Sleeping Beauty and the Lion: A Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling of Sleeping Beauty (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 3)

by Sylvia Frost

  How does she eat even cooked meat with teeth that dull? my lion wondered curiously.

  She rolled her shoulders, hands going up into a V as she stretched. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t notice that I had to dodge and let go of her as her fist almost connected with my jaw.

  Free of my arms, she managed to roll halfway over. Her brown eyes peaked out from her braids and her freckles looked particularly cute in the morning light. I wanted to kiss each of them.

  I moved to do exactly that, but then Rose startled me by turning the rest of the way over. Staring at her naked breasts wasn’t something I would’ve complained about, but then her eyes narrowed, and I noticed she was focused on my upper arm. Right where the scars were.

  I froze.

  The stinging smell of silver. The pain, as they cut me again and again. Sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, but always with scientific accuracy.

  These weren’t wounds meant to hurt me. The pain was just a side effect of the scientists testing my healing capabilities. The things done to me weren’t done in anger, the same way a scientist aren’t angry at a lab-rat when they give the animal cancer.

  My scars reflected that, and I wonder if Rose noticed how straight they were, how evenly spaced. Surgical. Her fingers tripped over the protruding tissue. The ridges of the texture were slightly irregular.

  I couldn’t meet her eyes but gritted my jaw reflexively, just as I did when the scars had been made all those years ago, imagining her arms around me.

  “You said you used to fight to get out of a bad situation. Are these from that?” she asked, her curiosity gentle but not burdened with false sympathy.

  “Yes.”

  She reached the end of the longest scar but kept on going rubbing my healthy skin with just as much tenderness. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

  “I’m not ready,” I covered her hand with mine, not meaning to stop her. She stopped all the same, twitching backward.

  “But I don’t have a choice,” I said. “If you’re going to be mine, you have to know the risks involved.”

  “So what happened?” She dipped her shoulder, seeking out my eyes. Her other hand ghosted over the edge of her own neck.

  I let go of her reluctantly, forcing myself to give her space enough to get out of the bed, if she wanted. “There’s no other way to say this Rose, but — ”

  I stopped halfway through my sentence. My inner lion was suddenly alert, tail stiff. Through the purple curtains down in the street below, I noticed a black, boxy speck. A Humvee. Lonan.

  “Daniel?”

  Hissing through gritted teeth, I strode to the window and parted the curtains to confirm my guess. And there, in the parking lot of the brewery across the street, was the damn black Humvee again. Headlights off. Windows tinted. License plate reading “GARCIA”

  I closed my eyes, sorting past the sound of the nearby construction crew. Lurking underneath the cover of the jackhammer was the murmur of an idling engine and a click of a digital camera shutter.

  Lonan was in that damn car. Taking pictures. Likely of my Rose. Or me. Probably for his drug company and who knew if they were really a drug company and not the people who had kidnapped me years ago. I was done hiding. I was done running. It was time to do a preemptive strike.

  My hand shot out to grab that damn Werehawks T-shirt from the floor and I put it on over my head. I opened the door of her bedroom and stopped before exiting. “Stay here.”

  “Why? What? What’s going on?” Rose sprung out of bed, or tried to, before realizing she was naked by catching her reflection in the mirror on the back of the newly opened bedroom door. She covered her breasts with her hands. “Daniel!”

  “It will just be a second. I’m going outside to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “What’s okay?”

  “I will explain it when I get back.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Daniel. You can’t just disappear! Talk to me!” Rose called one more time, but I closed the door. Her cries felt like nails dragging against my spinal cord, but I had to do it. I had to take care of her.

  I took the narrow steps down to the street level two at a time. Claws grew from my fingertips, and I let them. Although I hid my hands in my jean pockets to be safe.

  Outside, a brisk March air battled the heat of my adrenaline. I caught the rumble of the Humvee’s engine change from park to drive and the accelerator begin to whine. Broken glass crunched underneath my sneakers as I strode into the street.

