by May Sage
She wanted it again.
And again.
But he is still Daniel De Luz and I know better than to trust him with; my body? Fine. My heart...
There were exactly two choices: she either could get over her previous disappointment and give the man a chance, or she would have to let him go, step aside. Be replaced by some other woman.
Everything in her protested against that, which meant that she had her answer.
When he asked, she would say yes. She’d become his; to have and to hold, for better, worst and blablabla.
Now she’d made up her mind, most of her uneasiness seemed to alleviate; her limbs felt lighter, invigorated.
This unfortunately increased her need to feel him between her thighs as well as the unholy whimpers her stomach uttered.
Right; food first, then we’ll hunt down the man and get some more sex.
•
Dane hadn’t been able to sleep; not for one single second. The anxiety deep inside his entrails grew worse every time he stole a glimpse at the small figure nestled against his sides.
Something was missing.
After an hour, he managed to pinpoint it.
Reciprocity.
He knew without the shadow of a doubt that she was absolutely everything he desired, but what of her? Nothing she’d done so far indicated that she wanted him; she went along with his whims, but what choice did she have on that regards?
None.
The dress, the lingerie had been her idea of breaking free; she’d shown him that she had power over him.
He was well aware that she had had no intention to screw him when he’d burst through the door; screw with him? Yes. But she’s only caved because of the chemistry between them. It had been physical. Her heart, he hadn’t touched, although she’d walked straight into his.
It would cost you all of your honesty, your faithful devotion and your affection.
Her words, the only clue she’d given as to what she actually desired, turned around his mind and he felt just what a poor choice he was.
He wasn’t affectionate. Flatteries, presents and endearments weren’t his mode of operation.
He’d never been faithful to a woman, save for the childhood friend he’d lost in his youth.
Honesty, he could generally boast to possess; in spades. But was he honest with her? Had he told her that Sheila had befriended her under his orders, that Silvia had quizzed her to test her guts, that Jonas had purposefully left most of the most expensive jewellery of the crown in her room to see if she’d be tempted to take what wasn’t hers, that Sandro would…
He suddenly got up and almost ran to his brother’s room; he banged the door until the man opened it, half naked and with company, by the sound of it.
A lot of company.
“Damn Dane, I was…”
“Have you tried to charm her?”
It seemed that months had passed since he’d given that particular set of directives.
“Did you seduce Ella?” he repeated, enunciating each syllable quite clearly.
“Of course not. I know you. I wasn’t about to tread on your toes.”
Relief poured through him, but the uneasiness just wouldn’t cease.
Something was still left hanging, not quite finished; he just wished he could determine what.
“Dane,” Sandro called just before closing his door. “If I had tried, it wouldn’t have worked. She hasn’t looked at anyone else, mate.”
He wished he could have been that confident, however the recollection of her little talk with the cook downstairs implied otherwise.
Next, Dane made it to Sheila’s; whenever he’d turned to them, the two women had been chatting away which meant, by this point, she knew her more than he did about Ella.
He knocked quietly, conscious that she might have been asleep, although it wasn’t quite midnight yet, but the woman soon opened the door and let him in.
Chapter 13: The Fay.
She wasn’t even surprised. Disappointed, angry, disgusted, queasy? Perhaps. But she really hadn’t expected anything else.
Dane knocked against the door and the beautiful familiar figure answered and let him in without so much as a question.
Well, that was that.
She didn’t exactly recall her way back to her room, nor the moments she took to mechanically pack her bag; it was when she reached the ground floor and realised that the palace was locked up that she regained consciousness.
Walking out of the fortress wasn’t going to be easy, but more to the point, her problems didn’t end there.
She had been summoned and ordered to stay till the following evening; there may be some repercussions if she left early. More worryingly: there was a slight possibility that Dane might actually seek her out.
It wasn’t very likely; he could obviously keep himself busy without her.
She couldn’t let it happen, though. Two days in and she’d been all but ready to forget everything she knew to be true.
There was no doubt in her mind: she couldn’t see him, not ever again.
He had a strange hold on her, something almost…
Magical.
It only hit then; the scent, the sensations which didn’t come close to anything she’d ever felt, the horrendous emptiness his absence caused.
He was using some sort of magic against her, and probably every woman he came across. He was a De Luz, and from what tales she recalled, tricks were the trade of those which controlled the skies.
Well, luckily Cinderella had her own set of magic. Her fire would do very little good there, and if she was able to do anything else, she didn’t know how.
So, instead, she wished.
For one moment after the words passed her lips, nothing seemed to occur, but the next instant, everything was frozen.
The clock, now striking the sixth bell out of the twelve to come, stopped along with every single noise; the steps of the guards outside, the owling of a nearby bird, the beats of her own heart.
And the most beautiful men she’d ever come across materialised in front of her.
