by Vivian Arend
She had two choices: lock herself up in her room and only come out for the next and final test, or let him go and learn to be friends.
Tomorrow she’d decide the answer to that riddle. But tonight she was here because she wanted some joy, some hope that at the end of all this there was light.
Swirling the water in the bowl with her pinky, she inhaled and then waited for an image to appear. Again, like last time, it was nothing but darkness.
“Maybe there is no hope for me at the end of this,” she whispered. “Maybe I die.”
But then the gray speck she’d seen the first time reappeared, but instead of it being formless, there was a shape. A small shape.
Frowning, she lowered her head until her nose almost scraped the water. It was moving toward her, growing larger, more defined and distinctive. Her hope that maybe she’d see an image of her mother, father, or Briley quickly dissipated in the mystery of just what this was.
Two legs.
No, four.
She frowned. “Four legs?”
But then it bent over, no longer walking upright.
Hair.
Long and shaggy.
It was grayish black.
A snout.
Fangs.
“A dog?” she whispered, feeling the slightest twinge of disappointment that her life must be dreadfully boring if the only joy she’d find was in a dog.
But then it tossed its head back and an ear-splitting howl rushed through the room. Clapping her hands to her ears, she jerked so hard away from the bowl that her leg kicked out, sloshing some of the water. The howling instantly stopped. But it hadn’t been the howling that had her heart in her throat.
“Mistress!” Dalia’s voice cried out as she materialized beside a now-shaking Shayera. “Miss, what’s wrong? What is it?” Kneeling, the maid latched on to her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake.
Turning, Shayera dropped her forehead into the girl’s chest, taking whatever comfort she could. “It had red eyes, Dalia. Red. Eyes.”
She jerked back, staring at her red-eyed friend. The only people Shayera knew with such ruby-colored irises were demone.
“What had red eyes, miss?”
“The wolf,” she half sobbed, half stuttered. “Dalia, please”—she clutched her maid’s hands—“you have to tell me. Is Rumpelstiltskin a wolf?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“A wolf?” Rumpel blinked at a visibly shaking Dalia. When she’d burst into his room, he’d been readying for bed and was only wearing his breeches.
She covered her eyes, twisting and turning every which way. “I’m sorry, master, I’m…” She swallowed. “Blimey.”
Shaking his head, he marched to her and shook her roughly. Any other time, she’d have suffered for her impertinence, but this was of far too much importance for him to care. “A wolf, you say? That’s what she said precisely? Tell me, Dalia, in detail,” he spit out, pulse racing as Dalia relayed what Shayera had told her.
Blinking, he cracked his knuckles. “Then I was right. She is the one.”
“But she’s failed every test, master.”
Jerking around, he growled, “Only I decide that. What did you tell her, maid? Answer me!” He strode into her space. “What did you tell her of it?”
Shaking her head so wildly it caused hair to tumble out of her bun, her eyes grew to the size of saucers. “I said nothing. Nothing. Only told the mistress that you’ve dogs in the castle and led her to believe that is what she saw.”
“She saw this in the scrying bowl?”
“Aye, master.” She hung her head, twisting her fingers together.
“Yes.” He scrubbed his jaw, pacing back and forth as he fairly burst with excitement. “Yes, that will do, Dalia. You may leave now.”
“But, sir…” Squeezing her eyes shut, she thinned her lips before saying, “Perhaps what she saw isn’t a foretelling at all of why she was brought here. Perhaps the bowl is saying something else.”
“You may go,” he said again, quietly but with command.
And when she faded and the scent of her sulfur was gone, Rumpel went to see Euralis.
The torches flared to life the moment he stepped through. The bird gazed at him from behind its steel cage.
“Boy,” he whispered, noting the molted feathers littering the bottom of the cage. The bird was covered in sores, some of them scabbed, most of them wet and raw-looking.
Euralis did not shift as he normally would.
