One Wicked Night

by Noelle Mack

  They had reached the edge of the lake. Overhead, the moon had risen to the pinnacle. It would begin its descent now, each moment bringing it closer to the dawn. There wasn't much time left in the arms of the goddess who had granted him her favors for what reason he had yet to discover.

  Yes. There were sexual creatures. It all seemed quite natural to them to pair off and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. But then, he was a seasoned warrior and he had known his carnal moments also. Still, this was different. She had dazzled him with her magic and her beauty, and though he knew it couldn't last beyond the dawn, he had to believe there was a reason for her favors aside from the obvious. She was up to something. He would probe that issue, but not then. Not when the moon was sliding low and the beautiful Goddess of the Dream Well was standing before him naked and willing and ready to pleasure him as he had never been pleasured before.

  They had reached the water's edge. It was warm, lapping at their feet and ankles—comfortable, just as everything was in the mysterious Celtic Otherworld, everything except jealous centaurs with longbows. It was bizarre moments like that when Gar was sure it was all a dream, but then he could still feel the wind the arrow made as it struck the ground so close to his foot he felt the shudder of its vibration. One did not feel such things in dreams, but they did feel such in enchantments.

  Everyone knew the power of the fay. Didn't the Irish leave their front and back doors open a crack at night to give access to the wee folk that they might pass through unhindered in their night revelries? And didn't the Cornish pay tribute to the knockers in the tin mines to ensure that those little folk would lead them to the richest veins of ore? What had he bought with the tribute he'd tossed into the dream well, the coiled snake bracelet catching glints of moonlight on Analee's arm? Why was he the chosen one? What did it all mean? He longed to know, but feared to ask and break the magical spell she had cast over him.

  Analee had taken his hand. A little boat resting in the lap­ping surf appeared at the edge of the lake. She was leading him toward it. Long and slender, in the shape of a swan, the boat bobbed gently as the calm ripples nudged it. Inside, it was made like a bed, with satin sheets and feather-down quilts. Silver bowls heaped high with grapes and plums and pomegranates set about the bow and stern made his mouth water.

  "Come," she said as he handed her into it. "There is much I would show you before the dawn parts us, Gar Trivelyan, but first a moonlight sail."

  Three

  T hey drifted with the current along the narrow ribbon of moon shimmer on the water as if it were an avenue. Balmy breezes fanned their naked skin, moist with the sweat of sex. There was no need of oars, or rudder. The little swan boat seemed to know the way. Cradled in the arms of the goddess, Gar had eyes for nothing else but the copper-haired, wide-eyed beauty in his arms, until another creature appeared.

  Breaking the water's surface, a seal cow appeared; its limpid, human-like eyes seemed strangely familiar. It let loose a mourn­ful wail, melancholy and sad, and lumbered alongside the boat, resting its front flippers on the side rail. Poised there, it peeked in at them, its gaze intense.

  Analee vaulted upright. "What do you do here?" she scolded the creature. "Your time is not yet. Get you back to your revelry and leave me to mine, little sister."

  The seal wailed again, and to Gar's great surprise, it reached to pet him with its silky flipper, its adoring eyes taking him in with much interest. The creature's touch was scintillating, its body aura charged with iridescence in the moonlight like a halo. An evocative scent of ambergris and salt drifted toward him from its pelt. It blinked and purred and shuddered in the water, making little ripples on the breast of the lake that spread out wide, like a stone makes skipping over the surface, just as her touch sent ripples of sweet sensation radiating through his loins. Instinctively, Gar reached to stroke the creature's sleek, wet head, and it closed its eyes and purred again, leaning into his caress.

  Analee vaulted to her feet, nearly upsetting the boat. "Away, I said!" she commanded the seal. "This will not be borne! Get you gone!"

  The seal pushed off then, spiraled down into the water with another heart-wrenching moan, and a spectacular show of tail before it disappeared beneath the trail of moon shimmer that was growing steadily wider as the moon descended.

  "Why did you chase her?" Gar asked. "She was doing no harm."

