Rumpel's Prize

by Marie Hall

  “Do you want to know me too, love?” His finger toyed with a curl of her hair, he twirled it about her nipple and she nodded.

  “Yes. I do.”

  He inhaled. “Would you like to touch me as I touched you?”

  She knew something of what a male member looked like. There were farms aplenty in her quiet hamlet, and it was easy enough to catch a glimpse of animals doing what they do. The thought of allowing Rumpel to shove something as large as a horse’s part into her mouth made her incredibly nervous.

  “Will it hurt?” she whispered, fisting his shirt.

  Stroking her cheek, he said, “I will not force anything upon you. If you do not like it, then we stop. Do we have a deal?”

  She smiled. “Will I need to seal it in blood?”

  His laughter filled her with joy. Whenever he was like this, Rumpel wasn’t the haughty male, he was warm and friendly, and she liked this side of him. Very, very much.

  “For you, I forgo my usual payment.”

  “Oh, how kind, dark prince.” She patted her chest.

  He rolled out from under her, and then she heard the shuffle and movement of clothes peeling off. When he rejoined her a minute later, there was only skin pressed to skin.

  Sucking in a breath, she traced her fingers over him, letting her palm slowly scrape along the length of him, learning him by touch alone. His breathing was sharp and heavy, but he did not stop her as she glided along the ridged cords of muscle, dipped her finger into his belly button, and finally smoothed her palm over the coarse hairs of his thighs.

  Sitting up to a kneeling position, she nibbled on her lip and he moaned.

  “Gods, I could come just from looking at you this way.”

  Smiling, licking her lips, she continued her sensual exploration and stilled when she encountered the long thickness of him.

  “Rumpel?” She wasn’t sure why she’d said his name. Maybe she was asking for help, for guidance, or maybe she just needed to say it.

  “Take my cock and stroke me.” He grabbed her hand in his and guided her to the length of him.

  She shivered as he glided their twined fingers up and down; he was veiny and yet impossibly smooth, especially at the tip. “It feels like velvet.”

  He moaned, and his leg twitched against her buttocks. “Harder,” he grunted.

  When she squeezed, he loosened her grip just a little.

  “Gentle but hard, love. Like this.” And he proceeded to show her how to move, not too hard, but not too soft either.

  She smiled, wondering if he realized that just as he had the other night, he’d called her love. She was sure it was just a meaningless phrase, especially while in the middle of the coital act, but it warmed her just the same.

  Harder they pumped, and then he released his hand. “Just you. Yes.” He sighed when she gave him a firm squeeze down at the base. “Gods, yes.”

  He was lost in her, she knew it. Felt it in the way he quaked, how he moaned, and the desire to feel him on her tongue as he’d felt her consumed Shayera.

  Wiggling back just an inch, she released him and bent over.

  “Damn, woman,” he hissed when she licked at the tip. “You will be the death of me.”

  Laughing, empowered by his declaration and emboldened by her sexual awakening, she opened wider and took him all the way in. He stretched her, filled her, but not unpleasantly. What she couldn’t take into her mouth—because he really was quite large—she held tight to, and her bobbing and squeezing at the same time seemed to make him come unhinged.

  His back bowed and his hand dropped to the back of her head. “Just there, love. Just… just…”

  And then he stopped talking because he was growling and she laved and licked at him as if he were the sweetest dessert she’d ever had. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she hummed, and that was the catalyst that seemed to finally do him in.

  Shoving her off him, he howled, and she placed a hand on his back to feel the spasms ripple down his spine.

  “Rumpel, are you okay?” She frowned, worried that he’d shoved her off because she’d somehow done it wrong.

  But then he was laughing and pulling her into his chest and kissing her brow and temples. “Fine. Amazing. That was—”

  “Fun,” she finished for him and she licked her lips.

  Their sexual frenzy detoured into a hot-and-steamy session of petting and kissing afterward, nuzzling and cuddling, and apart from the mask that was driving her completely insane, she never wanted to leave this moment.

  “I do not want to let you go,” he whispered against her hair.