Looking around, he noticed the floors had been recently scrubbed, but he smelled no blood, saw no gristle hanging from the bird’s beak.
“Have you fed, child?”
The bird cocked its head. Apart from the sores and the fallen feathers, he looked robust. Rumpel had fed him every morning, but if it was true what Giles said, that he would no longer eat unless from Rumpel’s own hand, he figured he’d need to increase his feedings to include the night as well.
Calling forth a large hunk of raw pork, he slipped it through the cage. Euralis exhibited slight curiosity and pecked at it a few times, but the boy did not change and he did not eat.
“She has seen a vision and I can only hope that her vision is ours. I will fix this, Euralis, I vow it.”
The bird cocked its head and then turned around.
With a heavy, suddenly burdened heart Rumpel turned back for his room. Why could the world not just be black and white, why must there always be shades of gray to muck it all up?
His tongue was wet and hot, lapping between her thighs and filling Shayera with a coiling kind of heat that made her feel ready to combust.
Moaning, she fisted the sheets in her hand, arching her back as her fingers joined in. He played her body like a maestro, plucking at the very strings of her soul and making her sing in praise.
“Cry out my name,” he demanded and she was slave to his every whim.
“Rumpel,” she moaned, rubbing her finger faster against her sensitive center.
“Again,” he shouted, suckling her now, pulling her nub into his mouth and making her scream in agony and pleasure.
“Rumpel! Rumpel! Rumpel!”
Jerking, she gasped, clutched at her chest, and stared at the ceiling as her heart raced and her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. The room was dark, the flame in the hearth low, and she was all alone.
It’d been a dream.
The heat of shame traveled up her neck and then settled in her cheeks. Who all had heard her scream that way? Her energy spiked through the room, leaked from her pores. Rumpel had awakened her and now she didn’t know how to contain it, her need for him. For his touch.
Mouth pulling down, horribly embarrassed that the man himself might have heard her, she rolled over and shoved her face into the fluffy down pillow. A hot, pitiful tear leaked from the corner of her left eye.
This was misery and in that moment she hated that she’d ever allowed him to touch her. Grabbing a pillow, she hugged it to her chest and pretended it was Briley, cooing to it and rocking, rubbing her fingers along the top of it, and finally, finally she was able to fall back asleep.
Three weeks had passed since that night and every night the dreams came, each night more potent and real than the one before. In the mornings, she was exhausted and loathe to even leave her room.
“C’mon, miss, it’s a fair, fine morning. The birds are out and the world smells of sunshine. Won’t you go outside? Please?” Dalia threaded her fingers together.
Gripping the bedpost, forehead pressed against the cool wood, she moaned. “No. I don’t feel well.”
Suddenly the curtains were flung wide and the sun poured through the room. Dalia was framed by sunlight and wearing a glower. “You don’t feel good because ye keep yourself locked away in this room like it’s a tower. You don’t read, you don’t eat, ye barely even wash yourself. ’Tis a crime!” Her voice grew shrill at the end. “Up, up, up, and I won’t be hearing another word about it.”
Hissing, Shayera narrowed her eyes, b
ut the beautiful demone was not to be cowed.
She lifted a thin, ebony brow and shook her head. “Ye are forgetting who I work for, miss. Now, I order ye to bathe, to get to the garden, and to do your damn best to impress Rumpel.”
“What?” She wrinkled her nose at the last part, a little shocked, not the least of which was because the girl had not only sworn at her but was telling her to seduce the very man she’d warned her away from. “Why in Kingdom would you tell me that? Weren’t you the one urging me away? I should have listened to you.” She rubbed her nose, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the sheets and go back to sleep.
“Shayera Caron.” Dalia planted her hands on her hips. “I like ye, nay, I’ve come to look at ye as a bit of a sister, charms notwithstanding.” She gave a mischievous wink. “And I’m telling ya that ye’ve got very little time to make a lasting impression on the master that will decide your fate.”
