The Alpha's Selkie Mate

Chapter 4

She could breathe easier once the dark male left, though it was only a momentary respite. Her male, the one she’d been locked in a battle of wills with, shoved off of the tree, never taking his eyes off of her.

For a moment, she feared he was going to follow his friend.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he started toward her.

Meriwa couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or…something else. It should have been panic, she knew, but that wasn’t quite the right name for it. Nor was it exhilaration. She’d known that all her life, had chased it like a high and reveled in it as an old friend that’s bad for you. It was something in between, something that left her in a state of acute anticipation.

What was happening?

Everything around her fell into slow motion. Her mouth turned drier than the desert as the world all but stopped around him and his devastating smirk. As though it were making way for the masculine surety that oozed from him. She knew hers weren’t the only eyes on him; dozens of females had turned to look with open admiration.

Not that she could blame them.

She swallowed – a hard-won thing with how parched her mouth was – and frowned, turning away from him to look down at the ground. There was little of it to be seen between the feet of those still dancing.

It was hard to tell if the thumping was from her or the dancers.

Not that her looking away mattered, right? It wasn’t as though her finally averting her eyes would stop him. She’d done this to herself, hadn’t she? She’d dared him, and displayed her body for him in the hopes of winning their little game. And she had won.

He’d been the one to look away first.

If only for a moment.

But now that he was bearing down on her, she wondered if it had been worth it. Maybe he’d grown bored of their game and would pass her by like they were ships in the night, their moment gone as though it had never happened in the first place.

That only made her frown harder.

Why did she feel like this? So…conflicted.

Meriwa was proud to say that she knew herself through and through, her strengths and her flaws both. The things that made her sing, bubbles flying out of her mouth. The memories that made her want to curl up against her mother’s rapidly disappearing blubber and fade away with her.

The only times she ever felt like this was when that wild thing inside of her wouldn’t be quietened or restrained. When it egged her on, to hunt or disobey her father. When she wanted something more.

Why should she feel like that when she looked at him?

He was just a shifter. Mouth-watering perhaps, but nothing to her.

A distraction.

A danger she couldn’t afford.

It was hard to describe exactly the feeling that he gave her. It was almost like he lit her up from the inside, the same way that the fire did. Like she was too big for her skin, ready to be something else. Like drums, she felt every twitch of his lips as heat simmered low in her belly.

All of that, until he, at last, stood in front of her.

To her surprise, he didn’t reach out to touch her. He left a respectful span of space between them. She felt it like a gaping chasm. The wild thing in her wanted nothing more than to cross it, to see what new and exciting feelings waited for her on the other side.

But the sensible part of her, small though it had proven to be all of her life, knew that this male was dangerous to her. The things he made her feel…young, vulnerable, and burning.

Nothing good would come of it.

Up close, she could smell him. It only made everything harder. She felt a sharp pull low in her belly, one that quickly turned liquid. Pine and bonfire, like smoke had settled into the cotton flannel shirt that he wore and refused to ever leave. It made her mouth flood and she swallowed again, lashes fluttering.

He was even more devastating up close too. His tanned skin was deeper, more golden. And those eyes…ringed in a fan of ridiculously thick black lashes. On any other male, they might have leaned towards the feminine, but this one was sleek muscle and power and s*x.

All male.

He leaned towards her, closing the inch or two between their heights, and put his mouth right next to her ear. Still not touching her but infuriating close, the tease. When he spoke, low and husky, she felt the barest tickle of his full mouth on her lobe. It made her toes curl into the dirt, her stomach swooping as though she’d ridden the biggest wave in a winter storm.

“I’ve never seen anyone move the way you do,” his voice thrummed like a plucked violin beneath her skin.

It was anticipation. His words – and the air they shared, warm and thick – tasted of it, sharp yet strangely sweet.

He pulled back and she caught a flash of a smile. Full lips curled, the bottom one slightly lusher than the top but not by much. And all of it outlined in a few days of scruff, dark against his skin. The urge to run her tongue along the sharp line of his jaw hit her again, right in the gut.

She took a step back only to bump into a couple dancing behind her. They shot her dirty looks, a sneer starting on the mouth of the female. She looked like she was about to say something but her eyes flicked up, over Meriwa’s shoulder and her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

The couple, blood reddening their cheeks, scampered away from them.

Were they worried she was going to put them in the dust too? She hadn’t so much as looked at them wrong.

“Don’t mind them,” breath fanned over her neck, making her shiver…but not at all in the way the other male had. This was different. Dark as molasses and dangerous, begging to be caught between her teeth.

Meriwa caught her lip between said teeth. This was bad. But so, so good. If she were sensible, she would tell him to beat it and leave her to it. Better yet, she would go get her pelt and leave. The words were right there – get lost - they sat on her tongue. Ready to be whipped out at a moment’s notice.

