The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) (13 page)

Screw the roses.

He strode to her, possessing her mouth in a searing kiss. She didn’t try to push him away this time. She welcomed it, molding her soft curves to his hard chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. The scent of white sage and sea smoke clung to her hair, and he dipped his fingers into those glorious waves, relishing in the feel of her—any part of her—in his hands.

She kissed him back desperately, as if she were afraid he would disappear if she let go. The air sizzled, crackling between them. But he couldn’t get her close enough. He couldn’t get enough of her. His lips trailed down her cheek, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh under her jaw. Her breath caught as he eased one hand free of her hair, his palm gliding down the front of her, closing over her breast.

She arched into him, her lips parting, her tongue tangling with his. A voice in Sam’s head warned him to stop. To pull away from her. But his fingers found the opening in the delicate neckline. He could rip the buttons and have her naked, and under him, in seconds.

He cursed, when she bit down, hard, on his lip.

“Christ.” Sam jerked back, his hand flying up to his mouth. He tasted blood and his pulse thrummed in his ears as he stared at her. “What the hell was that for?”

Glenna backed away from him, her breath shallow, her face flushed. “You have to stay away from me, Sam.”

Sam pulled his hand away, rubbing his bloody fingers together. Glenna reached for the windowsill, steadying herself. Her eyes were still warm with desire, with need for him. A haunting melody played from the speakers and Sam switched it off, flooding the small studio with silence.

He went to her, ignoring the hand she stretched out to warn him away. He cupped her chin in his palm and waited for her eyes to lift back to his. “You could have said ‘stop,’” he said quietly. “I would have.”

Glenna let out a long breath. “I have trouble…controlling myself around you.”

Sam let those words penetrate. It was the first time she’d ever admitted that he had an effect on her. “I need you to tell me the truth, Glenna. Do you have feelings for me?”

Glenna’s eyes softened as she reached up, brushing a finger over his bloody lip. “I’m attracted to you, Sam. I won’t deny that. But I don’t have feelings for you.” She lowered her hand and something swam into her eyes—like sadness. “Not in the way you want. Or deserve. I’m not…” She turned away from him, looking back out the window. “I’m not capable of having those kinds of feelings.”

He turned her around by the shoulders to face him. “What kind of feelings?”

She lifted his hand, laying his palm over her heart. It was still beating rapidly, and her bare skin was still hot to the touch. But the fingers gripping his hand were cold. “I don’t feel that emotion, like others do.”

Sam eased his hand free, lifted the strap of her dress that had fallen, slowly inching it back up her shoulder. “Because you can’t? Or you won’t let yourself?”

When she didn’t answer, his gaze dropped to her arms and he saw the scars in the light for the first time. He traced his fingers down her forearms to her hands, where the thorns had drawn long jagged scars into her pale skin. “You were married before, Glenna. Surely you felt something for your husband.”

She shook her head. “It was a business arrangement.” Her voice grew distant and matter-of-fact. “He was a wealthy Dublin developer. He needed a beautiful woman to take to functions. I wanted to meet all the richest people in the city so they’d buy my art.”

“How…romantic.”

Glenna pried her hands free from his grip and stepped out of his arms. “Romance was never supposed to factor in.”

Sam picked up the edge in her voice and turned, watching her walk back to the easel. Her long skirt dragged over the stone floor. “Supposed to?”

“He was never supposed to fall in love.”

“But he did.”

“Yes.” She looked away. “He did.”

“Where is he now?”

Glenna picked up a new brush, but he noticed her hand shook slightly. “I don’t keep track of those things.”

“Well, I do,” Sam said softly, leaning against the windowsill. “Your husband died in a helicopter crash the day your divorce went through. His chopper went down in the English Channel.”

Glenna looked up at him, her expression cold. “That’s public knowledge. You could read about it in any paper in Ireland that year.”

“I know.” Sam nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I don’t know is why you tried to hide it.”

“I didn’t hide anything.” She dipped her brush in a well of black paint. She had lost a part of herself the day her husband died. She had only divorced him to save him from the curse, when she realized she could not keep him from falling for her. But nothing could save him. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Because his body was never found?”

Glenna set down the brush, her eyes hardening. “Why do I get the feeling I’m becoming the subject of one of your investigations.”

“Should you be?”

“I think you should leave now, Sam.”

