Lord of the Deep (11 page)

Drinking in her gasp, he ground his anxious pelvis against her, leaning into the golden pubic curls that so fascinated him. How soft they were, like eiderdown against his hardness, wet and slick with the dew of her arousal. He thrust deeper into her, reaching for a place he’d never touched, aching for release, yet holding back to make the climax sweeter for them both.

“Do not come yet,” he whispered against her hair. “Wait…Let me give you this…Let me show you what can be….”

He covered her mouth with his own, his tongue reaching, touching hers as it responded, his cock so swollen he feared it would split her in two as he pounded into her with shuddering thrusts between spiraling withdrawals that almost took him out of her. He teased her erect bud with each grinding, twisting plunge.

The sucking sounds of their passion nearly drove him mad. He could see her ecstasy in her hooded eyes that reverenced him. This is what he wanted, to see her come, not just to feel her release, but to see the desire in her eyes, to watch them dilate for him—to feel the tug as her vagina gripped his cock and sucked him dry.

But not yet…

Her groan resonated in his body as he stopped midstroke. Pulling halfway out of her, he rotated his pelvis in slow, deepening revolutions as her sex gripped him. Never taking his shuttered eyes from her flushed face, he gloried in the blackness of her eyes, so dark he could see no trace of their shimmering blue. They were glazed with the mindless oblivion of coming, distant in the grip of rapture—rapture he had given her. This is what he longed to see—the very moment when she gave herself up to him. It was close.

“Hold me…” he murmured. “Tighter, my Megaleen!”

She was already gripping him so hard the pain of her fingernails denting the flesh of his back was riveting. He sucked in his breath. He’d hoped the pain would stall his climax, but instead it threatened to bring him off too soon. Her body heat scorched his flesh. The musk rising from their coupling rushed up his nostrils as her wetness leaked out of her. His thighs were slippery with her precious juices, and he groaned. Pulling out of her, he dropped to his knees and drank, laving her bud until she leaned into the pressure of his tongue, writhing against it.

But still not yet…

Surging to his full height, he lifted her onto his erection again and plunged into her, crying out as her sex seized his cock. This time, she would not let it go.

“I…can bear…no more,” she sobbed, tears streaming down. “Now…I beg you…
now
…!”

Her words were the charm, or the curse. He wasn’t sure which. Her nipples boring into his rock-hard chest were so hard that their pressure was painful. He looked down, watching his shaft glide in and out of her, then shifted his gaze to the ecstasy in her dilated eyes with their lids, like shutters, closed halfway in mindless bliss. She groaned with each pistoning thrust. An involuntary mantra leaked out on her sweet breath. It spilled from her lungs with the shuddering vibrations of her climax as her contractions seized his cock and sucked him dry of every last pearly drop.

Simeon eased her down on the couch. Their bodies were glowing with sweat, and he wrapped the fur throw about her and pulled her into his arms. “There is so much I want…no,
need
to show you,” he murmured in her ear. “So many delights.”

“Where will we go?” Meg said. “We cannot stay here in this dark place.”

“No, we cannot. I have made a place below the waves—”

Meg shook her head adamantly. “I have been below the waves,” she said. “What of your concubines? They will expect things to continue as they have been. If they do not, those dreadful sea cows will kill me! And I do not want things to continue as they were. I want you all to myself. I am not a selkie. I was not made to share. Mortals are made to love and be loved by one man. It would have been better had they made me a sacrifice, I—”

His kiss cut off her words. Threading his fingers through the silk of her hair, he drew her closer. “The consorts are over,” he said, peppering her skin with salty kisses, legacy of her tears upon his lips. “They have been banished.” An insatiable hunger overwhelmed him. He marveled that it came upon him so soon after such a heart-stopping climax. All at once he was ravenous again, his cock humming to life between them. It would have to wait. It was too soon—much too soon. Abstinence was the key to the perfection he was seeking. The longer they abstained, the greater the orgasm would be. But how could he keep his hands from fondling her? How could he convince his traitorous cock to wait when every fiber in his selkie being demanded consummation?

“And then there is the matter of my breathing underwater,” Meg went on. “I thought I was dying when they forced my head beneath the water, Simeon. I cannot begin to describe to you the feeling, since you have never known it. It is frightening! Water rushes into the throat. It blocks the breathing passage and no air comes through. The more you try to breathe, the more water floods your throat and lungs. You fight, but it is useless. You know you are about to die so…horribly! I cannot live with the fear of that happening to me again.”

“That is the only obstacle left,” Simeon said. “And there is a solution. It calls for sorcery. There is one who can help with this. I have only to consult her. We shall go there now—together. All will be well, you will see. With the help of the Waterwitch, we can have both worlds, Megaleen. The night is warm. We shall bathe in the bay first. Come….”

