Under His Skin

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “I have no family,” she babbled. “No friends. I’m always alone and I just thought . . . you seemed so kind and you’re so . . . attractive,” she let her embarrassment over the weakness of her lie color her cheeks, hoping he would see it as a sign of shame. “I saw the webbing between your fingers and when I went to the shore I found your skin . . . it was just like one of the stories.”

  To her utter shock, the anger began to fade from his face. He still didn’t look happy, but the fire died out of his eyes so that they no longer looked like some dungeon hearth waiting to roast her alive. Relief trickled over her muscles and she began to hope she would get out of this with her skin.

  Suddenly he frowned. “How exactly did you hope to get me for a husband when I didn’t know you had my skin?”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. “What?”

  “In the stories, the selkie sees the human take their skin and follows them home—begging them to give it back,” he added with a flash of his earlier anger. “You took my skin and ran. How did you think I was going to find you?”

  She fought for breath to respond, trying to stay calm. He wasn’t brandishing the knife. If he meant to kill her, he wouldn’t bother asking all these questions, would he?

  “I thought you would find it, like you could . . . track it somehow. Don’t you have enhanced senses or something?”

  “Not in human form.” He tilted his head, studying her as if trying to gauge whether she was lying. “All the stories mention the selkie spending the entire happy marriage searching for their skins. If they could just track them, then why is it always the children in the story who find the skins?”

  Ana stared. His words seemed to call her a liar and yet he didn’t seem very angry anymore. Why wasn’t he still furious? She’d stolen his skin, taken away the most important thing in the world. How could he be hovering there, knowing she was probably lying, with the anger just leaking away from his body? Her gaze fell to the seal-skin draped over his shoulder and suddenly understanding dawned.

  He has his skin back. Of course, why wouldn’t he be happy? How could he possibly feel anger—or anything but mind-numbing joy—now that he has his skin back? The weight of her own loss settled more firmly on her soul and Ana raised her gaze to his face. What she saw confirmed her suspicions.

  This was a completely different man than the one who had first woken her. The hard lines around his eyes had softened, making him look younger and more kind. His muscular shoulders drooped ever so slightly, the tension that had been there when she first saw him standing at the foot of her bed having drained away. He still straddled her body, but now he seemed to be truly listening to what she was saying as opposed to just waiting for an excuse to take his revenge on her. In less than five minutes, he’d gone from a raging volcano to a peaceful river—all because he had his skin back.

  Tears burned behind her eyes. I would be like that too. All this pain, all this anger, all this misery would just disappear. I would be a whole new person—a better person. A tear slid down her cheek and her jaw ached as she clenched her teeth against the onslaught of misery. If I just had my skin back, I would be happy.

  She didn’t bother to fight the tears. Seeing the effect recovering his skin had on Brec was just too painful and her fear had already pushed her to the limits of her sanity. Weak with relief now that she was almost certain he wouldn’t harm her, she just didn’t have the strength to stop the tears.

  Already a sympathy for her pathetic lies had settled in his gaze. She’d committed the worst sin possible against him and yet he watched her cry and actually looked like he felt sorry for her. Only regaining one’s skin after suffering the torment of its loss could effect a change in demeanor that profound.

  A sob broke from her throat. She wanted her skin back. She wanted to run through the snow without feeling the cold gnawing at her bones, to hide in plain sight and watch brown bears lumbering around. There were so many wonderful experiences to be had, and she was stuck indoors with this human flesh that did nothing but shiver and turn blue if she stayed outside too long. Death would be better than this miserable existence.

  Helpless to fight the pain, she gave herself over to it completely. She turned her head and closed her eyes, no longer willing to let him watch her private pain for the sake of making him believe her lie. He wouldn’t kill her. She knew that now.

  The mattress springs creaked as he got off the bed, leaving her alone once more. The absence of his body heat just over her naked skin left a rush of cold air that reminded her of her nudity. A tiny voice in the corner of her mind told her she should be embarrassed, but she ignored it. Without her fox-skin she was always naked. Always insecure.

  One of her ankles jerked. The sudden slack told her he’d cut the rope that had bound it to the bed. She should have felt a tremendous wave of relief, but she was too absorbed in her own pain now to think of anything else. As strange as it seemed, a part of her started to wish he’d killed her. She was tired of living a half-life.

  She pulled her free foot toward her, her body trying to curl into a ball as if it would protect her from the outside world. She was cold, humiliated, and human. If not for the thought of one more healing spell waiting for her damaged fur, she would take his knife and end her misery herself.

  He cut the other ankle free a moment later and then the mattress shifted as his weight settled on her left. She opened her eyes to watch him cut her hand free. Without her fear to cloud her vision, she could see him clearly now. His anger was all but gone, his face now drawn into lines of sympathy.