It was ridiculous: soft, wavy blond hair, eyes so intense they seemed to shelter an entire galaxy, those plump rosy lips. His features and his stature were flawless. In fact, she would have believed she’d dreamt it up, if as well as being utterly magnificent, he didn’t seem bored, contemptuous and very annoyed to be here.
“Well, little Cinder Girl. You wish to disappear.”
There was something devious in his smile; he seemed to relish the prospect of accomplishing her request for all the wrong reasons.
If she’d been any less weary, she might have taken back her words; as it was, anything he had planned for her was better than the prospect of staying here another instant.
So, she shrugged.
Before he got the chance to perform his malevolent plans, though, she asked, out of pure curiosity:
“Do you wear lipstick?”
Those lips couldn’t really seem that plump on their own, right?
It seemed to take him aback.
The man looked down and his eyes actually met hers. He stared, scrutinizing her for the space of one very long second, before snickering.
The noise was awkward, completely out of place, and his own surprised at the sound indicated that he didn’t get much practice.
“I don’t,” he finally replied. “Although I seem to find the idea entertaining. What’s your name, Cinder?”
“Ella. Cinderella.”
“Ella. You’re obviously unpractised, so let me enlighten you. Never give a fay the tools to destroy you. We will. We feast on joy and despair; as the first is hard to come by, we never turn down an opportunity to deliver the latter.”
She held her gasp, shocked. What had happened to the whole fairy are cute, helpful little angels thing she’d read about?
“You’re Mal’s and mine, if I recall. Know that when you call to her, she will take a particular pleasure in using your words against you.”
“You’ve amused me and for that reason, I am offering you one gift. You may reformulate your wish, cousin.”
Was she actually related to him? She attempted to find one single resemblance between them and failed miserably.
Going back to the task at hand, she considered his warning. Disappearing was actually a very dumb thing to wish for, especially from a magic user. What if he made her actually transparent? Or completely erased her existence?
Carefully, weighing each word, she said: “I wish that only those who deserve to can find me.”
There. That didn’t give a lot of leeway to the creature, and it would most definitely mean that even if he tried, Dane would never, ever find her.
“Not bad,” the man admitted, after mulling over the words. “Not bad at all. Right, done. See you later, little Cinder.”
And without so much as a little abracadabra, he was turning away.
“Wait! How do I get out of here?”
He shrugged, unconcerned.
“Can I go with you?”
She had no idea how she would manage to get out of the palace otherwise.
“Do I look like the buddying up kind?”
“Kinda. Aren’t bikers normally hanging out in group, or something?”
He was wearing leather from head to toes, so that was as good a guess as any.
This time, he actually laughed out loud, before turning back to her.
“Ok, I guess you can tag along for a while, but I’m busy little Cinder. Don’t get in my way,” he warned her, before offering his hand. “Rumpelstiltskin, at your service.”
•
The unease disappeared for the course of five blissful minutes; he felt completely, utterly at peace.
Then, quite suddenly, he bent over in pain, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
Sheila was saying something and offering him water, assistant, anything.
Dane didn’t hear a word, focused on one thing: getting to Ella. Something had happened to her, he knew it.
He felt it.
He rushed back to her room to find it empty; the bed was still warm and unmade, but every single piece that had belonged to her was gone. He looked everywhere, opening the wardrobe, cupboards, looking under the bed.
He found a shoe there; the tiny little glass slipper with a blue heel which had been cool against his waist when she’d wrapped her legs around him.
Fuck. Where were her things? Where was she?
He turns to find his usual entourage; his brother and sister, Jonas, Chantelle. Sheila has obviously called the cavalry to the rescue when she’d failed to get through to him.
Help was good, right now.
“Chantelle, get every CCTV footage, from eleven until now. Silvia, I need the gates opened. Sheila, get someone to sweep the grounds. Jonas, Sandro: with me.”
She’d vanished. Actually vanished.
The surveillance video revealed why, but the how was a completely, absolute mystery.
She’d clearly made for the great hall but then, every camera pointed where she was standing seemed to have been disconnected.
None of the night guards had seen anyone enter or go from the palace.
She was just gone. Poof. An entire day had passed since her departure and they had nothing.
“Dane, have you considered that she might be some sort of a spy or…”
“Shut up,” Sandro cut Silvia halfway through her nonsense, before putting a hand on his shoulder – and squeezing it.
Alessandro wasn’t what one would call open in his affection, so the gesture spoke volume of Daniel’s state.
“I’ll delay my visit to the Woodlands. We’ll find her, Dane.”
“What I don’t get,” Sheila mutters, “is the thing with the cameras. The controls are in a secure area and Ella went nowhere near those dungeons.”
She was taking it nearly as hard as he: for starters, she’d taken a liking to Ella, but more to the point, she felt responsible.
