Caridad Pineiro - The Shifter's Kiss

Nali nodded and jerked her chin in the direction of her old shack. “Is he staying there?”

Her father nodded. “You have not used it in so long—”

“It’s okay, father. I understand,” she said and lay a gentling hand on his muscled forearm. The hairs there were growing silvery, a reminder of the immortality he had given up for a life on land.

“Let’s get him inside then,” her father said. Together they lifted Victor from the sand and dragged him to the thatch-roofed building just yards away from the water. His feet banged the steps with dull thuds as they carried him inside to the bed, where they gently placed him on his uninjured side.

Nali glanced around her old home. It was familiar but not. The man’s belongings had cluttered up the once neat spaces around the single room. In deference to her father, she hurried to her closet, took out a robe and slipped it on before returning to the bedside. As she examined the man’s wound, her father sprang into action, gathering towels and bandages for tending to the injury.

The spear had bit through muscle about an inch in from his side. Deep enough to be painful but luckily not far enough inward to hit anything vital.

She worked quickly to unscrew the barbed head of the spear and placed her hand against his flesh to hold the shaft of the spear steady. His skin was warm with life but wet with his blood. She applied pressure there while drawing out the spear with a steady hand.

Even though he was unconscious, he groaned from the pain. For a moment his eyes flickered open, but then dropped closed once more. Marvelous blue eyes, like the ocean that was truly her home.

As she worked the spear out of his flesh, a sickening sucking sound turned her stomach as the spear came loose and blood flowed freely from the wound. Her father quickly joined her, packing gauze against the exit wound as she did the same to the front. Then they bandaged the injury tightly, using the pressure to stem the bleeding.

Satisfied with their handiwork, they gently lay him flat on the bed. Nali experienced relief at the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat beneath her fingers as she checked his pulse.

“Will he be all right?” she asked as her father brought over a basin with fresh water and a towel so they could wash his body clean of the ocean’s salt and his blood.

“If infection doesn’t set in.”

Infection. She’d forgotten how fragile mortal bodies were but was reminded of it yet again as she passed the damp towel across the scars marring a large part of his left upper body. She ran her fingers along the rough skin, wondering how he had been hurt.

“Burns,” her father said, in tune with her thoughts. Then he quickly added, “He was a firefighter.”

She nodded and continued her chore. Seeing that she was apparently in no rush, her father pulled up a chair opposite her and sat.

“It’s been too long, daughter.”

“It has, and I’m sorry. But it’s no longer safe for me to visit too close to shore. I wish I could visit and spend more time, but you know that after a week, each day that passes makes it harder to shift back.” Holding the man’s arm, she wiped it clean and tried to ignore the skitter of desire at the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. Tried to keep her gaze from wandering to the leanly muscled body whose beauty was not diminished by the scars. If anything, the scars were like a badge of courage from his past profession.

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