Selkie's Revenge (7 page)

Beth and Mack joined him in the kitchen. She proceeded to make tea for the three of them. “It’s true. Frank and I had Gerald and Colin over for dinner a lot. Since Gerald’s divorce, he doesn’t get a lot of home-cooked meals. To help out, he always brought us the most delicious crab and brown trout.” She laid a hand on Gerald’s arm. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much of a hostess lately.”

“No one would blame you, darlin’,” he replied. He winked at her.

The atmosphere grew suddenly tense, Beth couldn’t help noticing, as Mack watched her and Gerald commiserate. She’d swear the light in the room grew dimmer, but then she realized the weather outside had changed. Where the day had begun bright, it now looked like rain. Strange. She couldn’t recall any rain in the forecast for today.

That was Orkney. Just another reason to go back to Florida.

And yet every time Mack blinked at Gerald, the sky seemed to turn a shade darker. Weird.

As the pungent scent of Gerald’s stew permeated the house, the three of them sat and had a cup of tea. They continued to chat, but conversation was strained. Mostly, she noticed, on Mack’s part. He suddenly seemed to be a fan of one-word answers.

For a second, she wondered if he didn’t like Gerald. It didn’t make sense. Everyone liked Gerald. Gerald certainly loved Gerald.

But as her neighbor prattled on about his latest fishing trip, Beth found her gaze drifting back to Machar. And she realized she wanted to know very much why he seemed so averse to the other man and how it was that the oppressive atmosphere in the room seemed to be shooting right from Mack’s eyes.

*

Mack focused on Gerald Finnegan, his grip tight on Beth’s delicate china cup. He almost bit his lip in fury when he read what was going through the fisherman’s mind.

The picture in Gerald’s head was quite clear. Even as he whined about bad catches and crab traps, he was picturing Beth. Naked. Tied to his bedposts.

Mack set the cup down on the table with a clatter. Some of the tea splashed out. Dazed, he stared at the mess he’d made. What had come over him? Beth jumped up from the kitchen table and brought over some paper towels. She proceeded to wipe up the tea, but he took the towels from her. “No, let me do it. My fault.”

“Looks like you’ve got some butter fingers there, mate,” Gerald teased, laughing. “It’s a good thing Beth never gave you red wine.”

Mack tried to grin at Gerald but was sure his expression resembled more of a snarl. He wanted to throttle the man for the raunchy images in his head. How dare he picture Beth in that lurid position? Spread open on Gerald’s bed, unable to move? He didn’t like the idea of the widow being tied to any man’s bedposts.

But his.

What?

Mack’s head reeled. Okay, he could admit he’d enjoyed having Beth to himself, but now with Gerald in the house, he suddenly felt as if he were on the outside looking in. He didn’t like the fact that Gerald was part of her inner circle. Mack wanted to be in her inner circle. Hell, right now he wanted to be the president of her inner circle.

“Uh,” Mack stammered, not quite sure what he was going to say anymore. “Beth, you’ve been through a lot. Perhaps you should get some rest now.”

She gazed at him, her face pale, but her eyes bright and curious. “I do feel a little tired.”

Gerald rose. “Say no more, darlin’. I best be on my way. You make sure you eat a hearty portion of that stew tonight. It’ll put some meat on your bones and hair on your chest.” He grinned as they all stood up. They walked to the door. Gerald leaned over and kissed Beth on the forehead.

Mack had to hold himself back. Not wanting to resemble a homicidal maniac, he clenched his fists, reminding himself that Gerald had a longer-standing relationship with Beth than he did. If she wanted him to kiss her, who was he to argue?

Even still, he wanted to grab Gerald by the scruff of his neck and toss him out the window, right into the surf.

For fuck’s sake, man. Get a hold of yourself
.

Clang, clang, clang
went Big Ben, taunting him.

Gerald finally left, and Mack heard his own sigh of relief. Okay, so Gerald was charming in his own way and thoughtful enough to bring a stew that smelled like a fishmonger’s shop, and he was somewhat good-looking with his ginger hair and piratey smile and damned Aran jumper. Still, he had no business imagining Beth starkers. Dismissing his frazzled train of thought, Mack turned to Beth. “I suppose I should go too. Would you like me to serve up some of that fish stew to you before I go?”