  She sighed. “Once you shift, we cannot touch this way.”

  “Unfortunately”—he spun a length of her hair around his finger—“we cannot remain here forever.”

  Leaning up on an elbow, she grinned. “Why not? It’s the most fun I’ve had since coming here.”

  For a moment he didn’t answer and curiosity burned her. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Annoyed? Ready to toss her back to her room?

  “Shayera, I do not want you to leave, because the moment I change, I feel I cannot be who I truly am.”

  It was more truth than she’d ever expected to get from him, and humbled, she sat up. “Why not? Why can’t you just be yourself at all times with me? I enjoy this, with you. I know in my village that men and women engage in these acts and they do not require an utterance of lifelong devotion. I am not asking that from you, Rumpel. So why make it difficult?”

  He sighed and the sound of it was so sad that she ached to hug him. “Because I am a prince, I am the broker, there are sides of me and they are all me and all demanding of my time. But who you’re with now, this is me too. A side I’ve not let loose for far too long. A side I can never indulge for long because…”

  “The rest take priority,” she finished.

  “For one so young,” he said, his hand framing her face, “you are very wise.”

  “You sound surprised by that.” She smiled, nipping at the finger closest to her mouth.

  He chuckled. “I am.”

  But she knew the moment he said it that their time had come to an end. “It’s time to change isn’t it?”

  “Mm.” He moved away from her and already she missed his warmth.

  “Will I at least get to see you one day? The real you?”

  Sulfur surrounded her and she yanked at her mask, knowing he’d changed. Somehow, in the brief moment between him holding her and moving away, he’d changed and was once again fully clothed. As she now was.

  “No, you can never see me as I truly am. You would be forever changed for it, Shayera, and I would never ask that of you.”

  Slipping his hands into his pockets, he looked back toward the castle. “I will dine with you this night and every night henceforth. We will talk and laugh and I will be the best companion you’ve ever known. But what we did today, it cannot happen again.”

  Those last four words were like a blow to her heart.

  Standing before the full-length mirror, Rumpel took his time dressing. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. She’d never seemed to mind his jeans and rock-concert shirts before, but after what they’d done this afternoon, he felt it only appropriate.

  Giles returned from the closet with a long, navy-blue tailcoat draped across his arm. Laying it gently down on the bed, he took a lint brush to it.

  Glancing at his man in the mirror, Rumpel rolled his eyes. “You can go ahead and say whatever it is that’s on your mind. Your mood is a stench in my nostrils.”

  Showing no reaction to the obvious goading, ever the proper butler, Giles continued to brush as he said, “You seem well.”

  The fact that the two of them never made small talk said it all. Something was obviously on the man’s mind. Rumpel shoved a gold cufflink inscribed with the rune of his clan through his sleeve. “I’ve know you long enough to know that is not at all what you meant to say.”

  Finally looking up, Giles slicked down the side of
his neck, then tugged at his bowtie before nodding. “It is only that I’ve noticed lately you seem more your old self.”

  Frowning, Rumpel turned to face his valet.

  Quick to explain, Giles moved out from behind the bed and pointed up and down Rumpel’s frame. “She has a good effect on you, sir. Have you not reconsidered at all your stance on the girl?”

  Giles was the only one Rumpel could be completely honest with, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the process. He turned back around to the mirror—it would be easier to talk with a pane of glass between them. “Of course I’ve thought of it. I think of it constantly. Especially these last few days.”

  Twisting his lips, Giles spread his hands. “When she first arrived, I saw her as the possibility and hope for the same thing you did, but she’s been good for you in ways I could not have imagined and I find myself grateful to her for it.”

  Shaking his head, Rumpel reached for the crushed red cravat and with snappy, jerky movements tied it on. “Sentiment is folly, Giles. Emotions kill. Surely you, more than anyone else in my life, understand that. I cannot be swayed from my cause just for a mere bit of flesh.”

  Cocking his head, lips thinning, his servant did not look amused. “She’s more than that to you, and well I know it. You’ve treated her in a way you’ve done with only one other. I did not mean to catch you today—”

  Growling, Rumpel rounded, stabbing a finger in the air. “Did you look at her?”

