desperate attempt to coax it back above the waves, but the animal only sank deeper. She tried to climb higher—tried to stand on its back, tried to jump clear—but she couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move. Then, in that horrible terrible instant, she knew the secret of the waterhorse: once upon its back, its victims were powerless to save themselves. As though paralyzed, Meg was helpless to prevent the inevitable. A heart-stopping orgasm riveted her. She was going to die!
Simeon streaked through the water, his heart pounding so violently he feared it would burst from his chest. It was a good stretch between the Dark Isle, and the Isle of Mists—too far for a man to swim unaided. But Simeon was not an ordinary man; he was a selkie.
He had stripped off his eel skin garment and cloak and left them behind on the volcanic sand of the Dark Isle. He could swim faster naked. He knew where Elicorn had gone. If he knew nothing else, he knew the only thing that mattered was reaching Megaleen in time, for she would indeed die beneath the waves without his breath in her nostrils if the waterhorse were to take her under. Why hadn’t he answered the dark lord’s summons in his sealskin? He could have made much better time sheathed in the magical skin. How could he have thought he could walk away from the gorgeous, passionate creature who had stolen his heart, no matter how noble his intentions?
The Isle of Mists came into view at last, and not a minute too soon. Rain had begun to pelt down, slowing Simeon’s progress. Through the horizontal splinters pockmarking the breast of the swells, he saw Elicorn plunge into the bay. Slipping beneath the waves, he parted them like an arrow until he came abreast of the waterhorse, within touching distance of Megaleen who was fused helplessly to the enchanted animal’s back.
Simeon drew back his fist with the intent to pummel Elicorn to within an inch of his life. A hair’s breadth from the animal’s proud head, the selkie lord froze, his fist suspended in the water, as Gideon’s words ghosted across his memory: You cannot be faulted for these things, for it is in the blood, but that does not exempt you from reprisal . The waterhorse was doing what his kind had done since time out of mind, just as he had done what his kind had been doing since the dawn of time when he seduced Meg. It was, indeed, in the blood.
But Elicorn was under his command, and he seized the animal’s mane in both his white-knuckled fists and shouted: “Enough! Release her!”
The waterhorse obeyed, slipping away, and Simeon seized Meg about the waist and broke the surface of the water. The shower had passed, though more threatened, and the full moon showed its face through scudding clouds just long enough for Simeon to glimpse a winged figure silhouetted against it.
Gideon.
A spate of expletives parted Simeon’s lips. Had the dark lord been there all the while, watching him struggle to reach Meg in time? Evidently. Cradling her against him, he raised his fist to the sky, and in a blink, the Lord of the Dark was gone. There was some depraved consolation in knowing that Gideon would never have let her drown, but not much. This was Simeon’s reprisal. So be it! He would take that up with Gideon at a later date. Right now, Meg was clinging to him, her heart beating against his naked chest, the soft thatch of her pubic curls cushioning his hard cock through the flimsy billowed kirtle. Their eyes met for one brief instant before he breathed into her nostrils and spiraled with her down beneath the surface of the water.
His bedchamber in the palace was vacant when they reached it. There was no sign of the melee that had taken place there earlier. The rumpled bed had been restored—thanks, he had no doubt, to Vega—and the consorts were nowhere in sight. Laying Meg down on the bed, he climbed in beside her and took her in his arms.
“Why did you take me back?” she murmured. “Why did you leave me?”
Simeon
Simeon streaked through the water, his heart pounding so violently he feared it would burst from his chest. It was a good stretch between the Dark Isle, and the Isle of Mists—too far for a man to swim unaided. But Simeon was not an ordinary man; he was a selkie.
He had stripped off his eel skin garment and cloak and left them behind on the volcanic sand of the Dark Isle. He could swim faster naked. He knew where Elicorn had gone. If he knew nothing else, he knew the only thing that mattered was reaching Megaleen in time, for she would indeed die beneath the waves without his breath in her nostrils if the waterhorse were to take her under. Why hadn’t he answered the dark lord’s summons in his sealskin? He could have made much better time sheathed in the magical skin. How could he have thought he could walk away from the gorgeous, passionate creature who had stolen his heart, no matter how noble his intentions?
The Isle of Mists came into view at last, and not a minute too soon. Rain had begun to pelt down, slowing Simeon’s progress. Through the horizontal splinters pockmarking the breast of the swells, he saw Elicorn plunge into the bay. Slipping beneath the waves, he parted them like an arrow until he came abreast of the waterhorse, within touching distance of Megaleen who was fused helplessly to the enchanted animal’s back.
Simeon drew back his fist with the intent to pummel Elicorn to within an inch of his life. A hair’s breadth from the animal’s proud head, the selkie lord froze, his fist suspended in the water, as Gideon’s words ghosted across his memory: You cannot be faulted for these things, for it is in the blood, but that does not exempt you from reprisal . The waterhorse was doing what his kind had done since time out of mind, just as he had done what his kind had been doing since the dawn of time when he seduced Meg. It was, indeed, in the blood.
But Elicorn was under his command, and he seized the animal’s mane in both his white-knuckled fists and shouted: “Enough! Release her!”
The waterhorse obeyed, slipping away, and Simeon seized Meg about the waist and broke the surface of the water. The shower had passed, though more threatened, and the full moon showed its face through scudding clouds just long enough for Simeon to glimpse a winged figure silhouetted against it.
Gideon.
A spate of expletives parted Simeon’s lips. Had the dark lord been there all the while, watching him struggle to reach Meg in time? Evidently. Cradling her against him, he raised his fist to the sky, and in a blink, the Lord of the Dark was gone. There was some depraved consolation in knowing that Gideon would never have let her drown, but not much. This was Simeon’s reprisal. So be it! He would take that up with Gideon at a later date. Right now, Meg was clinging to him, her heart beating against his naked chest, the soft thatch of her pubic curls cushioning his hard cock through the flimsy billowed kirtle. Their eyes met for one brief instant before he breathed into her nostrils and spiraled with her down beneath the surface of the water.
His bedchamber in the palace was vacant when they reached it. There was no sign of the melee that had taken place there earlier. The rumpled bed had been restored—thanks, he had no doubt, to Vega—and the consorts were nowhere in sight. Laying Meg down on the bed, he climbed in beside her and took her in his arms.
“Why did you take me back?” she murmured. “Why did you leave me?”
Simeon
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