“What fate?” She rolled her neck from side to side, wincing at the tightness on the right. “I begged him to tell me what he has planned. He never does. Keeps his thoughts locked tighter than Pandora’s box.”
“Eh.” Dalia gave a wide grin. “I know Pandora, she’s a right cheeky lass and should never have been in charge of sumthin’ so powerful as that box, but no matter.” She waved her hand. “Point is, I’ve changed me mind. You must seduce the master.”
“No.” And on that she would not budge. Bad enough that she suffered the dreams every night, at least her days belonged to her. “You were right; I should stay far away from him.”
“No, miss, I was very, very wrong. You affect the master. In ways I could never have imagined. Ever since the night of the feast, he’s been a beast. Growling and snapping at all of us. I never see you two together anymore, why?”
She sighed. “It’s private, and… I can’t forget about that wolf. You said that bowl would show me wonder and joy, but Rumpel has brought me nothing but misery and suffering.”
Nibbling on the corner of her lip, the maid looked around as if anxious that no one hear and whispered, “The master’s no wolf, miss. Pure royal blood cannot assume an animal familiar.”
Relief warred with a very minor twinge of disappointment. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Shayera had never had any intentions of pursuing any sort of a romance with him.
Absolutely not.
Never even crossed her mind.
She ignored the tiny voice that called her a liar.
“Now c’mon on with ya.” Dalia yanked on her hand and finally, finally Shayera consented to stand.
“Fine, fine,” she grumped. “I’ll bathe and I’ll even let you do my hair, but ask no more of me.”
“Your wish is my command.” Dalia crossed her arms like a djinn and nodded her head.
The two laughed and Shayera kept to her end of the bargain. Dressed and showered and smelling a million times better, she made her way to the dining hall for a late meal.
Cook had left a tea tray out for her. Smiling, she took a few finger sandwiches and wrapped them up in a doily. It was nice out and suddenly she longed to eat out by the lake and watch as the birds flew overhead.
In no time she was sitting and eating and immediately the soothing calm of nature brought a smile to her lips.
“Miss,” a sweet boy’s voice cried out, and she turned just in time to see Kai running full tilt her way. He waved cheerily and then flopped down beside her. “I thought I saw you headed out this way a second ago.”
“Kai, hello.” She gave him a small shoulder bump. “Hungry?” She showed him the last cucumber sandwich.
Taking it with a nod of thanks, he ripped into it. Hugging his knees to his chest, he pointed. “I was thinking of fishin’ today. Right there. Me da says they’re biting.”
“My dad says, and yes, that would be lovely.”
“My dad says, and good.” He gave her a gap-toothed grin and before long Shayera was laughing and smiling and the memories of the nights were almost completely forgotten.
They whiled away many happy hours as he mostly chatted about what new water vessels he’d be crafting soon. They caught no fish, but catching fish wasn’t usually the point of fishing anyway. At least not with Briley. It’d always been about sharing and talking and catching up.
“Good-bye, miss. I think I hear Mum callin’.” The sun had settled lower in the sky and he waved.
“Come find me anytime you’d like, Kai. I’m always happy to see you.”
With a final wave, he turned and trotted off.
“And would you be as equally happy to see me?” A voice she’d not heard in weeks shivered like silken honey down her spine and made her gasp.
Twirling, heart dropping to her knees, she blinked. “Rumpel, what are you doing here?”
“Spying.” He grinned, giving her a heated once-over. “What does it look like?” When his eyes finally joined hers, they didn’t smile.
In fact, once her shock wore off, she realized he didn’t look well. His skin was still that golden, beautiful bronze, but he seemed tired. Less vibrant.
“You don’t look very good,” she whispered and then caught herself and shook her head.
“No.” He held up a hand as she made to move back. “I don’t feel well. I pace these halls for any glimpse of you. I’ve missed you, Carrot.”
She swallowed because just that one word made her feel needy and weak. Brushing her fingers across tree bark, she twisted her lips, the demon and angel on her shoulders waging war. Sighing, she nodded. “I’ve missed you too.”
