Once Upon a Fairy tale: A Collection of 11 Fairy Tale Inspired Romances

by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney

  The fire had died down quite a bit, but he was able to coax it back to roaring life with a few logs while he thought through the problem of getting her out of her wet clothing. Once the chill was out of the air, he padded back over to where she rested, damp and cold against the soft flannel sheets. A child of the Northlands. Her skin was white and smooth as the rich cream that rose to the top of a pail of freshly drawn milk. Her almond-shaped eyes were a beautiful contrast, deep blue with long lashes under high arching brows so light they were nearly invisible, the same shade as her long silver-blond hair that hung in damp tangles.

  She was dressed in the jeans that modern women wore now, and a shapeless sweater that was probably dark green when it was dry, with the name of a prominent university branded across the front.

  He looked down at his claws, then back at her. Rules governing a woman’s modesty weren’t going to keep her warm and he didn’t seem to have any maidservants around. Hadn’t seen one in nearly five hundred years. It was up to him. As clinically as possible, he used his long claws to cut away her wet clothing and pull a soft, warm blanket over her naked form. He refused to allow his eyes to linger where they didn’t belong. She wasn’t his and she wasn’t a plaything to be toyed with while she was helpless.

  Now the only thing left to do was wait for the sun to rise.

  *

  Darkness pressed in on her like water rushing in from all sides and she fought her way out of it, choking and kicking. At least she tried to kick, but her aching, battered body refused to do what she wanted, and the helpless full-body twitch she managed shot pain through each nerve ending she possessed. She subsided, groaning, which brought more aches. Her throat felt like someone had scrubbed it with steel wool, then poured boiling algae down there. Her mouth tasted like pond scum and blood.

  “Oh god,” she moaned through the burn. “I’m in hell.”

  “Not unless it recently froze over.” The male voice came out of the darkness, deep and rough and startling enough to have her try moving again, to no avail. A low fire somewhere gave only enough illumination to cast more shadows than light. She could barely make out that her rescuer was a large man. That impression would have to do for now.

  “Water?” he asked.

  She nodded in desperation and a straw came to her lips. She sucked down tiny sips, letting the cool liquid flow down her abused throat.

  “What happened to me?” she asked when she lay back.

  “Your car ended up in the river.”

  That certainly explained all the aches and pains. “Did I hurt anyone?”

  He paused and she waited for his voice in the dark as if waiting for the flash of a beacon to show her how to navigate treacherous waters.

  “No. No one else was hurt.”

  She relaxed. Thank heaven. “I don’t remember.”

  “It will come back to you in time.”

  She had to believe him, her only contact in the blackness.

  “Am I blind?”

  “No, it’s only dark in here. The sun will go down soon.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Your accident was just before sunset yesterday. You’ve been here for a day, sleeping.”

  The dark was pulling her back down again. Too tired to speak anymore, she moved her hand, hoping to find a physical touch point. Her fingers brushed over a large, warm hand and she grasped at him like a lifeline until sleep claimed her and she couldn’t hold on anymore.

  Chapter Two

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  Tyr looked down at the delicate fingers twined with his and … nothing. He couldn’t think of a single thing. He couldn’t categorize any of the sensations rolling through his body or determine if there was anything behind the buzzing in his brain.

  She’d touched him.

  There was a vast difference between the physical contact they’d shared while he cared for her and this small touch, these elegant fingers clasping his large, rough hand.

  But the feeling coming up from his bones was one with which he was intimately and agonizingly familiar. He’d been lucky she had awakened while he was still a man and able to do such a simple thing as hold a glass of water for her to drink from, because the sun had just sunk over the horizon and the beast took him again.

  Minutes later he rose and shook himself. She still slept and he felt it was safe for him to leave the house. He had things to investigate.

  Snow had fallen throughout the day piling several more inches onto the landscape. No one would be up this direction until the spring thaw. Her car, an upside down pile of mangled metal, remained where it had landed. Fresh snow had obscured it, and now it looked like nothing more than another drift of white among a thousand others. He waded into the slushy water, impervious to the freezing cold in this form. Ripping doors from their hinges was easier than trying to finesse handles with claws. A small leather valise had fallen to the roof, and another case had caught on something and dangled just above the water level. Carefully, he pulled them both from the wreckage and secured them on higher ground before he returned to smash open the trunk.

  The interior of the car had been fairly tidy, but the disarray in the trunk was beyond him to sort. Many of the papers and books were waterlogged and ruined now, so he didn’t bother with them. Instead, he gathered up the two bags and brought them back to the house, leaving them at the entry before going back out to hunt. This late in the season, there was little game left in the area. He checked his traps and patrolled the edges of his territory, reaching up to mark trees and let other creatures know they risked their lives if they lingered.

  He returned to the house, but he didn’t want to go in yet. He didn’t want her to see him like this. As a beast. She’d met the man. As a man, Tyr had saved her life. As a man, he’d spoken to her, given her water and supplied her needs. The bear would only terrify her. But he needed to check on her, no matter his form. Lung sickness could still take her if he wasn’t careful.

