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Authors: Claire Cameron

The Silkie's Woman

BOOK: The Silkie's Woman
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


The Silkie's Woman

Claire Cameron


Cover art and design by Martine Jardin


All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.


Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003

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I want to thank my parents, Denis and Julia, who have always believed in me, and my friends, Katie, Jeannette and Jodi, who have given me encouragement in all my endeavors over the years. And don’t worry, Denny, I didn’t forget you!







Chapter One



Violent waves crashed on the shore as the December winds pushed the tides to astounding heights. The curling white fingers of the topmost waves surged up the cliffs of Inishmor. The sky hung heavy and gray, meeting the leaden sea. In another two days, the combination of the storm, the winter solstice, and a full moon would push the furious waves up over the top of the cliffs.

Megan watched the beating rain and ice from inside her snug cottage. Her breath clouded the window, and she turned away with a sigh. Her friend Shannon wouldn't be coming back tonight. She had called earlier to tell her that she was staying over with her current boyfriend.

She had never been lonely or afraid in the tiny cottage, but for some reason, prickles of unease were creeping up her neck. Her dreams the past few nights had been erotic and unsettling. She was almost afraid to go to sleep. Every morning she woke up unsatisfied and aching, her entire body tingling with an odd mixture of pleasure and pain.

She decided to have some tea before heading off to bed. Perhaps some soothing chamomile to dispel the strange feelings. The little cottage had come fully equipped with all the kitchen aids of home. As she put the teakettle on to boil, she pulled down the box of aromatic teas she has purchased from the mainland. She was down to the last bag of chamomile. All that remained were bags of lemon verbena and spearmint. By the time the bag was in the cup, the whistle on the teakettle sounded. She put her face into the vapor created as she poured the hot water into the cup. The soothing scent filled her senses, and she could feel its calming effects. Carrying the tea with her, Megan made her way to the bedroom, turning off lights as she went. Her tea was only half gone when her eyes grew heavy. The fluffy warm comforter and soft down pillows made sleep irresistible, and with one more sip of tea, Megan turned off the bedside light.

Within minutes of lying down, she fell deeply asleep. Her body floated in a slate-gray sea; the scent of salt, peat, and clean breezes filled her lungs, and an alabaster moon shone overhead. Without warning, the water around her began to boil, bubbling and frothing, small geysers bursting forth. Out of the mist a strong hand appeared, beckoning to her. Her body rose without her will, her hand reaching to clasp the masculine one thrusting towards her.

The scene then shifted, as dreams often do. She was lying on her back in thick loamy turf, a musky, pleasant odor all around her. Large hands were spread out across her breasts, massaging gently, fingers reaching up to pluck at erect nipples. Her gaze followed the hand to an arm, a shoulder, and met
a face that could have belonged to a god. Dark hair fell around his face, and his obsidian gaze was locked on hers. He moved his hands down her body, dragging his fingertips across her stomach and the top of her pubis before delving between her thighs. All coherent thought fled her mind, and her eyes snapped shut to better savor the sensations. He seemed to know just where to touch her to elicit the most sensation. Gentle fingers strummed her clit, stroking gently until her hips rose to meet them. Moisture flooded her pussy, and his hands glided in the thick moisture. He paused to dip a questing finger into her cleft, stroking deeply several times before moving back up to her clit. A warm wet pressure on her clit made her open her eyes.

His dark head was between her thighs, his fingers spreading her wide so his tongue could thrust against her. Just the sight of this beautiful man eating her was enough to toss her over the edge. Her back arched and guttural moans exploded from her mouth as indescribable pleasure roared in waves over her body. Small aftershocks continued to create shivers of sensation as she looked up at him.

"Who—" When she opened her mouth, he disappeared and she found herself back in her room at the cottage, wide-awake and completely confused. It couldn't have all been a dream could it? It had been so vivid, the pleasure so real. She had never had such an intensely erotic dream.

She always forgot her dreams soon after awakening, but his features, touch and scent remained vivid throughout the rest of her sleepless night.




The next morning dawned still slightly cloudy, but warmer than the day before. Megan decided she and Shannon would take a walk down by the Seal Beach. She waited impatiently until 9:00 to call Shannon, who was
an early morning riser.

"Shannon, I think we should take a walk on Seal Beach today. Since the seas are so rough there are bound to be a few that have beached themselves for the duration of the storm."

"God, is that all you can think about? To tell you the truth, I can think of better ways to spend my day," Shannon groaned.

"Oh, come on, it will be fun. I'll even bring a picnic."

"Oh, joy."

Megan could heard Shannon rolling over in bed, followed by the sounds of heavy breathing and a soft smacking sound.

"Hey, none of that while you're on the phone with me." She paused. "Come on, Shannon, please, please, pretty please?" Megan said, a teasing tone to her voice.

She heard an exasperated sigh. "All right, all right already! Stop begging, it isn't at all attractive," Shannon laughed. "I'll meet you at the road in about forty-five minutes."

Megan had been observing the seal population along the Inishmor coast for the last several months. In general, the population consisted of gray or harbor seals. This particular morning, she and Shannon were walking along the public beach. The sky was a leaden gray, and clouds hung so close to the ground they could have been fog. A breeze blew the subtle scent of fresh fish and salt inland towards the town, and Shannon’s hair lifted in the wind. The pageboy cut, so boyish on some women, highlighted Shannon’s unique features, giving her a gamine look. Slightly pointed ears and a sharp chin with wide dark eyes led many people, men in particular, to overlook her cutthroat personality. Megan's walk was interrupted when she saw a beautiful bull-seal hauling up very close to her. The seal pulled himself on land, making his way laboriously to the one outcropping of rock in the sun. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. His fur appeared thick and black, with only a few spots of white on his chest. This was the closest she had ever been to a wild seal. As he made himself comfortable on the outcropping, his black fur was struck by a stray ray of sun causing the silvery undercoat to look as if it had caught fire.

