“I want to do that again, but I’m afraid there seems to be a recovery period necessary.”
I laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. He was still erect inside me, his hands on my ass holding my entire weight. “There are some things worth waiting for. And this is one of them.”
* * *
We were naked, curled up under the thin blanket, using the garlicky-smelling hood for a pillow when the short man arrived. His smug looked changed to one of utter shock when he saw us.
“’Bout time you got here.” I stood and stretched, absolutely unconcerned that I was buck naked. “The king needs more gold, no doubt to electroplate a toilet or something. What do you want in exchange? A kidney? A blow-job?”
“You’re not giving him a blow job,” Gregory snarled with uncharacteristic jealousy.
I shrugged. “Fine. Guess you’ll have to make due with a kidney.”
The man stared at me, clearly not hearing a word I said. “All I want is your first born child. I’ll spin the rest of this straw into gold, then you’ll marry the king. When you have a child, you give it to me.”
Gregory stood. He was naked. It was like watching one of those Vikings, or Spartans from the movies. The short man looked at Gregory, his eyes drifting downward before he quickly averted them.
“She is not marrying the king, and she most definitely is not having his child.”
I loved this angel, but he was totally ruining everything. “Ixnay on the ingkay.” I glared at him. “I’m trying to cut a deal here, demon style. Got it?”
The stumpy dude snorted. “Too late. If she doesn’t have a baby with that peacock in velvet and fur who keeps demanding this gold, then she’ll have one with someone else. Maybe you. So when you and hot-stuff here have your first child, I get to have it.”
“Hey, that’s not what I agreed to.” The words barely left my mouth before Gregory was on the guy, lifting him up and slamming him repeatedly against the wall. I winced. He’d done this to me a few times, but I was a demon. I liked this sort of treatment. Gold-spinner did not look like he was enjoying himself at all.
“Six billion years I have waited for an Angel of Chaos to complete me, one I truly wanted to create another being with. You will not take our child – first born or otherwise,”
Huh. I lacked any parenting skills whatsoever, but I was beginning to think Gregory would make an excellent sire. I could see him now, attending the angel equivalent of PTA meetings, defending our little angel against cherub bullies on the playground. But none of that would happen if he killed our one ticket out of here.
“Don’t hurt him too bad,” I warned Gregory. “I still need him to spin this straw into gold, or Bling King is going to chop off my head. I think our chances of escape will be better if the monarch of this castle is admiring his gold toilets and less interested in hunting us down.”
Gregory dropped the small man and he crashed to the floor in a heap.
“I’ll do this for you and relinquish my claim on your firstborn if you can guess my name,” he gasped.
“Deal.” I interjected before Gregory had a chance to start slamming the guy against the wall again.
“No, there is no deal,” the angel snarled. “How did you get in and out of here? Is there a hidden passage? We need to escape far more than we need the straw-into-gold trick.”
The little guy stood up. “First, it’s not a trick, it’s magic. Secondly, there is no hidden passage. It’s magic.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “Why does your ‘magic’ work, but ours doesn’t? What the fuck makes you so special?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re not from here? Maybe because you don’t have any magic? I’m special because I can come and go where you can’t. I can spin straw into gold where you can’t. See? Special.”
Oh fuck him. “So why do you want my kid?”
“My fiancé was stolen from me by the king. I won’t ever love another, but I want a child.”
My angel made a huff noise. “Does this place not have adoption? Is there no other diminutive, magically adept woman interested in being a surrogate for you? You can transmute straw into gold and teleport, yet you can’t magic up a baby?”
I liked this snarky, violent Gregory. Wherever we were it not only took away our angel/demon abilities, but it also let my beloved’s baser instincts off their leash.
“No.” the man snapped. “Trust me I’ve tried. No adoption. No surrogate. No magic baby-making. And I will never love anyone the way I loved my Goldie. My last hope was for this foul-mouthed thing to agree to give me her firstborn.”
I shrugged. “Well the other interested party here has made it quite clear that you can’t have my firstborn. If you help us escape, the kidney offer is still on the table, though.”
The short man thought about the offer, tapping an index finger against his chin. “Nah. Don’t think I’ll be needing a kidney any time soon and those things just don’t keep. I will agree to help you escape, though. I hate that greedy jerk of a king. Anything to stick it to him. Even though I’d still like a baby.”
“No baby,” Gregory said, his glare menacing. “You’ll have our gratitude. How’s that?
The man sighed. “Fine. But I still want you to guess my name.”
“Dooley?” I guessed.
“Igor?” Gregory suggested.
The man shook his head.
“Rodney? Verne? Yorick? Oh for fuck sake, just tell us.”
“Rumpel. My name is Rumpel Skin.”
I stared. “Your last name is Skin? Wow, I could have done a whole lot better than Rumple. I mean, Fore Skin, for example. That’s totally what your mother should have named you.”
Gregory rolled his eyes. “So Mr. Skin, how do you intend to help us escape?”
The short man sat cross-legged on the floor and clapped his hands together eagerly. “Here’s the plan. I spin some of the straw into gold. When the guards and Jerkface come in the morning, we attack, throw the gold at them, then run for it.”
