Caged: A Twisted Fairytale Retelling

by Lena Mae Hill

  Evan choked on a bubble of laughter. “Your eye?”

  “Treasure comes from my eyes,” I said. “You can’t put that in my eye.”

  “No,” Evan said. “It goes…you know. Between your legs.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise,” Evan said, still smirking. “I will never put it in your eye.”

  “When does it stop growing?” I asked, relaxing a little. It was very interesting. It looked like it was almost twice as big as when he started, growing up like the vines on the side of the tower.

  “Uh… It gets a little bigger.”

  “Can I touch it?” I asked, remembering how it felt to touch Jack, how soft his skin had been.

  Evan swallowed. He had that thing in his throat, too. I wondered if all boys had it. Father Dear had a beard, so I had never seen his throat bared. Now I wondered how many other secrets boys had that I didn’t know about. Maybe they kept their treasure in a pouch in their throats like a bird’s gullet.

  “If you want,” he said. “But you should know it, uh, feels really good when you touch it.”

  I nodded, edging forward until I could reach him. I poked it with one finger, then jerked back.

  “It won’t hurt you,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. And you can stop whenever you feel like it. You’re safe. I promise.”

  I nodded harder, biting my lip as I reached for it again. It was both harder and softer than I’d imagined. His skin was much softer than Jack’s, and so, so warm. “Oh,” I whispered. “That does feel good.”

  Evan nodded, squeezing his eyes closed, fisting his hands at his sides.

  I pulled back. “Oh, no. Did I hurt you?”

  He shook his head, swallowing so loud I could hear it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “You can explore and satisfy your curiosity. But then don’t ever do this to someone you don’t, uh, have feelings for.”

  “What sort of feelings? I asked. “I have lots of feelings about you. I like you because you’re nice, and you came even though it was raining. I have curious feelings and exciting feelings.”

  “I like you, too,” he said. “You’re strangely endearing.”

  I swallowed, stepping close again. I could smell the rain, both on him and outside. I moved closer, so more of my body could touch his. Strange feelings stirred inside me, and my heart began to beat harder. My hands moved up his torso, over the muscles that bunched under my hands, his arms that started out brown at his hands and grew lighter as I moved up to his shoulders. A scattering of brown freckles dotted his shoulders. I wanted to count them, to kiss them, to map them like the stars in the constellations.

  My skin shivered, but inside I felt hot, almost unbearably so. Something inside me was waking up, lifting its head and uncoiling like a snake. I leaned in, laying my cheek on his chest, lifting my face to inhale the scent of his neck. It curled through me like Jack’s had, awakening the beast further. I imagined that snake moving faster, flicking its tongue out. I stuck my tongue out and caught a drop of water running down Evan’s chest, his cold skin prickling under my warm tongue.

  He sucked in a breath and shuddered, his body pressing insistently against mine. The heat of his core melded with mine, and that nameless need in my center called for more. I had never touched a boy before, and I wanted to keep touching. I wanted to wrestle him on the ground, roll our bodies together like the people I’d seen in the field that way. This wasn’t close enough. Nothing would be close enough until I sucked him in through my skin and absorbed him.

  “You can touch me, too,” I whispered, taking his hands from his sides and putting them on me like I had Jack’s. Evan didn’t hesitate like his brother had. His hands moved over me in long, deep strokes, each one kindling the fire inside me until I was buzzing with a frantic need.

  “More,” I whispered.

  He clamped his hands around my waist, lifting me onto the windowsill where I’d sat a thousand nights waiting for a prince to come and tell me it was time. No prince had come for me, telling me he would take me away and make me his princess. Instead, an ordinary shifter had come, and now he stood between my knees, his neck arched as he bent to bury his face in my shoulder. He tugged my hair until my head dropped back, and his mouth skimmed along my throat. Sparks exploded behind my eyelids, rushing through my limbs like the streams that ran down the mountain after a downpour.

  His lips pressed against my skin, hard at first and then softer, then hard again. His hand slid behind me, cradling my body as his mouth moved lower, pushing me back over the drop below. He held me gently even as his mouth ravaged my skin, drawing it up between his teeth, sucking me with his lips, then tasting with his tongue. I clung to him, my legs and arms wrapping around him, trusting my body to him fully. The drop would kill me, but I had no fear. He would never let me go.

  And I would never be satisfied until I’d devoured him, consumed him the way the need he’d planted inside me was consuming me. The pressure built between my legs until it was an ache, and I pressed against him, trying to find relief. But it wasn’t enough. I thought maybe I wasn’t a bird at all but a carnivore, some kind of giant cat like my father, a lioness hungry for this boy’s flesh.

  “More,” I said again, wrenching at his shoulders.

  “I can’t,” he said, pressing his forehead against the center of my chest. His breath was quick against my skin.

  “Why?” I demanded, though I didn’t know what he couldn’t do.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he said, his voice half words and half groan.

  “What’s that?”

  “To make sure we’re safe,” he said.

  “From what?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. All I saw was rain and the valley below, the same thing I’d seen for sixteen years. I wanted something different. I wanted more of what he’d shown me.

  “Safe from getting pregnant,” he said. “From having a baby.”

