Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Inconvenient,” she mutters, “but unsurprising. Nothing about the situation has been easy from the beginning. There’s no reason it should start now.”
I ignore her and keep walking. Usually by the time I hit this point in the trail, peace and joy fill my chest, twisting in anticipation of diving below the surface and losing myself in the depths. The crash of the surf soothes me, promising a joy I only experience when swimming.
No longer.
I stop on the rocky beach and look out to where the waves are frothy and white and perfect. Deadly. Not for my other form, but they would break this human body against the rocks. I can hold my breath longer than a mundane human; I don’t feel the cold as intensely as they do, but without my tail, my serpentine body that so easily cuts and swirls and twirls through the water . . .
I sit on the edge of the nearest boulder and fight against the bitterness threatening to swallow me whole. If I’m not able to find Bronagh, this is the life that waits for me. One where I’m always cast to the side, where I’m forced to watch my family and friends enjoy the very things no longer accessible to me.
Maybe there will come a day when that won’t feel like a sharp burning on my tongue that makes me want to cry. I don’t know if falling into that acceptance is a good thing or a terrible tragedy. I don’t know anything anymore.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that it takes me several long moments to register the feel of Lizzie’s eyes on me. I glance over to find her watching me closely. Even now, there’s a part of me that wants her despite myself. She’s beautiful and dangerous, and there’s certainly no risk that I would get attached with how distant she holds herself. Maybe if I lost myself in a few hours of pleasure, the world would feel a little less dim in the morning.
“Do you think your family will blame you for the loss of your pelt? Is that why you’re avoiding going home?”
The question washes away my lustful thoughts. I twist around to stare at the waves once more. “Of course not. They love me just as much as I love them. They would mourn the loss as if it were their own.” And then it will finally be real. Lizzie doesn’t respond, so I find myself elaborating. “It’s happened before, you know. There was a time when stealing a selkie skin was an honored tradition among sailors. They would take some of their victims as spouses, trapped in one form and perpetually mourning, but just as often they would sail away with no intention of returning. Once that happens enough, bruises enough generations, you learn to cope.”
“Cope.” The word sounds like an insult from her lips.
“What else would you have us do? In the water, we’re nearly unmatched. Even with magic, most humans don’t stand a chance. We’re faster. More agile. We’ve had to be.” I swallow thickly. “But like this?” I wave a hand at my body. “We’re just as human as anyone else. Just as easily cut down.”
She moves so fast not even my superior eyesight can track her. One moment she’s standing several feet away, appearing relaxed—or as relaxed as the vampire ever gets—and the next she’s crouched in front of me, my chin in a painful grip between her fingers. “That’s about enough of that.”
I try to jerk back, but I might as well be encased in stone. I knew she was strong. Apparently I had no idea. “Let me go.”
“Only if you’re done with this pity party.”
Shame is a fire in my blood. She’s right, and I hate that. “Let. Me. Go.” A growl inches into my voice and surprises me so much that I go slack. Where did that come from?
“Better.” Her grip softens slightly, but she doesn’t release me.
The faint pain centers me, allows me to keep speaking. “Even if nothing else was in play, my family has never been happy about my involvement in the rebellion. They’ll blame Nox and their people for my loss, and will stop informing on the Cŵn Annwn. The rebellion can’t afford that loss.”
“The rebellion.” Her lips twist. “All I ever hear about is that fucking rebellion. The way I see it, you have two options. You can turn around and walk back to the tavern and be embraced in the tearful arms of your family. You can settle into a life where you’re only half of who you were meant to be.”
I can’t quite catch my breath. “Or?”
“Or we can figure out how to steal a ship and go get your skin back.” She finally drops her hand and rises gracefully to her feet. With the stars in the night sky behind her, she’s a sliver of shadow before me. “It’s your choice.”