Page 164 of A Winding Wave of Magic
“Do you sleep out here?” I wasn’t quite joking. Maybe he did. Maybe the normal rules of seals didn’t apply to a shifter. I couldn’t imagine it was comfortable to be in the water all the time, but then again, I couldn’t turn into a marine animal on a whim.
“No,” he said. “I’d drown, eejit. I’m amurúch, not a fish.”
“Do you sleep with the other seals on shore? What’s it called, a haul out?” I chuckled, imagining Caomhán in his human form cuddled up with the thick, awkward bodies that seals were out of the water.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But only if I’m too lazy to clean up at the end of the night. They’re a bit smelly. Fart in their sleep, and the bulls snore like ocean liners.”
At that, I laughed outright. We bobbed up and down for a bit, waiting for a set to roll in.
“So, is it true what they say about shifters?” I asked.
“What’s that?”
“That they’re more animal than human.”
He raised a slick black brow. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me, Cassie?”
I lifted one right back. “They do say men only have one thing on their minds. Must be harder if you like your animal form best.”
I beat my fist into the water, sending a big splash that Caomhán neatly dodged before reemerging next to my knee and nearly causing me to topple off my board.
“You don’t want to be playin’ that game with me,” he said with a grin. “I’ll win every time.”
Then he shoved off my board and dove with a grace I couldn’t help but admire. I felt at home in the water, but Caomhán moved as if there was no separation between his body and the ocean.
“To answer your question,” he said once he reemerged, “I’d venture it depends on the person. There are some I know who feel more comfortable in their animal skins than as a human, and they tend to act more like beasts than men. Others do their best to ignore it, like your friend Jon.”
“You know Jonathan?”
Caomhán chuckled. “Oh, to be sure. I’ve known Jonathan Lynch my whole life and a fair amount of his too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’re also technically a senior citizen.”
In response, a clear stream of water hit me smack in the temple.
“Hey!”
“I prefer the term well-ripened. But no, I’ve got at least ten years before I hit that mark.”
I shook my head. Caomhán was likely old enough to be my father, then. Apparently, there were no fae on the island my age.
“How do you know about that anyway?” he asked. “You’re not supposed to learn for another four years at least, by the smell of you. So say the spell casters. Are the Connollys actually breaking the rules for once?”
I rolled my eyes. It seemed Caomhán could smell literally everything about me.
“I figured it out,” I lied before changing the subject.
“Gods, your lies stink as bad as your age, Cassie.”
Once again, my splash didn’t quite hit the target. “What did you mean about Jonathan ignoring his animal side?”
I turned back around to search for another wave. Unfortunately, it was a bit flat today, and the waves were proving few and far between.
“Most shifters I’ve known make a habit of changing at least once a day. It’s one reason most don’t live in cities, unless our soul animal is an urban creature, like a rat.” Caomhán wrinkled his nose. “Gods, I’d hate to be half rat, wouldn’t you?”
I couldn’t help but agree with him. “Is it like having a separate person in you? The ‘soul animal,’ you called it?”
He stuck his lower lip out briefly as he considered my question. “Well, no, it’s not as though you have a whole other being inside you. More like a different part of your. What would happen if you tried to ignore the part of you who was a seer? Something so innate it’s been there since birth?”