  “You did something to me.” I gripped his arms and stared into his eyes. “You made this happen. Now make it stop.”

  His hands fell to my waist, and he took a deep breath, leaning in to run his cheek slowly over mine. “Okay,” he said, his voice going husky again. “Okay. I can help you out. If you’re sure it’s what you want.”

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  He closed his eyes and moved his cheek against mine, little prickles scratching softly over my smooth skin as his cold hand moved up my warm thigh. I gasped at the incredible sensation when he touched me, his fingers moving slowly at first, teasing me, winding me tighter and tighter. At last, though, he pushed harder against me, pushing until the tension broke and waves of heat rushed through my body. Stars bloomed into suns behind my eyelids, and my blood shimmered like those suns had all hit the wet world below at once.

  I came back into my body slowly, not like when Mother Dear made me go out, so she could practice using my body, and when I came back into it, I was snapped like a rubber band. This time I oozed into my body languidly, liquidly. Evan’s fingers dug into my hipbone, and he was breathing so fast against my neck I thought he might faint.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  “Are you?” he asked, not lifting his head. “Did I hurt you? You made that sound…”

  “Hurt me? No,” I breathed, burying my hands in his dark hair. “I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. What just happened?”

  He chuckled, drawing away slowly. “That’s what sex is like. Only everything is…bigger.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “I’ll bring a condom next time,” he said. “Now, we fly.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Astrid

  An hour later, I hated Evan so much I was contemplating pushing him out the window. He’d started by shifting into a bird and trying to show me how to fly, though he could only do it for a minute before he had to sit down. I had tried and promptly fallen to the floor. He’d shifted back into human form,
lifted me up to the top of my vanity, and told me to try again.

  Again, I had crashed in a heap to the floor. He picked me up and put me back on the vanity. “Try again,” he said. “And flap your wings this time.”

  I crashed to the floor, flapping my wings all the way.

  He picked me up and set me back. “Again.”

  I fell.

  He picked me up.

  I fell.

  He picked me up.

  I refused to jump.

  He crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to live here for the next sixteen years?”

  I opened my beak and screeched at him.

  He laughed. Then, he pushed me off.

  I flopped to the floor. Feathers flew up from my bruised body.

  He picked me up.

  I pecked him.

  He grabbed me around the neck with one hand and the feet with the other, holding me up to his face. “I’ve wrung enough chickens’ necks in my life,” he said. “I don’t think you want to do that.”

  I beat my wings furiously, wanting to peck his eyes out.

  A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Keep flapping like that, and you’ll be flying in no time.”

  He threw me. I hurtled across the room, flapping until I hit the wall. Then I crashed to the floor again.

  Evan bent, his hands on his knees. “Ready to give up already?”

  I dragged my body up, though I was sure one of my wings was broken. I shifted into human form, breathing hard as I lay curled on the wooden floorboards. “Go away.”

  “Did you think this would be easy?”

  “Yes,” I said, cradling my arm. I was too tired and battered to pretend. I’d been watching birds all my life. They made it look more than easy. They flew effortlessly, without even flapping.

  “It’s been an hour,” Evan said. “You spent sixteen years with your feet on the ground.”

  “I’d rather be a turtle,” I said.

  “Then be one,” he said. “No one is stopping you. I’m not going to make you fly. It’s up to you, Astrid. Do you want to fly or not?”

  “Not,” I moaned.

  “Suit yourself,” Evan said, straightening. “Come visit me when you change your mind.”

  With that, he turned into a bird and flapped hard until he lifted off. I took great satisfaction in his misjudgment of my window. He clipped a wing on one side of it, losing a few feathers in the process. I lay on the floor catching my breath until I heard hoofbeats racing off down the mountain. Then I dragged myself up, shifted into a bird, and tried again.

  The next morning, when I sat in my window combing my hair, my mind returned to Evan. I could still smell him, could feel his mouth on my skin and his fingers relieving my unbearable longing. I shivered at the memory. He’d lit a spark within me, but it needed him the way fire needed oxygen to burn. I closed my eyes, running the comb from the crown of my head down as far as I could reach. My lips parted, and I began to sing.

  When I opened my eyes, I gasped. The rain had stopped, and the sun shone full and bright on the dripping, dead leaves of the vines. But amid the drooping brown leaves, I saw new green buds pushing up toward the sun. Mother Dear must not have cut through the vines completely, and somehow, they had revived in the rain. They had revived with my song.

  And even though Evan had said he wouldn’t return, hope bloomed in my chest. With the vines there, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. The tiny buds shone like a promise, bright and full of life, inviting me to come out and play.

  “Just a little higher,” I said to them. “Either you will reach my window, or I’ll learn to fly.”

  From that day on, each morning I sat in the window combing my hair and singing to the vines. And each day, they grew. I didn’t wait for them, though. Instead of reading my books or working on my quilt, I practiced my flight. I tried and tried, falling until my feathers were scraggly and my body one big bruise layered upon more bruises.

