Rumpel's Prize

by Marie Hall

  And when he leaned in, she was sure he was going to kiss her again. She’d let him, as mortified as she’d been, as much it’d hurt last night, the memory of it didn’t seem quite so sharp when he was near. But he didn’t—instead his jaw hovered just at the side of her neck and he inhaled.

  “You smell of roses. So fresh and lovely.”

  Lashes fluttering, stomach a twisted mass of knots, Shayera turned slightly so that their lips hovered deliciously close, so that she could feel his breath caress her. It wasn’t a kiss, but the way he held her gaze and breathed her in as she did the same made it feel ten times more intimate.

  “Last night you detested the sight of me, imp.”

  He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, soft and golden amber with black flecks kissing the irises like freckles.

  “I do not detest you, siren. You confuse me.”

  Did he mean any of this? Sad to say that she knew so little of Rumpelstiltskin. He was a liar, wasn’t he? Did he simply hope to tame a siren?

  The questions snapped her back to herself, to the dangerous game she played in allowing this man to believe he’d have his way with her ever again.

  Straightening her spine, she pulled back. She didn’t want to, but she moved two spaces back. Able to breathe again, she shook her head, nervously twisting a length of hair along her finger.

  “This is a bad idea. I don’t know what you want from me. Yesterday was the worst night of my life.”

  Tucking his hands into his pockets, he seemed to think for a second. “I can touch you without causing either you or myself harm.”

  Turning her face to the side, she shook her head, unable to speak, afraid that if she did she’d tell him just how much her traitorous body wanted that. How even after the horrors of the night, she’d tempt pain all over again because he’d made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t ever before. That a siren, once bloomed, could not deny the passion of desire. That she needed more and more and more.

  Rumpel, against her will, had made her come alive.

  “Carrot…” He stepped a toe toward her. “I will not do to you what I did last night, not again.”

  His words were so soft, so gentle, that it was difficult for her to keep from looking at him.

  “You want to know what I want? I want you,” he continued and it was like someone had her heart in a vise and was squeezing.

  He couldn’t possibly mean it.

  “You intrigue me, tempt me beyond measure.”

  Jerking her gaze to his, she shook her head. Because it had to be a lie.

  “Your fear is palpable to me, and for that, I’m sorry. I acted in a manner most abhorrent to you; it will not happen again. But know this, little siren, the second you want it, I can give it to you. And next time”—he took a step closer—“I will make it so you do not feel the agony of pain once we finish.”

  “You say these things, but how can I believe you? My charms make liars of men, make them believe it is love, desire, when it is nothing more than the chemical of my body calling to theirs. I will not become slave to the obsession that comes from this.”

  His jaw clenched. “Shayera Caron, I am more than any man you’ve ever known. I say only what I mean and I can control my baser urges. I am demone, and I have powers beyond imagining. Now come and enjoy my gardens.”

  And this time when she looked it wasn’t thunder and lightning but a verdant, lush meditation garden. A large blossoming cherry tree sat in the center of an island that could only be reached by an ivory bridge. A sparkling brook threaded through rolling hills of green, and mated doves filled the world with their sweet song.

  But directly in front of her was a large pile of boulders that ran straight up into eternity and falling down its face, a flowing waterfall.

  She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips.

  “You should smile often.”

  Blinking, she chose to ignore that comment and touched her cheek. “This is so beautiful.”

  “Yes, I crave beauty. Desire it with my every fiber.” As he talked he walked, and she followed as he led her toward the bridge.

  “Is that why you collect so much?”

  “It is. I surround myself with that which I did not know from my life before.”

  The ivory bridge sparkled in the sunlight. The world around them was so magical, so private, that it felt as though she and he were the only ones in all the world. “Then if you insist on calling me Carrot, should I call you Magpie?”

  He laughed and tossed his head back and she could hardly breathe. He was beautiful. It wasn’t something she normally thought of a man, especially not one as potently masculine as Rumpel, but he was. The bottom of his shirt lifted just a little, exposing a sliver of sun-kissed skin and tight, rippling muscles, and thinking was just too hard. She was on sensory overload.

