by Marie Hall
“I will enter the game this time, Giles.”
“Sir?” He sounded astonished, brows dipping. “But it is improper for royalty to—”
“To what?” He glowered, thrusting out his hand at her. She was huddled into herself, obviously trying not to cry.
Once a game was begun there was no power in the above or below that could stop it. But he could change it. He’d left Delerium because he’d understood then how wrong it was, and here he was doing the very same.
“To befoul my hands with a game of my own creation? Hmm.” He scrubbed his jaw, then tossed his hands up. “I messed everything up. Everything.”
“You could not know what she would mean to you, sir.”
“What does it matter? You warned me, you all warned me. Told me over and over to not do it, and for centuries I’ve refused to listen. So obsessed with finding the impossible cure, and what have I done?” He roared.
“There is much a father would do for his child, sir. I do not envy your decision.”
“There is no alternative, and no excuse. I must rectify this. There is no choice, and if she never forgives me then it’s the price I must pay, but I will not let her die. She will fail this test.”
“But, sir, she’s already failed two of the three, has she not? The babe died, her father was not avenged… She cannot pass the game.”
“She’s not failed, Giles, not a single test. Not a one, but I will be damned if she passes this one. You are to leave.” He began shrugging out of his T-shirt. “Let no one pass down these halls, no one can see what will happen. Do you hear me? Guard this place, Black Death, and your reward will be great.”
Tossing the shirt to the ground, he jerked at the buttons of his jeans. Giles stood staring at him with a dumbstruck expression.
“Go!” he snapped, pointing at the door. “Now.”
The moment his man was gone, Rumpel dropped his pants. Letting his hair go free, he stood nude and turned to her. “You will go home, my little siren,” he whispered. “Trust in me now, and all will be well.”
~*~
The room shifted into a blinding blur of colors: smoky-pearl fabric hanging from rafters, magenta-hued walls, bronze chandeliers, thick rugs spun from the finest spider silk glinting like a thousand prisms of rainbow light with each step she took. The room smelled of sandalwood and myrrh, practically dripped luxury and sex.
Shayera twirled as the sound of a lute played a hypnotic, lulling song.
And this time Rumpel was there. He lay on a pile of pillows, nude, his long hair down and staring at her with the same burning intensity that raced through her soul.
“What is this?” Somehow she found her voice.
Stretching an arm above his head, he did not answer her. But the move was a call to act, to look upon him and marvel at the beauty of something so perfect.
He was all sloping grace and tight muscles. His arms, his legs, his stomach, all perfect, all symmetrical. But hard. Man. Wild.
Her fingers clenched as the charms she tried so hard to control began to buzz inside her with the chaotic knowledge that before her lay a feast. She wet her lips, and because she was so weak, she looked between his legs, and her breath caught on a hitch.
Her body tingled at the sight of his thick shaft and how it jutted out from between his thighs. His hand crept low on his belly.
Rumpel wasn’t furry, but he wasn’t smooth either. His fingers followed the dark trail that led straight to his cock. The very one she’d had in her mouth, the one she dreamed of every night, wondering what other glories could be had from it.
Nipples going hard and tight, her hand itched to touch the wetness between her legs.
“Where is my game? You should go.” She tried again, but her voice was too breathy, too kittenish to be believed as any sort of threat. A whimper escaped her tight lips and she hated herself, hated that he could still affect her this way, that her siren parts could still want, still ache for something that wasn’t even real.
He touched himself, rubbing his hand up and down, so very, very slowly. Lids half-closed, he gazed at her. His desire that she join him was so evident it felt inevitable to her.
“Come. Here.” His voice wasn’t soft or cajoling, this was lust. Raw and primal and explosive.
She bit down on her lip, refusing to rise to the bait. The corset pinning her breasts felt too constrictive, she could hardly breathe, and the room was definitely spinning.
“No.”
She smiled because she’d been able to resist.
“Then if you won’t come to me…”
He was gone, a depression on the pillows was the only clue that he’d ever actually been there. Shocked, desperate, she turned and there he was. Right behind her. Smelling of whisky and smoky cherries, and it was like she was caught in the sights of a killer.
She was a cobra, he the mongoose. She should not have been taken down. She was the siren, able to bend any knee her way, and yet it was he breaking her apart.
“…I shall have to come to you.”
Then he kissed her and she forgot that it wouldn’t hurt. She flinched, waiting for the pain, but it didn’t come.
“I’ve waited for you long enough, Shayera Caron.”
His words were a rumble upon her flesh and suddenly she was aware that they were skin to skin, that at some point he’d taken her clothes off.
“You will be mine.”
She would step out of his arms, she would forget him. She would.
“How is this possible? Why can I touch inside these games?”
His leg was suddenly, impossibly, between her own and her head was swimming because Rumpel was touching her, his hand was sliding up her rib cage and the movement of his thigh created a delicious, delirious friction in her aching center.
“Tell me you do not want me.”
“I… do not… want you.” She moaned and clawed at his back, making him bow into her nails and hiss.
Amber eyes gleamed. “You do, little siren. I feel it in your every touch, your every move. The whisper of your flesh against mine, it all screams that you belong to me.”