  “No, master.” He shook his head firmly. “Once I saw you shift, I made the connection and swiftly turned my gaze and made sure no other would enter the room to see you either. You have my word. But you shifted for her, knowing the dangers you exposed yourself to by doing it. Demone never show weakness except for—”

  Scoffing, Rumpel marched to his oak cabinet and pulled out a blue ribbon to tie his hair back with. It was the style for demone royals to always wear their hair long and free and to never cut it, and while he’d held on to most of the old ways, he liked to change things up every once in a while.

  “Once, I loved. Dearly. Passionately. I would have done anything for Caratina, and I did. I let her decide my fate and I did it willingly, gladly even. All to make her happy.” He spread his arms.

  “She was happy, sir, deliriously so. She adored you, and you did the right thing.”

  “Right thing!” He laughed, but not because he took joy from the story. “My father’s avarice hurt our nation, but my abdication destroyed it. My people are in ruins because I walked away. How in the hell was that the right thing? She died, Euralis is gone mad, no…” He shook his head, tying the string in his hair so tightly it stung. “I was a fool then, and I will not be a fool again.”

  “All things considered, and I know you lost much, but you saved much. I pledged my soul and my honor to you. Dalia, Zander, Merida—”

  “Stop, just stop.” He held up a hand.

  But Giles would not be dissuaded from his course. “What you did took great courage and faith. It went against every teaching, every doctrine of the demone, and I for one am grateful, as would Caratina be. She would not have wanted this life for you.”

  “Oh please,” he snarled. “Easy for you to say when you lost nothing.”

  The moment the words left his lips, Rumpel turned his face to the side. Because it wasn’t entirely true and they both knew it. Giles had lost much. And as hellish as Rumpel’s life now was, his man—at least in the eyes of demone—had lost so much more.

  Giles went absolutely still and then he turned back to brushing the coat, using long, methodical strokes. The man had been captain of the royal guard, the most feared and skilled fighter in all Delerium. He hadn’t gotten to be that by being quick to anger, but by being cold, calculating, and intelligently ruthless.

  “Forgive me.” Rumpel forced seldom-used words out and then snorted. “Challenged by the Black Death. I find you to be just as terrifying today as you were then, my friend.”

  Lips giving a slight, almost imperceptible twitch, Giles said, “I’ve not heard that moniker used in some time. Doesn’t even seem fitting with who I am today. And it’s because of you, sir. I think you should reconsider your use for that girl.”

  Scrubbing his jaw, Rumpel exhaled deeply before saying, “Would you? If you had to do it over again, knowing what you know now?”

  “My decision,” Giles said, lifting his his chin, “would be the same. I see how she looks at you when she believes no one’s looking, how she studies you, tries to learn more about you. She’s not scared of you either. She’d make a fitting match.”

  Rumpel shook his head sadly, the weight of his decisions feeling as though they might crush him. “I was born to rule a world of fire and darkness, and now here I sit, brokering meaningless deals, looking for a cure, a lonely old prince fit for nothing.”

  “You are alone because it is your choice. You do not need to live as you do, but I support your decision no matter what it might be. Regardless of what we were born to do, we can be whoever we choose. Caratina understood that to be true, it is why you listened to her. Because in your heart you believed there was more to life than to rule a world of nothing but ashes and war.”

  “The warrior’s turned philosopher. I don’t think the look suits you.” Rumpel smirked.

  Giving the jacket a final stroke, Giles lifted it up and walked over to him, helping him to shrug it on.

  “Dinner will be served in ten minutes, sir.”

  Just as Giles made to leave, Rumpel held up a hand. “Have you seen to Euralis today? Any changes?”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, the servant shook his head. “In truth, master, the boy is not well. He’s refused his last two meals—he will not eat unless from your hand.”

  And in his burning red eyes glowed a spark of sympathy, and neither of them finished the thought. That Euralis did not have long for this world, or any other, which made any possibility of releasing Shayera pure fancy.

  “Is she failing, sir?”