Beth stared at him. “No, thanks. You don’t have to do that.” She sucked on her bottom lip, an innocently sexy move that did nothing good for his already deranged libido. “If you want, you could stay and have some with me. You know, for lunch. Um, as a thank you.”

Mack felt something lighten inside his core. Immediately, he saw the sky brighten outside and cursed himself for being so transparent. However, Beth didn’t seem to notice the quick change in the weather. Thank goodness. Selkies, being so connected to the elements, often found their emotions being reflected in the changing sky. Anger brought storms. Happiness brought clear skies and rainbows.

There was a bloody rainbow blooming inside him now. A neon rainbow doing jumping jacks lit up with Beth’s name.

He was happy she had invited him to stay for stew. He shouldn’t be, but he was. “Sure, Beth. I’ll eat Gerald’s stew with you.” That way he’d know if the neighbor put roofies in it. He grinned. “As long as you have a nap first. You look shattered.” He led her to the couch and urged her to lie down.

She did, her hair falling back as she did. He glimpsed those two spots of hairless skin behind her ear again. He’d have to ask about them some time. He passed a hand over his clammy face as a feeling of protectiveness enveloped him.

She stifled a yawn. “You were about to say something about antiques before Gerald came in.”

He gazed at her, resisting the urge to touch her fine, blonde hair. “I can help you liquidate Frank’s antiques, if you want. Like I said, I’m in antiques myself and know all the best buyers in Orkney. I could help you organize the items and let you know if buyers are giving you a good deal.”

She stared at him in wonderment, her lips slightly open. The bottom lip was plump and pink from where she’d been gnawing on it, and looked perfect for sucking.
Oh, hell
.

“I’d appreciate that, Mack.” She grinned and sighed, settling into the couch, but didn’t close her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

Mack covered her in his seal pelt and was still amazed at how free he was being with it. He should have thrown it into the Mustang and driven away. It was what any smart selkie would have done. Instead, he smoothed it over her shoulders, feeling her thin frame under his hands. She made a soft noise of what sounded like contentment and snuggled in. Before long, her eyes closed.

As something resembling sharp desire pierced through him, Mack started to move away. She laid a hand on his arm and stopped him. She opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry I kicked you out of my hospital room,” she whispered. “Will you sit with me for a little while, until I fall asleep?”

Mack watched her light eyelashes flutter. His heart did a funny leaping thing at the same time his crotch inflated. For a moment, he wondered if he’d put on a smaller man’s trousers that morning, but realized he just had the Washington Monument in his pants. He sat with her and placed his hands in his lap and offered her a crooked smile. “Aye, Beth. I’m not going anywhere.”

* * * *

A heartrending cry in the night disturbed the vigil Mack was keeping at Beth’s back door. He’d been keeping an eye out for finmen, but Beth’s loud moans made him race to her. He rushed up to her bedroom, poked his head into her room, and then breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t in pain or in harm’s way, but she did appear to be having a nightmare. Her thrashing and incoherent whimpers made it clear.

Mack wondered if he should wake her, but waited in case the nightmare slipped away. He didn’t want her to miss out on any precious sleep.

He watched, taken by the strangely graceful movements of her flailing arms and legs, and his cock responded. Again. He shouldn’t be aroused by the sight of her but was. Her groans changed, softened by a new sexual undertone, and the urgent sound kick-started a chain reaction of lust in his core. She mumbled something, and her legs jumped apart. Within seconds, all the sheets were off her, as well as his selkie pelt. Beth kicked again, exposing her undulating bottom half to him. By all that was holy, somehow in her fitful sleep she’d managed to wriggle out of her jeans and panties. She was completely bare from the waist down.

Mack looked away, horrified to see her so intimately while she was asleep, but also so enticed he had to look back. She spread her legs and let out an unintelligible moan, one laced with stark hunger. And before he could walk away, her hand moved between her legs and she touched herself there.

“St. Godwin’s nut sac,” he whispered, frozen to his spot. His heart thumped, as crazed as a John Bonham drum solo.

Beth’s dainty fingers danced over her pussy, skimming folds that looked as tasty as they were captivating. Her body arched and jerked as her fingers explored and her cries grew more desperate. Her face fell as a frown marred her brow. She bit at her lips as her finger slipped between her nether lips, forcing their way into her body over and over.

