“You can’t help me.”
Nu raised his eyebrows. “No? Are you so sure?”
Ana’s eyes burned with the hint of tears. “I’m sure. A little ice fairy has no power over my problem.”
The pixie remained silent for a moment, eyeing her with eyes that looked too old for his young face. “Fire or iron then?”
Ana’s throat constricted. She nodded, once.
The pixie furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “I’ll think of something.”
She nodded wearily and waved him away. It was a nice sentiment he offered her, but her parents had left her more money than she could spend in a lifetime and the one thing she truly wanted wasn’t something a little pixie could help her with. Nu gave her one last strange look and the next moment he was gone.
“Mrs. Downing, perhaps I’ll just cancel my order. I really am in an awful hurry,” Ana called loudly, knowing the woman would be distracted from her retrieval of the iron cage at the thought of losing money. She pressed her hands to her face, forcing the tears back. She had not time for that now.
“I’ll be with you in just a tick, dear!” Mrs. Downing called out in a sweet sing-song voice. “Won’t be, but a moment.”
Ana gritted her teeth at the woman’s condescending cheer. The sooner she could get out of this miserable shop and back to her cabin the better. Just the thought of her secluded cabin, nestled away in the trees just a stone’s throw from the shore, eased some of the tension from her shoulders. It was so quaint, so comfortable—so isolated. And when I finally get my hands on these herbs, I’ll have the means to try one more time. This spell just has to work.
Memories of all her past failures screeched at her from her mind and she bit her lip to muffle a whimper of frustration. She couldn’t keep doing this. If this spell didn’t work . . . Blast you, Mrs. Downing, please, for the love of Perun, hurry!
The bells over the door to the shop jingled and Ana closed her eyes. Was getting her herbs without being exposed to a hundred people really so much to ask? In Haines, Alaska? Yes, yes it is, she answered herself.
For what had to be the millionth time in just the past month, Ana rued the fact that while the population of Haines was what allowed her to have such a wonderfully isolated home, it was also the reason that her weekly venture into town for supplies was akin to attending a family dinner. Which is to say, everyone felt obligated to greet her and inquire into her personal life while simultaneously sharing unwanted tidbits from their own. Humans are so nosey. It’s no wonder they can’t go a decade without a war.
Vowing once again to move to a big city where no one knew her name, Ana opened her eyes to see what fresh hell was going to engage her in conversation now.
She froze.
Possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen had just stepped into the shop. Six foot six if he was an inch, with eyes so dark they could only be called black, and a shock of dark hair that just begged her to run her fingers through it. He wore a pair of stiff blue jeans and a fur-lined brown leather coat. She caught a glimpse of a soft green cotton shirt under the leather. He kicked the snow off his heavy boots, the dull thuds of the hard rubber soles against the floor sounding unnaturally loud in the silent shop.
By the time she dragged her gaze away from its perusal of his clothing, he’d noticed her stare. She kicked herself as she found him looking straight into her eyes, a bemused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She didn’t know what annoyed her more, the fact that she’d been staring at him like a starving fox watches a limping rabbit, or the fact that he seemed amused by it.
“Hello,” he said with a smile, sauntering over to her and reaching out a hand. “I’m Brec.”
Cursing Mrs. Downing and her wounded turtle-like speed, Ana dropped her gaze as she accepted his handshake. “Ana.”
His hand engulfed hers, her pale slender fingers looking more feminine and delicate against his tanned skin. He didn’t seem dark enough to be a full blood Native, but he looked as if someone in his family tree was. The warmth of his hand soothed Ana’s senses, reminding her of how long it’d been since she had any real contact with another person. Even a simple handshake felt . . . personal. Her heart beat a little faster and she mentally shook herself. She didn’t have time for this. She had too much to do, too much at stake. She pulled her hand away, opening her mouth to excuse herself. As his hand left hers, Ana’s downcast eyes spotted something that made her heart skip a beat and all other thoughts come crashing to a halt.
Webbed fingers. She tore her gaze away, not wanting him to catch her staring at the little pieces of skin connecting his fingers at the base. Her mind raced with growing excitement. Webbed fingers.
“Pleased to meet you, Ana.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she murmured back. She glanced at his eyes again. Black as the deepest depths of the ocean. She could almost imagine the whites fading away completely, leaving only that round blackness. The eyes of his other form. A seal’s eyes.
“That’s very nice eye contact you have there,” he said, his voice deadpan. “Are you by any chance reading my soul?”