Maybe a plunge in the bay would tame his member. He almost groaned. That was myth. Water always heightened his sexual experience, and why wouldn’t it? He was Lord of the Deep, after all, and that was all part of his legacy.

Surging to his feet, he took her hand, pulling her up alongside, and picked up her dress. A good plunge in the surf would probably shred the flimsy gown. No matter. He would fetch her something more befitting royalty that ruled beneath the waves. The sight of that frock, knowing that Seth and the gods only knew who else had seen her body through it, set his teeth on edge.

Snatching his eel skin and cloak from the bench, he looped them over his arm with her gown, took her hand, and led her out of Gideon’s cave and through the marshes to the stretch of black volcanic sand that served as a beach. Tossing their clothing down on high ground, he led her into the water, where they bathed each other, washing each other’s genitals in the sighing surf.

But his hands lingered a little too long upon her pubic curls and strayed too quickly to her erect nipples, which begged to be cooled in the brine, to be stroked and strummed and laved as the waves washed over them. And her tiny fingers played too skillfully upon his cock, paying too much attention to the mushroom tip, ridged and hard despite the shock of cold water caressing it.

So much for the martyrdom of abstinence.

Simeon was in his element now—water. It empowered him—fed him—took him to its breast for comfort. Here was his mistress—his consort—his whore. Here was Meg’s rival—the sea. And it was a jealous rival, which he realized the minute he dove beneath the waves.

Diving down through the sheer translucent curl of an on-coming comber frothed with white, Simeon took a deep breath just as he always did, when he filled his lungs underwater. But this time he could not breathe. All that Megaleen had described of drowning he felt now—the terror, the panic, the utter hopelessness of suffocation. He thrashed and flailed and strove to break the waves above his head.

Vertigo starred his vision. Could he be drowning? There was no light in the water, no phosphorescence, only the veil of deepest darkness that accompanies death.

Then, he remembered!

M
eg dove beneath the waves as Simeon struggled toward the surface. To her horror, she realized he couldn’t breathe. He was drowning! How could this be? They broke the surface together. Simeon crawled out of the surf and collapsed, coughing and sputtering, on the beach. Stunned, Meg stood with both hands over her mouth, watching him struggle to right himself in the wake of the high-rising tide. All she could think of was what a beautiful creature he was, lying in the water he loved, his wet skin gleaming in the moonlight. It was as if the reflection of the low-sliding moon on the breast of the water had formed a shimmering arrow pointing straight toward him. It was an eerie sight made more so because the water he loved—that was his life force—had nearly killed him. Why?

Meg knelt beside him. After a moment, he righted himself on one elbow and gazed into her eyes. The devastated look in them brought tears to her own. “Is this…what you felt when you couldn’t breathe…in the water?” he said, his broad chest heaving as he gulped the salty air. “Is this what…
drowning
is?”

Meg nodded, taking him in her arms. She couldn’t bear the horror in his face—the devastation. “What happened?” she sobbed. “How is it possible, this?”

Simeon scrambled to his feet and staggered to where he’d dropped their clothes earlier. Snatching up her gown, he thrust it toward her. “Put this on,” he said. “There is no time to lose.”

“What is it, Simeon? Please…You’re scaring me.”

“I’m not certain,” he said, tugging on his eel skin suit. “Just pray to your gods that it isn’t too late.”

“Too late for what?” Meg shrilled.

“As far as I know, there is only one thing that could cause what just happened to me beneath the waves. I was so anxious over you that I left my sealskin on the beach on the Isle of Mists. I buried it, but if someone saw me…”

“Oh, Simeon! What does it mean?”

“You know what it means. If my sealskin has been taken, I am bound to the land. I can swim in the water, but I cannot breathe beneath the waves…like what just occurred.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and hummed a mantra that moved her back apace.

“What do you do?” she said, holding her ears, for it was deafening—so shrill the sound waves could almost be seen vibrating in the air.

“I’ve called Elicorn,” he said. “I must return to the Isle. I cannot swim the distance above the waves—neither can you—and I do not intend to let you out of my sight. I can only hope that rebellious waterhorse is repentant enough to help us. His treachery put me at a great disadvantage when I went to prepare the Pavilion for us.”

“Pavilion?”

“It is a place where we might have been safe. There is much I need to tell you, and I will on the way. I only pray I still have power enough to command Elicorn.”

“Well,
I
certainly do not!” Meg said. “And if you do not, that horse will drown us both!”

“Did you tell anyone we were to meet at the cove at midnight?” Simeon asked.

Meg gasped. “
Aunt Adelia!
” she cried. “She wanted to be rid of me. I thought if she knew I was going away with you she would let me go. I didn’t know there was such a sum involved…that she hadn’t taken me in out of the kindness of her heart. She is my father’s sister! We are blood kin, Simeon.”