  “Not if you want to keep that delicious tongue in your mouth.”

  Heat blossomed in her cheeks and try as she might, she couldn’t keep her charms tamped down the way she should. The tendrils of her power poured from her in a wave, and it was his turn to stare.

  Gripping the railing, he dipped his chin. “Turn it down, siren.”

  His body was so tense, so rigid, his muscles visibly quaked beneath his shirt. His knuckles were white and as much as she didn’t want to always live so controlled, she knew it wasn’t fair to him. He was trying to be honorable, and therefore, so should she. She pulled it back in.

  Going lax, he sighed and then chuckled. “No wonder they hated you. Their men never stood a chance, did they?”

  Staring at her from the corners of his eyes, he grinned.

  “Living there was so hard. No one believed me. I tried constantly to keep it away. I dressed in rags, I kept my distance…”

  Her words trailed off and she bit down on her lower lip. She could still remember the last day she’d left her house, that is, before Rumpel.

  “What happened to you there? I know something did. No woman as beautiful as you would dress as you did unless they wished to hide.”

  Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she stared at the cherry tree, watched as a fully bloomed flower broke off its branch and floated gracefully to the pond beneath it.

  “I was nine.”

  A growl ripped from his throat. “Who hurt you?”

  Brows bunching, she worried that already he was becoming possessive of her. It was a side effect of constant exposure to a siren’s charms. But he was giving her something she wanted, a willing ear to listen.

  “He was fourteen. A friend, or so I thought.” They’d been playing by the stream. Mother had warned her not to go too far, and never alone with a boy. But Hamish wasn’t a boy, he’d been her friend. He used to play with her and tickle her and make her laugh. He was sweet, covered in freckles, and with a wide gap between his front teeth. Large ears and wild brown hair, he’d been so perfect and she’d loved him as much as her nine-year-old heart could manage.

  And then that day…

  “What happened?” His voice was calmer, had less bite to it, but it still made her shiver.

  Pursing her lips, she leaned her hip against the rail and turned so that she was looking at his profile. “I was bent over, catching a frog, when his arms wrapped around my waist and he tossed me to the ground. He was so much bigger than me, but I fought. I kicked and I screamed for my papa, and Hamish clamped his hand over my mouth and told me it was my fault, that I was making him do this. I was scared, and I bit his finger so hard I cut it off at the knuckle.” She could still remember the taste of the iron in his blood as it coated her tongue. “He struck me, right here.” She tapped her right temple. “I blacked out. Doctor said he crushed my skull.”

  Rumpel’s jaw jutted out. “No man should ever lay a hand on a woman, let alone a child. I should kill him for that.”

  Flicking her wrist, she turned back around and tapped her foot on the bridge in a staccato beat. “It was long ago. And…” She shrugged. “Father beat you to
it. He nearly killed the boy. Hamish hasn’t been right in the head since that day. He can barely walk, and now everyone in that hamlet hates us. But me especially—they believe I beguiled the boy with my succubus ways.”

  “You were nine, are they daft?” He glowered at her.

  A little awed by the fact that Rumpel honestly did seem to care, she gave him a ghost of a smile. “They were scared. Of me. Of Father. Of Mother. It is easy to hate what you do not understand. I do not blame them. I do not like them,” she asserted quickly, “but I do not blame them. In one fell swoop my family destroyed the peace and sanctity of the town. After that night and the long recovery I had afterward, I knew I never wanted it to happen again. It is why I snuck out under cloak of darkness to the crone and demanded she weave me a spell to protect me from that event repeating itself.”

  Nodding, brushing his fingers through his hair, he turned to her and the amber of his eyes trapped her, made it so that she could not look away. “I am sorry for that.”

  Unsure what to say, how to act, she huffed a curl out of her eye and tried to ignore the kamikaze dance of butterflies diving inside her belly, making her knees feel weak and like jelly.

