managed to find the only selkie comedian.”
“Have faith, love.” He squeezed her hand, and then looked at something over their shoulders.
Maggie turned and saw Liz watching them from the path in front of the house. Even in the darkness, she could see the old lady was wondering what possessed her to go skinny-dipping at night, and with a supposedly dead man. She raised a tentative hand and waved. Maggie waved back, and they watched as Liz walked away.
And then, Calan lead her into the black sea. It was colder than anything she’d ever felt. But as soon as they were waist-deep, Calan encircled her in his arms, and she felt his heat seeping through her pores. Within moments, it felt as if they’d entered the most luxurious, blissfully hot sauna. He leaned in to kiss her, drawing her deeper into the welcoming waters. Once they were shoulder-deep, he lifted her onto his waist, onto his
eager shaft.
Maggie felt him penetrate her, and like a bolt of lightning, his energy shot up through her core, searing her with his undying love. She felt complete, utterly at one with Calan.
She was selkie.
*
As she headed back to her home, Liz suddenly felt the urge to look back at the young lovers. She craned her head, her gaze scanning the water’s edge, but didn’t see them.
Only two seal heads bobbing in the water at her. One large one, one smaller, with distinctive auburn streaks to its pelt that shone under the moonlight. They seemed to stare back at her for a moment, and then swam away.
At first, her heart felt heavy, but then, she realized it was just as Nora would have wanted.
“Besides,” she told herself as she walked with a new spring in her step, “something tells me I’ll see those two again.”
The End
About the Author
Rosanna Leo has her degree in history and literature, as well as in classical singing. She currently resides in Toronto, Canada. Her favorite things are her family, libraries, and her mother's gnocchi. Rosanna loves it when the geeky, awkward girl gets the hot guy, and has made it her mission to see this happen in her books as much as possible. Sweet Hell is her third book published with Liquid Silver Books. She is also the author of For the Love of a God and Up in Flames.