  One day, I would do it. I would learn, and I would fly down into the Third Valley and find Evan and peck every hair from his head and every freckle from his shoulders. I would go to see Father Dear and ask him how he could let Mother Dear do this to me. I would find her and see what she did all day. I would fly circles around Daniel and Jack, showing off my red-gold wings and my fierce talons. I would sing to William, who had fallen in love with my song. But first, I had to fly.

  Days passed, and I began to think the boys had all left, that none of them would come back. And then one day I heard a voice outside again. When I looked out, I found Daniel at the top of the vine, only half a dozen feet from my window.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” he said, grinning up at me with such a smile that I couldn’t resist returning it. With one smile, my sorrow and frustration and anger melted away.

  “You came,” I cried, tossing the basket to him.

  “I never miss a chance,” he said, grabbing onto the basket. He didn’t bother to climb inside, just held on while I hauled him up. We stood surveying each other. Today we both wore clothes—he had on jeans and a blue T-shirt, and I wore a simple cotton slip dress.

  “I can fly,” I said, unable to stop smiling. “A little.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. “Let’s see it.”

  I bit my lip, shy suddenly. What if he made fun of me for my tiny bit of progress? But I was proud of what I’d accomplished, even if it wasn’t much, and I wanted to share it with someone.

  “I don’t have to look,” he said, turning away. He’d mistaken my hesitance for fear of him seeing me without clothes. Suddenly, I remembered the way he’d looked at me when I had shifted into my animal form the first time. When I’d turned back to human, he’d gazed at me with such reverence I had felt taller than the vine outside, more invincible, as boundless as the sky overhead and the mountains below.

  I slipped my arms from my dress and let the purple fabric drop to the floor, puddling around my feet. “You can look.”

  “Really?” He turned around with a grin on his face. It slipped as his eyes drank in every inch of my skin.

  “Yes.”

  I wanted him to watch me forever. I climbed onto the bed, noting the way his eyes widened and his throat moved as he swallowed. Then, I shifted into my favorite bird—a brilliant auburn falcon the same color as my hair. For some reason, his adoration seemed to dim a bit. I spread my wings and beat at the air, commanding his admiration.

  “Damn, girl,” Daniel said with a laugh. “You look fierce as fuck.”

  I didn’t know how fierce fuck was, but his tone said it was pretty fierce, so I was appeased. I leapt off the bed and swooped all the way to the wall before I turned and continued around the room.

  “That’s amazing,” Daniel cried, clapping his hands together.

  I circled the room twice more before plowing into the bed, rolling across the blankets in a flurry of wings, and thudding to a stop against the wall. I quickly shifted back, sitting up and smoothing the blanket. “I’m having some trouble figuring out the landing.”

  Daniel just gaped at me with his mouth hanging open in a huge smile that did look a lot like the pictures of dogs I’d seen. “You learned that in a week?” he asked.

  I nodded, pride swelling my heart even bigger.

  He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. I could have stopped myself, but I fell against him instead. I hadn’t forgotten how incredible it felt to have my body pressed against another person’s. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, lifted me off my feet, and spun me around and around and around. My feet flew out behind me, and laughter bounced off the walls to the room. I was so happy my heart felt like it had wings of its own, like it could soar up and up into the sky above.

  Daniel’s laughter was different than mine and Mother Dear’s. It was big and booming, deeper than mine. Instead of burying mine as Mother Dear’s high, tinkling laughter did, his seemed to boost my sweet, bubbling laugh, magnifying it so it was as big as his, mingling with it so it w
as half of something new that was neither mine nor his. The sound of our laughs braided together to form a song that had never been sung before. Our song.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Astrid

  At last, Daniel set me down, his eyes shining as if his joy had filled his body all the way up until it spilled out through his eyes.

  “Your eyes,” I said, taking his face between my hands. “They’re the color of treasure.”

  Daniel pulled his lips in, so I couldn’t see them anymore. I could see that he was trying not to smile, though. I tilted his face back and forth, staring at his red-gold eyes. They were darker than treasure, but close enough in color. I didn’t know eyes could be that color. My eyes were blue or grey depending on the light of that day or what I wore. Mother Dear had blue eyes, or sometimes brown or green if she’d brought home another body. I didn’t know someone could have treasure right there in his eyes, not leaking out.

  “You mean this?” Daniel asked at last, his fingers skimming across my smooth belly and sinking lower, barely brushing across the tuft of hair where my thighs met. Tingles exploded through my body, sweeping goosebumps across my skin.

  “No,” I whispered, stepping closer, pressing my hips against his. “Treasure.”

  “Everyone’s always told me they’re the color of whiskey,” he said, smiling down at me as his hands slid around my hips. “But I like your version better.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his hands cupping my bottom, sending waves of pleasure racing through me. “Treasure makes me think of you.”

  My heart skipped in my chest, and I swallowed hard. “Why?” I whispered.

  “Because you’re a treasure,” he said. “Your mom’s the dragon hoarding you for herself instead of sharing you with the world.”

  I relaxed. He didn’t know. None of them knew, and they still liked me.

  “What’s whiskey?” I asked as Daniel ran his hands up my back.

  “Whiskey’s a drink that makes me think of my old man, and I don’t like him so much. He dumped us on Evan and Will’s mom and took off.”