  Analee sank back down in the boat and reached for him. "She knows her place," she said. "Right now that is in your world. She has no business here now."

  "You called her your sister," said Gar, perplexed.

  "I call the wood nymphs my sisters, too," the goddess replied. "Otherworldly deities each have their place. They must remain in it. But we all have our alter egos ..." she added, as if to herself. "And on feasts anything is possible."

  The last made no sense, except that it smacked of jealousy. He ignored it. "She is an astral deity, then, that seal?" he asked.

  "She is a selkie. When the full Samhain moon unites the au­tumnal currents and the streams collide, the selkies shed their skins in your world. Some mortal men will steal those skins and if they do, the seals that shed them must remain their captors. There are many wonders in our world, Gar Trivelyan. We of the astral choose with care those mortals favored to know our secrets."

  "Why have you chosen me?" Gar blurted out. He had been dancing around asking that question since he met the Goddess of the Dream Well.

  "Mortal men are too full of logic," she responded through a sigh that moved her naked breasts seductively. "Is it not enough that you have been chosen, knight of the realm? Must you have a reason?"

  He shrugged, sinking into her arms. "There must be one," he persisted. He'd brought up the issue. There was no turning back now.

  "There is," she said, playing with a lock of his hair, "but it is not for you, a mere mortal, to question the will of the gods." Her finger traced the scowl lines on his face. "Is it so important, really? Are you not pleased with the wonders you have seen here . . . with me?"

  "Will I remember them when I return to my own world?" She hesitated, and his heart nearly stopped. It was the bravest question yet, for he had no idea if he would be returning.

  "... That depends," she said at last.

  "Upon ... ?"

  "The gods," she said. "They have granted us this time, but it grows short, and we must not waste it..."

  Fisting her hands in his hair, she pulled his head down until his lips met hers, but Gar had one last question, and he held back, focusing upon the provocative beauty spot above her lip, for he dared not look her in the eyes for this one.

  "For all the passion here, there is no love, only lust," he said. "How is that possible?"

  Again she hesitated. "The astral is a sensual plane of existence," she said. "What you mortals call love does not exist here. We of the astral view what you call by the name of lust as being as normal as breathing. It is a natural function that brings pleasure. We put no moral connotaions upon it. This is what divides our worlds, why one will never understand the other, and why it is best that they be kept apart. Do not look too closely at the giver, Gar Trivelyan. Simply take the gift."

  "And yet there is jealousy," Gar continued, trying to ignore her caresses. "That centaur ..."

  Analee laughed. "Yes, there is jealousy," she said, "and possessiveness, but not because of love. You are an intruder here, and the enemy! Have you forgotten who it was that caused the fall that separated our worlds when time began? Man's memory is weak, but not that of we of the astral. Our recollections go back to when mankind and the fay coexisted side by side in one world—before the fall—before the Great War that rent our worlds in two."

  Gar gave it thought, but there was still one more thing trou­bling him. "That seal before," he said. "There was love in her, I sensed it—I felt it.. ."

  "The selkies are a breed apart," said Analee. "That is because once shed of their skins they take on human traits, and some­times actually become human—too human." />
  Gar uttered a guttural chuckle. "I sense a little jealousy here, too," he observed, pulling her closer.

  "Rivalry is a more accurate term," she snapped back. "Enough! Do you see that moon up there?" She waved her arm toward it then swept it down toward the shimmer it painted on the breast of the water. "The lower it sinks, the wider the swath," she said, "the wider the swath, the closer the dawn, when we must part. Take the gift, Gar Trivelyan."

  Bypassing his mouth, the goddess pulled his head down, feeding him her nipple; it was hard and cool to the touch as he laved it with his tongue, making it harder still. It would not do to anger her in this melancholy mood that had come over her since the seal appeared. He was in her world now. He must play by her rules, but he couldn't free himself of the selkie's touch.

  His skin still tingled from the caress of that satiny flipper, and her dark eyes with lashes that made them seem so human haunted him still.