  So he lumbered back inside, accustomed to the darkness, never brushing against anything as he had built everything to accommodate him no matter if he was bear or man. He nosed open the door to the bedroom and listened to her steady, even breathing. She was fast asleep, like she had been all through the day, a healing sleep. He built up the fire again, keeping the room far too warm, but he didn’t dare let her take a chill. She seemed so fragile, so small curled up in his massive bed.

  Surely she wouldn’t wake if he stayed with her, he reasoned. Someone needed to be nearby in case she needed something. And rationalizing things didn’t really mean he believed in his altruism, he chided himself as he slowly lowered himself onto the floor next to the bed, as close as he could get without disturbing her. When her hand fell over the side and her fingers brushed through the fur on his shoulder, a long-dead ember stirred in his heart.

  *

  Mai stared into the pitiless eyes of men made of stone as they pushed her under the water and held her there. Panicking, she kicked and screamed, pushing at the rocks that held her down…

  She woke up in the dark, afraid and blind as a feeling of approaching doom shook the air around her. Too afraid to move off the bed, she cowered, frozen like a rabbit hoping to escape the notice of a predator. Over the pounding of blood in her head, she heard heavy panting, like a large animal. Closer and closer it came until she could feel its hot breath on her skin, until she felt a cold, damp nose touch her bare arm. Obviously the frozen bunny routine wasn’t working, so she screeched and bolted off the bed, ending up wedged in a corner between a nightstand and an armoire that could hold a princess’s entire stash of ball gowns.

  And her without a stitch on. Irony sucked.

  The sky outside the high window was beginning to lighten.

  She wished she really was blind. The truth of what stood before her was beyond terrifying, striking at the most primal fear a human could experience. A giant white bear, larger than any nightmarish monster she could imagine, rose to its feet and let out a groaning bellow, it
s massive head swinging around as if looking for a threat. We’re all mad here, gibbered her brain, and she knew she’d lost her grip on reality.

  Shadows lifted and the first gray hint of dawn touched the edge of the windowsill and with that spark, the bear twisted and roared as if death had come. Fur sloughed off in giant swaths in a mist of piercing light, and a man’s electric blue eyes peered out, fighting against the power that corded his neck muscles and twisted his body in wracking spasms.

  “Get away from me,” he groaned, his voice caught between the roar of a beast and the tortured scream of a man in pain beyond imagining.

  Mai didn’t wait for a second invitation, but there was nowhere she could go, trapped as she was with him between her and the door. She wrapped her arms around her head, waited and watched as a monster became a man. She didn’t know how long she huddled there, torn between the hope that this was only a nightmare and the certainty that the reality of her existence had turned on its head, like Alice through the looking glass. The biggest bear she’d ever seen turned into a giant of a man – tall and muscular and extremely naked. Soft morning light filtered into the room, touching his face, painting his high cheekbones and straight nose and pale skin in golden sunshine. He was beautiful, but he couldn’t be real.

  The bear was simply gone. As if it had never been. In its place, the embodiment of pain dropped to his knees as if all the strength had gone out of him.

  She didn’t dare move. She barely breathed. But she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Fear and wonder in equal measures held her gaze on him as he groaned and reached for the down duvet on the bed. He handed it to her and slowly, she took it from his hand before draping it around herself. It covered her nudity, but did nothing for his. Modesty warred with fascination. Light gilded the slight covering of blond hair on his chest. Smooth skin stretched over his broad back and tight flanks when he stood to slide on the robe that lay on the intricately carved chest at the foot of the bed, but she looked away, blushing.

  From bone-chilling terror to pink-cheeked girliness. Talk about psychic whiplash. It was time to inject a little sense into this situation. Reaching up to the nightstand, she gripped the glass of water in her shaking hands and took a sip before clearing her throat.

  “What…what are you?”

  His eyes snapped open and the chill in the brilliant, arctic blue of his irises was a frigid counterpoint to the warm light that illuminated the room.

  “I’m a man.” He straightened and pulled the robe closer around him. The breadth of his shoulders stretched the fabric as he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “For now.”

  *

  “You should get back in bed before you take a chill.”

  He couldn’t look at her when he spoke. Now she had seen the monster. She’d been petrified, and justifiably so. What person wouldn’t be horror-struck at what he was? He was still appalled by his beast and he’d lived with it for centuries.

  She hiked the blanket around her so only her head and one bare arm showed. One pretty, bare shoulder, where it joined her slender neck, trailing down to a graceful hand with long, slim fingers. No rings, no jewelry. Seeing a woman in the nude while she was ill or cowering in the corner didn’t do a thing for him. But watching those few inches of skin now as she pulled back the soft flannel sheet and climbed into his bed on the side farthest from him provoked a response he hadn’t encountered in the flesh for many years. His timing was unbelievable. He turned his back on the woman and thought fixedly about how very cold it was outside, and the mental image of rolling naked in the snow did the trick to get himself back under control.

  By the time he turned to see if she was settled, even her arm was under the blankets now and she was covered up to her chin. Her cheeks looked a little flushed and he grew concerned.

  “How are you feeling? Did you hurt yourself? Are you warm? Chilled?” He reached out to touch her forehead and she flinched away.

