Free Under His Skin by Jennifer Blackstream

important to us and not suffer any consequences. You don’t know what it’s like to suddenly find that the thing that makes your life possible—the thing that makes your life worth living— is gone and can never be replaced. Tell me how many skins you’ve stolen? How many lives have you ruined?”
     
    Ana stared at him, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Her eyes glistened with what had to be fake tears and he braced himself against reacting to her phony emotions. She wouldn’t fool him again.
     
    The muscle in her jaw twitched and she ripped her wrist out of his grasp. He let her go, not trusting himself not to do more damage than he intended. Her violent motion rocked her body and the gentle sway of her naked breasts drew his eyes. For a split second, he stared at her the hardened peaks of her nipples, puckered by the cold air in the bedroom. His blood grew warmer swirling through his veins on a downward spiral. He jerked his attention back to her face, fiercely denying the attraction he felt for her. He would not have those feelings for a skin thief.
     
    “You don’t know me and you don’t know my life,” she said slowly, anger and fear weaving her voice into a rough patchwork of emotions. “You have your skin back. Can you really tell me that there’s anything on this planet you’d rather do right now then throw that skin over your body and let it change you into the creature you’re truly meant to be?”
     
    Images of his seal form leapt into his mind at her words. He could already feel the transformation, could already feel his human body being enveloped in the soft fur of his true form. He wouldn’t be cold. He wouldn’t be standing here, staring at a woman whose naked body kept tugging at his thoughts even as her crimes chilled him to the bone. He would be free.
     
    Temptation trailed warm fingertips down his spine and his skin seemed to grow heavier where it lay over his shoulder. Uncertainty seized him. He was torn between what he wanted to do and what he knew he had to do.
     
    “You’ve got your skin,” Ana pressed, her voice low and seductive. “Put it on. Leave the misery behind you and go back to the loving arms of the sea—your only true mistress.”
     
    The sea. Just the sound of that word filled his ears with rushing waves and made his body ache for the feel of twisting currents and the taste of salty air. Yearning squeezed his heart. He raised his hand to his skin, feeling its thick soft folds. He had what he came for. Didn’t he?
     
    “She’s manipulating you like she’s manipulated others,” the pixie hissed into his ear. “Think of the others who are still out there. The ones who are still crying and searching for their skins. Will you let them stay trapped in human form because of a pretty face and a clever tongue?”
     
    Brec frowned, his warm thoughts of returning to the sea halted by the cold horror the pixie’s words inspired. He was right. Ana hadn’t denied the claim, she must be guilty. He stared at her, speechless with dismay as he pictured the others out there, miserable as he had been earlier. How long had they wandered like that?
     
    “How many?”
     
    Ana frowned. “What?”
     
    “How many skins do you have?”
     
    He stepped toward her, grabbing her arm again as his empathy for the other victims fanned his rage. A sense of urgency screamed at him to help them, to save them from the torture that had nearly killed him after only a few hours. “Tell me!”
     
    She winced, but he didn’t ease his grip. She’d manipulated him once, it wasn’t going to happen again. When he tightened his hold on her arm even further, he saw her jaw flex as if she were clenching her teeth. He needed to push her a little further, to get her to give up on playing the victim so they could end this charade and he could make her tell him what he needed to know.
     
    “This body may be human, but don’t think it can’t rip your arm out of the socket if I choose