Maybe, someday, when her boat was paid off and she could take a moment to breathe, Imogen would plop herself down on a therapist’s couch and pour out all of her fears. It was as though he was a missing link in her life, but Imogen didn’t have the time nor inclination to dissect just what he symbolized for her.
A part of her hated this creature, for his appearance threw her own sanity into question, and yet another part of her yearned to go to him. It was always the same man who followed her – slipping silently just below the ocean’s surface – during stormy nights or calm blue-sky days. That she’d seen most of her life, that is. When that urge became dangerously close to engulfing her, Imogen turned from the bow of the boat and shuddered, gulping in a few deep breaths and forcing herself to break the pull she felt from the creature she saw in the water. To dive into the wintry cold water of the sea, sinking into the inky depths, and deliver her mind over to the delusions that had danced on the edge of her consciousness for years now. The most surprising thing? A part of her wanted to follow him. Both beautiful and terrifying, Imogen swallowed against her suddenly dry throat as the man raised a hand and beckoned to her once more. Eyes of milky opalescence blinked at her, flashes of pinks and greens shimmering in their depths.
#The song of the fae skin#
His skin was so white that the pearlescent sheen of it gleamed in the soft light from the moon, reminding Imogen of the underbelly of a salmon. He was really more of a creature, she supposed. The familiar unease unfurled in Imogen’s core, and instead of turning away as she usually did, Imogen met his gaze and tried to study him objectively. The man beckoned to her from beneath the silky surface of the sea.
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