“Gold turns mortals into madmen, Megaleen. We have no such corruption below the waves to tempt the dwellers of the deep.”

Simeon cupped his mouth and hummed the mantra again. Twice—three times more he sent out the vibration before the surf took on the shape of the regal white waterhorse prancing ashore amid the crashing foam.

Simeon reached to snatch his cloak from the sand, but Meg’s quick hand arrested him. “Wait, there is a rider,” she said, backing away from the prancing white stallion coming to shore with the surf. A man on its back bore a definite resemblance to Simeon, though he was older, with angular features more closely resembling those of mortals than the sleek, finely chiseled bone structure of the selkie.

Simeon strode toward the horse, which pawed the ground with unshod hoofs. Meg’s quick intake of breath seemed to go unnoticed. Despite that Elicorn had nearly killed her, she was bewitched by his beauty. But then, that was part of a waterhorse’s charm, for like the selkie masters they served, horses like Elicorn were skilled seducers.

Simeon had accepted the rider, and Meg ranged herself a little closer. Though he was speaking with Simeon, the man hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he came ashore. Those dark eyes, not unlike Simeon’s, raked her familiarly. And why wouldn’t they, she realized, glancing down at the scanty excuse for a frock barely clinging to her breasts. The fingers of a blush crawled up her cheeks. She was half naked in front of a stranger, and there was no way for her to redeem herself.

Simeon strolled closer and took her arm. “Megaleen, my half brother Vega,” he introduced, as Vega sketched a graceful bow mounted as he was. “Not all of my powers have been stripped so it seems if my call has brought him.”

“It wasn’t your call, Simeon,” Vega said. “Your summoner saw what happened and came after me. That swordfish is a loyal subject. He is never far from you in case you have need of him. I wonder if you realize that.”

“Elicorn didn’t hear my call?”

Vega shook his head. “No,” he said. “Elicorn follows the waves. They are running high on the Dark Isle tonight. I intercepted him just in time with
my
call, or he would have drowned the both of you. What has happened here?”

“I do not know,” Simeon said. “I left my sealskin on the Isle of Mists. I buried it, but…Someone must have found it for this to be. I need to go there to solve this.”

“Then, we go!” Vega said, extending his hand toward Meg.

Simeon wrapped his cloak about her and handed her up to Vega, who settled her in front of him. There was no bridle or reins, and sitting sideways instead of astride, she could only fist one hand in the animal’s mane, though she was secure enough trapped between Vega’s strong arms. Simeon swung himself up behind, and Vega kneed the horse toward the surf.

Meg marveled that they all fit on the animal’s back so comfortably, but that was one of the traits of a waterhorse: it was able to stretch its body to accommodate many riders if needs must, for often such an animal would frolic along the strand seducing many before plunging back into the water. The waves were running high, and they traveled against them, but Elicorn leaped over the swells as if they were hurdles on a fairgrounds course.

The Isle of Mists was hidden from view beneath a heavy predawn fog. Meg was glad of it. The last thing she wanted to do was set foot back on that island, so it was decided that Vega would stay astride Elicorn with her at the water’s edge, while Simeon went to the cove in search of his sealskin. Something other than the obvious was wrong—something Simeon hadn’t confided; she saw it in Vega’s eyes.

“This is all my fault,” Meg said, forlorn.

“Do not reproach yourself,” Vega responded. “If we are to point a finger, my impetuous brother is hardly exempt from blame.” He swept his arm wide toward Simeon climbing the dune ahead, visible only in glimpses through the fog blanket. “His mind is no less clouded than this Isle, though with the fog of love. He never would have left that skin here otherwise.”

“I never should have told my aunt I was meeting Simeon here at midnight. What will happen if she has taken the skin?”

Vega hesitated. When he spoke, an audible breath preceded his words, riddling her with chills. It did not bode well. “Let’s not borrow trouble,” he said. “It’s lent us enough as it is.” Squaring his posture, he made a bold attempt to change the subject. “You are even more beautiful in close proximity than you were viewed from afar,” he said silkily.

Meg stiffened against him, and he laughed. “You have naught to fear from me in that regard,” he said. “I would never dream of interfering in my brother’s…affairs. I simply make the observation. It is meant as a compliment and to put you at ease alone in my presence. I see it has had the opposite effect. I am sorry for that.”

Meg relaxed somewhat. Was she always to be subjected to the lust of men? She’d seen the same hungry look in Gideon’s eyes as well, though he’d never put his obvious thoughts into words. And then there was Seth, the lecherous shaman, which in itself was a mockery, since as far as she knew, shamans were supposed to be above the lure of lust. That myth had been shattered on Shamans’ Mount.

