Magic of Midsummer: first draft opening scene

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The first 900 words of Book 5 of my Sons of Herne series

*Mature content*

 

Primal urges stirred, a restless hunger that attacked without warning, pulsing deep in Devinmar’s body. Were he in human form, his cock would rise, stiff and waiting, staying more or less in that erect state until he had fulfilled his purpose.

At the moment, however, he was not in human form.

Powerful swishes of his fluke sent him deeper, down to the inky depths and back up again. His dolphin body flew through the ocean like a bird in the jet stream, graceful, carefree, mated only to the power of the sea through which he glided. No other force on this world or the next could arouse such pleasure in him, not even the calling his body responded to now, telling him in no uncertain terms that another year had passed. The time approached when he would return to land, only for a single night, to mate with a human female.

Within the slit that housed his dolphin genitals, he felt the tingling, the heat that would trigger mating aggression, should the demigod allow it. He had more control over his animal form than he did his humanoid one, at least when it came time for the sabbat ritual of midsummer. Then he would be compelled to do the one duty expected of him by the realm he rarely visited. He was a god of the sabbat, immortal and bound by a sacred calling to oversee the ritual of Litha. But he was also half selkie. As such, he preferred the sea.

The whirring sound distracted him from his thoughts, and he rolled his body before changing course toward it. The drone grew louder, a chorus of wheezing, spurting bleats from a motor that could use some serious maintenance. Devinmar drew alongside, pulling into the wake from the sides of the craft churning below the surface. He stayed hidden, keeping his dorsal fin underwater, amusing himself for a few moments by matching course. At least, that was the plan.

A weight slammed into the surface of the water, square onto Devinmar’s back. He spun out of the boat’s path with the dolphin equivalent of a surprised cry, and the large bulk that had collided with him fell away into the darkness. Stunned as he was, Devinmar floated for a short time, getting his bearings.

What the devil was that? He poked his head above water, blowing out his air hole and watching the white boat disappear in a tumult of churning sea foam. They had lost something important, judging by the size, but the boat gave no indication of turning back. The item perhaps had no value.

Or maybe they had dumped it on purpose.

Curious and a bit outraged at the thought, he dove back underwater, shooting straight down after the abandoned item. His dolphin eyes were not acute enough to see that far, but sounding ahead with sonar turned up a startling fact, one that sped his heart. He tried sonar again, confirming his theory.

The bundle was human.

Devinmar dove faster, pushing his powerful muscles with straining force, until he caught up with the sinking human. It was female, unconscious, and bound with some sort of wide, flat rope. No. Tape. He tried twice to get hold of her with his broad mouth, both cursing his current form and feeling grateful for it. God or not, he would never get her to the surface as a man, but hands would have been helpful. He caught hold of her with a firm grip and rose, pulling her against the forces of nature, higher until he could see the light rippling at the ocean surface. They broke through, him with a fierce blast from his blow hole as he drew air. The woman made no gasping sounds. He had little time, if in fact it wasn’t too late already. Alternating between using his snout and teeth to keep her head above the whitecaps as much as possible, he pressed for the shore he knew was not far off. His jaw ached from dragging her to the surface, but he hurried on, intent on saving her.

Waves soon pointed the way to land, and he followed until the first of the breakers pushed their bodies to shore. He gripped her in his teeth and rode the wave. The ocean floor beneath them rose up sharply, threatening to beach the dolphin if he had no other means to save himself. But he did.

He didn’t let go of the female until sand scratched his underside, and he closed his eyes, released her to the momentary trust of the tide, and concentrated on the change. He became the seal first, the form his mother’s kind took close to the shore, a creature adapted to both sea and land. Shiny, gray skin shifted to brown fur, fins to large flippers. His snout shortened and sprouted whiskers while his body grew slower, yet more buoyant.

Insistent waves pushed him to shore, and the female washed up beside him. The sudden cessation of the ocean’s constant movement brought him awake, as though jarred from a dream back to reality. She lay limp beside him, so fragile and helpless that it sent pangs of frustration through him.

He focused on his true self, the man whose form he normally took only once a year, a human figure born under the sea, but with arms and legs and long, jet black hair. His seal skin split with a pop along his back, which was not a painful experience, but rather, a freeing one. He was released from the marine creature, climbing free from the skin he clutched in his human hand. He had to keep the skin near him in order to return to the sea.

He tossed the skin higher up the beach, away from the waves that might try to reclaim it. Then he dragged the bound woman higher up the beach.

 


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