  The Humvee’s tires squealed. Navigating through the crumbling concrete barriers of the parking lot, it was executing a smooth three-point turn. I wouldn’t be able to catch it. Not at human speed.

  With one quick surveillance of the apartment buildings around me, I checked for open windows and nosy eyes. None that I could see.

  Then I tensed my thigh muscles and, using the curb like a starting block, launched myself across the street. It was a glorious feeling, the wind sharp against my cheek, nothing but air underneath my feet, that black Humvee getting closer and closer with every second.

  As I flew through the air, I was only probably a foot above the ground. But it felt like miles. It felt like freedom.

  I landed with a crunch. The bulky-nosed grill of the Humvee was already turning to try to avoid hitting me, but it was too late. I grabbed the fender so hard it crinkled under the pressure of my fingers. One of my feet slipped backward as I took in the force of the vehicle, channeling it through my body and muscles and into the ground below.

  The wheels kept turning for a few more seconds, before they stopped and gave me the opening I needed. With the windshield tinted, I couldn’t make out the driver, but I hoped they were too shocked to hit the gas.

  I ripped open the passenger-door. Not enough to take it off its hinges completely, but enough that whatever puny electronic lock was keeping it closed beeped furiously at me. Then I slid into the leather seat, unsheathing my claws from my pockets.

  “Don’t move,” I growled. “You’re going to get the hell away from me and Rose.” That threat made, I risked a glance in the rearview mirror. No one was in the back seat. My senses focused on the driver, and for the first time I caught their scent below the rubbery tang of new car. It was familiar. Lilacs. Although dried and edged with chemicals.

  Dangerously near me, a voice said, stridently, “You know, that’s really funny, Dr. Ward. I was just about to tell you the exact same thing.” Then there was another click, but this one wasn’t a shutter, but the clicking of the safety of a gun.

  Slowly, careful not to startle the holder, I turned toward the gun, already knowing what I would see before I did: the barrel of a pistol and the sharp eyed, red-lipped face of Alycia Briar.

  Rose’s mother.

  Chapter 16

  ROSE

  Avalanches of socks poured of the lip of the drawer as I searched for a pair of bra and panties to protect my naked form. To be honest, I had passed on a suitable set a couple of minutes ago, but I was enjoying the act of tossing my clothes around. I was enjoying being mad.

  I couldn’t believe Daniel had just literally run out on me! If I didn’t have the fur on the back of my neck and three orgasms at his hands, lips, and cock, I would’ve been sure the whole mate thing was some damn nonsense. I hurled a sock against my window and it bounced to the floor.

  “‘I have to protect you,’” I said in a mocking deep male voice, and jutting my fist up to the sky like a superhero. “So I must leave you to free my people frozen in the glacier so we can defeat the evil demons from another world who gave me those strange scars. I will return soon, little human. Be safe.” My Daniel impression didn’t feel as funny as it should’ve.

  I crumpled onto my mattress, staring into the mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Being pissed off made my cheekbones stand out.

  Rolling onto my back, I gazed up at the ceiling, holding onto the kernel of hot anger, and ignoring the cold promise of fear prickling at my toes an
d on the back of my neck.

  “But protect me from what?” I asked my ceiling fan.

  The ceiling fan claimed no comment.

  Only Jesus knew, I guess, the full extent of Daniel’s demons, because up until this point he had been incapable of communicating with me except through orgasms. You’re my mate — orgasm! I like you — orgasm! Not that I was complaining, but revealing whatever was haunting him probably wouldn’t work with the theme.

  I picked one of the T-shirts up from the floor and twisted into it. The fear was spreading from my toes and fingertips up my arms. Down my spine. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. What if something was really wrong?

  I walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. I expected to have to search for Daniel speed-walking to his fancy car, away from me, and toward whatever werewolf mob boss was chasing him, but I saw him immediately.

  He was running. No. Flying! His vertical would’ve made an Olympic hurdler jealous except for one thing. Daniel was leaping right into the path of an oncoming big, black, Humvee.