  A tiny sliver of relief pierced her misery. Everything was going to be all right. He was letting her go. Soon he would leave and she could go back to her plans. Tomorrow she would try the new healing spell. It would work and her skin would be healed and then she would experience the dramatic change she’d just witnessed in the selkie. She would be happy again. Her sagging spirits lifted ever so slightly. Shoving positive energy into her spine, she straightened up. She could do this.

  “I can see you’re in a lot of pain,” Brec said quietly.

  He shifted his gaze to her eyes and her heart pounded. The dark orbs shone from his face with a sort of sad kindness. Shock furrowed her eyebrows. He really believed her. He really thought she’d stolen his skin because she was lonely. A touch of awe settled on her spirit. He felt sorry for her. What kind of a man had such warmth in him? Even with his skin back, how could he look at her with such sympathy?

  Guilt began to gnaw at her, but she shoved it away. He had his skin back, she had nothing to feel guilty about. He’d been miserable for less than twenty-four hours. She’d had two years to suffer.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”

  I don’t want you to stay anyway, you moron. Ana turned her face away from him so he wouldn’t see the anger she knew must be reflected in her eyes. She embraced her anger, relished the way it cauterized her pain and warmed her blood. She didn’t want his pity or his rejection. Go back to the sea with your precious fur and get the fuck out of my house.

  The bed shifted again as he stood up. Ana glanced back at him. He wore the same clothes he’d had on earlier when they first met. It reminded her of the attraction she’d felt for him when she’d first laid eyes on him. If things had been different, if her life wasn’t consumed with the need to heal her skin, then maybe . . .

  She clenched her teeth. None of that mattered now. His skin hadn’t worked for her, she’d lied her way out of his vengeance, and soon he’s be gone. She’d be alone again and that was just fine with her.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.” The arrogance! How dare he reject her when she hadn’t really wanted him in the first place? I was lying, you asshole she seethed to herself. I don’t give a shit if you leave.

  Narrowing her eyes, she watched him start around the edge of her bed. Just as the final piece of rope fell, a tiny shriek ripped the silence of the cabin.

  “Wait! Don’t let her go! Yours is not the only skin
she’s stolen!”

  Chapter 6

  Brec stared, dumbfounded, as what looked like a pixie hovered six inches in front of his face. The tiny fey’s pale skin looked almost pearlescent in the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window, his shaggy blue hair cut in a wild spike sticking up at odd angles all over his head. His fur clothing and little brown boots made him look like a Viking that had been shrunk to eight inches tall. Brec blinked, his brain trying to catch up with reality.

  “What did you say?”

  “You!”

  Brec nearly jumped out of his skin at the enraged shout that exploded from Ana’s lips. He whipped his head around to stare in shock as the female who had been crying like a lost child only seconds before suddenly scrambled to her knees on the mattress and pointed a finger trembling with rage at the pixie. Her eyes, still red from crying, blazed as she concentrated on the intruder as if she could set him on fire with only her stare. Only his body standing in front of her kept her from taking a swipe at the little blue-haired creature.

  “I set you free, you traitorous little bastard! When I catch you I’m going to fill your miserable body with iron and drop you to the bottom of the sea!”

  “She’s stolen skins from others, not just you,” the pixie insisted, his body dipping as his gaze flickered between Brec and the enraged woman on the bed. His little eyes bored into Brec’s, wide little saucers of what looked like a combination of fear and determination. Brec tried not to go cross-eyed as he tried to stay focused on the little man.

  “What are you talking about?” Brec sputtered, trying to resist the urge to swat the pixie away from his face. He turned his attention back to Ana, still taken aback by the way her beautiful face twisted with anger. His brain struggled to hold on to what the pixie was saying as he stared at her face, red from her earlier crying. His confusion began to ebb as the fey’s words sank in and the meaning of the accusation finally registered. “You stole other skins?” he demanded, the warmth of fresh anger stirring in his gut.

  With a sound somewhere between a shout of rage and a cry of frustration, Ana lunged off the bed. Taken by surprise, Brec shouted as she snatched his knife from his hand.

  “No!”

  He grabbed her hand where it was wrapped around the handle of his blade, stopping her before she could slash at the pixie. The little fey shrieked and dove out of sight as Brec wrestled the weapon out of Ana’s hand and threw it across the room. It skittered across the floor and bounced against the doorframe. Angry and impatient for the answers to his sudden questions, Brec grabbed her free arm to keep her from continuing her attempt to catch the pixie.

  Ana thrashed in his grip, her face twisted in a snarl. “Let go of me!” she hissed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t calm down you’re going to tear your own arm out of its socket because I’m not letting go,” he said calmly. He tightened his grip, inflicting a small amount of pain to show her he was serious.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  Brec’s eyebrows rose as, before his eyes, Ana’s face lost the hard edges of anger and softened into the perfect combination of fear and pain. The woman who only seconds before had been screaming with the vengeful shriek of a goblin had transformed back into the meek maiden that had blushed and hid her face as she confessed her wicked plan to capture him for a husband. The transformation was astounding.

