Under His Skin (26 page)

“I found an ointment in one of my books that says if you steep slippery elm in
kukui
nut oil for twenty-four hours and then clean the burned skin with witch-hazel before applying the ointment, then the burned flesh will heal under the coating of oil. I was going to use it on my skin as one last chance to save it.”

Brec sighed. It wouldn’t have worked. Fire was the ultimate consumer of life. If it had been just one edge of the fur, the spells may have worked, but he’d seen the damage. All that remained of the fur was a small strip of pale white about the width of his hand. All around that patch, the edges were blackened and crisp. There was no way for it to close around Ana’s human form. It was nothing but a scrap of skin now.
Dead for eternity.

He snuggled back against her, shoving thoughts of her ruined fur from his mind. He had to stop thinking about it or he’d never manage to distract her from it. And as long as she obsessed over its loss, she would never pull herself out of the pit she’d fallen into.

“What did you do before . . .” He groped for the words.

“Before my skin was burned?”

Stifling a wince, he nodded.

She shrugged.
“Not much of anything really.
I spent most of my time in fox form. I just kept this house because it belonged to my parents and it was isolated enough that I didn’t have to worry about neighbors shooting me. I went into town when I
needed supplies, that’s
about it.” She paused. “You know though, if things had turned out differently and I’d been able to heal my skin, I think I would have liked to be a healer. All the books I’ve read and things I’ve tried . . . it’s all been really interesting.” She sighed. “And it would have been nice to do something for others to make up for all the suffering I caused.”

The matter of fact way she talked about her life as if it were already a done deal that it was over sparked
an anger
inside him. He grabbed on to the anger, desperate to feel anything other than the drowning pain that was eating him alive. He fed the embers, fanned them until the flame grew and chased away the icy fear that held him hostage.

“Well why don’t you try and make up for all that then?”

She shook her head. “It’s too late. I—”

“It is
not
too late!” Brec shoved his upper body off the bed and then reached down to Ana. Flipping her over onto her back, he glared into her wide surprised eyes. “Stealing other people’s skins was a selfish thing to do.”

She stared at him, her jaw dropping with shock. “I—”

“And killing yourself before you make amends because you’re just too tired to keep fighting is another selfish thing to do.”

She opened her mouth again, but he shook his head.

“No, don’t say anything. I can’t take it anymore.” He glared at her, his brain trying to sift through all the intense emotions that battered him around like a buoy on the waves. Fear and anger warred in his mind. He didn’t know why he cared about her so much. He didn’t know when it had happened or what it would mean in the long run, but dammit, he wanted the time to find out. And if she killed herself he would spend the rest of his life tortured by the fact that he’d helped drive her to it, always asking himself “What if?”

“I don’t know how you survived so long without your fur, but you did,” he continued, not caring about the desperation that had soaked into his voice. “You isolated yourself and you did some lousy things to other people, but you survived and you kept trying. That kind of person doesn’t just give up all of a sudden.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “You can’t give up when I only just found you.”

“For almost forty-eight hours you’ve kept me trapped in the same house with you and not once have you said or done anything to give me the slightest impression that you give a shit about me,” Ana said quietly.

Brec’s spirits lifted as he thought he detected the beginnings of her own anger in her voice.

“Why is it only now, now when I’ve
finally
accepted that my skin is gone and I’ve
finally
got the nerve to just end the whole thing, why is it only now that you care what happens to me?”

“Why has it taken you this long to let me see the real you?”

His words barely came out, so low even he wasn’t sure he’d said them.
Ana stared at him, her lips parting in soft surprise.
He pushed ahead before he could lose his nerve.

“When I first found you, you’d just stolen my skin. I hated you. Then you were so angry and I just couldn’t figure out how you could be so cruel as to steal
skinwalkers
’ skins and then refuse to hand them over when your crimes were discovered.” He shook his head. “All I saw were the results of your pain—a pain I never could have imagined and you didn’t tell me about.”

Ana opened her mouth as if to argue, but he put a finger to her lips.

“Then I saw all your herbs and your texts. You had an interest in healing, there were signs everywhere. Evil people do not study healing.” His heart softened. “And then you pulled your underwear drawer out and we had that one shared moment of laughter. You’re a completely different person when you laugh. The hard lines in your face vanished and I caught a glimpse of someone I wanted to know better.”

His mind played over the images as he spoke of them and he found himself smiling again at the memory. “And when you made that comment about it being harder to heal a wound than inflict it, you spoke to a part of me that I’m ashamed to even admit existed.”

“What part is that?” she breathed.

Her voice reflected surprise and curiosity. The weight of depression had eased and her voice sounded almost normal. Heartened, Brec pressed on.

“My older brother, Micah, is a warrior. He and his fellows patrol the waters and keep the killer whales out of our territory. If something happens to one of our people, it’s the warriors that mete out justice.” He rolled his eyes. “My last girlfriend was enamored with them. I think she used me to get closer to my brother.”

“She sounds like an idiot,” Ana grumbled.

Brec raised his eyebrows. “Are you . . . jealous?”

Ana scowled.
“Screw you. No, I’m not jealous.”

