Page 49 of Saved By the Selkie

Lir pins me there, straddling me. He curls his hands into my parka, pulling at it like he wants to rip it to shreds. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Is it me, or is his voice huskier than usual?

His look is definitely half-lidded, and he presses down against me with intention. “Notice what?” I ask finally, but I think I might already know the answer when he starts grinding against me.

“I’m in heat,” he whispers into my ear, and a shiver runs through me as he rakes his teeth over my jawline. “I’ve been trying to avoid you.”

I stare at the stars twinkling overhead. “But you just had a baby,” I spit.

“Uh-huh,” Lir agrees, but that doesn’t change the way he’s dry-humping my leg.

I try to push him away. “So, why are you—”

“Selkie,” he replies, like that explains anything.

Which, I guess it kinda does. He’s a selkie. Maybe this is how they work?

I think back to the last time he was in heat. I try to will my body not to react to the memory, instead trying to focus on how long we’d spent tangled together in my bed—

“What about Blizz?” I all but gasp as he nips my ear.

“What about him?” Lir sounds positively irritated.

“Don’t you have to—ah! Take care of him?” I wince as he slides his hands under my parka. His skin is cold.

“He’s old enough to look after himself,” Lir replies evenly.

It takes a minute for that to filter through my brain. When it does click, it ticks me off enough that I find the strength to shove him off me, rolling him into the snow. “What do you mean?!” I snap. “He’s a baby, Lir, a literal baby! He can’t take care of himself!”

“He can so,” Lir retorts, and I spring to my feet, shaking my head. Before I can walk away, though, he wraps a hand around my ankle. I glare down at him. “He’s a selkie, Aramis. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” I cry. “He’s only part—he’s … he’s human too!”

We stare at each other for a minute. I wonder if anyone knows how to take care of a selkie-human.

Lir breaks eye contact first, closing his eyes and dropping his head. “Please,” he pants, and he’s suddenly writhing on the ice, “Aramis, I need you.”

I grit my teeth, but arousal burns through my blood, and my cock wants to stand at attention, despite the cold. I swallow tightly. “Lir—”

“Please,” he whimpers, rolling onto his back. He’s heaving for every breath; his cheeks are pink, but it’s not the cold. The fever’s making his eyes bright too, almost like the stars are reflecting in them. “Aramis, please. I missed you.”

Again, our gazes lock. Slowly, I sink down to the ice. “Are you sure Blizz will be okay?” I whisper, ashamed of myself for putting my own desires before my son. Guilt pricks at me—didn’t I want to be different from my own father? He took off and left me and my mother, chasing his own wants in life.

And here I am, about to do the same.

Lir crawls over me again, pressing me flat to the ice. His lips meet mine, and I’m suddenly reminded of that stupid saying about how the people here have to kiss.

Lir’s mouth doesn’t freeze to mine. He kisses my lips, then my cheeks, then my jaw. He straddles me, and I grip his hips.

We’re really going to do this, I think. I feel almost numb to the idea, even as Lir tugs down my pants.

I almost mount a protest, but he yanks his own clothing aside, and it dies on my lips. Lir looks so wonderful in that moment, even in his borrowed parka and mittens, bare from the waist down, legs spread over me. His face is flush, rosy lips parted, and his breath plumes skyward, some of it freezing again in his hair, leaving little ice crystals there.

I squeeze his hips to encourage him.

He needs no encouragement; he sinks down on me, sighing as I slide deep inside him. He’s so warm compared to the air nipping at my thighs. I bite back a cry when he starts to move; the contrast is almost too much.

Neither of us last long, which is probably a good thing; Anna won’t be happy to hear I’ve been outside exposing other parts of myself to the frigid air, not with my fingers and toes in the condition they’re in.