Chapter 4

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H e couldn't get enough of her. Watching her climax was the most thrilling, beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Seeing her lose control, knowing he had done that, filled him with something bordering on possessiveness. Yet he agreed silently that it had happened too quickly. Proud as he was at his skills in making her come, this was not something to rush.

He wanted to explore more of her body. To enter her again and again and feel her tremble around him. He wanted to prolong the fulfillment of her ecstasy, to draw it out for her, to watch her beg and then give her exactly what she wanted. And he throbbed with wanting her.

Mirren's languid expression brightened when he tugged his trousers off, and when she gripped his firm length, murmuring appreciatively, he almost lost it then and there.

Breathe, breathe . "Wait." Never mind that his voice was strained and his eyes shut fast. This was urgent. Mirren's hand stroked down slowly and sparks went off everywhere. What was I going to ask?

He forced his eyes open, Mirren's flushed face and smirking lips inflaming him further even as she withdrew her hand. Yet the question returned, urgent and necessary.

"Have you done this before?" He managed.

She nodded.

Flynn exhaled in relief. He wanted to push inside of her in one stroke. Time, you want time! Slow! Slowly! he reminded himself.

Mirren sat up and tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it off before he could lower himself back down.

"But I'll be naked," he grunted intelligently. "I didn't take your dress off."

"I like that." Her smile took wicked and redefined it. "Maybe I'll let you do that next time."

He had no choice but to comply. As his bare skin met the air, her hand stroked him, teasing him with the mercilessness he'd promised her. He forgot about lying down, forgot about moving, forgot about everything that wasn't her and her hands on him.

It isn't fair, something in him protested, and the rest of him bound and gagged it and kicked it out the door.

"You feel like silk, Flynn. Just as I knew you would. You could sink into me and would send us both flying, wouldn't you?"

A string of curses tripped through his mind. This was far better; this was far worse. He was more than happy for this turn of events and was furious with need for her. He was so close, so close to spilling everything; the ecstasy bordered on pain and made him wobble on his feet. With his final shred of resolve, he dove for Mirren and flipped her on top of him.

She gave a startled gasp; he felt her warm wetness settle against him as he fell back against the bed, speechless.

"Sit up," she commanded, breathless.

"You're a tyrant." And Flynn was her thrall.

"You like it that way," she whispered, nipping at his earlobe.

More curses. "So do you."

He had no choice but to obey. She teased him, dipping over him like gentle waves, and between her movements and her words, Flynn lost all control. Seizing her hips, he pulled her down onto him, thrusting deep into her in one swift movement. For a moment he could hardly breathe.

"Gods, Mirren. You're so warm. So perfect."

She went limp, whimpering against him and pressing her forehead to his shoulder as her nails dug into his skin. Her hand fisted around the silver chain at his neck. Gently he pried her hand away, pinned it to her side, and began rhythmic thrusting, pressing his hand to her lower back. He could feel her fluttering around him, could see her climb and climb again even as he reached for his own release.

"Flynn," she moaned.

"That's right." He kissed her neck, her jaw. "Let go, Mirren."

She cried out as she clamped around him, undulating and pulsing, and sent him soaring into a climax so strong he felt his soul leave his body. He didn't know if he was silent or loud. The sensations of her body overwhelmed him even as his own floated somewhere over an endless horizon.

Shivering, Mirren relaxed against him. The press of her warm, pliant frame brought him back to earth. He lay down, gathering her to him. Even through her dress he could feel her supple languor, smell the evidence of their intimacy. That dress will have to go next time . She gave a contented sigh that pierced something inside of him and unleashed a hundred questions.

Wait a moment, he thought. I felt my soul leave my body. Do I have a soul?

His kind didn't believe they had souls. They were creatures of water, all cunning and desire and appetites. Humans had souls; they were frail creatures, and so could not keep all of themselves together for long.