He smiled
wider,
delighted for some strange reason that Ana was jealous of Katie. When Ana glared at him, he gave in to the sudden impulse to duck his head and nuzzle her chin. “Hearing someone as beautiful and strong as you speak about healers as if they were so obviously superior to warriors really meant a lot to me,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to convince my brother to let me train to be a warrior for an eternity and he always shut me down. He said he couldn’t risk anything happening to me because the loss of my healing abilities would hurt our people too much.”

“Your brother is obviously smarter than you.”

Brec frowned, pretending to be annoyed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

For a long minute they both stared at each other. Their playful banter had lightened the mood, but there was still a cloud hanging over them—a cloud that seemed to come from the skin lying on the floor. He raised his hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. Ever so slowly, he eased himself down so that his body lie over top of her, his elbows on either side of her body propping him up so that their faces were only a few inches apart and her world was narrowed down to his face and the heat of his body hovering over hers.

“Ana, until now I only saw you as some thief who stole other people’s lives for some unimaginable reason. I’ve only just now gotten to see the real you—a woman who’s suffering and trying to survive the only way she can see to try. Someone who has so much potential to really help people, not just because of all the studying you’ve done, but because you know what it’s like to suffer.” He let a pleading tone creep into his voice. “I like this woman I’m seeing now. Please don’t take her away from me.”

Ana didn’t know if it was the pleading tone in the selkie’s voice, the warmth of his body over hers, or the fact that he’d actually trusted her enough to bring his skin into the room, but something was cracking the nice fuzzy shield around her heart. Emotions were trickling in, pulling her out of the apathetic cocoon she’d been enjoying so much. She wanted to look away, wanted to hide from the emotions threatening her safe numbness. But she couldn’t.

Not when his deep black eyes were so close to hers. Not when he was saying things she’d never known she needed to hear. Not when he was giving her a glimpse into something she was just starting to think she wanted. She tried to turn her head to look at the spot on the floor where her skin lay, but his hands grasped the sides of her head.

“Look at me, Ana.”

Her skin called to her. Loneliness and pain, fire and blood, it screamed at her. Brec’s hands anchored her face, keeping her from turning back. She raised her hands, sliding her fingers over his where they cupped her face. He took one of her hands in his, careful to be gentle and not disturb the gauze around her injuries.

Part of her melted a little, a tiny flash of longing flaring to life in her soul. There was so much emotion in his eyes.
so
much waiting for her if she just had the strength to take it. Her eyes met his and slowly she pulled her fingers away from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

There was a flash of emotion in his eyes. Before she could identify it, his mouth crashed down on hers. A sizzle ran down her spine, fueled by the memory of another kiss, stolen while she stood wet and vulnerable in the shower. She could almost feel his hand clasping the back of her neck as his mouth plundered hers, ferociously offering her retribution for her teasing. Her body remembered that pleasure and it wanted more.

Torn between the need to finally give up and be done with the life that brought her so much pain and the burning need to see where this kiss would lead, Ana trembled with indecision. As if sensing the possibility she would pull away, Brec’s hands held her face prisoner as he licked along her bottom lip, coaxing her to open her mouth and let him in. Helpless against his sensual onslaught, she parted her lips in surrender.

Flickers of heat sparked between her legs as he slid his tongue past her teeth to explore the silky recesses of her mouth. He kissed her like a drowning man kisses the air, as if he’d perish without her. The desperation she tasted on him was intoxicating. When had anyone ever needed her like this? When had anyone ever wanted her like this?

Her hands left his and slid into his hair, gripping the silky strands as she pulled him closer, giving
herself
over to the kiss. She wanted to hold him to her, to let him know that she wanted him too. The kiss grew stronger, hungrier. His mouth ravaged hers with bruising force and she fought for more. Pleasure spiraled up inside her until her head spun and only her hands locked in his hair seemed to hold her to the earth.

With every pass of his lips, every dip of his tongue, she grew more desperate. His hand slid from her face, around to her back. He wrapped his arms around her, sliding them down to her lower back so he could press her body against his. She thrilled as the feel of his manhood, hot and erect where it pressed against her pelvis, sent a rush of wet heat between her thighs. She parted her legs almost instinctively, wanting to feel that hard length against her aching center.

The rough denim of his jeans slid against her, sending jolts of pleasure through her nerves. She broke from the kiss with a gasp and his mouth fell to her neck, biting and sucking. Waves of pleasure flowed over her body as she undulated against him. Something inside her ached for
him,
yearned to get closer. She tugged at his shirt, barely able to make her hands work.

“Take it off,” she gasped.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Pushing himself up with one arm, he used the other to rip his shirt over his head. She stared in awe at the play of muscles under his skin as he flexed. Any woman who would use him just to get to some warrior should have her brain donated to science because clearly she had no need for it.

As Brec lowered himself back down to her, she put a hand against his chest. The hot flesh sizzled against her palm and she had the sudden mad urge to run her hands over that taunt skin, feeling every curve and sinew.

“Ana?” he whispered.

His questioning tone barely registered over the gruff quality his lust had given his voice. Pleasure shot through her again at the thought that she affected him so. Hesitating for just a second, she leaned up and pulled her own shirt over her head. It felt ridiculous to feel shy in light of the fact that she’d been naked half the time he’d known her, but they’d been strangers then. Now . . . she cared.