And then he shifted just an inch to the left, and oh dear gods!
Grunting, she dropped her head upon his chest as his cock massaged between the slippery folds of her desire.
His breath was at her ear, his teeth nipping at her lobe. “Let me in, Carrot, tell me yes.”
Yes. Yes. Yes. “No.”
“Shayera, say yes. Do it now!”
The cadence of his voice snapped her from her sexual fog. Jerking, she slapped him. His eyes were wide, his jaw clenched.
“No,” she said again. “No.” This time with more power. “You lied to me.”
“Shayera, you do not understand. Please, you have less than a minute, you must agree. Please, my love.” He held out a hand and she cringed.
“What a fool I’ve been. Who do you think I am? This is the game?”
“No.” He raked his fingers through his hair, pulling the ends so hard she knew it had to sting. “This is no game. I am breaking my own rule, Shayera, you have to believe me. Ten seconds. Say yes. Goddess, woman, say yes!”
“NO!” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “No. No. No.”
“Rumpel, my love,” another voice cooed. The voice was so sultry, so feminine and hypnotic that Shayera spun around.
A woman stood where none had been before and she was Lust personified. As nude as the both of them, she was perfection. The other half of him. Her skin was pale, her hair ebony, and her full, heart-shaped lips as red as blood.
The analogy rattled loose the memory of the boy and Shayera gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Yes.” The woman smirked. “So now you know.”
Turning toward Rumpel, who was glowering at the vision before them, she stuck out an accusing finger. “I saw the boy last night. I read about the games, she is his mother. Your wife. Am I right?” she spat out, desperate that he should deny it. Des
perate he tell her no, that he refute what was so unbelievably obvious to her. “Tell me, Rumpelstiltskin, am I right!”
“Yes,” he growled. “Yes!”
The room spun out of focus—the smells, the sights, the timbrals and lutes, everything was gone. Even the woman.
They were back in the cold, gray room, and they were both dressed and she’d be damned if even one tear spilled out in front of him.
“Demone can’t lie, and yet you lied to me all along.” She hurled the words at him, grateful when he grimaced.
Hugging her arms to her chest, she shook her head.
“I did not know you then.”
“And I suppose that should make this all right?”
“No.” He snarled and clamped his hands behind his back as he paced like a caged tiger before her. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“There is nothing you can say to make this right. Absolutely nothing.”
Desperation glittered in the depths of his golden-amber eyes. “The book only told you half the story, Shayera. Not all of it.”
“Oh please.” She waved a hand at him. “Then by all means, explain. Make this right.”
Stopping, he turned toward her. “Euralis is my child, the boy of my heart.”
“You’re married. Where is she? Back on Delerium still? How dare you touch me. Do your vows mean so—”
“My wife,” he spat, “is still on Delerium. She is a soul-sucking succubus who cared nothing for me. Her name was Delanore and she married me because it was the will of our parents.”
“What?” Because that was not the name she’d read of in the book. “Caratina?”
“Was my mistress. In the retinue of Delanore’s personal maids, she was an aberration like myself. More humane, they called it.”
“Humane.” She scoffed. “I’ve seen very little of that since being here.”
He looked down. “I wasn’t always as I am, Shayera. Circumstances have turned me into the very monster I hated.”
“Your father.”
“Yes.” His face was sad and she ached to go to him, but her feet were firmly rooted.
She’d fallen for his lies too many times. She was no fool and wouldn’t be again.
He shook his head. “Shayera, I broke faith with him because I did not believe in his obsession.”
“And yet,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “here you are doing the same. How long have you been running these games, Rumpel?”
He snorted, closed his eyes, and then sighed. “Thousands of years. But you have to understand, I wouldn’t do it for me.” His look was pleading. “My son is dying. Caratina died when he was only five months old, and he didn’t have enough time to absorb part of her soul; without it, he’s going mad.”
“So you brought me here to absorb my soul, but I wasn’t worthy, was I?” She shook her head. “I failed every test, and so yet again you see these games do not work.”
“No, you are wrong.” He took a step toward her, clenched his fingers as though he wanted to reach out, but then decided to drop his hand by his leg. “You passed every single one.”
“What?” She blinked. “You’re lying again.”
“I never lied.” He scrubbed his jaw. “Never. I did not tell you the truth, but you did not ask me the right questions.”
“And why should I have to, Rumpel? Omission is as good as a lie.”
“Because it’s not in my nature to be anything other than I am, Carrot.”
She snorted. “I suppose your next words are that for me, you are willing to bend?”
“You do not believe me?”
“Of course I don’t—you’ve given me no reason to.”
“You were tested on three of the seven deadly sins. Wrath. Greed. And Lust.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “You did not kill Brenna, though she deserved it, you denied your wrath. Your father was greedy and blinded by it. You would not help him, even though I sensed your love. And now…”
“You seduced me and I said no.” She smirked. “But it was so easy to do, Rumpel. Because I did not want you. Anyone else and I might have succumbed, so you ruined any chance of seeing that I’m just as imperfect as the rest of them.”
It was so quiet in the room that she could hear the beating of her own heart whooshing through her ears.
