A little earlier, I introduce you to Orkney, Scotland with The Selkie. As I mentioned, this rugged terrain is the setting for my Orkney Selkies series.
Book 2, Selkie’s Revenge, returns the reader to Orkney for more sexy selkie action.
Selkie’s Revenge continues the tale of my Kirk family of selkies, introducing a new hero and heroine. Machar “Mack” Kirk isn’t looking for his mate when he stumbles upon Beth Pedersen, but the sad widow elicits feelings of protectiveness and utter desire. Especially when Mack realizes he’s not the only one who’s noticed her. They embark on a sensual journey, one filled with other mystical creatures such as finmen, witches and mermaids.
Warning: please note this book contains hot anal play and anal intercourse.
On the beaches of Orkney, Scotland, an evil entity stalks mortal women. Machar â€œMackâ€ Kirk is a selkie man with a haunted past, one that has prompted him to become a hunter. He prowls the beaches at night, his arrows aiming for the finman who took his first love.
Beth Pedersen also watches the sea. The haunted widow has suffered losses of her own, ones that have crippled her into a state of stony grief. Beth can no longer feel, can no longer see color and life. Until the day Mack Kirk saves her from a mysterious foe, flooding her world with brightness and foreign temptation.
As Mack and Beth fight their growing passion, the finman escalates his attacks. Before long, Mack realizes heâ€™s not just playing Good Samaritan. He wants Beth, too, and will do anything to ensure his lover isnâ€™t taken by the finman. But can he protect his mate from a monster with no soul?
Her eyes still closed, Beth got the sense of a tremendous shadow being lifted from her. For the first time in a long time, she had the desire to open her eyes. She did, letting them crack open.
She was in a hospital room, one with beige walls that needed paint touch-ups and a small window looking out to a gray sky. A gray table in front of her. Beige sheets on which her pale arm lay limp. It seemed all she saw lately was tones of beige and gray, the wan colors of her new life. Anything more vibrant had been torn from her.
So she hadnâ€™t been dreaming.
She sensed the man at her side before she ever saw him. Sheâ€™d known he would be there too, just like in her dream. A magnetic presence who seemed to radiate peace and sensuality and the warmth of a nice bath. She turned her head toward him and almost started.
Her vision was suddenly flooded with color.
As she blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the light, she took in the hues that surrounded him. The pale pink of his lips. A dark blue Police concert T-shirt. He had the blackest eyes sheâ€™d ever seen and hair to match. His hair was wavy and thick, worn in a careless style off his high forehead, ending somewhere around his strong chin. He was a big man, dwarfing his chair, his body covered in taut muscle. Beth couldnâ€™t help but notice how his clothing didnâ€™t quite seem to contain his strength. His muscles threatened to burst forth from his clothes every time he moved. She dragged her gaze back up to his face. He had kind features, despite their obvious sexual power. She liked the few crinkly lines around his eyes, an indication that he smiled a lot. And his generous mouth, currently pulled tight in a serious line, still managed to look flirty. Instinct told her his was a mouth that didnâ€™t express itself in quiet chuckles; it would open wide in hearty guffaws and huge smiles.
He moved his hands on his lap, and her gaze fell to them. She sucked in a breath.
He had webbed fingers but not as an animal would. The webbing between his digits was more transparent, less obvious, like gossamer threads joining the base of each long finger. It was beautiful in the way a Moorish castle might be to a visitor from another country. Foreign and exotic.
The man shifted in his chair, clearly about to say something. At that moment, Beth had a vision slice through her consciousness. All of a sudden, she could see a large, black seal cutting through the waves to reach her. The vision morphed and changed until she could see a naked man, this man, picking her up out of the cold water and carrying her away.
Obviously sheâ€™d been seeing things. The man had rescued her, but she was remembering him as an animal. Her mind was playing strange tricks on her. Or was it?
â€œYou saved me,â€ she whispered.
â€œYes, I did.â€
His voice was deep and melodic, penetrating. Just the few syllables from him made her eyelids flutter and dried out her throat. It was that Orcadian accent. There was something altogether sensual about a Scottish brogue colored with a Norse lilt. Frank had had the same melodic accent. Not that it mattered anymore. She swallowed, desperate for a drink, but all she could taste was seawater. The lingering bitter taste made her forget her need for a beverage.
â€œYou shouldnâ€™t have bothered.â€
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