And yet they stayed there, impotent. Leaving only a slightly bitter taste.

“Are you alright?” the male asked when she turned around, head tilted down towards the ground. The dancer’s feet, most bare, had churned the dry earth in some spots and stomped it flat in others.

Brows knit, she considered what to say.

“Hey,” he said gently, moving as though he would set his fingers under her chin to lift her gaze to his. Still, he didn’t touch her.

She raised her head anyway, meeting his eyes with steely determination.

And then she stepped forward, forcing his fingertips to graze the underside of her jaw and the sensitive skin of her throat.

He watched her, a kind of wariness in his eyes. But he didn’t move, either to touch her more or remove himself completely. His fingers rested where they’d first pressed against her. This male, all grey eyes and confidence, was waiting for her to make a move, she realized.

She sucked in a breath and his calloused fingers scraped over her skin. A whisper of sun-warmed velvet.

Steeling her jaw, she made her decision. Wrapping her hand around his cup – and his hand – she brought it to her mouth, taking a long draught. The liquid was spiced, starting cold in her mouth and unfurling into heat in her belly. It was…nice.

A chuckle reached her ears.

He was smiling again, a little ruefully while showing his teeth. Raising a brow, she took another gulp. Only to have it spill from between her lips and over her chin. He moved before she registered it, his tongue catching the amber drink before it had reached her throat.

Her stomach dropped through her feet.

The fingers of one large hand speared her hair, curling to hold her. He cradled her head as he forced it back for better access for his soft tongue and scalding mouth.

The world spun.

Her heart hammered between her hipbones.

Her skin was on fire, nowhere more so than where his tongue had left a wet trail.

She could only hope her desperate gasp – a pathetic prey sound, she tried to chastise herself – was lost in the drumbeats.

There was no hiding, however, the way her fingers had twisted up in the soft sleeves of his flannel shirt. If she thought the fire was hot, it had nothing on him. He was burning beneath his clothes, as though he had a furnace hidden within his chest. Like she could have curled up next to him and never felt cold again.

Every brush of his supple, wet tongue, the suction of those gorgeous lips…it was like he had a direct line to her core and he was turning everything wet and molten. Her body clenched, empty and begging.

And he didn’t stop. Even when she knew that the spiced liquid was thoroughly laved from her skin, his mouth poured hot kisses down her throat.

When his teeth scraped her collarbone, her knees threatened to give out from under her.

As if he knew it, his other arm – cup still in hand – came around her waist to hold her to him. Right up against him, her arm trapped between them, hand over the steady, if a little fast, thump of his heart.

When he eventually pulled back, his mouth glistened orange in the light of the fire.

They – he ­– looked so delicious.

Good enough to eat.

Before she could stop herself, she surged forward and pressed her lips to his. Hard enough that she could feel the press of their teeth.

Sparks flew where their skin connected.

With a yelp she would later deny, Meriwa sprung back. Well, tried to. His arm kept her well in place. She didn’t know where to look; certainly not at him, lest she be overrun by madness again.

She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it, “Hey,” he said again, ever so softly. His eyes searched hers, and she struggled not to let him lay her bare like that. Whenever he found what he was looking for, the cup fell from his hand with a dull thud, alcohol spraying over her toes.

But she didn't care.

She couldn't.

Both of his hands cupped her cheeks, his lips brushing against hers. So soft that she might have convinced herself that she only imagined it if he didn’t come back again and again. Tasting of her, learning her. Each pass was a little firmer, more intent than the last.

By the time he licked into her mouth, her hands were tangled in the thick mop of dark curls that sat upon his head.

He tasted of spice and male.

She wanted to carry that with her. Whever she went, whatever the future held.

And she met him every time, too proud to do anything else as she let her tongue dance with his.

She had no idea how long he held her, kissed her, and turned her inside out, but she knew she could have done it forever. The waves got to kiss the sand forever. Why couldn’t she do the same?

His voice was ragged, ruined when he tore himself away. Only an inch, like he couldn’t bear to go any further. “Do you—do you want to take this…somewhere else?”

Those murmured, gentle words were moist against the swollen, sensitive skin of her mouth.

Her lashes trembled against her cheeks, the drums pounding in her head. All she wanted was his mouth back on hers – it was the only thing that appeased the aching heat at her core. If he didn't, she felt like she might die.

She nodded, knowing there would be no way back.

No one will ever know, Meriwa told herself. Opening her eyes, black met grey and the world pitched.

With the feelings pulsing insistently between her thighs, she was helpless but to slide her hand into his and follow him between the dense trees.

No way back.

It was a thought that shouldn’t have excited her as much as it did.