by Vivian Arend
“Yes, yes.” Rumpel waved his hand. “That in exchange for my causing several highly influential and powerful patrons of a one Madam Flurry to forget you’d ever bedded her, you’d swear a single day of fealty to me. Semantics.”
“Semantics!” Betty pounded her fists on the table. “Okay, one, I was pissed at Gerard for not telling me about that deal.” She gave her mate a withering glare before inhaling deeply and patting her chest. “But considering the fact that he did that with you fifty-two years before he met me, I can hardly hold it against him. However, the contract’s terms are explicit; he is the one who owes you a day of fealty, not Shayera.”
Gerard’s nostrils flared as he jerked his head emphatically at his wife’s proclamation. “Correct, mon ange.” He stroked her back, which seemed to have an instant and calming effect on his wife. “I will not fight my fate. An oath taken with you is sealed in blood. I’ll do as you bid for one day and one day only, and my daughter stays out of this.”
Narrowing his eyes, Rumpel sensed rather than saw that an entirely different set of eyes was watching him. Betty’s head jerked up at the same moment, and just as he was about to turn in his seat to look for who it was, she hissed out, “Get back upstairs!”
A feminine gasp was all he heard before agile footsteps scurried off.
He sighed. “Is that how it’s going to be then?”
“That is how it’s going to be.” Gerard nodded in agreement.
Gods, he hated when his patrons decided to develop a backbone. “Fine.” He flicked his fingers, calling forth the dagger of fury. “Kill yourself then.”
Betty gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Gerard’s jaw set and his breathing ratcheted up several notches.
The dagger was the length of Rumpel’s forearm and gleamed like molten steel. Handing the diamond-encrusted hilt to Gerard, Rumpel shrugged. “Well?”
“You can’t possibly be serious?” Betty’s eyes glimmered.
“It is a pity that a woman’s tears simply do not move me.” Rumpel frowned. “I can assure you, I am quite serious.”
Betty smacked Gerard’s hand as he reached for the blade. “How dare you!” she cried, looking not at Rumpelstiltskin but at her husband.
Again Rumpel felt the press of eyes upon him. This time he was fairly certain that the eyes belonged to none other than Shayera. Standing, he pushed the chair in before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Go ahead, take your time,” he said. “I can wait for you to decide.”
Snarling, Betty stabbed her finger in his direction. “You shut the hell up. And you!” She twirled that finger on Gerard, poking him hard in the chest with it. “No way.”
Gripping his hair, Gerard shook his head. “Do not worry, Betty, I will not let my death cause yours. Rumpel, can you sever our ties of Veritas if I do it?”
“What!” Betty shrieked.
“Yes, I suppose I could.” He stared at his fingers with a bored expression, taking several incremental steps back as he inched toward the kitchen partition, determined to discover just who it was lurking in shadow.
“It’s the only way, Betty.” Gerard shook his head. “He cannot have her.”
“No, Gerard, no.” She shook her head and there was no more fight in her. Her voice shook as she rested her hands on the sides of his jaw. “There has to be another way.”
Rumpel chuckled. “I can assure there’s not. His death or the girl. Your choice. And do hurry, for the clock is ticking.”
“No!” a dulcet voice screamed, followed a second later by a body barreling into the room.
All the air was jerked from him when the female flew inside. She was slight, not very tall, but she had an overwhelming presence. Something magnetic, almost larger than life, that demanded one take notice of her despite the homely way in which she was dressed. The blush of womanhood stained her swanlike neck. Dressed in a gown made of literal burlap, it was hard to determine just how she was proportioned since the fabric covered her from ankle to neck. A fiery mane of wild red curls cascaded around her slender shoulders. Hypnotic aquamarine eyes seemed to pierce through Rumpel’s very soul. Her cheeks were dirt smudged and there was a smell about her, not entirely unpleasant, but different. The girl was trying to keep from being noticed.
But he noticed her. A smile gripped him as his body buzzed with the faint stirrings of something he’d not felt in a very long time.
