Chapter 3
ISLA
I float far enough beneath the surface of the murky water that no one above can see me.
But I can see them. Selkies have superior eyesight in the water, even in our human forms, and I use it now to watch one man.
Unfortunately for my plans, that man isn’t Owen.
My future mate disappeared about an hour ago, taking Ramona out on a set of Jet Skis. When I realized he had gone, I decided to stay in the water. Let the cool embrace calm the unfamiliar tension that tightened my chest when Finn put his hands on me.
When I handed him my SPF 70, I braced for the discomfort of his touch. Coming into contact with people has always grated against the delicate edges of my nerves. But Finn’s steady movements didn’t irritate me the way I’d expected. Instead, a heady flush rose throughout my body.
Unsettling but not necessarily unpleasant.
Now, with the cool water all around me, I’m balanced again, even as I stare up at a butt in a blue suit sticking through the hole of an inner tube.
Why do I want to bite that butt?
The thought has me remembering an old game us selkies used to play, inspired by the movie Jaws.
Finn played, too, but the human was never very good at it.
The human was always fascinated by how long Owen and I could hold our breath underwater.
Of course, the two of us never stayed under so long to offer real suspicion.
I should probably surface soon. I’ve been down here for at least five minutes. If any of the human guests think I’ve drowned, the whole party will search for me. The idea of that attention tenses my muscles.
Still, I’m not ready to give up my observation of Finn’s posterior.
Why do I always focus on him?
Maybe the gods believe he can help me woo my mate.
I ponder the idea of spending more time around Finn.
Showing him the areas of myself that a partner might find appealing, so he can pass that knowledge on.
Finn has been Owen’s best friend since high school, and now, they co-own a recycling company.
He is in the perfect position to talk about my positive traits to my future mate.
This is a good plan.
Stealthily, I approach the surface, and when I am just underneath the man, I give a strong kick, popping up beside him and grabbing hold of his inner tube.
“Shark attack!” I yell and then tip Finn and his shocked face straight into the lake. As he flounders for a moment, I claim the tube, heaving myself onto the slick surface and reclining on the floaty. Lying there, I let the late afternoon sun dry the droplets from my skin.
“You got me.” Finn grins, treading water at my side.
“I’m much sneakier than you.”
I could always tell when he was trying to creep up on me when we were younger. Sometimes, I’d let him catch me, just to hear his triumphant, booming laugh.
Finn shifts to float on his back, giving his limbs a rest. Humans don’t have the same stamina in the water as we selkies do.
When I spy goosebumps forming on his skin, I use the small power I have over water to coax warmer currents to surround him.
No reason for Finn to be cold just because I’m better at the shark attack game than he is.
Recalling his question from earlier, I let a wave of hope rise in my chest. “Do you still want to hear about dams?”
Finn perks up. “Yes. But only if I can hang on to the tube while you talk.”
“Acceptable.”
He crosses his arms on top of the rubbery surface and rests his chin on their pillow as his body relaxes.
“The first thing that needs to happen when building a dam is temporarily redirecting the river. This means creating a diverting tunnel …”
As I detail the step-by-step process of how the Folk Haven Dam was constructed, Finn keeps his eyes on my face the entire time. I’m about to start on recent updates when a shout grabs our attention.
“Hey! Finn! Isla! Burgers are ready.”
Glancing over, I realize that Owen was the one yelling.
When did he get back? And when did the sun start to set?
“How long have I been talking?” I turn to look at Finn, who’s still staring at me.
“Not sure. Lost track of time. You hungry?”
At the hollowness in my stomach, I realize I am. “Yes.”
With a quick move, I fold my body and slip through the inner hole of the tube, sinking into the water, only to surface next to Finn.
“You distracted me,” I inform him.
The man grins before swimming toward the dock, towing the water toy behind him with one arm.
When we rejoin the party, I accept another drink from Moira—this one, a hard seltzer.
The bubbles zing in a pleasant way against my throat, easing a soreness I didn’t realize was there.
I must have talked for a long time. With so much noise going on now in this larger group, I don’t get the urge to speak.
I gather my food and settle on a bench roughly built from a tree trunk.
Ready to observe, telling myself to focus on Owen and figure out the best way to earn his lifelong devotion.
Normally, I would not approve of the idea of pursuing a man who hasn’t shown much, if any, interest. But there is a key component that makes our situation different.
Fate.
Well-known lore among selkies states that we will identify our mate when they save us from great danger.
When I was sixteen, I almost died. Owen rescued me that terrifying night, and once I recovered from the experience, I realized the weight of his actions.
The gods had spoken, and I listened as intently as anyone with true respect for their divine power would.
Owen would be my mate.
Of course, I was a child then, with plenty of life goals I wanted to achieve without the burden of matehood. So, I put it off. For a few years.
For fourteen years. I might have gone for fifteen if it wasn’t for the way my last relationship ended.
The man had cried. A lot. Because he thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together and I only wanted the occasional sexual partner.
After escaping that emotional display, I admitted the day had come to date the man fate had provided for me.
Today is that day. Or at least, the start of it. Because I am not the type of woman to shove someone out of the way to declare my intentions. I would rather Owen realize I am here and that we are destined to be together and then come willingly.
Eagerly would be preferred.
I’d opt for a mate to be excited about our pairing rather than resigned to it. Advice I might need to apply to myself now that I consider the idea.
I cannot say that I am particularly energetic about the idea of being with Owen.
He’s a good man. A good friend. He’ll make a good mate.
All of that is … good.
I like good, I remind myself.