  “Why didn’t your father move you all? Get away from there and start fresh in a new village where no one knew of—”

  “He did.” She thinned her lips. “Where we live now is a hamlet fifty miles from where the attack occurred. He believed he’d taken us far enough away. But gossip travels like wildfire and by the time we arrived there, all knew who we were. In the end we realized there’d be no escaping who we are. Fairies talk to their charges, and they all warned the people to stay far from us. Because somehow I must have begged for the attack on my person.” Disgust leaked into her words, and snorting, she watched as a blossom drifted along the current, being taken beneath their bridge and disappearing to only Goddess knew where.

  She wondered if the sting of that attack would ever lessen in severity? How much time was enough to blunt its sharp edges and make it less painful to remember? She’d hoped by the time a decade had passed she’d be over the worst of it, but the smell of crushed grass, her own cries mingling with his grunts, the taste of his blood… all of it was so fresh that sometimes it felt like it’d happened only yesterday.

  As if sensing her desire to change the subject, Rumpel grinned. “I’ve been racking my brain since discovering your true origins, trying to figure out how you even became a siren, as the blood is inherited from the mother’s veins. Betty is from Earth, no magic.”

  Giving a small groan because she really hated talking about her father’s former sexcapades, she grimaced, but the thought of ending their conversation wasn’t one she wanted to entertain just yet either.

  When the man wasn’t snarling, he was extremely pleasant to chat with. And as much as she enjoyed Dalia’s company, Shayera had secretly always wondered what genteel male attention outside of her own family might be like.

  Screwing up her courage, she began. “Mother was curious too; they discovered my affliction when I was five, apparently. We asked Danika what it was, the palpable energy that leaked out of me. My father and those of my own blood, like Briley and Uncle Kelly, are not affected by it, but they noticed how grown males looked at me. Anyone under the age of eighteen did not seem to be affected, which is why, of course they allowed me to play with Hamish as they did. I’m not sure why my magic suddenly seized him, despite his being only fourteen.” She shrugged.

  “And Danika said?” He prompted.

  She smiled. “Why are you so curious about me, Rumpel? Why the sudden inquisition?”

  Clapping the railing one final time, he jerked his head and began leading her toward the island. “You intrigue me. Very little does anymore.”

  “Hmm.” Stepping onto the island was a delight. The grass was thick and as lush as any carpet. Wanting to feel it on her feet, she slipped off her sandals and sighed when she wiggled her toes into the soft blades.

  A large cream blanket manifested beneath the tree, and sitting, Rumpel patted the spot beside him. “Come.”

  Because he didn’t sound demanding, she sat. But she kept herself to the opposite end of the blanket. Regardless of how this was going, she’d keep her distance. Safer that way.

  Drawing his knees to his chest, he swiped up a fallen blossom and handed it to her, almost absentmindedly, but when she reached for it he hung on so that their fingers grazed. Just a slight touch, but enough to make sparks shoot out. Gasping, she yanked her hand back, cradling it to her chest. She should chastise him.

  Grinning crookedly, he dropped the beautiful cream-and-pink petal onto her lap, but didn’t apologize for what he’d done. She knew he’d done it on purpose; Rumpel didn’t seem the type to make mistakes; everything he did he did was with deliberation and thought.

  “You promised.” She licked her lips, mouth grown suddenly dry.

  Holding up his hands, he chuckled. “Forgive me. I do try, Carrot, but I can only be so good.” With a wink, he flicked his wrist. “Finish your tale.”

  “Sirens can be made, as Danika soon told us. Father’s dalliance with a river nymph caused his DNA, as my mother calls it”—she met his gaze for a quick second—“to permanently alter, ensuring that any future children they had would be cursed. Of course I’m sure the nymph didn’t see it as such, and when you can live in a river and run away from the predatory advances of filthy males, I can see where they consider it fun. For me, it’s been nothing but a trial. I’m not nymph enough to breathe below water and so I suffer on land. Once my parents discovered that reality, they knew I would be their first and last child.”

  “But boys aren’t affected; they could have tried for more.”