I shrugged. “Sounds like a great plan to me.”
* * *
It took forever for morning to arrive. During the night, Foreskin did a bit of spinning while Gregory complained about being hungry. And he complained about the scratches on his arms from squeezing through the window. And that he had to pee in the corner. Actually, he was complaining that he had to pee at all. The angel made Foreskin turn his back while he took a piss. I peeked. And then I unsuccessfully tried to convince Gregory he should have sex with me again. I think if Foreskin hadn’t been there, he might have complied.
Finally, light streamed through the narrow windows. I heard the sound of heavy boots on the stairs even through the thick wooden door. Foreskin hid behind a bale of straw, a spindle in his hand. Gregory had ducked under the thin blanket, as if that was going to hide him from Bling King. It was an especially poor hiding place since he was sticking out from the knees down.
The door flew open and the guards clomped in, stupidly ignoring the huge lump under the blanket. Bling King was equally oblivious, his attention completely on the few spindles of gold and the dozens of bales of straw.
His face turned an unflattering shade of crimson. “Why have you not finished?” he sputtered.
I yawned. “Maybe if you had provided me with a coffee maker, I would have done more. A girl can only pull an all-nighter once before it takes a toll on her. Be grateful that you got the few spools here. I totally understand if I’m no longer marital material, so I’ll just be going.”
I took a step toward the door. The guards flanked me, one actually grabbing my arm. I heard a growl from the blanket.
The king glared at me, then a nasty smiled curled up the edges of his lips. “Marriage is off the table, but cutting a few of your toes off isn’t. You won’t need them to spin, and perhaps losing a few would give you incentive to complete the job.”
The guards threw me to the floor, two holding me down by my shoulders while the other two tried to take my
shoes off. I wasn’t having any of that shit, so I kicked them in the face as hard as I could. I was wearing riding boots. One swing of my foot hit guard one in the nose, while the other foot cracked hard against the underside of guard two’s jaw. I bucked, wrenching my shoulder as I tried to pull out of the grip of the other two guards. That’s when I saw Gregory bash them upside the head with the spinning wheel, swinging it like an unwieldy bat.
King Bling shouted for more guards while I yanked away from the two that had held me and dove for the straw bales. Brandishing one like a shield, I rushed the door. The monarch ducked out of the way and I ran for it, plowing full speed into the archers that had just reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
They fell like dominos, rolling and sliding down the hard stone staircase. I threw the straw bale after them as an added measure, then dashed back into the room. Gregory had taken on all four guards, using the broken spinning wheel parts as if they were nunchaku. I chased Bling King around the room while he continued to scream for his guards. Where the fuck was Foreskin?
A foot suddenly appeared, sending Bling King toppling face-first to the floor. Foreskin stepped out from behind the tower of straw bales brandishing a spool of gold thread. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t the diminutive man slamming the heavy spool down onto the back of the king’s head. Again. Again. And again.
Wow. That was kind of gross. I’m a demon, so the only thing I felt beyond interest at the blood decorating the floor and straw bales was respect for Foreskin’s amazing strength in basically dead-lifting the gold spool repeatedly.
Done, the man turned to me, panting. “Jerk locked me in a dungeon because I refused to spin straw to gold for him. I managed to escape on the night of my execution.”
I admired his handiwork for a moment. “Why couldn’t you just teleport out of the dungeon?”
“Underground,” he spat.
Huh. I walked around the tower of straw and saw Gregory – shirtless, sweaty Gregory standing over four unconscious guards as he held bloody, splintered bits of a spinning wheel.
“Did I mention I love you? Can we fuck?”
Gregory turned toward me, a smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. I got the feeling that parts of him were onboard with that plan.
“I like this adrenaline thing. It makes me want to find more guards to hit, or to rip your clothes off, bend you over one of these straw bales and take you from behind.”
I loved this place. I might never want to leave. Unfortunately, Foreskin chose that moment to interrupt us.
“We need to go before more guards arrive and we’re charged with murder,” he said.
Technically only he was a murderer in this room, but I wasn’t about to correct him. Gregory grabbed my hand and half-dragged me down the stairs, kicking aside guards who were splayed in unnatural angles along the steps.
Okay, so maybe I was a murderer too.
We encountered two more guards on our way out, quickly dispatched by Gregory’s spinning-wheel weapons. Once in the open, we ran, Foreskin keeping pace in spite of his short legs. After a few miles, we had to drop to a walk. Gregory clutched his side, while I limped, unused to running in riding boots.
“What is this horrible pain? I think I’m dying. I think my ribs have punctured my lungs and I’m dying.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a stitch. Walk. Breathe. Rub it out.”
He winked. “Can you rub it out for me?”
What? Who had stolen my angel and replaced him with this sexual-innuendo spouting man? Oh, I was so tempted to stay here. Instead of responding I turned to Foreskin. “How far are we from the gateway?”
He blinked. Dude wasn’t even breathing hard. “What gateway? The one you came in through? I don’t know where it is.”
“I do.” Gregory said. He was rubbing his side vigorously. “We need to keep running, though. I believe once they find out we killed the king they’ll come after us on horseback.”