Mirren adjusted herself against him and stroked a hand gently down his chest. He took her hand. Not just to stop her from taking his chain again. Even with her lying against him, he felt the need to hold onto her, as if she were an anchor. He'd never needed an anchor before.

He'd known her only a day, and yet he could tell this was something different. Something terrifyingly, unavoidably cataclysmic. He had to tell her. She had to know what he was.

But not now in this perfect moment, where his words would ruin it for both of them.

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T he next morning, Flynn returned to the sea.

He knew the sea far better than land. But he had never sat in a boat before, and never with a woman.

Now that he was back in his element, if he had any tension left after last night, he felt it ease from his body with each gentle lap of the waves. Out here, he was used to doing whatever he wished; swimming for endless hours, luring victims to their deaths to satisfy his appetites. Once he began interacting with humans his curiosity about them had grown, but so had his respect for them. He saw them work, fight, sing, laugh, and harden themselves to the difficulties of life. The times he'd taken his human shape and wandered amongst them had proven most informative.

And then there was Mirren.

She sat in the other end of the tiny boat as he rowed, her injured foot poking out beneath her skirts, where the bandage showed a dull patch of brownish red. The tincture, a strange human remedy, seemed to be helping her. For that he was grateful.

Gratitude, protectiveness, possessiveness, fear–these human emotions were wearing on him, getting under his skin. He found the experience both exhausting and exhilarating. His other senses were weakened in this human form, otherwise he'd be out of his mind, a living whirlpool on land. Somehow he didn't miss the old sensations when he was with Mirren. As odd as this experience was, he never wanted to lose this human form, as long as it allowed him to be close to her.

I'm sitting in a boat with her, and she's teaching me how to use a net.

He'd finally done it. He'd stepped out of the observer's role and ventured into her world, and found, to his utter astonishment and delight, that she wanted him.

She wanted me! He felt like shouting. She enjoyed my...company. He grinned.

They threw out the net and secured it amidst the gentle rocking of the waves. He couldn't interpret Mirren's expression as she looked out at the water, whether she was content or intent on something he couldn't identify.

"You must swim frequently," he said.

Mirren shot him a bemused glance. "Why would I do that?"

"Too cold?" Ah, yes. It was cold this time of year for humans. That must be why, despite her proximity to water, he'd never seen her swimming in the past. "In the summer, then," he said, thinking the waters must be marginally warmer when the days were longer and the sky less often clouded.

"I don't know how," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Flynn's eyes widened. Surprise, incredulity: there was another human emotion he was unused to. "You can't swim? But that's impractical. How can you not swim if you are surrounded by water?"

"Most of us never learn," she said.

"What if your boat capsizes?"

"We live and die by the sea, Flynn. It's part of life."

"No. Not anymore." He could do this for her. How could she so easily accept the fragility of her life, as if losing it were nothing? He couldn't allow it, not when he could do something for her benefit. "I'll teach you to swim. Then you won't have to die by it."

"I don't know." She frowned at the water. Was she afraid? It would make sense. The fleeting terror of previous victims flitted across Flynn's mind. Yes, humans were afraid of the deep water where they couldn't breathe or see, where creatures like him lurked.

His solution meant staying with her for much longer than a day. Would she have him?

"What do you say this, Mirren. I'll teach you how to swim in the summer."

Her smile was tentative. "Very well. The summer, then."

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M irren undressed slowly . They'd finished the day's work and had eaten a late meal, and now she was preparing for bed. As if they'd always done this together. When she stood in her undergarments, he couldn't wait any longer and took hold of her, spun her around, and kissed her.

"I promised you I'd undress." Her protestation slipped out between kisses.

"You said you'd let me undress you. There is a difference."

Her dark hair was already tousled, spilling over her shoulders. Her lips were red, her eyes heavy.