As the sky darkens, people gather on the shore and the dock to watch the sun set over the trees.
I spot Calder walking hand in hand with a woman exactly how he described, and I’m satisfied to know he found her.
Once the light fades, partygoers either start to head home or settle around a fire Moira built in the large firepit.
I stay. The shrinking size of the group helps with my comfort level, and I still have a mission to complete. Not that I expect I’ll make much headway tonight as I watch Owen pull Ramona into his lap in an Adirondack chair across the way.
The size of this hill I need to climb to claim him only seems to grow, and I stifle a sigh.
A presence that is somehow warmer than the flames settles in the open space next to me on my tree bench.
Finn. The name, even as I think it, flows through me. Filling me up.
He holds out his plate. “Want one?”
Finn offers brownies. And pretzels.
“Is this a coincidence, or did you remember?” I pick up one of the gooey chocolate treats and carefully arrange pretzels on top before biting down. Soft, sweet, salty, crunchy.
The perfect dessert.
“I pay attention,” he murmurs.
I nod in approval.
“Isla.” Sorcha crouches by my side. “I wanted to let you know we have a free bed if you want to stay over.”
“Thank you. I’ll consider it.”
The kind woman squeezes my shoulder before strolling off.
Staying over at the MacNamaras’ was one of my favorite things when I was younger.
I’d watch movies late into the night with everyone and then gorge on the delicious breakfast Mr. MacNamara made in the morning.
The offer appeals to me as much as it used to because it means a break from my parents and their endless rules.
I love the two people who raised me more than I love the gods themselves.
Unfortunately, Ann and Patrick Brown are rigid.
They have many fears, most related to the possibility of our discovery.
The human world would cause quite a commotion if everyone found out about mythical creatures, and my parents have outlined every gruesome outcome in detail to me.
I appreciate their candor, and I know I get much of my practical manner from them.
But I find I am not ruled by the same worries they are.
Aware of them, of course. I am cautious when not around my kind.
But, while I might not enjoy large gatherings, I do like being around people different than me even if some things get lost in translation.
Moira, Folk Haven’s premier—and only—real estate agent, is helping me find a piece of land to purchase. Houses tend to pass down through generations, and I don’t want to wait around for my parents to pass away to have a home of my own.
If my mother lectures me about properly locking my car again, I might set up a tent on a piece of land rather than wait around for a house to be built.
Sorcha’s offer of a night away from their hovering is welcome.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to accept.
“Are you staying over?” Finn asks before picking up his own brownie and taking a hearty bite.
“Likely not.”
He swallows his dessert. “Why not?”
Despite my normal habit of honesty, I hesitate before sharing. The truth is, I don’t enjoy people knowing how I lose control.
But Finn waits patiently as I convince myself there is no reason to be ashamed.
“I often have nightmares if I don’t follow a certain routine before bed,” I admit. “I’d rather not wake people up with my screaming.”
“Screaming?” He leans closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. “Those must be bad.”
I nod. Things often are when they’re based on actual trauma.
The pressure of his body against mine is nice. Soothing. I lean into him as well.
“There’s no way to re-create your routine here?” he asks.
If only I’d packed the proper supplies. I frown down at my towel bag before shaking my head. “The most important part is relieving stress. Which I do by providing myself with two to three orgasms.”
There’s a choking sound, and I glance over to find Finn coughing. I get up, hurrying over to a cooler with drinks, and grab him a bottle of water. When I hand it off, he downs half the thing in two swallows.
“Thank you,” he rasps. Then, he drinks some more as I return to my spot beside him. After finishing the bottle, the human continues, “So”—he clears his throat—“orgasms, huh?”
“Yes.” The carbonation of my seltzer diminishes with each moment, and I set it to the side.
“I was relieved when I found out they worked. But I can only ever manage one with my hand. I need a vibrator to get more, and I didn’t bring one with me.
” As honest as I am with my parents, I don’t know that I want to return home to grab a self-stimulator, only to immediately head back out.
With Finn quiet beside me, I realize I must have overshared. I tend to mix up what is and what is not acceptable to discuss in relation to sex.
Maybe I should place him in the same category as my parents.
But that doesn’t seem right. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”
“What about with a partner?” His question isn’t one I expected.
“A partner?”
Finn stares into my eyes, focusing on me in the method he seems to have perfected, coaxing me to float forever in those gray-blue depths. “Has a partner ever gotten you to more than one orgasm?”
Blinking away from his hypnotizing stare, I consider my past liaisons. “One. But that was because he was a particular fan of cunnilingus.”
Finn goes quiet again.
Since I don’t have anything further to add to the conversation, I stretch my toes toward the fire, enjoying the way my skin tingles in the heat. A scent drifts past my nose. A cedarwood soap, mixed with the earthy smell of lake water. Must be Finn’s still-damp hair.
“What if I offered to help you relax before bed?” the human asks, his voice lower than before. “Would you stay over?”
All of my nerves clench, as if I pressed as close to the fire as I could get without setting myself aflame. “Define relax.”
“I could help you achieve your orgasms.”
An image enters my head—Finn fully bare, in a bed with me.
Straining. Panting. Sweating.
I tuck my feet close to my body, suddenly overheated.
“That would not be a good idea.” The words fall from my tongue without consideration, which is not how I prefer to converse.
“Why not?”
Because I like the idea too much and you are not who the fates chose for me.
“Do you recall the plan I mentioned earlier? The secret one?”
“Yes.”
“The plan is to seduce Owen. And I cannot do that while you are seducing me.”