“He killed the king, I didn’t,” I protested, but I understood the need for an expedient retreat, so once Gregory was done massaging his side, I picked up a jog again.
I’d never had such a horrible run in my life. My feet were blistered, probably bleeding. My lungs felt raw. I had a bra chafe that made every bounce of my boobs agony. Gregory, on the other hand, looked totally hot even if he occasionally clutched his side and started huffing his breath as though he were at a Lamaze class.
“There.” I pointed, seeing the gateway ahead. We put on a burst of speed. As we approached I saw a disembodied head poke through.
“Nyalla,” I shouted. “Don’t you dare come in here.”
“Sam!” she squealed. Then she vanished to be replaced by a head that I didn’t recognize.
“Goldella! I thought he’d killed you. Oh, my beloved Goldie.” Foreskin raced past me, suddenly channeling his inner Kenyan. The woman cried out in response and leaned forward, tumbling through the gateway onto the ground. I noticed she had the cup from my thermos of hot chocolate in her hand.
It was like one of those Hallmark Channel movies, only the male romantic lead was three feet tall. The two ran toward each other through the golden grass. I imagined background music. I Think I Love You by the Partridge Family? On and On by Stephen Bishop? Or maybe Somebody to Love by Justin Bieber? Yeah. The Bieb. Excellent soundtrack for the mushy embrace that happened once Foreskin and Goldie met in the middle of the field.
Maybe there was a chance Foreskin would get his baby the old fashioned way.
“Lead us to the gate, Cockroach,” Gregory said. “I want to get out of here before people with arrows arrive. Or people with guns. Or people with fireballs.”
Especially fireballs. I took his hand and led him to the gate, jumping a bit to reach the edge. He grabbed my legs and threw me into it where I landed in a heap at Nyalla and Snip’s feet. Jumping up, I leaned back through to extend a hand to Gregory, not that he needed me to help him, but so he could clearly see where the gateway was.
He jumped, knocking me in the face with his knee on the way to the other side. Déjà vu.
Nyalla grabbed me into a hug. Snip looked as if he were about to perform the same embrace on Gregory then thought better of it.
“Oh Sam,” Nyalla said. “I called Gregory, then Snip, and when you didn’t get back yesterday, I rescheduled your private yoga session to Thursday.”
I loved my girl. I hugged her back, then disengaged to turn to Gregory. “Let’s do this thing.”
I outlined the gateway for him and he reached forward to close it, then hesitated. “Maybe I should leave just a small bit open. You know, as a marker so we can find it again.”
My heart thudded, a slow, lascivious smile twitching my lips. “We killed the king and a bunch of guards.”
Gregory shrugged. “I’ll admit the digestive functions part wasn’t my favorite, but the other sensations were amazing. It was as if I were a human.”
I completely understood him. It’s not like either of us wanted to be a helpless human full-time, although even without our special skills, I thought we did pretty well for ourselves. Sometimes it was fun to vacation, to be someone other than what you were back home.
“I’ll agree, but only if you remain shirtless for the next three days. And after that on demand.”
He gathered me close, pressing me against his warm, golden, perfect skin, then he placed a kiss on the top of my head. “Anything for you, my Cockroach. Anything.”
* * *
Author’s Note
Rumplestilskin is at the top of my list of fairy tales I want to fix. Greedy king kidnaps a woman, forces her into unpaid labor, then marries her – what a jerk. And who better to “fix” a fairy tale than an imp from Hel?
For more of Debra Dunbar's work, including Sam and Gregory's story, check out the Imp Series. http://debradunbar.com
The Glass Sky - Alexia Purdy
Prologue
Star
The tinkle of the music box faded as I dro
pped to my knees, face in hands. I, Star Rickton, remained trapped in a nightmare. Nowhere was I able to escape, nor did my captors care a lick about my wellbeing. I was alone in this glass prison, the music having turned into something to dread. Each time it was wound up and turned on, I was to dance, twirl, twist, and jeté across the dance floor for my invisible audience, who relished my anguish. A glass dome hung over me where lights filtered through the frosty glass. Each time I danced, it would snow.
Like some freak show performer in a snow globe, I’d been collected, a trophy to enjoy for the New World Order’s president. I wished I’d never ventured from Clyde’s compound in the forest. I feared I’d never see the light of the sun again.
The snow flurries slowly ceased, along with the music, allowing me to crawl toward the bed, exhausted, and slip under the protective covers. Once the snow stopped, it warmed inside the globe once more. I relished the soft glow of the lamps on my bedside tables, for they were my only refuge. Inside this isolated prison, where I had to head downstairs to shower, use the bathroom, and get my food—which always mysteriously appeared in the fridge overnight—my life was utterly desolate. The otherwise silent nights and days, when I was left to my own devices, dragged on forever. There would be no reunion with my parents, no other life than this.
And Clyde… where was he? There’d been no time to tell Clyde how I’d grown to feel about him in the short time we’d known each other. No, my last words to him were enough to break even the humblest heart. He’d surely never want to speak to me again.
Yes, a time machine would be good right about now. All I could do was pray for the impossible.
Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales Page 29