To Tame a Selkie

Chapter 2

Fire Under Water

It was the first thing Aila saw as her lithe smooth body glided through the water, cutting it like a hot blade through warm butter, her silver eyes miss nothing, they never deceive her, yet she questioned them, for a second as she saw what looked to be silken red flames dancing in slow motion under water. If seals could laugh she would have, a playful flicker flashes in her eyes as she swam closer. Red, so red with outer orange sheen like fire waved disappearing behind a rock. Mermaid was what came to mind then. You never see them around here though. Curious.

Aila ignored the wild sea life flittering around her, the sea kelp and the stray debris of ocean floor that glided in front of her like liquid dust motes. Her silver eyes never left the huge rock that was partly under water, partly out. She rounded the corner and saw him. Him. He wasn't a merman. The proof of his brown wet gleaming skin that lay beside his human form upon the dark damp rock. He was like her, but it was unheard of for a selkie, man or woman to have such vivid colored hair, never mind that it was red. His skin pale and seemed to glow even under the overcast evening sky, his hair plastered to his body, like a darkened blood. Big dark almond eyes met silver. Her head poked out of the water, mischievous eyes and flared nostrils, the wit and intelligence in them gave way to what she was. The man didn't seem bothered but very weary, yet riveted. His dark hooded eyes never leaving hers.
Aila slowly stood up out of the water, human limbs wading through the shallow pool that gently lapped against the dark rock. Her dark grey spotted skin lay over slender arms, hair as black as a moonless night sky framed her pale oval face, her eyes seeming to sparkle like the precious metal they took after.

Goraidh had not even fathomed seeing another like him. Extinction of their kind seemed real, and not like the myth that floated about above the waters. Loneliness had become apart of him like an old favorite cloak. He had fallen prey, like others of his kind to the humans. It was why there weren't many of them left. Loneliness is a malady that infects all creatures, beast or human. Beauty is a siren's call to all, whether in form of a potential mate or something to treasure, something to steal for oneself. Goraidh was no different in that aspect.

Sadly he questioned his sanity too many times to even know what was real anymore. Mostly he wouldn't bother with inquiries to what was or wasn't. But he saw her. Stealing his very breath and vowing if she was a ghost or a phantom of his sick mind, he cared not, he was willing to fall into complete madness if it meant falling prey to her in any way.