Page 45 of Saved By the Selkie

Lir nods. “It happens to pups,” he explains. “I … don’t really know what’s in the milk, but they get pretty happy and silly.” He smiles, then tickles Blizz. “Don’t you?”

Blizz giggles again, wheezing between his laughs. He squeals, and Lir stops. Blizz babbles for a second or two, then yawns wide and loud. He looks exhausted when he sags against Lir again, huffing another breath.

I smile. Then I look at Lir.

I know that, if I want to be part of my son’s life, I need to be part of Lir’s. I need to fix things with Lir now, or he might take the baby and disappear, never to be seen again.

I can’t stand the thought of being without them. Either of them. Losing my son would hurt, but …

The thought of having already lost Lir, of not being able to get him back, hurts more. So long as he’ll be friends with me, maybe let me see our son from time to time, I think I can make peace with that.

But there’s a sort of hollow ache in my body when I think about what that future will be like.

I reach out without thinking, brushing silvery strands away from Lir’s cheek. Heavens, he’s thin. I never thought I’d say that about Lir, but I guess nursing is taking it out of him. His cheekbones are prominent, his face less round.

He doesn’t turn his head to look at me, but there’s a wariness in his eyes as he shifts his gaze to meet my touch. I hesitate. The words still feel wrong—too little, too late. Pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and tears prick at my eyes. Desperation makes my pulse jump. “Lir, I’m so sorry. I should have never taken your pelt. I should have given it back to you when you asked me. I …”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches me, and I squirm under the scrutiny. “I should have seen what I was doing,” I blurt, “how selfish I was being, forcing you to come south with me. I was only thinking about myself, how good it would be when we got to New York.”

I can’t touch him. I can’t look at him. I have no right. I put my head in my hands to avoid his gaze. “I was just like Johan, and I couldn’t see that, couldn’t see what I was doing …”

I inhale deeply through my nose and force my head up, square my shoulders. Time to man up. “You don’t have to forgive me, I’ll understand if you hate me forever, but I—”

“Aramis,” Lir practically growls, “shut up.”

I clamp my mouth shut, pressing my lips into a thin line to keep from whimpering. Oh God, it hurts to think about how much he must hate me.

Lir wraps Blizz up, then sets him down in the snow. Then he turns to face me. Holding his gaze is hard, but I can’t look away. This might be the last time I ever see him, and I want to memorize every line, every pore on his face—

“Aramis,” he says, reaching for my hand, “I went south with you because I wanted to. Not because you took my pelt or you forced me or something.”

His lips quirk up, like he’s halfway to amused or something. “It’s not like you tied me up and dragged me out to the ship, now is it?”

I shake my head. “No, but—”

He leans forward, pressing a finger against my lips. He’s practically in my lap. “Aramis, I ran away from my vati, because he was going to take me north to the haul-out and force me to pick a mate. When you asked if I wanted to come south with you, you didn’t capture me—you offered me a way out.”

His expression softens as he tilts his head. “But I found a mate anyway.” He reaches up and strokes my cheek. “I wanted my pelt back so I could hunt, not so I could leave you. I ran away because I thought you were dead. I thought Johan and the others would kill me like they’d killed you.”

Tears burn at my eyes again. “Lir, I—”

“And you crossed the ocean to find me,” he practically whispers.

“I put you in danger,” I spit, each word heavy with the weight of my guilt. “I led Johan right to you, put you and Blizz in danger—”

Lir shakes his head, but I can’t help it. “I almost got both of you killed.”

Lir slaps a hand to either side of my face with more force now, holding me steady as he looks into my eyes. “Johan was going to kill you and take me captive. Even if you didn’t come after me, Aramis, do you think that would have stopped him from trying to find me?”

I tremble, but I can’t speak. Instead, Lir continues, “What would have happened then, if he’d found me alone? I can’t imagine—but you were there, you kept us safe, Aramis, you tried—”

“You are giving me far too much credit,” I protest meekly, but the words get lost between us as he leans in for a kiss.

Our mouths meet, me with trepidation, Lir with something like hunger. It’s a swift, brutal kiss, and Lir leans up into me, knocking me flat onto my back. We land in a heap, Lir’s lips still locked to mine, and I kiss him back, suddenly, furiously, desperately, wrapping my arms around him, like I can drag him into me.

I don’t ever want to let him go again.