His tone was joking, but the slight tension in his body and the steady gaze boring into her eyes suggested he’d interpreted her attentions as attraction—and he was interested. Confidence filled Ana’s spirit, building on her excitement. Like a professional fisherman working his line, Ana drew herself up to her full five foot nine. She fixed him with her most seductive smile and tossed her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” she purred. “It’s just, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were living proof that the old folks’ stories of the selkies are true.”
Brec’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, a mixture of surprise and something else flashing in his eyes. “The seal people?”
He chuckled and she had to give him credit for not tensing at her mention of his race. He played as if he were surprised, but not uncomfortable. If it weren’t for the webbed fingers and watery black eyes, she’d have doubted her guess.
“The seal people,” she repeated softly, stepping a little closer. “If you’ve been around here long at all, you’ve heard the stories. Devastatingly handsome men coming out of the water, shedding their seal furs so that they can take human lovers?”
His eyes widened, seeming intrigued by her forwardness. “I’ve lived here all my life.” He grinned. “And I am very familiar with the stories.”
I’ll bet you are. And like all the selkies in the stories, I’ll bet you hid your precious skin on the shore.
His gaze darted toward the back of the shop, but he made no move to turn away from her. “Have you seen Mrs. Downing?”
Afraid we’ll be interrupted? She resisted the urge to smirk at what she interpreted as a child’s paranoia of getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“She’s in the back getting my order.” Reminded of the fact that she was still waiting, Ana scowled at the curtain covering the doorway that led to the back of the shop. As convenient as Mrs. Downing’s absence had turned out to be, she still despised being kept waiting. “She assured me it wouldn’t be, but a moment.”
“Mrs. Downing does like to take her time, doesn’t she?”
Forcing her attention away from her impatience, Ana focused on the selkie.
“You sound like you’ve experienced Mrs. Downing’s efficiency before.”
He nodded. “I come in fairly frequently.”
“You live in town?”
“Just outside town you might say.”
Like in the sea just off the shore not a hundred yards away? Is it possible that you left your skin within walking distance?
“Was your trip into town solely to visit Mrs. Downing’s lovely establishment or will you be making a whole day of shopping?” She tried to keep her voice light and only politely inquisitive. For the first time in her life, she was grateful for the nosey nature of Haines’ inhabitants. Brec wouldn’t be the least bi
t suspicious of her questions. She could probably inquire as to the color of his underwear without making him flinch.
Brec rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid my brother will have some say in that. I have no doubt he’ll drag me to a wide variety of shops before he’ll be ready to head back home.” He leaned in somewhat conspiringly. “I only need to shop here. After that I could do whatever I wanted while I waited for my brother to finish. I’m a sort of doctor, you might say, so I need to come here for—”
“Here you are, Ana,” Mrs. Downing announced, coming through the doorway from the back of the shop. “All set.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Downing.” Ana snatched the bag of herbs from the old woman’s hands. The selkie would be shopping with his brother for awhile. If she hurried, she could make it to the shore and be on her way home before he finished. Guilt rolled through her stomach, tightening into a hard knot. Clenching her teeth, she desperately shoved it away. She had to try. She couldn’t last much longer. “Put it all on my tab!” she called to Mrs. Downing. She dashed toward the door, willing herself not to look back.
Read more of UNDER HIS SKIN
About the Author
Jennifer Blackstream is a psychology enthusiast with both a B.A. and M.A. in Psychology. Her fascination with the human mind is most appeased through the study of mythology and folklore as well as the novels of Terry Pratchett.
Jennifer enjoys listening to Alice Cooper, trying new recipes (to which she will add garlic whether it calls for it or not), watching television with her family, and playing with her woefully intelligent young son. She lives in Ohio.
Jennifer spends most of her time drinking coffee from her X-Men mug and desperately trying to get all her ideas written down before her son can find that all magical button on her laptop to make her latest work vanish.
To learn more about Jennifer Blackstream and her novels, visit her website at http://www.jenniferblackstream.com.
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Copyright
Divine Scales
©Copyright Jennifer Blackstream 2014
Skeleton Key Publishing
Cover Art Elaina of For the Muse Designs © Copyright October 2013
This is a work fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Skeleton Key Publishing, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.
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Published in 2013 by Skeleton Key Publishing, Norton, Ohio, United States of America
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[J1]Help me rework some of these sentences so they don’t all start with ‘she’?
[J2]Help me vary the sentence structure here? These sentences all have the same format.
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