  Perhaps it was her wide-eyed innocence that had so capti­vated him, or the love he felt in her caress that was so conspicu­ous in its absence among the rest. Whatever the cause, he longed to see the little seal again if only to dispel what she had ignited in him. Meanwhile, the Goddess of the Dream Well had twined her legs around him in the plush bedding that lined the little boat. How smooth and silky soft it felt against the fever in his skin.

  Analee trailed her hand in the water, then moistened his lips with it, slipping her index finger inside his mouth. Gar laved it, licking the salt from it, sucking it as her fingertip jousted with his tongue. His hand glided over her belly and thighs and slipped between, parting the petals of her sex, spreading her juices as he probed her layer upon layer until he'd slipped two fingers in­side her. How warm and welcoming her body was, thrumming to the rhythm of his caress as her vulva gripped his fingers just as they had gripped his cock.

  Straddling her was precarious in the narrow swan boat. Gar's tall, muscular hard-muscled body barely fit in it with her as it was, without managing coupling positions. It would have been safer were she to straddle him, but she made no overtures in that direction, reclining her back upon the feather-down quilts, her long coppery hair fanned out about her on the bol­ster beneath her head. She looked her in Otherworldly incarna­tion as if she wasn't real at all, but an illustration in a fine old tome of collected myths.

  Lifting her legs, he raised her hips and entered her, watching his hot hard shaft slide inside her, gliding on the wetness of her arousal. Again and again he thrust into her as she clung to him, fisting her hands in his hair, arching her back to take him deeper still. Writhing against him, she slid her hands over her breasts, working her tawny nipples into tall, hard buds between her thumbs and forefingers just as he had done. Looking on through hooded eyes dilated with desire, Gar watched the wide areola of those perfect nipples pucker taut, watched the globes of her breasts flush and harden. His shaft plunged deeper. The sight of her thus sent waves of drenching fire through his loins, each shuddering thrust bringing him closer and closer to climax until at last he could bear no more.

  Bending, coupled as they were, was difficult in the close confines of the boat, but he longed to take those nipples in his mouth, longed to lave them with his tongue until she begged for more, until he could feel the contractions of her release as he brought her to climax. Shifting position, he cupped one breast in his massive hand, lowered his anxious mouth, and suckled.

  Analee let loose a guttural groan, primeval and deep. Her hips jerked forward and she lurched in his arms as he filled her, matching him thrust for thrust, gripping his cock with her vagina until, on the verge of orgasm, he shifted position and took her deeper still.

  The boat began to rock to their rhythm. Faster and faster it heaved from side to side, taking in water, for it was shallow. Swamped, it keeled over when Gar scrambled to his feet attempt­ing to steady it, pitching them both into the lake, as it spiraled down beneath the surface of the water, the swan's neck-shaped prow striking Gar a blow on the head as it sank.

  Down, down, Gar plunged dazed into the still, dark water. He'd lost sight of Analee, though he groped for her as he plum­meted. He had always been a strong swimmer—even injured— which is what had saved him during the shipwreck, but the glancing blow he'd taken to the head had rendered him nearly senseless, and he fought to stay conscious.

  All at once a stream of phosphorescence glided toward him. He felt a sharp nudge that propelled him upward. Something silky soft leaned against him, something vaguely familiar. It raised him up until his head burst through the water and he filled his lungs with great gulps of air as it nudged him up upon the lakeshore coughing and sputtering helplessly.

  Rolling on his back, he opened eyes smarting with salt to the sight of the little seal cow bending over him, her head cocked to the side, her enormous eyes sparkling down at him dazzling in the moonlight. There was a large lump on his brow, where the boat's prow grazed him as it sank. Glancing up, he could see the angry bruise surrounding it. The little seal saw it, too. Be­fore he could raise his hand to soothe it, she laid her flipper over the lump. How soothing and cool it felt against the fire in the smarting bruise.

  Stroking it, she purred like a cat and sidled closer, flopping down alongside him. How warm her body was, considering that she'd just come from the water, and how comforting as she nuzzled against his heaving chest with her sleek wet nose. Her whiskers tickled. When he brushed them away, she nuzzled his hand, and patted him with her flipper the way she had done in the boat earlier.