  I screamed. Daniel didn’t notice, didn’t stop, as he flew to certain suicide. Except, unlike me, when the large grill of the car made contact with his outstretched arms it didn’t send him flying backward. Instead, the car stopped. It crumpled in his grip like tinfoil.

  I knew werebeasts were strong, but Christ!

  Car halted, Daniel swung around to the passenger side and pried open the door with a tug of his bicep. Then, of all things, he slipped inside.

  Just as I was about to throw on a hoodie and check out the commotion, my phone vibrated. Absently, my eyes still glued to the car-battle outside, I turned over my phone, expecting to see the blurry picture of my mamma and I arm in arm outside of the new offices of Amazon Glam, but it was covered with the blue bubble of a notification.

  1 Unread Text-Message.

  My hands froze as if the aching in my bones had finally led to frost-bite. Mouth dry, I swiped in my code and began to read. The text was from Lonan.

  Lonan: I had an awesome time at The Tavern last night. Sorry we didn’t get to connect afterwards. Is everything all right with Dr. Ward?

  With a few hasty swipes, I tapped out a reply.

  Rose: All good. But I’ve met someone else, sorry.

  It was cold, but you know what, so was he.

  He responded back immediately.

  Lonan: Aww. Sorry to hear that, Rose. But I’d still love to meet for coffee. As friends. No worries. You’re fun to hang around. :-) I’m actually in the neighborhood. Wanna do it around say three?

  In my neighborhood? But I’d never told him where I lived. My heart rode up my throat, slimy, hot, pulsing.

  Rose: No thanks.

  Lonan: Come on, I’ll pick you up.

  I dropped my phone, my heart racing. Adrenaline sharpened my senses and I lurched back to the window to get some fresh air. Daniel was in the car now, talking to someone I couldn’t see through tinted windows. At least that was what I hoped he was doing. On the floor my phone began to ring.

  Rushing to my dresser, I picked up my necklace from where I’d stowed it last night, then I rooted around for the tiny metal sheath that went around it. The sheath was the ribbed part that when rubbed together could make the magnesium spark, or if the other side was used grind it up into a powder that could start even bigger fires.

  It wasn’t a gun, and it certainly wasn’t a magical sword, but it was something. Once the chain clicked around my neck, I bounded to the front door and locked it. Although my palms got even slipperier with sweat when I realized how ineffective that lock would be.

  There were footsteps on the stairs.

  Oh God.

  Running back to my room, I grabbed my phone from the floor. One missed call from Lonan. I squeezed my plastic phone case, the ridges digging into my palm. I forced myself to stop freaking out and let the coldness of fear wash over me, trying to convert it to calmness instead.

  I was just being paranoid. This was just a neighbor coming back up. Or Daniel.

  Another text buzzed on my phone.

  Lonan: Come on, Rose. I’m here. I came all this way just say hi. :-)

  I slammed shut my bedroom door, but that didn’t stop the sound getting through from my front one. A knocking. One, two, three.

  So close to ice was the blood in my veins I felt like my organs were shriveling from lack of oxygen.

  Do something, I screamed at myself.

  And to my surprise, my self listened.

  I tapped out a text to Mamma, my fingers kept slipping around the screen. Smudges of sweat blurred my words, but even now I was too much of a nitpicker for typos.

  Mamma, I’m sending you this message because I think I’m in danger. A man named Lonan Brown may have come to my apartment without my knowledge. Please send one of your security team to my apartment as soon as you can. Dr. Ward might be here too. Trust him.

  It was a little sad asking to be rescued by my mother, but, as a multimillionaire, she kept a security team on retainer. And she’d told me the moment I moved to New York that I should call her so I could use them if anything happened. After Daddy died she didn’t trust 911 anymore, and considering Daniel was a werebeast, it was probably good that we didn’t involve the police more than we had too.

  The knocking got louder, and then there was a large crash. Like my door being broken in. I gripped my sheathed necklace hard, and tried to calculate how well my pile of socks would burn. Could I use that to distract the intruder while I got a way?

