Under His Skin

• Blurb
  
• Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream
  
• Title Page
  
• Copyright
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• Dedication
  
• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• Chapter 11
  
• Chapter 12
  
• Chapter 13
  
• Chapter 14
  
• Chapter 15
  
• Chapter 16
  
• Chapter 17
  
• Chapter 18
  
• Chapter 19
  
• Chapter 20
  
• Chapter 21
  
• Chapter 22
  
• Chapter 23
  
• Chapter 24
  
• Chapter 25
  
• Chapter 26
  
• Chapter 27
  
• Chapter 28
  
• Epilogue
  
• About the Author
  
• Did you find a typo?
  

Other Books by Jennifer
Blackstream

Aphrodite’s Hunt

The Revenge in Vein Series:

Burned

Mastered

Bitten

Converted

Under His Skin

Jennifer
Blackstream

Skeleton Key Publishing

http://www.skeletonkeypublishing.net/

Under His Skin

©Copyright Jennifer
Blackstream
2012

Cover Art by Jaycee of Sweet n’ Spicy Designs © Copyright October 2012

Skeleton Key Publishing

This is a work fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Skeleton Key Publishing, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. In all seriousness, if you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it and purchase your own copy or else be faced with an irate pixie and a snarling dragon. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved with the creation of this ebook.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Skeleton Key Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Skeleton Key Publishing,
Norton
,
Ohio
,
United States of America

Acknowledgements

Thanks for the read through sib. I adore you.

Marie, your input was invaluable as always. Brec thanks you.

Dedication

To the sailors out there who know there’s more in the ocean than
fish.

“
Ack
, no!
Don’t pick
that
one.”

Ana paused with her hand over a strip of honeysuckle.
Darting her gaze around the herbalist’s small shop, she searched for the source of the unholy screeching that made the nerves in her arms shrivel in agony. Rows of drying herbs hung from a square patch of ceiling on her right, lavender, mistletoe, and slippery elm filling the air with their soft fragrances. Rows and rows of oils and candles lined the left wall, their simple glass jars and neatly labeled black lids the epitome of order.

Mrs. Downing, the shop’s owner, was still in the back filling her order. No other patrons were in sight. Ana narrowed her eyes and then turned her attention back to the display of honeysuckle that lined the glass case in front of her. Her foot resumed its nervous tapping and she clenched her teeth as she wondered once again what was taking Mrs. Downing so long.

“Are you daft? I said don’t pick that one!”

Stomping her foot in agitation, Ana jerked her head up just in time to get struck between the eyes with something small and pointy. She caught the projectile in her hand as it fell, looking down at what appeared to be a tiny piece of wood. She stared at the sliver in her hand before glaring up at the creature that had hurled it.

A little pixie glowered at her from inside a cage hanging over the cash register to her right, just over her head enough that she hadn’t noticed it when she looked around. His pale white skin looked strange amidst the warm earth tones of the shop. The soft grey fur of his clothing seemed to be stitched together from what she could only guess was mouse fur and he had on a pair of tiny brown boots as well. He would have been cute if not for the scowl on his face.

“What do you care what herbs I pick?”

“Don’t question me, woman, just listen,” he shouted. “Don’t pick that one! Don’t pick any of them!” He grabbed hold of the bars on either side of him and began to rock until the whole cage swung crazily from side to side. “
Every herb in this shop is POISON
!” he screamed.

“One more squeal out of you and it won’t just be the cage’s latch that’s forged of iron!”

Ana raised her eyebrows as Mrs. Downing came barreling out of the back room, shaking her fist at the imprisoned pixie as the curtain that blocked the doorway settled behind her. Dressed in casual black pants and a red shirt, with a black and red
Chilkat
blanket hanging down her back, the shopkeeper was a pleasant combination of tradition and modern comfort. As her long black braid flailed behind her, Ana couldn’t help but be impressed that a woman of Mrs. Downing’s generous size and age could move that quickly.

If only she’d move that fast filling my order
, Ana thought, annoyance prompting her to cross her arms.
I need these herbs NOW. I’m so close . . .

The old woman continued to glare at the pixie. “You think about that, you little thief! Surrounded by iron! Just the thought of it makes your puny flesh burn, doesn’t it?”

The pixie glared at the herbalist, but he kept his mouth shut. Mrs. Downing gave him one last scathing glance before turning to Ana, a smile instantly bursting to life as she focused her attention on one of her best customers.

“Please forgive the noise, my dear. I only leave him there as a warning to any other pests who might be thinking about stealing from me.”

“What did he steal from you?” Ana asked the question more to distract herself from her reason for coming to the shop than for any real desire to know the answer. The devastation waiting for her at home weighed like lead on her spirit, only a thin sliver of hope that this time, this spell, might be different saving her from complete despair.

“A lousy rose petal,” the pixie grumped. “I only wanted a soft leaf for my pillow.”

The herbalist’s gaze shot back to the cage. “It wasn’t one lousy rose petal, you little miscreant. You raided my roses every night for a month! Do you know how expensive roses are? They don’t exactly grow wild in the Alaskan wilderness, now do they?”

“Well they dry up!” the pixie screeched. “You want I should sleep on a scratchy dried up rose petal? Me, with the soft skin of a newborn—”

“Oh, shut up!” Mrs. Downing bellowed.

Ana rubbed her forehead between her eyes.
This
, she said to herself,
is why I should stay at home and order herbs over the internet. Shipping can’t possibly take as long at this exceptionally loud woman.
“Mrs. Downing, would you be
so
kind as to add some
St. John’s
wort
to my order?”

The herbalist turned her attention back to Ana, a look of concern adding new creases to her aged brown skin.
“
St. John’s
wort
?
Are you not feeling well?”

“Just a headache,” Ana growled.

“Probably from the smell of all these third rate herbs.”

“That’s it!” the old woman yelled, whirling around. She stomped toward the back room. “I’m getting the iron cage!”

Ana looked up at the almost comical look of horror on the little pixie’s face.
Without a second thought, she reached up and unlatched the iron slide bolt. She couldn’t seem to do anything about her own misery, but the pixie’s woes were easily assuaged.

“Get out of here before she comes back,” Ana said quietly. “And never treat your freedom so carelessly again.”

The pixie darted out of the cage, only pausing for a second to hover in front of her.