“I will do it,” she said. “I will go.”
CHAPTER THREE
Shayera swallowed hard, refusing to even glance back at the blond-haired, freakishly handsome man standing in her parents’ kitchen.
“Shy, I don’t think—” Her mother’s eyes were wide and she was coming to her daughter to either shake her or hug her, Shayera wasn’t really sure which.
“No.” She held up her hand, warding off her mother. “No. I’m nineteen. I’m a woman and legally able to make up my mind to leave.”
“Shayera!” her father snapped in that strong, no-nonsense voice of his. The one she’d grown up hearing whenever she or her little cousin Briley did something naughty, like filch one of her mom’s costumes to play dress-up. “You will show your mother some respect.”
Crossing her arms, she was viscerally aware of the infamous, sexy, and deranged man staring daggers at her, probably wondering what she was doing hiding beneath the burlap sack. Oh, gods if that man only knew what kind of trouble he was asking for by requesting she go with him.
“Daddy, I love you. But I’m not going to stand by and let you die just to preserve your strange sense of honor.” Squaring her shoulders, she finally turned to glare at the blond-headed demigod. “What do you plan to do with me, Rumpelstiltskin?”
His smile grew slowly, like the gentle unfurling of a flower to the sun’s morning rays. Her stomach quivered. The man was potent, so different from the boys of her village who’d with one breath hurl insults and cast stones at her and with the next would beg her to come and give them just a taste of her forbidden charms.
“Well.” He took a step closer and the air between them grew charged and thick, causing her breathing to be just a smidge faster. “I reckon you’ll have to come and see for yourself. But I can vow to you and your parents that I personally mean you no harm.”
“Personally mean no harm.” Gerard scoffed. “Interesting way of wording it, demon.”
Rumpel shrugged and made to reach for her.
His hand stretched out, coming so close to grazing her dress that her heart beat a rapid, staccato boom in her throat. Just as he made to slide his fingers through her hair, she jerked back. If she’d been a cat she might have hissed.
Her parents screamed and jumped in front of her, shielding Shayera from the liquid amber eyes that suddenly gleamed with curiosity and fascination.
“Get back.” Her mother lifted a finger and shoved it just below Rumpel’s face. “Don’t touch her.”
“Interesting.” The imp smirked. “And why not?”
It wasn’t just her imagination that his keen eyes gleamed even brighter, as if he were putting the pieces of a puzzle together.
“Just stay away from her.” Gerard grunted. “I’ll do as you said.”
Rolling her eyes, Shayera decided it was time her parents understood that as much as she loved them and valued what they’d done for her all their lives, the sacrifices they’d made, ultimately it was her life to live and they could no longer protect her from herself.
“Mother, Father, stop.” She stepped around them, and giving them each an arm tap, she nodded. “It’s time for you to let me go.”
She didn’t look back at Rumpelstiltskin, because the truth was, whether it’d been him or not, she’d have left. It was time for her to go, to fly away from the nest and be her own woman. Notching her chin higher, she watched as her parents’ emotions washed across their faces.
Her father was full of anger, worry, grief; her mother showed worry, fear, and then finally acceptance.
“She’s right,
Gerard.” Betty sighed. “We have to let her go.”
“To him!” Gerard spread his arms wide. “Non, I refuse this.”
“Daddy, I love you.” Shayera stepped into his arms and kissed his bristled cheek. His impossibly dark blue, almost-black eyes silently pleaded with her that she not do this. Her smile was soft and sad. “But I have to go.”
It wasn’t that she was a martyr, or even much of an adventure seeker. But more than anything she needed to leave this hamlet, needed to go someplace where no one knew her, knew of her affliction. Where she could just be herself. More than that, if it was in her power to save her father, then why wouldn’t she?
She touched his cheek and he kissed her palm quickly. “My beautiful wild rose,” he whispered and her throat clogged.
