Table of Contents
Blurb
Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Author
Did you find a typo?
UNDER HIS SKIN
“She stole his skin . . . can she still win his heart?”
It seems like an eternity since Ana Vulpe returned home to find her lover burning the thing she prized most in the world--the fox skin that was the key to her true form. The consequences of that horrible night plague her even two years later. With her sanity strained to the breaking point and her spirit withering with every day she’s forced to stay in human form, Ana will do anything to escape the prison of her human flesh. Whether she has to beg, borrow . . . or steal.
As the most gifted healer the selkie people have known in over three centuries, Brec knows he should be grateful for his gift. But he isn’t. Every day he dreams of joining his brother’s pod of warriors, of throwing away his bag of healer’s herbs and taking up the weapons of his ferocious kin. When his skin is stolen, no one argues when Brec insists that he be allowed to face the thief himself. Finally, he is going to war with a true enemy, someone who dared to steal a part of him he could never live without. But he’s about to realize that war is never as glorious as it seems . . .
When Ana wakes up tied to her bed with a vengeful selkie standing over her, the only thing that burns hotter than their anger is the desire that thickens the air between them. Using every wile in her repertoire, Ana almost succeeds in convincing the selkie to leave with his skin--until he discovers that his is not the only skin she has stolen. Now the righteous warrior with the dark eyes and searing kiss is determined to stay until she gives up not only the skins, but her secret as well.
Can the selkie cast off his healer’s sensibilities long enough to do what has to be done to force Ana’s hand? Or has the desperate vixen succeeded in getting . . . Under His Skin?
Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream
Aphrodite’s Hunt
The Revenge in Vein Series:
Burned
Mastered
Bitten
Converted
Under His Skin
Jennifer Blackstream
Skeleton Key Publishing
http://www.skeletonkeypublishing.net/
Copyright
Under His Skin
©Copyright Jennifer Blackstream 2012
Cover Art by Jaycee of Sweet n’ Spicy Designs © Copyright October 2012
Skeleton Key Publishing
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.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. In all seriousness, if you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it and purchase your own copy or else be faced with an irate pixie and a snarling dragon. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved with the creation of this ebook.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Skeleton Key Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2012 by Skeleton Key Publishing, Norton, Ohio, United States of America
Acknowledgements
Thanks for the read through sib. I adore you.
Marie, your input was invaluable as always. Brec thanks you.
Dedication
To the sailors out there who know there’s more in the ocean than fish.
Chapter 1
“Ack, no! Don’t pick that one.”
Ana paused with her hand over a strip of honeysuckle. Darting her gaze around the herbalist’s small shop, she searched for the source of the unholy screeching that made the nerves in her arms shrivel in agony. Rows of drying herbs hung from a square patch of ceiling on her right, lavender, mistletoe, and slippery elm filling the air with their soft fragrances. Rows and rows of oils and candles lined the left wall, their simple glass jars and neatly labeled black lids the epitome of order.
Mrs. Downing, the shop’s owner, was still in the back filling her order. No other patrons were in sight. Ana narrowed her eyes and then turned her attention back to the display of honeysuckle that lined the glass case in front of her. Her foot resumed its nervous tapping and she clenched her teeth as she wondered once again what was taking Mrs. Downing so long.
“Are you daft? I said don’t pick that one!”
Stomping her foot in agitation, Ana jerked her head up just in time to get struck between the eyes with something small and pointy. She caught the projectile in her hand as it fell, looking down at what appeared to be a tiny piece of wood. She stared at the sliver in her hand before glaring up at the creature that had hurled it.
A little pixie glowered at her from inside a cage hanging over the cash register to her right, just over her head enough that she hadn’t noticed it when she looked around. His pale white skin looked strange amidst the warm earth tones of the shop. The soft grey fur of his clothing seemed to be stitched together from what she could only guess was mouse fur and he had on a pair of tiny brown boots as well. He would have been cute if not for the scowl on his face.
“What do you care what herbs I pick?”
“Don’t question me, woman, just listen,” he shouted. “Don’t pick that one! Don’t pick any of them!” He grabbed hold of the bars on either side of him and began to rock until the whole cage swung crazily from side to side. “Every herb in this shop is POISON!” he screamed.
“One more squeal out of you and it won’t just be the cage’s latch that’s forged of iron!”
Ana raised her eyebrows as Mrs. Downing came barreling out of the back room, shaking her fist at the imprisoned pixie as the curtain that blocked the doorway settled behind her. Dressed in casual black pants and a red shirt, with a black and red Chilkat blanket hanging down her back, the shopkeeper was a pleasant combination of tradition and modern comfort. As her long black braid flailed behind her, Ana couldn’t help but be impressed that a woman of Mrs. Downing’s generous size and age could move that quickly.
If only she’d move that fast filling my order, Ana thought, annoyance prompting her to cross her arms. I need these herbs NOW. I’m so close . . .
The old woman continued to glare at the pixie. “You think about that, you little thief! Surrounded by iron! Just the thought of it makes your puny flesh burn, doesn’t it?”
The pixie glared at the herbalist, but he kept his mouth shut. Mrs. Downing gave him one last scathing glance before turning to Ana, a smile instantly bursting to life as she focused her attention on one of her best customers.
“Please forgive the noise, my dear. I only leave him there as a warning to any other pests who might be thinking about stealing from me.”
“What did he steal from you?” Ana asked the question more to distract herself from her reason for coming to the shop than for any real desire to know the answer. The devastation waiting for her at home weighed like lead on her spirit, only a thin sliver of hope that this time, this spell, might be different saving her from complete despair.
“A lousy rose petal,” the pixie grumped. “I only wanted a soft leaf for my pillow.”
The herbalist’s gaze shot back to the cage. “It wasn’t one lousy rose petal, you little miscreant. You raided my roses every night for a month! Do you know how expensive roses are? They don’t exactly grow wild in the Alaskan wilderness, now do they?”
“Well they dry up!” the pixie screeched. “You want I should sleep on a scratchy dried up rose petal? Me, with the soft skin of a newborn—”
“Oh, shut up!” Mrs. Downing bellowed.
Ana rubbed her forehead between her eyes. This, she said to herself, is why I should stay at home and order herbs over the internet. Shipping can’t possibly take as long at this exceptionally loud woman. “Mrs. Downing, would you be so kind as to add some St. John’swort to my order?”
The herbalist turned her attention back to Ana, a look of concern adding new creases to her aged brown skin. “St. John’swort? Are you not feeling well?”
“Just a headache,” Ana growled.
“Probably from the smell of all these third rate herbs.”
“That’s it!” the old woman yelled, whirling around. She stomped toward the back room. “I’m getting the iron cage!”
Ana looked up at the almost comical look of horror on the little pixie’s face. Without a second thought, she reached up and unlatched the iron slide bolt. She couldn’t seem to do anything about her own misery, but the pixie’s woes were easily assuaged.
“Get out of here before she comes back,” Ana said quietly. “And never treat your freedom so carelessly again.”
The pixie darted out of the cage, only pausing for a second to hover in front of her.
“My name is Nu.” He tilted his head. “What is your name?”
“Ana.”
“I won’t forget this, Ana,” he said seriously.
“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?”
&nbs
p; 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.
Under His Skin Page 1