  Gar couldn't help but smile. "You're a friendly little thing, aren't you?" he said. "I suppose I should thank you. I might have drowned if you hadn't rescued me, little friend. Well done!"

  Iridescence glowed around her like a halo in the moonlight at his words just as it had before, but her purring vibrating against his skin alarmed him. It had erotic overtones about it that flagged danger, and he vaulted erect, all but toppling her over. He was aroused. Was it because he'd had another close brush with death, or had this strange selkie creature made him hard with her gentle petting?

  He had to keep reminding himself that he was in the astral realm, where all creatures exuded sex as a matter of course and a natural function no more profound than drawing breath. There were no moral strictures here. Creatures went about naked, and mated in public whenever and with whomever they pleased. Having come among them, he'd been caught up in the magic— obliged to behave in like manner, for he'd been chosen by the fay, and one did not refuse that privilege or treat it lightly or without respect, else he fall to disfavor with the astral realm. No one dared risk curses of the Celtic Otherworld, least of all a seasoned warrior who depended upon all the supernatural fa­vors he could glean on his campaigns.

  Gar raised his hand to his brow to find that the lump was gone. Had she healed him? She must have done. Now, she flopped around him in the manner of a seal, and seemed to be taking his measure. There was a childlike innocence about her that made her all the more irresistible. One could not help but be endeared to such a creature. It was his natural instinct to em­brace her, to stroke her head like he had done in the boat. Some­thing made him resist the urge. Instead he sat spellbound as she waddled around him, her silky flipper petting first his arm, then his hip, then his leg. There was discovery and awe in her touch, as if she had never seen a naked man before. The tactile sensations spread by that gentle touch set his loins on fire. Every cell, every pore in his skin responded to her touch. There was no question as to the cause of his arousal now, and when her raised flipper approached his erect cock, he vaulted to his feet.

  "That will do, my curious little friend," he said through a nervous laugh. He stooped and finally succumbed to stroking her head. She looked so forlorn at his rejection of her caress, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't bear the hurt in those huge limpid eyes. She seemed all eyes then, gazing up at him long­ingly. She was half human after all. "Hadn't you better go back as your sister said?" he urged her. "You wouldn't want to anger her, would you?"<
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  "It is far too late for that!" said the goddess, plowing out of the lake. She approached them, arms akimbo, her long hair cu­riously dry for having risen from the water. "Get you back where you belong!" she charged the seal, chasing her toward the water's edge.

  The seal barked a protest, her reluctance to leave evident in the way she flopped and waddled around him until Analee fi­nally drove her back into the water with the aid of a stick that had washed up on shore. Again the creature wailed. The mourn­ful sound pierced Gar to the core. Their eyes met for the briefest instant before the seal splashed into the water and dove beneath the surface, dodging the stick Analee hurled after her. Seconds later as if waving farewell, the creature rose up and plunged again, her broad tail rising into the air, dripping luminous pearls of water back into the lake, then disappeared.

  "So!" the goddess said. "The minute my back is turned, this is what I find. Is this how you would repay my generosity, Gar Trivelyan?"

  Gar shrugged. "That creature saved my life, my lady," he de­fended. "But for her—"

  "I saved your life, knight of the realm," Analee reminded him, "and gave you my favors. It would do you well to remem­ber that."

  "How could I forget?" he returned, the words spoken on the cutting edge of sarcasm.

  "Ummm," the goddess grumbled. "However needs must, you would do well to remember your benefactress. Our time is not yet up, Gar Trivelyan."

  Gar glanced up at the moon, then toward the still breast of the water and the silvery shimmer that had swallowed the little seal. He recalled the gentle thump of her body that had guided him toward shore. It was not unlike something similar he'd felt after the shipwreck. He'd heard the siren's song then felt some­thing nudging him toward the strand before he stumbled out of the surf. Could the strange little creature have been with him all along? Had she guided him to the Otherworld in the first place when the galley struck the Land's End shoals? So much was un­clear, and yet one thing was very clear, indeed. The little seal had touched his heart, and he wondered if he would ever see her again