He knelt down and took the hem of her shift, sliding it up her thighs until he reached her bare hips and exposed her center. Flynn bit back a groan at the sight. She shifted, her hands clutching his shoulders, and he knew he'd do better to wait than to touch her, to dip his finger inside her as he wanted. Prolong both their torment to heighten their relief. "I haven't had the pleasure of seeing your breasts yet." His thumbs brushed her belly, the base of her breasts, and he had to pause, his shoulders going tense and his hands tightening on the fabric as Mirren's breath quickened.

"Why have you stopped?" Came her low, teasing voice.

He pulled the gown over her head and tossed it aside, then stepped back to stare in undisguised admiration.

Her breasts were small and round. A freckle adorned the skin between them. She was slim, not voluptuous or what some might call well-formed, yet to him she was perfect. And as stunning as she was, he found his gaze landing on her smirk, the way her eyes invited and challenged him at once.

"And now what?" she said.

"Now, I want to wipe that smile off your face and make you breathless in my arms." He scooped her up and put her on the bed. In bending forward, he felt the chain slip from his shirt. Mirren tugged his shirt off and discarded it. Then she gripped the chain, trying to find the clasp, causing his thoughts to skip.

"Take it off?" She asked. A faint, questioning smile was on her lips, the haze of arousal leaving her eyes. No, he thought. Not now.

He kissed her fiercely, startling a whimper from her, and pressed her hands against the bed with one of his. He trailed kisses down her breasts, her belly, and into her center, releasing her hands as he went.

Mirren fumbled onto her elbows, watching him through fluttering eyelids, faint surprise on her face.

"Have you done this before?" He murmured, and was gratified to see her shudder with the humming of his voice against her skin.

"No. Have you?"

In reply, he grinned, reaching up to caress her breast. Mirren's head fell back, and, satisfied that his answer satisfied her, continued his slow, sensuous exploration. He could feel her flutter around his tongue.

"Flynn," she moaned. Her breath hitched.

"What is it?" He said, grinning. "Tell me in that pretty voice of yours."

Her eyes flared, her expression a mix of irritation and arousal. Flynn hummed again, ruthlessly pleasuring her, the flutterings growing stronger as she writhed. "Tell me, Mirren."

Her hand caught his shoulder and tugged at him. "I want you."

Flynn rose from the floor, his own breath coming fast as he stared down at her desperate form, her arched back and legs spread for him. You're so ready for me.

He plunged inside of her, pressing her against the bed with his hand spread on her chest, her eyes widening before she arched and cried out, tightening and squeezing around him. He reached his own climax only after he had brought her to the peak twice more, every part of him hungry for her.

The feel of her skin on his was better than the caress of waves. Her contented sighs feathered on his chest. And beneath all this calm, this otherworldly bliss, there hovered a growing fear.

Pleasuring and plundering her didn't sate his feelings for her. If anything, their intensity increased. He wanted to be with Mirren indefinitely. But what if he couldn't be human enough for her? Even more unsettling, what if he could? Was it even possible to become more human? The thought haunted him. And with that, came another realization.

He was a monster. Not just a shifter who could pass from one form and one life to another. As a monster, he could never be worthy of her. He wanted to hide away, to tuck his nature deep inside and forget it ever existed. Yet how could he be worthy of her if he kept her from the truth?

"Why don't you take it off?"

He'd thought she was asleep, but Mirren's fingers stroked the fine chain, turning it as if trying to catch the firelight on it.

He swallowed. "It's important."

"Was it from someone?"

He paused. "In a way." His father, long ago, had given it to him, a rite of passage he'd never thought to be so grateful for and conflicted over. It had allowed him to find her. It had allowed so many questions into his life, and Mirren was the biggest question of all.

She dropped the chain and sighed, nestling against him so that her curls tickled his nose. He let out a sigh of his own.

"Tell me about it someday."

"Maybe–"

"You know if you hem and haw, you'll only make me more curious." She laughed softly, her voice drowsy and content. Flynn doubted Mirren was one to forget things.

He tightened his arms around her. "I promise."

It was the first time in his life he had ever been terrified.

This is going to be terrible, isn't it?