Vega seemed a likeable fellow, and he had a pleasing countenance, though there was something…different about him that she couldn’t help being curious about. “You do not look like a…a…”

“A selkie?” he concluded for her. “I am what your kind calls a ‘half-breed,’ My mother was mortal, like you. My father was a full-blooded selkie. He was Simeon’s father also, though we do not speak about that for his memory’s sake…and my safety. Selkie half-breeds are shunned.” Meg’s jaw dropped as she imagined it. “I’ve shocked you,” Vega said through a chuckle. “That was eons ago. What? Did you think you and Simeon were unique in your…association? Much of that sort of thing goes on still, and will till the end of time…as long as beauties like you walk the land. Now, if I had seen you first…But I did not, so I will stay in my place.”

The last was meant to be spoken in jest, though considering her past experiences, Meg found no humor in it, and now he’d said something that disturbed her. “Surely you don’t mean ‘eons’—not literally?”

Vega nodded.

“H-how long does a selkie live, then? You look no older than forty summers. Why, if that were so, it would mean that selikes are…
immortal
.”

“They are,” Vega said. “You did not know that?”

“N-no, I never thought…I mean, I never stopped to consider…But you speak of your father in the past tense. How is that, if Selkies are immortal?”

“There are exceptions, of course,” Vega said. “My father was murdered—bludgeoned to death for his pelt on the barrier beach that runs along the mainland below the islands. Ruthless mortals do this to have the pelts to wear upon their bodies. It still occurs today, and when it does, the selkies rise up and bring the storms—fearsome maelstroms that rape the land and wipe out whole islands. There were thousands of isles in this archipelago stretching far out to sea, some as close as stepping stones, when the gods formed the world. There are scarcely fifty remaining. Soon there will be none. They will all have been washed away by the selkies’ revenge upon mortal avarice.”

Meg was stunned numb. She was afraid to hear more, yet she hung on every word as Vega walked the waterhorse along the edge of the surf, telling his tale. “In spite of the risk of such a death, selkies brave the mortal isles,” Vega went on. “It is in our nature to fraternize with mortals. We are a trusting sort. It is inconceivable to us—despite the carnage—that man could do such beastly things to such gentle creatures that mean them no harm. We hope, and we are cautious, but still we come.”

“You were not with them that first night under the full moon,” she realized, thinking out loud. The reverie harkened back to the moment she first set eyes on Simeon coupling with his consort in the very surf they traveled now as they waited for him. She relived touching herself in the dark of her cottage loft as Simeon seemed to be performing for her eyes alone. She remembered the sight of him naked, driving his sex to the root into the female beneath him as the white surf laved them, lapping at their wet skin in the moonlight. How she’d wished she was the one underneath him, feeling his hard shaft moving inside her.

She saw again Simeon’s climax, just as the waves climaxed and crashed on the shore—felt his triumph in the performance—remembered her own release as she played with the nipples she’d exposed beside the fogged windowpane. She relived rubbing the engorged bud beneath her pubic curls as she watched the selkies wild mating ritual. Her clitoris ached with the memory, and she longed to slip her hands inside the cloak and bring herself to climax again. It was a painful fantasy, for she dared not do it in front of the selkie half-breed. From the way he was gazing at her then, he had surely seen her need in the shuttered eyes that couldn’t meet his. He had surely heard it in the hot breath leaking out of her in deep shudders. Squeezing her thighs together, she tried to still her need, but that didn’t work either. How was it that the mere thought of Simeon—a brief glimpse of her mind’s eye—could bring her to a full arousal when she’d come so soon from fulfillment in his arms? He had bewitched her. There was no other explanation.

No, Vega wasn’t with them that night beneath the moon. She would have remembered him if he had been, with his different looks and half-mortal bearing.

“I do not run with the herd,” he said, in answer to her statement. “Though well I could; my selkie blood allows me. I am privileged with the best of both species you see. But someone must remain behind to pick up the pieces when disaster comes—to warn and care for the others. This is my function, and I am comfortable with it.”

“It sounds like a lonely existence to me,” Meg said sadly.

“Not at all…until I have occasion to encounter one such as you and am reminded of what I’ve missed. I have lived a long time, Megaleen.”

“H-how long a time…exactly?” she said. She needed to know, yet she feared the knowledge with every fiber of her being.

“I was born more than three eras ago,” he said. “Simeon came later, just before our father met his death.”

Meg swallowed dry. She was afraid to ask her next question, though she knew she must. “And your mother?” she said. “What became of her?”

“Simeon’s mother was my father’s mate,” he said. “Her name was Meriwyn. He was with her ’til he died. My mother was called Glenda. She was from the mainland. Father loved Glenda as well, as only a selkie can love—with a passion that consumes, but not enough to give up his immortality for her. No one knows what became of her, except that she seems to have faded into the mists of time. She disappeared before he died. I never knew her. I was raised at the palace. My father may have never acknowledged me openly, but neither did he turn his back upon me. And when Simeon was born, I was made his protector.”