“Oh,” she said, moaning, still completely lost to sleep. “It hurts.”

Her fingers pumped so hard Mack grew worried she’d cause an injury. Clearly she was unable to reach satisfaction. And as much as he really wanted to give her the relief she needed, Mack knew how wrong it was and turned away.

“Mack,” she uttered. “Please.”

Upon hearing his name, Mack shut his eyes and swallowed, unable to move away. She was dreaming of him. Would she wrestle with herself all night? Would the nightmare taunt her for hours because she couldn’t make herself come? For some reason, Mack couldn’t leave her. It seemed worse to leave her than it did to help her.

He stalked to the bed and stood by her head. With his selkie eyes, he could see well in the dark and noticed the skin on her mound was pink. She was touching herself too hard and would hurt herself if this continued. Perhaps he could dissuade her.

With a gentle touch, he tried to move her hand away from her seam. It was a pretty pussy, decorated with fair hairs. The sex of a woman who hadn’t felt the need to shave down there in a long time. Still, the hair did nothing to detract from its beauty. As he stared, he fought the urge to breathe in the scent of her arousal. It was no use. The perfume had already flooded each of his senses, and his body was charged. Could already drink in her flavor as it creamed over his taste buds.

He wanted her.

It was no reason to take her, and not like this.

Still, as soon as he moved her hand away, she replaced it with a shattered groan. Mack pulled up a chair and sat at her side as his lust raged, demanding a release. However, his regard for her took precedence. There must be a way to help her and soothe her while not touching her.

A thought occurred to him. Mack began to sing softly. Not only could the song of a selkie lull one to sleep and entrance, it could also seduce. Mack remembered the words of a suggestive selkie ballad and let them trip quietly off his lips. He hadn’t sung this song in eons but remembered each word. It told the tale of a selkie woman, one whose pelt had been captured by a young sailor. In the story, the love-struck mariner brought his selkie prize home, and she made a man of him, teaching him the ways of love. Mack leaned in, singing softly to Beth, and willed her to orgasm.

As the ancient words floated around the two of them, Beth’s movements grew less jerky and more feathery. Mack continued his song, watching her slide her fingers over her clit in circular motions, and memorized the touches that made her tremble. As much as he wished it was his tongue making her quiver, he felt satisfaction as her pleasure seemed to intensify. And as she finally unraveled on a long sigh, her fingers drenched in the most fragrant dew he’d ever inhaled, Mack cracked out the final notes of his song. He could sing no more; his throat was dry.

He licked his lips, tasting her, even though he’d never touched her. She was extraordinary. He swallowed. So delicious.

“Mack,” she whispered again, her eyes fluttering but never opening. Her hand moved and came to rest on her belly. With a little smile, she turned her head toward her pillow.

Affected in a way he’d never anticipated, trembling himself now, Mack quietly moved the chair back to its place. Before covering Beth with the blankets and his pelt, Mack eased her panties and jeans back up her legs, knowing she would be out for a while. As he buttoned up the jeans, it occurred to him that there was something wrong in dressing Beth. As if his hands had been made to undress her. Without considering the strange matter further, he escaped to the door, looking back once at her slumbering form, and then headed downstairs.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * *

From his hidden home, so dark and dreary without a feminine companion, the finman concentrated on Beth Pedersen. His powers allowed him to glimpse his bride, allowed him to hone in on her no matter where she was.

He could see her, plain as day, writhing on her bed. Although he could not grin, as finmen’s faces were not built for expressions of happiness, he was grinning in his mind. To see her half-naked, pleasuring herself, made him ache to plunge his length into her. And he had to do it soon if he wanted to continue his family line.

She cried out, and the name she uttered pierced through his brain.

“Mack.”

The finman opened up his field of vision so as to include everything in the room with Beth. The damned selkie was there, watching her too.

How he despised the lascivious beasts!

Enraged, the finman threw his hands up to the surface and shot lightning up through the sea. Above him, water churned and boiled. Waves towered and exploded on the shore, growing in intensity and furor with each foaming crash. Woe to the mortal who walked the beach tonight. The waves would surely sweep him out to sea.