  Embarrassment at his own earlier gullibility fed his temper and Brec clenched his teeth. She’d lied, played him for a fool.

  “Think about what it was like for you when you found your skin missing.”

  The pixie’s voice came from a spot right next to his ear and Brec’s heart skipped a startled beat. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts on Ana’s duplicitous nature he hadn’t even felt the pixie land on his shoulder. He tilted his head toward the voice, but didn’t take his eyes off the naked woman on the bed. She wasn’t looking at the pixie, but the slight twitch in the muscles around her eyes betrayed the effort it took her to keep her attention on Brec’s face. She wanted to focus on the pixie, but apparently she wasn’t quite ready to give up on the chance that she could manipulate him again. He narrowed his eyes, his brain whirling with different ways to show her just who she was toying with.

  The emotions that had battered him about all day until his soul was bruised from the force of it all echoed in his mind. He remembered the body-seizing shock when he’d opened the chest to find his skin gone, the horror when it had dawned on him what that meant, and the drowning pain he’d felt when he had to watch his brother return to the waves without him.

  It was a day he wanted to forget, but knew he never could. Never in a million years could he ever forget what it had been like to be human—really human—for nearly a full day. His jaw ached and he realized he was clenching his teeth, glaring at the woman who had put him through that nightmare.

  “You’ve done this to others?”

  He let his voice grow deeper with the severity of his words. Using every inch of his six foot seven frame, he towered over her. Ana’s mask of vulnerability flickered, real concern and fear sparking briefly in her eyes.

  “Brec, I—”

  He squeezed her arm until he felt her bones shift under the pressure. She sucked in a breath, real pain flaring on her face.

  “Try to manipulate me again,” Brec said softly, “And I will make you very very sorry.”

  She stared at him and he could see her gauging his words, trying to decide if he was serious. Indignation added heat to his anger. He’d told her in Mrs. Downing’s shop that he was a doctor. Was she so certain that he wouldn’t hurt her? So certain that a healer couldn’t be a warrior as well—couldn’t be a force to be reckoned with?

  Rage burned bright inside him and he snarled at her. “You humans and your arrogance,” he hissed. “You think you can steal that which is most important to us and not suffer any consequences. You don’t know what it’s like to suddenly find that the thing that makes your life possible—the thing that makes your life worth living—is gone and can never be replaced. Tell me how many skins you’ve stolen? How many lives have you ruined?”

  Ana stared at him, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Her eyes glistened with what had to be fake tears and he braced himself against reacting to her phony emotions. She wouldn’t fool him again.

  The muscle in her jaw twitched and she ripped her wrist out of his grasp. He let her go, not trusting himself not to do more damage than he intended. Her violent motion rocked her body and the gentle sway of her naked breasts drew his eyes. For a split second, he stared at her the hardened peaks of her nipples, puckered by the cold air in the bedroom. His blood grew warmer swirling through his veins on a downward spiral. He jerked his attention back to her face, fiercely denying the attraction he felt for her. He would not have those feelings for a skin thief.

  “You don’t know me and you don’t know my life,” she said slowly, anger and fear weaving her voice into a rough patchwork of emotions. “You have your skin back. Can you really tell me that there’s anything on this planet you’d rather do right now then throw that skin over your body and let it change you into the creature you’re truly meant to be?”

  Images of his seal form leapt into his mind at her words. He could already feel the transformation, could already feel his human body being enveloped in the soft fur of his true form. He wouldn’t be cold. He wouldn’t be standing here, staring at a woman whose naked body kept tugging at his thoughts even as her crimes chilled him to the bone. He would be free.

  Temptation trailed warm fingertips down his spine and his skin seemed to grow heavier where it lay over his shoulder. Uncertainty seized him. He was torn between what he wanted to do and what he knew he had to do.

  “You’ve got your skin,” Ana pressed, her voice low and seductive. “Put it on. Leave the misery behind you and go back to the loving arms of the sea—your only true mistress.”

  The sea. Just the sound of that word filled his ea
rs with rushing waves and made his body ache for the feel of twisting currents and the taste of salty air. Yearning squeezed his heart. He raised his hand to his skin, feeling its thick soft folds. He had what he came for. Didn’t he?

  “She’s manipulating you like she’s manipulated others,” the pixie hissed into his ear. “Think of the others who are still out there. The ones who are still crying and searching for their skins. Will you let them stay trapped in human form because of a pretty face and a clever tongue?”

  Brec frowned, his warm thoughts of returning to the sea halted by the cold horror the pixie’s words inspired. He was right. Ana hadn’t denied the claim, she must be guilty. He stared at her, speechless with dismay as he pictured the others out there, miserable as he had been earlier. How long had they wandered like that?

  “How many?”