Eyes starting to water, she quickly dropped her hand and stepped away. She would not cry in front of the broker. She’d not show him any weakness. It was the only way to survive whatever he might have in store for her. Shayera wasn’t fool enough to believe for one moment that Rumpel’s intentions for her were noble, regardless of his claims. But if the choice was her father or her… she’d make the same decision every time.
The world was better with him in it.
“Let’s go.” She looked straight ahead.
Licking his front teeth and sliding his hands into his jean pockets, he quirked a brow. “After you, my dear.”
Shayera refused to look back at her parents as she walked out of the kitchen and she might have been okay, might have been able to walk away from them without crying, had it not been for Briley hanging on to the stair banister with a forlorn look on his cherubic face.
Briley appeared to be no older than ten, twelve tops, but the truth was he was much, much older. He was from Earth, just as her mother was. And because of the illness in his brain, Danika had frozen his form so that he would remain a perpetual child all the days of his life. Briley had insisted he wanted to stay a kid forever because kids had more fun, and she’d been so grateful to have him growing up.
He was her favorite person in all the world.
“Shay Shay,” he whispered as she brushed her fingers across his forehead. “You’re leaving me.”
Kneeling so that she was eye level with him, she gave him a cheery and very false grin. “It’s okay, Briley, I’ll be back.”
His eyes flickered to the man hovering over her shoulder. It was odd how strangely aware of him she was, but then again she’d never been long in the presence of a male who was not her own kin.
“You better be nice to her,” Briley said, but he wasn’t looking at Shayera.
Rumpel didn’t answer.
Wrapping her arms around Briley’s neck, she planted a swift kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back, squirt. I promise.”
Lips thinning, he shook his head as a lone tear slid down his cheek. Wiping it with the pad of her thumb, she sniffed as her own eyes swam.
“Let’s go.” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice was like steel wrapped in velvet and made her insides go crazy.
Twirling, she glared at him. “Give me a second. I’m leaving with you; the least you can do is give me time to say my good-byes.”
Then turning her back to him, she hugged Briley even tighter. “Never change, Bri. I promise I’ll come back soon.”
Rubbing his nose in her hair, he nodded as his small fingers clutched at her back. “I’ll wait for you.”
“In our favorite spot?” She smiled through her tears.
He nodded. “Every day. Even if it rains.”
Sighing, realizing she’d pushed Rumpel as far as she probably could without suffering dire consequences, she kissed Briley’s blond head once more and then stood.
“So.” She sniffed haughtily. “Let’s go.”
There was a predatory gleam about him, one that caused her knees to want to shake. The man was really disgustingly attractive. It made her angry at him, at herself, at the whole world. Clenching her fists, she shrugged. “Well?”
“Don’t you want to bring some clothes with you, or personal items?”
“I don’t intend to stay long, and what I have on me works just fine, thank you.”
The slight widening of his eyes suggested he was either shocked by her brusque tone or impressed that she dared defy him.
“You’re not scared of me, are you?”
Surrounded by the knickknacks of a home she’d known her whole life and guarded by those who loved her more than life itself, she felt brave when she shook her head.
“No. You’re just a bully, a cruel man who’s so desperate to have his way that he’d strong-arm an innocent man into either killing himself or giving up his only daughter to fulfill some wild caprice. Men like you are a dime a dozen, and I don’t fear you.”
Rather than roar with fury or laugh in scorn, he inclined his head. “Continue to be as you are, girl, and we’ll get along just fine. My chariot awaits.” Stepping back, he gestured with his arm.
Shayera felt the heated press of her parents’ eyes on the back of her skull as she followed Rumpel out of the only home she’d ever felt safe in.
The moment she stepped foot outside, she could feel the eyes of the town, feel the hate and the loathing they directed at her whenever she made an appearance. One by one, bodies came out of their homes and shoppes, openly staring at her with scornful, grimacing faces full of hate.
“I do not think those hate-filled eyes are directed at me,” Rumpel said with a chuckle. “Which is rather shocking. You must be a very naughty girl, Shayera Caron.”
