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Summary
The pelt—it should seal his authority over this creature of magic. Instead, Morax is crumbling before those cerulean eyes. With a fortifying breath, he summons the power of the earth, of Geo and unbreakable rock, and when he reaches out, he is steady as stone. His hand is firm as he catches the man’s throat and yanks him up into a half-crouch.
“Give me your name,” he grits out, “or I will give you one myself.”
To command a fully realized selkie is to raise oneself higher than the gods.
In seeking an advantage in an endless war, Morax captures a selkie. And torn from his cozy home in the deepest of forests, Ajax is now fielding aggression from all sides, with no way out.