“I think I will,” Sam said, pushing off the wall and walking toward the door. “But I am curious…” He wandered outside, snagging the strap of his satchel and turning back around to face her. “Is this a single tragic event in your life, or is this a pattern for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I had an interesting conversation with a bartender in Bray last night.”

Glenna’s whole body went still. “You’re crossing a line, Sam.”

“Am I?” Sam walked back toward her. “Good. I plan to cross all of them before this is done.” He pulled a small oil painting from his satchel and placed it on the edge of her easel.

Glenna’s face went pale when she saw the orange rose. “Where did you get that?”

“There was an auction last night in Dublin. I thought you might be there. That is…until I heard the story behind the paintings.” Sam leaned in, his lips a breath from her ear. “Next time you feel like
talking
, I’d like to know what the hell happened to those men.”

I
t was after midnight when Glenna stole down to the beach. An eerie haze shrouded the moon and her bare feet caught in the snares of kelp twisting over the rocks. A fire burned in the shadow of the cliffs, teasing the hem of her mother’s gold dress.

“The roses,” Glenna breathed. “They’re turning black.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed at her daughter’s knotted hair, paint-streaked dress, and bare feet. “I know.”

“I don’t understand.” Glenna’s pale green skirt floated around her ankles as she came to a stop across from her mother. “The curse shouldn’t be taking him. I’ve been so careful—”

“Not careful enough.” The flames snapped, snaking dark shadows over Moira’s face. “You cannot resist this man, Glenna.”

“I can. I need a new spell—”

“No,” Moira snapped. “
I’m
taking over now.”

“I’m handling it. You have to trust me.”

“I’m not good with trust.” Moira’s lips curved. “Besides, I want Sam. I have a use for him.”

Steam whispered over the silent water, drifting like ghosts into the night. “What do you mean? What are you going to do with him?”

“Don’t worry about things that don’t concern you anymore, darling.”

“But this
does
concern me.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve this.”

Moira laughed, a bitter song gliding over the sea. She stepped over the fire, the hem of her dress crackling as it danced in the flames. “You’re falling for him, Glenna.”

“I’m not—”

“Shhh,” Moira murmured, lifting a hand adorned in glittering rubies and stroking it over her daughter’s pale cheek. “You’ve done much for me, Glenna. Much more than you will ever know.”

SAM BOLTED UPRIGHT
when the door to his cottage flew open. His bare feet met the floor and he fumbled for the lamp, knocking it over as he tried to find the switch.

“Sam!” Glenna grasped the door frame to catch her breath.

Sam righted the lamp, switching it on. “Glenna?”

Her face was pale, and her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe. She crossed the room to his dresser, yanking open the top drawer. “You have to leave.”

Sam stared at her. “What?”

She shook her head, those luxurious curls snapping around her shoulders. She pulled his clothes out, throwing them on the bed. “There’s no time.”

Sam stalked up behind her, shoving the drawer closed. “No time for
what
?”

“You need to leave the island.” She pushed a small metal object into his hand. “You’re not safe here.”

Sam looked down at the set of boat keys. “What the…?”

“Donal’s,” Glenna explained, brushing past him and snagging the strap of the duffel bag stashed under his bed. “Leave his boat at the wharf in Sheridan.” She stuffed his clothes into the bag. “Finn can give him a ride there tomorrow.”

“Glenna!” He grabbed her by the arms, twisting her around to face him. “Tell me what the hell is going on?”

“You need to leave the island, Sam.” Her voice was edged with panic, her eyes wild with fear. “Now!”

“I’m
not
leaving,” Sam growled.

“You want to know what happened to those men?” Fear shifted to anger like lightning. “The ones in Bray?” She jerked free of his grasp. “They died!” she shouted. “Because of me. My
husband
died because of me. And there are others—
half a dozen
others—who died because they fell for me.”

Sam took a step toward her. “Is this why you’ve been pushing me away all these months—because you’re afraid something’s going to happen to me if I fall for you?”

“No,” she breathed. But the roses scraped against the window, the long thorns re-growing from where she’d cut them off last night. “Yes.”

“Too fucking late, Glenna.” He grabbed her, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss.

GLENNA FELT HER
world tilt. She pressed her palms to Sam’s hard chest, sucking in a breath when he lifted her off her feet. Didn’t he understand? There was nothing for him here! But when his mouth slanted over hers, forcing her lips to part, she felt the knots of fear in her belly loosen. She pressed her lips back to his hungrily. Not because she was giving in. But because this was the last time she would ever see him.