Megan didn't want her friend to miss this sight, and in a loud whisper she called, "Shannon..." Her voice rose as Shannon ignored her. "
, get over here. You have to see this. He's stunning." The bull was at least ten feet long, and although ungainly on land, she had seen bulls in the water; in their element, they moved like comets.

Megan looked at Shannon as she sighed with impatience. Her friend appeared to be very bored with what, to Megan, was a fascinating look at an animal that could normally only be seen in zoos. Shannon had no appreciation for the wildlife of Ireland, unless you counted the men. The bartender down at the pub was probably far more interesting to her than the bull-seal Megan was so entranced with. Shannon was not a happy camper out here in the wilds. She had done nothing but complain ever since they started their walk. The swans and dolphins they had spotted when they first started out had failed to entice her, and her bad attitude was beginning to wear on Megan.

Megan thought back to the months before their arrival in Ireland. She and Shannon had come to Ireland to rest and relax after selling their successful art gallery,
The business had been doing well, but her health had suffered from the long hours and endless problems associated with owning the business. After two bouts of pneumonia in a row, they had both decided to sell, and it had been a lucrative decision. Included
with the sale of the building and current artists' works had been the sale of a clientele list, which included bigwigs from many different areas of contemporary art. The gallery often represented mixed media, collage, and found-object assemblage artists, and was on the cutting edge of the art world.
Belle Epoque
served as a launching pad for successful artists worldwide.

The trip to Ireland had been Megan's idea. She loved the idea of spending countless hours watching nature and relaxing in front of fires. Of course, Shannon's suggestion had been Grenada, or perhaps Cozumel: nice, warm, and with plenty of good-looking men to keep her company. Heading out to East Bumblefuck was not Shannon's idea of fun. The past three months had firmly cemented within her friend a love of large cities, people, and above all, warm sun! Megan heard Shannon's' impatient movements towards the coastal road.

"I'm never coming on vacation with you again! I'm going back to the pub. You can stay here if you want, but I am
spending my last night here watching some dumb animal when I can spend it fucking the bartender." Shannon wagged her eyebrows and turned to go back towards town.

Megan looked up briefly from her entranced stare. "Fine; I'll be back before it gets too dark."

Megan waited until Shannon was well up the beach, almost to the road before she ventured closer to the seal. Megan placed her feet with great care to avoid making a noise that might startle the majestic animal. As she came up alongside the seal, it turned to look at her with limpid black eyes. It appeared to remain unafraid, so she edged a bit closer. In all her months on Inishmor, this was the closest she had come to one of them. Always before as she reached out her hand, the seal would waddle away. This one, though, almost seemed to be daring her to touch it.

It didn't remove its gaze from her eyes as her hand moved closer and closer until her fingertips grazed the pelt over its neck. The seal shuddered and Megan pulled back, waiting to see if it was afraid, but the seal continued to look at her, only now its look was decidedly heated. Megan hesitated for another second, but when the seal stretched its neck in invitation, she moved a bit closer and rested her hand on its neck. The seal moved under her hand, rubbing itself against her sensitive fingertips like a cat. The fur pelt felt like the softest silk, and she couldn't resist pulling her fingers through the fur all the way from its neck to its upper chest. The seal stretched to give her more area to pet. As the seal continued to gaze at her, a strange warmth began to grow between her thighs, pulsing with a liquid pressure, almost as if the seal were arousing her with just its gaze.

You must be tame,
she said to herself.
Maybe the fishermen feed you?
The seal chuffed deep in its throat as she hesitated in her strokes, and then to her surprise it turned around and took her hand in its mouth; its teeth pressed down hard enough to just break the skin and cause a red welling in the center of her palm.

." She pulled back in surprise and the seal let her go, turning to look at her one more time before climbing off the rock and moving back into the ocean. Megan looked out to sea for a long time, but the seal didn't resurface. It was beginning to grow dark, and her ability to discern waves from possible animals was fading with the light. After a few more minutes, she reluctantly turned her back on the ocean. As she walked up the beach to the coastal road, she looked down at her hand, which was throbbing with an uncomfortable pressure similar to what she had felt earlier while petting the seal. The pulses sent rays of pleasure/pain down her arm to connect with the point between her legs that was now almost on fire.

She made the long walk back to town in record time, afraid to be alone with her strange thoughts.




Urlon was stunned by the human female who approached him without fear. Her scent was beguiling; musky and flowery, all at the same time—the unique scent of a female ready to create life. She bore an amazing resemblance to the woman he had been seeing in his dreams. She neared her time of ovulation, and therefore was a suitable tribemate for this change, and all of the changes that followed.

As he gazed into her green eyes, he attempted to read her. He met a block on the topmost layer of her thoughts and was unable to go deeper, but he could see
she was enraptured by him in his seal form and wanted to touch him. He stretched his neck in invitation, and was stunned when her touch sent liquid tongues of fire down his body. The feelings intensified when he recalled the dreams; soft hands, warm mouth, and kindness. He had no time to think. His body made an instinctive choice as he turned his head and bit her, creating an instant link between them, an unbreakable Amat that would be fulfilled during their mating. The binding complete, he made his way back to the sea.

BOOK: The Silkie's Woman
4.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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