“Come away with me.” He held out his hand and stepped out fully from behind the tree he’d been standing beside.
He was dressed in jeans and a faded black shirt with the letters CBGB printed on the front of it.
“Where?”
“Genesis needs my attention. I’ve neglected her sorely since your arrival. Come on a ride with me.”
The urge to go was strong, but… “I don’t know if that’s wise.”
Golden eyes snared her. “I will show you that I can be a gentleman. No games. No innuendos. Come with me.”
“You know I cannot touch you. Not unless you show me your true form.”
Why had she said that to him? Was she still hoping to see him? She was shutting him out, expunging him from her life; it was why she’d kept to herself for so long. Why she’d purposefully hid. And yet, the truth won out. Because hiding didn’t work either.
“Shayera,” he breathed and closed his eyes for a fraction of an instant. “I will make you a vow today.”
Her heart leapt. “Have you ever made a vow to anyone?”
His lips stretched into a half grin. “Not often. In fact, you’re the first denizen of Kingdom I’m making one to.”
Warmed to the tips of her toes, she whispered, “Oh.”
Invading her space so that their bodies very nearly touched, he forced her to gaze on him before he spoke again. “If, when this is all over, you still wish to see my true form, I will show you. But in showing you, I might very well be damning you.”
“How do you mean?”
His jaw clenching highlighted the golden stubble on his cheeks. “A royal only shows his body, his true body, to his mate.”
Brows twitching, stomach in knots, she shook her head. “What does that mean?”
“It means that if I show you, I own you. Forever.”
She laughed. “You cannot be serious.”
But he was not laughing. In fact, he was the opposite of it—so serious that she could not doubt him. The laughter died on her tongue.
“You are serious?”
“In Kingdom, a mate exchanges vows of Veritas and that is how two souls are twined. In my realm, if the sentiment is the same, then we unmask ourselves.” He closed his eyes. “I know I said no innuendo and I meant it, but if I asked you to close your eyes now, would you do it?”
She licked her lips. “I cannot have sex with you, Rumpel. As much as I do want it.” Shayera was shocked by her bo
ldness, but being apart from him for so long and now seeing him so close, having him present and smelling his scent of cloves and whiskey, it brought all the feelings back in such a rush that she had no filter.
“I wish only to touch your hand.” And holding his own up, he spread his fingers, and the meaning was clear.
She closed her eyes.
Sulfur and smoky cherries embraced her and then she shuddered at the first touch of his flesh upon hers.
“Carrot.” His voice grew impossibly deep and he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his own around her waist and just holding on.
She was lost in him. In his scent and the strength of his body. In the feel of him. Moaning, she dipped her nose into the hollow of his throat.
“Do not move anymore,” he rumbled. “I am on a knife’s edge and ready to toss you to the ground, but it is important that I prove I can be a man of my word.”
Wanting to share in his body desperately but understanding that what he did now meant so much more, she nodded. “Then tell me when you’re ready to let me go.”
They held tight to each other for what felt like an eternity, breathing in and out, reconnecting and reattuning themselves one to the other.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he kissed her forehead. “Let’s go then.”
She held his hand, and neither one of them spoke as he led her toward his bike, but silence when in the presence of someone special was a conversation of souls, and theirs spoke loudly.
Shayera was terrified of what she felt, of what this forced separation had shown her. No matter how long apart or how far the distance, Rumpel was in her heart.
The path they took was a straight one and when he stepped away and she smelled the sulfur again, she knew he’d changed. Opening her eyes, she blinked into the light.
They stood beneath a large wooden hangar where Genesis was parked. Now he wore a leather jacket over his shirt and had his hair gathered into a knot. “There is your gear.”
He pointed to a spot where a pink helmet, pink leather jacket, and leather pants rested. She smiled. “You knew I’d say yes?”
“I’d hoped.”