  “Ms. Briar.”

  My stomach flipped over my head, whirling with surprise. That wasn’t Lonan’s voice. It was deep, male and not one I recognized. At all.

  “Who is it?” I called.

  “Please come out.” The voice said.

  Footsteps, heavy boots.

  I needed something to brace against my door, unless he tried to break down that down, too. Whoever he was.

  “Please leave my house. I don’t have anything here you want.” I powered through the shards of cold dread piercing my veins, shimmied myself between the wall and the bed, and began pushing it to the door.

  I got halfway there when the slamming started. The frame shook, bits of wood raining down from it.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I chanted, all propriety gone, as I put my full shoulder into the bed, ramming it against the door.

  I didn’t make it. My door splintered apart like the cheap balsa wood you’d use to make model planes, sending me and the bed careening back against the wall. The crack was so loud it thumped in my bones and hurt my ears.

  “Help!” I screamed, hoping somehow through the open window Daniel would hear me.

  A stocky man stood in the doorway. Compared to Daniel he was far from imposing. He had a squished jaw and wide, brown eyes the color of stale coffee. His was covered in black body armor that shone like a beetle’s shell and his expression was impassive. He had a pistol pointed right at me.

  “You’re going to be quiet now. Okay, Rose?”

  I screamed, loud, long ,and hard. I screamed my mate’s name. “Daniel!”

  The man’s eyes widened, and I thought for one blessed second that it had worked. That Daniel or someone else would come rushing to my aid. Maybe even the cops. But then the man just shook his head, flicked off the safety, and shot me.

  Chapter 17

  DANIEL

  This was not a soldier’s Humvee. The seats were trimmed in a sporty leather, an infotainment system big enough to watch movies took up half the dashboard, and a picture of Rose’s teenage face dangled from the rearview mirror. It swung in and out of my vision as a pistol dug into my temple.

  “Ms. Briar —” I started

  She waggled the gun like an extension of her finger. “Uh-uh.”

  “Alycia,” I tried again, shooting for the calm, even tone I used with patients.

  “Nope.” The gun’s muzzle dug into my forehead. At least the metal didn’t burn my skin on contact, which meant it
wasn’t the mixture of steel and silver some of the extremist hunters preferred. As if silver bullets weren’t enough.

  Still, the barrel was currently flush with my frontal lobe and a bullet would, at the very least, cause not insignificant brain damage. My healing abilities could only stretch so far.

  I opened one palm in a universal gesture of surrender, and then spoke the words in English to emphasize the point. “I’m sorry. I seem to have broken into your car.”

  Her lips, just the corners of them, relaxed. Her gun did not. “Polite. That’s a start. Next, would you like to explain why you broke into my brand new Humvee?”

  “I—”

  “No, never mind.” She tilted her head in the other direction toward the door creaking open in the breeze. The gun turned with her. “Next explain how, in God’s name, you managed to stop a car with your bare hands.”

  “I’m a werelion.”

  A laugh exploded from between her lips. “I’m sorry, you’re a what?”

  I cleared my throat, although we both knew the permeant gravel in my voice wasn’t the problem. “I’m a werelion, Ms. Briar.”

  Her eyebrows pushed down in disbelief. “No, you’re insane. Which makes sense, unhinged people have been known to perform great feats of strength. Now—”

  I held up my other hand. Except it wasn’t a hand. It was a paw. Claws, fur. All of it.

  She shrieked and dropped the gun.

  Maintaining eye contact, I picked up the weapon slowly.

  There was plenty of time for her to stop me, if she wanted to, but she was too busy shaking in disbelief. “Holy Jesus. The mark. Rose. Her blog.”

  Now my forehead tightened in confusion. “She has a blog?”

  “Well, we can cross you off the stalker list, then.” Rose’s mother snorted, her eyes never leaving my paw. “Yes, she has a blog. She had this fantasy her boss was a werewolf. Seems like she was just looking in the wrong direction.” She patted down her coiffed charcoal hair, as if trying to set the world back in order.