“Just as I cannot utter a lie, I can also sense when others tell untruths. You want me as desperately as I want you.”
“No.” She laughed.
“It’s okay, my Carrot, it is only what I deserve. I have been wrong and should never have done what I did to you. But I would hope in some small corner of your good heart that you will not think of me too badly. I am sorry. You passed every test.”
Clutching at her chest, she took a step back. “You can’t do this, it’s wrong. I won’t let you take my soul.”
“You’re right. I can’t do this.”
She waited, waited for him to laugh, to snap his fingers and call the demons down to take her to the boy so he could suck out her soul. But he just stood there, drinking her in like water, studying the lines and planes of her face as though memorizing them.
“You’re letting me go? But your boy…” She swallowed, finally understanding the sacrifice he was willing to make for her, and though she had no desire to allow the boy to take her soul, it grieved her. “Rumpel.”
He held up a hand and gave her a small smile. “My problem now. Go home, Shayera Caron, and thank you.”
“For what? I’ve done nothing.”
His eyes grew so sad. “You’ve done more than you’ll ever know.”
“Before I leave, I have one question to ask you.”
“Anything.”
“Are the boy and the wolf one and the same? I saw him in the bowl, hidden beneath the castle in a cage. Do you shift like him?”
“Royalty cannot shift into animals. That is a skill of the commoner. Euralis has three forms—the boy, the wolf, and the crow.”
“Why was he in the bowl? Why did he show himself to me? Dalia said that bowl would show me my happiness.”
He shrugged. “It is magic from the old world; it probably no longer even works.”
She wanted to hug him fiercely, but she was so confused, and still very angry by his deception. Ready to go, she had one last thing to say to him. “I read in your book that there’s a chalice. The author seemed to believe it might work.”
“Aye.” His Adam’s apple rolled as he nodded. “But the chalice is in the heart of darkness, and I can no longer return to Delerium. Neither I nor a member of my household. If the chalice does exist, I could never hope to get to it. And just so you know, the moment I was kicked out of Delirium, my wife”—he stressed the word like a curse—“married another. There was no love between us. It was always only politics.”
And that was that. There was no hope for Euralis; she read it in his eyes. Rumpel was sacrificing his own happiness and his son’s soul for her. There were no words that could adequately express her gratefulness or even hope to do this justice. Winning had never felt more terrible.
“Send me home, Rumpel. It’s time.”
He swallowed and she sensed the words trapped on his tongue, the same ones trapped on her own. His eyes pleaded.
She glanced at her feet.
“Good-bye, Carrot,” he whispered.
He snapped his fingers, and as she hurtled through time and space, she whispered back to him, “Good-bye, my dark prince.”
Rumpel stared into the embers of his fire; the castle now sat in perpetual darkness. The clouds gathered with rain and lightning. He brokered no deals, even though he heard the cries of many. It no longer mattered.
In all his years, all his time in Kingdom, she’d only ever been found worthy. Euralis howled a lonely melody that reverberated through the echoing silence his keep had become.
He reeked of brandy, whiskey, whatever he could find that would burn going down. It didn’t matter so long as he could dull the pain of losing.
Losing a
ny hope he’d had of winning back his son.
Losing the games.
His heart.
The shriveled, mangled thing that he’d thought would never love again. Wasn’t capable of it. Shayera had revived his soul and he’d let her walk away.
Sniffing, he choked down the amber liquid straight from the bottle. And then he growled, chucking it into the hearth so hard the glass shattered.
Sulfur surrounded him. “Go to her, sir.”
“Giles, leave me.” He never took his eyes off the flame as he scraped his thumb and forefinger against the bristles of his jaw. “I’m not fit company for the devil himself.”
“It’s been two weeks, sir. You broke faith—you let her leave after she played the game and won. Why did you not tell her the rest?”
“What does it matter?”
“What does it matter!” His previously complacent butler glowered. Stepping in front of Rumpel and blocking his view of the fire, he looked once again like the coldhearted mercenary he’d once been. “Because it does. Because your demone nature recognizes what you are so determined not to see. She is your mate. You will weaken, wither, and eventually die without her. The games cannot be corrupted; she was supposed to remain here. Why did you let her go?”
Giles’s chest heaved with the strain of not jumping on his master. Rumpel read it in his eyes.
“I am an old, old man, Giles. Well past ten thousand years. Can I not be allowed to choose when it’s over?”
Giles ground his square jaw from side to side. He’d not shaved in days, his eyes looked swollen, and it bothered Rumpel that his manservant was clearly so affected by what was happening to him.
“Once I’m gone, you’re a free man. Does that not excite you?” He flicked his wrist.
“I was born to guard. If not in Delerium, then this is the next best thing for me. To guard my prince and see that he is well and safe.” He slapped his fist against his palm. “You brought her here, and then you let her go. The fates are not happy with you. The only way to fix this is to bring her back.”
“That is out of the question.” He pounded his fist on the armchair. “She deserves to live.” His nostrils flared. Leaning forward, Rumpel growled. “Leave it be, Giles. This is one time you cannot sway me. Leave. It. Be.”