Page 17 of Saved By the Selkie

He stumbles up the step, out of the office, toward the bedstead in the other part of the state room. “Lir,” he says, eyes wide as I advance on him.

I pause; we’re almost at eye level like this. My anger dissolves as I look deep into his dark eyes, desperation washing over me instead. “Please,” I whisper. “Aramis, I need this from you.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but I see my chance. I dive in, pressing our mouths together, hoping to mimic the kissing we did earlier on the deck. I’m horrible at it, though, and our snouts bump together, followed by our teeth.

Aramis cups the back of my head, then threads his fingers through my hair and tugs cruelly. For a second, I think he’s going to tear me away, tell me to get out.

Instead, he pulls me in deeper and drags his tongue across my lips. I surrender to him; even if he doesn’t know much about selkie omegas and heat, he still knows far more about this kissing thing than I do. I whimper into his mouth, hoping to express how pleased I am.

I wasn’t lying when I said kissing felt nice. It’s strange, sure, and I’ve never seen other selkies do it, but when he moves his mouth over mine, I tingle everywhere.

It’s not enough to relieve the ache between my thighs though, and I’m grateful when Aramis breaks the kiss, gasping for air.

I half expect him to protest again, because nothing has actually changed. We’re both still drunk. He’s still a human and I’m still a selkie.

Instead, he says, “Get undressed.”

I don’t think there are sweeter words in the human tongue. I fumble with the buttons on my borrowed shirt, tearing them off in my haste. I’ll ask Anna to sew them back on later.

Aramis is untying his boots, letting them drop to the floor. He sheds his coat, his waistcoat, his shirtsleeves, his chemise.Humans are so very overdressed, I think as I roll my pants down and kick off my own boots.

We turn to face each other again, and I realize this is the first time I’ve seen Aramis completely nude. He’s wiry, almost scrawny, and I have the worst urge to march down to the kitchen and get him something to eat. My mate is so thin, and some irrational part of me immediately concludes he mustn’t be a good hunter. And that means he’s not a good mate.

He’s a human, I remind myself sharply. Most of the humans—with the exception of Porthos—don’t look anything like selkies.

That’s not the only strange thing about my mate; my gaze catches on two pert, dusky discs gracing his pectorals. How strangefor an alpha to have nipples; only selkie omegas have them, and they retract. We rarely display them, except when we’re nursing pups or in courtship and mating.

Is that it? Do humans slide their nipples out during mating? And maybe both alphas and omegas have them?

Or maybe it’s just the alphas. Maybe they take care of the pups? That must be it, I decide.

If I mate with Aramis, I won’t even have to nurse the pup. The idea thrills me.

I’m shocked by how my mate—the alpha the ocean keeps leading me to—is so perfect for me.

We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, and I feel my cheeks heating up—and not because of my fever. What do I look like to Aramis? Among other selkies, I’m considered pretty good-looking, but I don’t know what qualifies as attractive among humans.

Is that it? Is Aramis hesitating because doesn’t think I’m attractive? The thought fills the pit of my stomach with icy dread, and I want to hide.

Finally, he takes a sharp breath, and I force myself to meet his gaze. His cheeks are scarlet, his gaze dark with promise, and he nods toward the bedstead. “Wanna—”

“Yes,” I hiss before he can even finish the question. He seems dazed by how quickly I react; I practically throw myself at the bed—which is much larger than my own bunk below deck.

I’m so glad he’s the captain. I’m not sure we’d both fit in one of those little beds below. I wriggle around on the sheets, noting the strange, slippery feel of them against my skin—so much softer than my own, more like water.

I can comment on his sheets later, I think. Right now, I’ve got a mission in mind, so I take my cock in hand and spread my legs for him.

Aramis’s eyes get a little wider. “Wow,” he says, then shakes himself. He marches up to the bed, and I let my gaze skim down his body, resting on his own cock, bobbing between his legs as he approaches.

I bite my lip. I think that might be something our species have in common at least—anyone can see our desire for our mates.

Aramis crawls over me, and I wait for the claustrophobia of being boxed in by the alpha on top of me. But Aramis is so small, I can’t possibly feel threatened.

Something lets go in my chest, a tension I hadn’t realized had been winding tighter and tighter. Even with the other omegas, I’d been afraid of being underneath them, hated the way I felt trapped.

With Aramis, I don’t feel trapped at all—how could I? We really are perfect for each other, just like mates in the fairy tales Vati used to tell me and my brothers.

I sigh as Aramis rings my hole with a finger, dark gaze tipping up to watch my reaction. “I wanna touch all of you,” he whispers, and I shiver with delight.