Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

felt the jolt in the pit of her stomach. “Come home with me, Maggie.”
     
    His admission moved her. But it was not enough. She drew a shaky breath. “You do not trust me.”
     
    “I want you.”
     
    “You do not know me.” The words burst from her.
     
    He raised his eyebrows. “That didn’t stop us before.”
     
    “It did not matter before.”
     
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    He had not mattered.
     
    And now he did. Margred bit her lip.
     
    It was as simple—and as painful—as that.
     
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Sixteen
     
    THE SELKIE PROVED STRONGER THAN THE HUMAN. More
    resistant to Tan’s will, and slow to die.
     
    The first was an inconvenience, the demon thought, looking down at her naked, bleeding body. Which made the second rather handy. The longer she lived, the better chance he had of teasing information from her.
     
    When Tan first sensed the arrival of another elemental on the beach, he’d been almost disappointed his victim had delivered herself so easily into his hands. More disappointed when he struck her down and realized she was not the one he sought.
     
    But she served his purpose.
     
    Or she would, if he could persuade her to give up her sealskin.
    Unfortunately, she was proving resistant.
     
    Tan frowned, tapping his teeth with the knife. He appreciated his adversary’s strength almost as much as he enjoyed her weakness. He spread his other hand on the selkie’s breast and let it rest there, unmoving. Not to inflict pain, not this time, but to prove she was as much in his power as his human host. He could do anything he liked with her.
    With both of them.
     
    And had, for the past hour.
     
    Long enough for the babbling self-loathing, the screams of mental anguish, the incoherent protests of his human host to run together and fade into forgotten background noise, like a radio left playing for too long. Such a shame. Tan missed the thrill of awareness, his host’s weak struggles for control. Forcing his will on the human as he forced his touch on the selkie was an exquisite added zest, a doubled delight.
     
    But now, as Tan gazed down at his hand on the selkie’s breast, her bound and naked body, her perfect skin—well, not so perfect anymore—he realized his host’s male parts had swollen, pressing and twitching
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    against the front of his pants. His body responded to the straining limbs, the quivering flesh, the slipperiness under his hands.
     
    Tan pinched her nipple, drawing blood.
     
    Ohgod, ohno, ohplease . . .
     
    Delicious.
     
    Idly, Tan took out the human’s cock and fondled it, savoring this fresh sensation, relishing the new wariness in the selkie’s eyes. He would not scare her with sex. She was selkie, after all. An opponent worthy of his effort.
     
    But he had her attention now. Oh, yes.
     
    “Nothing to say, dear sister?” he taunted.
     
    He had brought her here to talk. To talk, and to get her away from the sea, where she might draw on the water’s power. Unfortunately, he could not allow her to scream. Someone might notice, and he really did not want to be interrupted again. He had been forced to abandon his last job half-finished, destroying his victim’s pelt but not her human body.
    She was beyond his reach at the moment, hedged about by humans. He could not reach her without drawing the unwelcome attention of both Heaven and the land beneath the wave.
     
    But this one . . .
     
    He had stuffed a sock in the selkie’s mouth and bound it—like her wrists and ankles—with thick tape. Tan had found the tape, the saw, and some pliers in the garage. Human technology might be polluting the earth, but he could not deny their tools were occasionally useful.
     
    He ripped the tape from her jaw, taking some of her hair with it. She moaned.
     
    “Patience,” he chided.
     
    He worked the gag, wet with blood and saliva, from between her torn lips and waited.
     
    “Water,” she croaked.
     
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    He needed her to be capable of speech. But she was mer. Water was her element. He must be careful not to revive her too much.
     
    “Tell me where you left your pelt, and I will let you drink.”
     
    She worked her mouth. Glared at him with her remaining eye. “Go to hell, demon.”
     
    Tan appreciated her humor—if, indeed, she wasn’t past the point of relishing her own joke.
     
    “Certainly I will. After you tell me.” He squatted beside her chair.
    The cock jutted, red and eager, from his gaping zipper. “Tell me,” Tan coaxed. “Tell me, and we will end this,