run back and plunge off the pier, to merge with the dance beneath the
waves, the life lurking, darting, swaying, streaming, in the flowing moss,
in the forests of kelp, in the cold, deep dark. To blot out thought with
sensation. To wash the taint of humanity from his soul.
How did Conn stand it?
Within the confines of Sanctuary, the prince had held to his human
form longer than any selkie living. But he would not leave the magic of
the island. He could not risk aging.
Dylan gulped another mouthful of air. He was young by selkie
standards— not yet forty. He could spend weeks, years, on land and still
not approach his chronological age. At least he would not die from this
experience. Unless the frustration killed him.
He raised his gaze from the asphalt. At the top of the winding road,
the restaurant’s red awning gleamed like a sail in the sunset.
The slippery knot in his gut eased. There was one hunger he could
satisfy.
He went to see her only because it suited his purpose, Dylan told
himself as he passed the ferry road. His very public pursuit of Regina
provided him with an excuse to keep an eye on the humans’ comings and
goings, to listen to their gossip. If a demon did possess an islander,
chances were good that his neighbors would be discussing his strange
behavior over coffee at Antonia’s the next day.
And yet . . .
He wanted to see her. Looked forward to the wary light that came
into her eyes when he walked through the door, the challenge in her chin,
the annoyance in her voice. Liked watching her through the pass-through
into the kitchen, her quick, neat movements, her small, strong hands, the
impatient press of her lips. He smiled, picturing her. Always busy, always
in motion, like a bird at the edge of the tide.
60
He pushed open the restaurant door, making the bell jangle. The
restaurant cat raised its head from its window perch, regarding him with
sleepy golden eyes.
Margred paused in the act of untying her apron. “Oh, it’s you.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, nettled by her obvious disappointment.
Selkie or human, married or not, Margred had power, a purely female
magic that would always draw men’s eyes. But this time the sight of her
did nothing to blunt the edge in him.
His restless gaze moved past her to the kitchen. “Where is she?”
“Regina? She went to the dock to meet the ferry. I am waiting for
her to come back.”
“Why?”
“So I can go home.”
He bared his teeth. “Who is she meeting at the ferry?”
“No one. They’re off-loading supplies for the restaurant. Dylan . . .”
Margred’s eyes were troubled. Seeking. “What are you doing here?”
She had faced a demon before, Dylan reminded himself. They had
faced a demon together. He did not need to pretend with her. And Conn
had not instructed him to lie.
“Conn sent me.”
“Why?”
“He believes the fire spawn are seeking something on World’s End.”
Margred went very still. “Seeking what?”
Your child. Yours and my brother’s. But Dylan could not say that.
He did not know it to be true.
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
61
“Vengeance?”
“It’s possible.”
“Then why did you not come to me?” She crumpled her apron
between her hands. “Why did you not warn me?”
“Because we do not know.”
“And because I am human now,” she guessed.
Possibly. Probably. Guilt made him stiff. “By your own choice.”
“Yes. My choice. Being human pleases me.” She added deliberately,
“Caleb pleases me.”
“Till death do you part,” Dylan sneered.
She tossed her head. “Better a lifetime with him than eternity
without him.”
“And when you both are old, will he still please you then?”
“Yes,” she said with absolute certainty.
“How do you know?”
“Why do you care?” she shot back.
The back door slammed.
“Idiot supplier sent me iceberg,” Regina said. “Four crates of—
Well.”
waves, the life lurking, darting, swaying, streaming, in the flowing moss,
in the forests of kelp, in the cold, deep dark. To blot out thought with
sensation. To wash the taint of humanity from his soul.
How did Conn stand it?
Within the confines of Sanctuary, the prince had held to his human
form longer than any selkie living. But he would not leave the magic of
the island. He could not risk aging.
Dylan gulped another mouthful of air. He was young by selkie
standards— not yet forty. He could spend weeks, years, on land and still
not approach his chronological age. At least he would not die from this
experience. Unless the frustration killed him.
He raised his gaze from the asphalt. At the top of the winding road,
the restaurant’s red awning gleamed like a sail in the sunset.
The slippery knot in his gut eased. There was one hunger he could
satisfy.
He went to see her only because it suited his purpose, Dylan told
himself as he passed the ferry road. His very public pursuit of Regina
provided him with an excuse to keep an eye on the humans’ comings and
goings, to listen to their gossip. If a demon did possess an islander,
chances were good that his neighbors would be discussing his strange
behavior over coffee at Antonia’s the next day.
And yet . . .
He wanted to see her. Looked forward to the wary light that came
into her eyes when he walked through the door, the challenge in her chin,
the annoyance in her voice. Liked watching her through the pass-through
into the kitchen, her quick, neat movements, her small, strong hands, the
impatient press of her lips. He smiled, picturing her. Always busy, always
in motion, like a bird at the edge of the tide.
60
He pushed open the restaurant door, making the bell jangle. The
restaurant cat raised its head from its window perch, regarding him with
sleepy golden eyes.
Margred paused in the act of untying her apron. “Oh, it’s you.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, nettled by her obvious disappointment.
Selkie or human, married or not, Margred had power, a purely female
magic that would always draw men’s eyes. But this time the sight of her
did nothing to blunt the edge in him.
His restless gaze moved past her to the kitchen. “Where is she?”
“Regina? She went to the dock to meet the ferry. I am waiting for
her to come back.”
“Why?”
“So I can go home.”
He bared his teeth. “Who is she meeting at the ferry?”
“No one. They’re off-loading supplies for the restaurant. Dylan . . .”
Margred’s eyes were troubled. Seeking. “What are you doing here?”
She had faced a demon before, Dylan reminded himself. They had
faced a demon together. He did not need to pretend with her. And Conn
had not instructed him to lie.
“Conn sent me.”
“Why?”
“He believes the fire spawn are seeking something on World’s End.”
Margred went very still. “Seeking what?”
Your child. Yours and my brother’s. But Dylan could not say that.
He did not know it to be true.
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
61
“Vengeance?”
“It’s possible.”
“Then why did you not come to me?” She crumpled her apron
between her hands. “Why did you not warn me?”
“Because we do not know.”
“And because I am human now,” she guessed.
Possibly. Probably. Guilt made him stiff. “By your own choice.”
“Yes. My choice. Being human pleases me.” She added deliberately,
“Caleb pleases me.”
“Till death do you part,” Dylan sneered.
She tossed her head. “Better a lifetime with him than eternity
without him.”
“And when you both are old, will he still please you then?”
“Yes,” she said with absolute certainty.
“How do you know?”
“Why do you care?” she shot back.
The back door slammed.
“Idiot supplier sent me iceberg,” Regina said. “Four crates of—
Well.”
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