  Running her fingers along the grass, she lifted a knee and dropped her cheek to it. “No, but they had no assurance they’d get anything other than another girl. And I’ve had a good life, all things considered. Having Briley around was a lot like having a sibling anyway. I lost nothing.”

  “The boy I met? He was a child—is he the same one you speak of?” With a flick of his fingers, a large bronze bowl appeared, brimming over with large, purple grapes. “Hungry? Eat.” He pointed, snapping one fat globe off the stem and popping it into his mouth.

  Shaking her head, she drew up her other leg and wrapped her arms around them. “Yes, he’s the same boy, but he is off-limits. And anyway, I think it’s time you told me about yourself. Fair is fair.”

  Plucking up another bloom, he began to strip one petal off at a time. Shayera was surprised how constant the blooms fell, and yet they weren’t drowned in flowers, almost as if a gentle breeze stirred at just the right moment to carry them away on the stream. There was a magical, very surreal atmosphere to this garden and she knew it was all Rumpelstiltskin’s doing.

  “There isn’t much to tell,” he finally said.

  “Dalia tells me you’re a prince. Not every day I get to come across an honest to goodness man of the crown.”

  Snorting, he flicked the flower off his finger. “The chit needs to learn to control her tongue better. Who I was has no bearing on who I am now.”

  He might believe that, but she didn’t. For one, there was a regality about Rumpel she’d noticed immediately, a manner of bearing that few could learn to master unless taught it from birth. It was in his cold aloofness, how he walked and talked, as a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed immediately.

  “What happened, if I can ask? What made you leave Delerium and come here?”

  Jaw clenching, he licked his front teeth and then abruptly got to his feet. “We are done here today. You may return to the castle.”

  “What? I’m—” And she wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say after that because before she knew it, the garden was gone and she was back in the breakfast room, staring around dazed and very confused.

  But the shock of being transported against her will soon wore off, replaced instead by a violent, frothing desire to punch that man square in his nose. />
  “Argh!” She stomped her foot. How dare he treat her this way? Hot one second, cold the next. It didn’t take a genius to realize she’d touched on a very sensitive subject, but the least he could do was act like a mature adult about it.

  “Damn you, imp!” she growled and grew even more incensed when the echoing beat of his laughter pulsed through every empty corner of the room. Spine stiff and straight, she managed to regain her bearings and marched from the dining hall back to her room.

  Three months, that’s what she had left. Three months and then she’d be free to go home. She’d fail every bloody test and this would be little more than a nightmare she thought of on occasion, a tiny blip in the scope of her life. She could do this, surely.

  Slamming her bedroom door, she muttered Dalia’s name.

  Her dark friend—or at least the closest approximation to one she’d ever had—materialized instantly, hand on her ebony cheek. “Oh, miss, you done it now. I told ye to keep your distance from the master. He’s a vexing sort of man, he is.”

  Dalia looked lovely today. She wasn’t dressed in her maid’s outfit, but rather a plain black day dress that fell to her knees. Wearing simple lace up shoes and socks, and with her hair flowing past her elbows, she looked much younger than the initial nineteen Shayera had pegged her for.

  Slumping onto the bed, Shayera groaned. “You did and he is.” She sighed. “But it’s hard when I’m so lonely for company, and while you’re fantastic”—she gave her a slight smile—“you’re hardly ever around.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but I’ve chores to tend to besides seeing to you, otherwise I swear I’d be here more often.”

  “No, no.” She held up a hand. “I understand, believe me. I’m not used to this life of frivolity myself. At home I worked and cleaned and cooked, but there’s nothing to do here to while away my time. Do you mate?”

  Dalia blinked at her blunt words and slowly sat on the edge of the bed. “I… well…”

  Hopping into a cross-legged position, Shayera shoved her wild bangs out of her eyes. “And by that I mean, are there children here? I love kids, and they love me. They, unlike adults, cannot be affected by my charms, and I very much enjoy playing with them. They at least are real. And that’s what I need, some realness in my life right now.”