Page 16 of Saved By the Selkie

“You’re … what,” Aramis chokes out, and I take in the way he’s staring at me.

Oh. Right. He thinks I’m like him. Alpha or … whatever the humans call it. Male. Something.

He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and drags me around, growling, “What do you mean, you’re in heat?”

He glances furtively over his shoulder. Then he grabs my wrist and hauls me toward the cabin. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else,” he grumbles.

I spot Johan watching us from across the deck, a strange look on his face. He nods absently while Porthos belts out a sea shanty somewhere nearby.

Aramis pushes me through the cabin door, then slams it shut and locks it. He whirls on me. “What the hell do you mean, you’re in heat?!” he barks, throwing his arms wide.

I let my eyes wander his form, his chest heaving under that loose chemise of his, then let my gaze bounce back up to his face. “Exactly what I said.”

“But,” he starts as he advances on me.

“Let’s just say it’s a selkie thing and move on.” I honestly don’t want to bother explaining this to him right now, not with all the throbbing going on below my belt. This is quickly becoming worse than the warmups. I think I might finally understand what Vati was trying to warn me about.

“But,” Aramis splutters, “you’re—”

“A selkie,” I insist. “A selkie who is very interested in copulating right now.”

Aramis laughs, and I stare at him. Finally, he stops and says, “Did you honestly just call it that?”

“Yes?” What elsewould I call it?

A horrible thought strikes me. “Do—do you not copulate?” What am I going to do if he’s my mate and humans don’t mate like we do? What if they’re like … sea cucumbers or something, where they just split themselves in half?

Fear knots my stomach. What if Aramis can’t help me with my heat? What if I’m stuck here on a boat full of humans who can’t satisfy me? “Are human alphas incapable—”

Aramis lays a hand on my arm, and I screw my eyes shut. His touch is like ice against my feverish skin, and I want to roll against him, douse the fire in my veins. “Alphas? What are you even talking about, Lir?”

He waits a beat, then says, “I’m not incapable. Humans do … that. A lot, actually.”

“A lot,” I murmur, relaxing only fractionally. For some reason, the idea of Aramis doing that a lot—without me—pisses me off.

“We just don’t call it that.” He pauses, glancing up at me. “At least, not when we’re trying to hop in the sack with someone.”

“Hop in the sack?”

“Yeah. Sleep together. Make love.” He waves a hand. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Humans are so weird. Why not just call it what it is?

Although, I guess we have slang for it too. Finn telling me that I need to get laid invades my mind, and I shake my head to will away memories of my annoying little brother.

I don’t miss him. I definitely don’t miss him right now, not when I’m standing here with my fated mate, finally in heat, about to—

Ugh, I totally am a hopeless romantic, and I am never going to live this down.

If I ever see my brothers again. If I ever see another selkie again.

Aramis clears his throat. “Lir, I understand that you want to, but that’s probably the alcohol talking—”

“No,” I growl, startling both of us. Aramis looks like he’s just remembered about the jagged points of my teeth. “I’m in heat, Aramis. I have to be. What else can it possibly be?”

Aramis sighs and gives me an apologetic look. “I told you, you’re drunk, Lir. Not because you’re—in heat or whatever.”

Why is my mate not understanding this? Why is he denying me, an omega in heat, what I want? Irritated, I push him deeper into the cabin. “You know nothing about me,” I growl. “I’m a selkie, not a human, and if I say I’m in heat, what do you know about it? You didn’t even realize that I’m an omega.”