Ella had seen Dane enter her room. She’d only given him a report, but the reason why the woman had any reason to think otherwise was that they hadn’t been truthful with her from the beginning.
Dane understood her guilt, but he brushed it aside when she brought it up.
No, the fault entirely laid with him.
Things would have been different if, instead of rushing to control the damage he might have caused before they’d met, he’d waited for her to awaken and explained what he’d ordered to suss her out. They might have laughed about it before making love.
Tonight, he would be announcing their upcoming nuptials rather than trying to explain to an entire kingdom why he was going back on his words.
One month later.
He’d given one very simple order over the course of the last few weeks. Just one.
No loud noises before twelve. They interfered with the recovery from his hangover.
So who the fuck was kicking on his door?
“Go away!”
Light flew in as the door burst open in front of his damn brother. Hell. Wasn’t the guy supposed to be away on some sort of assignment or something?
“What the hell are you… Is that smell coming from you?”
He brought the covers over his head with a groan but seconds later, someone grabbed them and threw them aside. Shit. What had he done to the world to be bestowed such a sibling?
“Up, Dane. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Nag, nag, nag,” he heard himself answering, using his pillow as a shield against the light.
“Get the fuck up, go get a shower, shave, and come downstairs. Your life might be a mess but I need your help getting mine in order, brother. Five minutes.”
That was probably the one and only thing that could have pulled Dane from his bed.
Water over his skin felt foreign, which was an indication as to how long it had been since he’d washed.
The mirror in front of his sink showed an unfamiliar image; the guy in front of him seemed older than Daniel de Luz, and considerably less elegant.
He kinda liked the beard, so instead of shaving it off, he trimmed it before returning to his room.
Damn, it stank in there. He sighed and gathered the entire bedding set before to push it inside a bin bag. No servant should have to deal with that. He opened his windows before making his way to their hideouts between meeting rooms.
Now Dane was relatively conscious, he saw he wasn’t the only one to have changed in a month: Sandro was still his pristine self, but there were bags under his eyes and he seemed a bit irked.
Alessandro Primerius wasn’t one to display emotions. If something had managed to make him look annoyed, he was very, very angry.
“What news of the Woodlands, brother?”
“The Queen has announced her allegiance to us, you don’t have to worry on that account,” he reassured him, but the words were laced with an irony Dane didn’t get.
“Then what?”
“I’ve met a girl there.”
Obviously. Sandro met girls who threw themselves at him everywhere he went.
“A servant. She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in mine, but of course I had to go and court her, didn’t I?”
Actually, that didn’t sound like Sandro at all; he’d never been one to pay attention to the few who didn’t want him. There weren’t enough hours in the day to satisfy every woman who did.
“She told me to stop, repeatedly. I carried on because I thought I was getting to her, and when…”
He was pacing up and down through the small room, but finally, he sank in a chair and hid his face between his hands.
“I kissed her, Daniel and the Queen saw it. Blanche was terrified and I thought nothing of it. The next day, she was gone.”
Sandro’s expression was the picture of despair, displaying more pain than Dane had ever contemplated; his ordeal didn’t
even compare.
He knew Ella was safe; she just didn’t want him.
If something had happened to her because of him…
“The Queen fancied you, then?”
“Yes, and I playing it to my advantage to ensure she’d aligned with us. I had to smile and fair her well on my way out, Dane. I stayed in town two days to see what her people have to say. That’s when I heard…”
It took a minute for him to recollect himself.
“I heard it all. The tales of the King falling into her spell after the death of his wife, of his swift departure, and above all, they talked of Blanche who was still at the palace and used as a servant. I went to the library and looked for a portrait; it was her, Dane. The fucking heir to the throne, the last of the Woods. She’s survived fifteen years under her stepmother’s rule and because of me, she’s gone now.”
If there was anything to say, he really, really couldn’t think it up.
Finally, Dane concluded: “So, we’re at war.”
“Of course not.”
“No, Alessandro, I can assure you: we are. We may not act yet, but when the time come, we will get retribution.”
He nodded, but didn’t cheer up at the thought. Retribution wouldn’t bring Blanche back.
It was Sandro who pointed it out, three days later:
“The more I think of it, the more I wonder if Ella wasn’t one of us.”
Dane was about to ask what he meant but Silvia contemptuous snort enlightened him.
If there was one thing Silvia revered above all, it was her magic.
Strangely, although their father had been a De Luz, she showed an affinity for water; the Atlantian had warned her away from their coasts since she’d caused a fair bit of trouble when she’d first discovered her skills.
They had called her the Sea Witch, if memory served.
So, Sandro was considering if Ella came from the old Kingdom.
The thought was displeasing, to say the least.
Over the centuries, the De Luz had married Woods and Falls, which meant that if he was right, they were somehow related.
However, the theory had to be considered.