Lord of the Deep Read Online Free PDF

losing consciousness. The sick, queasy weakness that precedes a fainting spell overwhelmed her, nearly taking her under until, out of nowhere, something large and strong butted her in the stomach, driving the water from her lungs, propelling her toward the surface.
    Stunned, she tried to grab on to whatever the creature was, but she couldn’t get a grip upon its smooth, slick skin. In her anxiety, she lost what little grip she’d gained and started to sink back into the underwater chasm, but the creature butted her again, harder this time, and she broke the surface gasping for air, clinging to the long, bullish neck of a giant seal driving her toward shore.
    Water spouted from the creature’s nostrils, a fine spray blowing into the predawn mist as it parted the waves. A bestial outcry left the seal’s throat as it nudged her to safety in the shallow water swirling around them at the edge of the strand. Coughing up seawater and gasping for air, Meg glimpsed the creature’s eyes before it turned back toward the deep water. They were almond shaped, large, silvery black with red reflections. They were his eyes. In a blink, he turned and dove back beneath the surface of the water, but his scent remained behind—salt and musk and ambergris, not the unpleasant fishy odor associated with ordinary seals. It threaded through her nostrils arousing her—making her remember.
    Tears welled in her eyes as she dragged herself up onto the shore. Kneeling, she pounded the surf with both hands balled into white-knuckled fists. He had made her his own. Why did he bring her back—twice! She should be grateful that he’d saved her life, but all she felt was abandoned despite the fact that she’d asked him— begged him —to do just what he’d done. Had she failed in some way—displeased him? It hadn’t seemed that way when his life was living inside her. Whatever the cause, she felt downhearted as she dragged herself out of the water.
    Taken with spates of wheezing and coughing, Meg tried to clear her throat. Her nostrils stung from the salt, and her ribs ached from the heaving. Staggering over the fine pebbles and seaweed to the safety of damp sand, she turned back, casting her glance toward the sea. The first rays of daylight had begun to blush the horizon crimson, but no sign of life appeared in the water or the salt-sweet air. A whiff of the dawn breeze smelled pleasantly of him. She drank it in deeply.
    Climbing higher, she glanced about for the cloak she’d discarded earlier. It was a few yards off, and she padded toward it. Through the morning mist, she saw something lying on top of it, something white. Skittering to a halt alongside, she groaned and dropped to her knees. It was her night shift, neatly folded atop the cloak. Snatching it up, she held it to her nose. It smelled of the sea, of salt—of him. She sobbed into the soft lawn and blackwork embroidery, though her sobs were empty and dry.
    “ Megaleen! ” Her aunt’s voice knifed through the stillness. The sound of it must have roused the waterfowl, for Meg hadn’t heard their morning calls until that moment. She leapt to her feet and wriggled into the shift, tossed her cloak over her shoulders, and trudged toward the hard-faced woman standing arms akimbo at the edge of the berm.
    “Coming, Aunt Adelia,” Meg called out. Her eagle-eyed aunt was the last person she wanted to see in that moment, when her sex was still pinging, swollen from the selkie’s throbbing bulk inside her, that had filled her, stretched her to admit his gargantuan penis. She could still feel him hammering inside her, molding her sheath to his thick, curved contours. Her breath caught remembering, reliving his thrusts. The fingers of a blush crawled up her cheeks. Would Aunt Adelia know? Would she see? She would have to be blind not to, Meg thought, donning her most innocent mask. It would not be easy, when each breath she drew from the fiery dawn mist filled her nostrils with the haunting