  It hurt more than he expected.

  “I feel fine. A bit thirsty.” Her voice was low, but steady, and even through the sting of her rejection, he was inordinately proud of her. She hadn’t run screaming. He busied himself pouring her a fresh glass of water and this time when he held it out to her, he didn’t come too close.

  She snaked an arm out from under the pile of blankets and took it without looking into his eyes.

  “You never answered my question. What are you?”

  “It’s…complicated.”

  She snuffled out a derisive sound. “I figured out that much on my own. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Want to what?”

  “Go somewhere?” He made the offer with a curious hollow feeling in his chest. He could get her back to the main road, or even into a nearby town in a long day’s travel through the snow, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure she was here, in his den, in his bed, safe and warm with him.

  She took another slow sip of water and he watched the muscles in her throat work to swallow before she answered. “Not yet. There’s no one waiting for me at home.”

  “No husband? No children?”

  “No, nothing like that. I have family, though. My parents and brother will worry if I don’t call in a few days. But you’ll take me home when I ask?”

  “I will. You’re not a prisoner here, though I’d prefer you stayed until I was sure you’re healthy.”

  She nodded. “Maybe this would be easier if you told me your name.”

  “Of course, you’re right. I’m Tyr Halvarsson.” He inclined his head to her in the closest he’d come to a bow in a very long time.

  “Mai Westenra. Nice to meet you. And, I think, thank you for saving my life.”

  “The honor is mine, Miss Westenra.”

  “Something tells me we really should be on a first name basis.” Her lips, a touch parched from not drinking enough water, tilted up at one side and the spark inside him grew despite his better judgment. Humor hadn’t touched him in a long time, wry or any other kind, and he was rather pleased to find that he remembered it.

  “As you say, Mai. I was able to rescue a couple of bags from your car.”

  At his words, she lit up, a smile bringing a new light to her eyes. She sat up and the blanket slithered off that one shoulder again. She barely seemed to notice, but Tyr was mesmerized.

  She ducked her head to get her eyes back in his field of vision. “Hey. Eyes up here.”

  “Oh, I know where your eyes are.” The teasing words slid off his tongue as if practiced, and they felt right when she began to smile back.

  But the smile died when she spoke again. “Tyr, you still haven’t answered my question.”

  Where did he start? How did he tell her this story of his stupidity and blindness? Heaviness weighed on him and his sigh was closer to a groan than he liked. “It’s not a very interesting story.”

  “I beg to differ. It looks pretty interesting to me.”

  “I suppose I could show you.” He reached past her and this time, she didn’t flinch when he came near. Leaning close, he couldn’t stop himself from breathing her in, the true scent of her skin. He didn’t want to frighten her again, but he couldn’t quite hold back from touching her at all and he lifted his hand to rest on her face, her jaw in the palm of his hand while his thumb brushed over her cheek. So soft, so sweet, and if he didn’t stop, he was going to pull her closer and claim her mouth.

  It would be dishonest to do that now. She hadn’t heard his story yet, so he let go with more regret than he would have thought possible.

  Chapter Three

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  She should have been terrified. A smart woman would have been terrified.

  She was obviously dumber than a box of hammers, then, because the heat coursing through her at the touch of his hand on her face felt a lot more like desire than terror. And surely that wasn’t disappointment when he pulled away, was it? Of course not. Their twin sighs as they leaned away should have stru
ck her as funny, but she was too chagrined to find the humor this time.

  Instead, she watched as he reached beyond her to the giant, solid headboard of the bed. She saw it then, the designs carved deep into the wood, designs she’d only ever seen in textbooks and dry histories of long-dead civilizations of the frozen North. She came closer, clutching the blanket to her as she peered at the drawings.

  “This is your story? You carved this?”

  “The winters here are long.” If she hadn’t been so near and watching so closely, she might have missed the slight deepening of the dimples that made his cheekbones sharp as knives.

  Mai looked around the room and realized that everything was carved. The bed, the nightstand, the wardrobe, even the walls. “That’s a lot of winters.”

  “You have no idea how many. The story is in the pictures. You’ll enjoy it. It’s a farce. I’ll get you something to eat, and some clothes to wear.”

  She didn’t like the way his voice turned bitter at the end, but she didn’t know what to say or do to help when he left without looking back. Her mind was so jammed full of half-formed thoughts and feelings that she couldn’t pick out one to work on, so she turned to the carvings, hoping that at least they would make sense.

  The Norse art was truly lovely, done in a modified version of the Urnes style, which dated it to the turn of the millennium. The one at 1000 AD. She wondered how he knew the style so well in this modern day, but she put away the art analysis as she became engrossed in the story that unfolded before her.

  A man, a prince by the circlet on his head, went into the forest and met a woman. He took her back to his home and introduced her to his parents, the king and queen. A wedding took place and shortly thereafter, the older couple died, but the woman stayed by his side, helping him in his grief. The man became king and the woman became queen.

  Mai squinted and looked closer. There was something wrong with the new queen, but she couldn’t quite see it. She reached out to touch the wood and started at Tyr’s deep voice.