The first time you saw him, he was caught in a fisher’s net. The waves tossed his body against the jagged rocks, dark hair slicked back, chest heaving as he fought against the tangles of rope and seaweed. Moonlight cast his skin in silver, his ocean-blue eyes flashing with something between fury and fear when they met yours.

“Cut me loose,” he rasped, salt clinging to his voice.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to help, but because you saw the sleek, dark pelt tangled in the net beside him. You knew the stories. Knew what he was.

A selkie.

If you took his pelt, he’d be bound to you, his freedom lost to land. The thought of it settled heavy in your chest.

“I won’t hurt you,” you murmured, working your knife through the knots. The net fell away, and his body slumped forward, barely catching himself on his hands. He was stronger than he looked, muscles tensed like he was waiting for a final betrayal.

His gaze flickered to where his pelt lay in the sand between you.