  “That remains to be seen, Giles. It remains to be seen,” he said softly again and for his benefit only as his servant was already gone.

  ~*~

  “Ask me anything you’d like.” He toyed with the rim of his crystal goblet as they awaited the first course.

  Shayera looked lovelier today than she had even this morning. His heart clenched at the sight of her. She was dressed in a champagne-colored, satin strapless gown with a heart-shaped corset that looked as if it’d been crafted by a master tailor just for her. It highlighted the pearlescent ivory hue of her flesh, made it almost gleam in the dim candle glow. Her breasts were plumped up and made his mouth water for another taste of her rose-tipped nipples.

  Her normally wild mane of curls had been tamed and was now twisted up into an intricate knot at the back of her head, and she wore a diamond-encrusted tiara that gleamed with the light of a thousand rainbows whenever the light touched it. He’d told Dalia how to dress her this night, but he might have outdone himself this time.

  “You look good enough to eat,” he couldn’t help saying.

  Her eyes widened and she was spared having to respond when the first course materialized before them. A creamy green soup glistened from inside a white china bowl.

  She reached for a spoon, and as it clattered from her fingers, a flare of brightest pink washed up her sloping neck. It was cute how embarrassed she got by the littlest things.

  She had such clean lines, such perfect dimensions. His eyes could feast on her for the rest of his life and he’d always find something new to admire.

  “You fascinate me,” he drawled.

  She dipped the spoon into the bowl and did not make eye contact with him as she took a delicate sip and then another. “This is good. Very delicious.”

  “It’s asparagus cream soup, and you have not answered me.”

  Crystal-blue eyes flared and she glared at him. “Friends, right? It’s what you said in the glen today. Then let us be friends and stop this.”
>
  “Stop what?” He steepled his fingers. Gods she was lovely—a gossamer, ivory angel with fiery red curls that reminded him of the red of home.

  “This!” She gestured between them. “The games, the teasing.”

  “You think I’m teasing you?” He narrowed his eyes, his groin tightening as her breathing increased, causing her breasts to rise and fall rapidly. “Do you think I teased when I lapped at you like a bowl of cream this afternoon?”

  “Ugh!”

  She tossed herself back in the chair, giving him a petulant scowl he found impossibly adorable.

  “This is what I get for coming here. I should have known the moment Dalia pulled out this wretched tiara.” Reaching up, she yanked it from her head and tossed it to the floor. It didn’t even make a sound as it bounced harmlessly off the thick carpet. Lifting a stern, thin brow, she glared with all the haughty fury of an enraged queen. “And I’m sorry,” she said and sniffed, “if I broke it.”

  He laughed. “I’m not. I have twenty thousand more that could take its place.”

  Tossing up her hands, she rolled her eyes. “It’s that easy for you, is it?” She snapped her fingers. “Whatever you want, in the palm of your hands, always. Snap. Snap. Snap. Well, I’m not going to be that for you. I may be a siren, but I’m not your whore. You said it is over, so kindly stop speaking to me in the most sexual ways possible in the hopes that I’ll lay myself down at your feet, ready to do your bidding, oh evil one.”

  Body enflamed, pulse speeding like the battle drive of a thousand horses, he wanted to toss her down and damned his moment of gentlemanly withdrawal earlier in the garden as nothing more than a temporary bout of insanity. But he laughed instead.

  “You drive me mad,” he whispered and she turned her face to the side.

  Their bowls of soup disappeared, and she frowned at the salad that replaced it. She loved her soups and stews—he’d have to tell Cook to leave her a bowl of it in her bedroom later tonight. His Carrot didn’t eat as she always should.

  She picked up a fork and stabbed it into the lettuce, taking a hearty bite. She spoke around her mouthful. “I know there’s a witty comeback in there, but I’m simply too angry to try. I’m not doing this anymore with you, Rumpelstiltskin, understand me well. I’ve…” She swallowed and lifted another large chunk of lettuce to her mouth, crunching into it before resuming. “I’ve come to the conclusion that we are simply incapable of sharing our bodies without it getting ugly.”