Refusing to be baited, she stared straight ahead, ignoring the people as she’d done for the past eleven years. Ahead sat a gleaming metal contraption. Confused as to what it might be, she wondered where his chariot was. When Rumpel straddled the huge beast and sat, then patted the spot behind him, his brow lifted, she realized this was his mode of conveyance.
“What is this?” She stopped, entranced as the silvery sheen of metal almost seemed to undulate beneath her watchful gaze. And then he did something that caused the beast to roar to life.
Frightened, her breathing increased as a plume of smoke and fire poured from its rear. For once, the eyes around her weren’t looking at her anymore.
“This is Genesis, and you must ask for permission to ride her as she’s quite the jealous wench.”
“What?” She looked up, wondering if he was joking. But though he laughed, he appeared to be genuine. “Ask it for permission? It is metal.”
“Is it?” He throttled the knob and the conveyance screamed, rumbling throatily and making her ears ring. “Just try to sit on her then.”
Knowing that not one piece of her hair or skin could touch him, Shayera gathered her wild mane back into a tight knot, slipped on the ever-present gloves she always kept on her and, unsure whether to sit sidesaddle or not, made an attempt to sit. She said made an attempt because the moment her behind landed on the seat, a powerful shove rolled up and before she knew it, she was sprawled out on the pavement with stars dancing in her vision.
His laughter tickled her ears, and he reached out a hand to help her. “I told you. And good gods, Genesis. I’ve never seen her shove someone off so violently. She must really hate you.” He patted the gleaming tank of the beast once before again offering her his hand.
Ignoring his gesture, she held tight to the scrap of dignity she had remaining, determined to ignore the mocking laughter ringing all around, and stood, dusting herself off. Heat crept up her neck and bloomed in her cheeks; the curse of being so fair-complected was that her humiliation was visible for all to see.
“May I sit on you?” she ground out through clenched teeth, feeling utterly idiotic talking to machinery this way.
The seat rippled and she glanced up at him.
His amber eyes danced. “She says no. I do believe she doesn’t like you, Shayera. But then I told you my steed was quite jealous. Cajole her with kindness and perhaps she’ll forgive you for your treatment of her earlier.”
; Nostrils flaring, she snapped. “Is this a joke to you?”
“I assure you it is not.”
The evil laughter still ringing out around her made her very much aware that everyone was still outside and watching the show, hoping for her to further humiliate herself.
Turning her neck, she caught a glimpse of her parents hanging tight to one another, staring at her with love and sadness. She was grateful that neither one of them tried to offer pointless platitudes.
Briley was also outside, standing beside the rose hedge and giving her a thumbs-up sign.
“Genesis…” She inhaled deeply. “Please forgive me for breaching your trust earlier. I did not understand the offense I caused by sitting without your consent. May I please ride you?”
This time the bike purred like a throaty kitten.
When she turned to Rumpel for translation, he shrugged.
“It would seem, Carrot, that she’s forgiven you.”
Glaring at him, she gingerly sat and breathed a sigh when she wasn’t bucked off. “Do not call me carrot,” she snapped.
“Straddle the seat, woman,” he said, ignoring her, “and hang on tight to my waist.”
Straddling the seat would mean exposing her legs. Normally she wore leggings beneath this smock, but today she’d been hot and hadn’t dressed as she otherwise would have. She shook her head. “I don’t want to show my legs.”
Now he didn’t look nearly so amused. “Do it. Or I’ll make you.”
She swallowed hard. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh believe me, I do. I’ve been around many vain women in my day. You think you’re a special little snowflake, but you are not.”
Growling, furious with him, but knowing she had no choice because she’d be damned if she let her father kill himself over some powermonger’s stupidity, she yanked her frock up, exposing all of her calves and a fair bit of thigh.
The laughter within the village ceased instantly, and even Rumpel’s eyes were drawn to her legs. She couldn’t read the expression in his gaze as his eyes traced slowly up the length of her pale, slender legs.