by Brea Viragh
Fated, She Flies
A dark and twisted Swan Princess retelling
(A Never After Tale)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Fated, She Flies
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
About the Author
Brea Viragh
Fated, She Flies © Copyright 2020 Brea Viragh
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Cover Artist: Covers by Combs
The predator becomes prey.
Heir to the Taunway Lake Lycan pack and daughter of an Alpha, wolf shifter Odessa Darrow is expected to play her part...which includes jumping into an engagement to a rival pack’s son, despite her desire to find love on her own. Willing to risk exile and go on the run, her plan brings complications when a third party crashes the wedding celebration and destroys tentative pack relations.
Calen Siegfried is the lowest wolf on the totem pole, without official status as he has never been able to shift. Ever. A gifted baker, he is allowed to stay with the pack because he creates Odessa’s favorite desserts. There’s only one problem: He’s in love with her.
Odessa’s disappearance sparks an unprecedented turmoil between the packs as they threaten to tear at each other's throats. Calen is left alone to come to her rescue, leaving the safety of his home for uncharted territory in his search. He must determine what is real and what is an illusion. Will his determination stand up against fate and curses? Or will the princess he loves be lost to him forever?
Fans of Kresley Cole and Ilona Andrews will fall for this dark and twisted romantic retelling of the Swan Princess.
One-click your way to the dark side today.
FATED, SHE FLIES is part of the Never After Tales - a collection of over 30 authors giving your favorite fairy tales a new twist.
Chapter 1
Calen Siegfried didn’t appear happy to see her, which wasn’t anything new. He always put on a good show when she snuck down to the dungeons of his domain, displaying his displeasure with a quick curl of his upper lip.
It wasn’t her place to be down there, after all.
“You’re supposed to be getting married,” Calen told her swiftly, the statement accompanied by a growl and a flash of fang. “Get out of my kitchen.”
At the moment, Odessa Darrow would brave the fires of hell if it meant she didn’t have to blister through her own engagement party.
“Where are the rest of your cronies?” she asked him instead. Raising a taunting eyebrow and daring him, daring him, to push her.
Calen laughed. Flour dotted his forearms up to the elbows and the scowl disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “My cronies? No, you have it wrong. I am their lackey and they the commanders. And they’re about to come in any second, back from a break that should have lasted ten minutes and has somehow spread to thirty. Which means I’m doing the work of a handful of people. Now get out.”
Odessa shot Calen a look under heavily made-up brows, making sure to flutter her eyelashes for good measure. “Calen, come on. I know those tarts are coming out of the oven and I want a taste. Don’t I deserve a treat? After everything I’ve had to go through these last few months?”
He waved a spoon at her in retaliation. “You’ll get your tarts, and before everyone else, too. But they’re reserved for the party on your father’s orders.”
Her father’s orders. This whole stupid celebration was on her father’s orders, because it would help foster pack relations.
“I will add,” Odessa told her best friend slowly, leaning against the only clear space on the floating island, “that these aren’t your kitchens. You are not the one in charge. Everyone knows Bozart rules these white marble countertops with an iron fist. He doesn’t allow usurpers.”
Calen rolled eyes the color of a blue summer sky. “Maybe not, but I can tell when you are stalling. I’ve known you too long to fall for any of your tricks. Reminding me of my lack of status doesn’t change the fact that there is going to be payment due if anyone finds you down here. Payment neither of us is equipped to handle. Do you want to deal with a pissy alpha as well as your wedding party? I sure don’t, and when it comes down to it, I’ll be the one receiving his ire instead of you.”
No, Odessa didn’t want to deal with any of it. Least of all her father and the way he wanted to steer the Taunway Lake pack into the future. Expanded territory this, and lineage that.
None of which involved her desires in any way.
Odessa pushed what felt like yards of platinum hair out of her face, all of which had been carefully washed, dried, and styled in preparation for what was sure to be the best day of her life.
She’d rather have her toenails ripped out one by one.
The sad puppy dog face came naturally to her as the Lycan alpha’s daughter. She used those feminine wiles on Calen now. They’d never let her down in the past, as she’d always gotten her way. “Please? Just one tart?”
He turned his back to her, broad shoulders blocking her from the worst of the heat from the ovens. “You’re going to ruin your appetite.”
“What appetite? I haven’t been able to eat since Papa announced the engagement.” She slapped a hand against the protests of her stomach. No, she couldn’t eat. Could barely sleep, either, but the thought of one of Calen’s tarts had her mouth watering for the first time in what felt like years.
When Calen turned to face her, he was wearing oven mitts, and a tray of steaming lemon tarts held in front of him.
She licked her lips, already picturing the smooth tang of the lemon, the flavor bursting to life on her tongue. No one could cook like Calen.
Which, she supposed, was why her father kept the young wolf around. Calen had no official rank in their pack structure despite his high-born parentage. Given the circumstances, he should have been tossed out on his ass after his unfortunate problem was discovered. Instead, the alpha had let him stay.
Which made it strange that the two were still friends. The alpha’s daughter and the pastry chef? That sort of friendship should have been discouraged. The two of them somehow managed to not only keep it off the radar, but also maintain it over the years. Something the secret part of her heart treasured all the more for the rarity.
“I’ve seen you sneak down to the kitchen plenty of times,” Calen argued, setting the tray down away from where she bala
nced. “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t been eating? I noticed a finger swiped across the top of my meatloaf the other day.”
Odessa stuck out her tongue. “Don’t worry about my eating habits. Okay? Just make sure to slip me one of those lemon tarts the moment they’re ready.”
“You’re going to burn your mouth, and then you won’t be able to kiss Prince Charming.”
At once, her good mood soured.
Prince Charming, in this case, was the hulked-up son of a rival pack, one she had no interest in beyond a cursory wave at territory meetings. They’d be husband and wife in a few short days.
Imagine it. Engaged to a man she didn’t know and didn’t love for the sake of pack relations. It was something out of a medieval nightmare. Except this wasn’t a nightmare.
This was her life.
And try as hard as she could to fight it, when the alpha barked, you jumped. Even her, with no questions asked.
Except she’d asked plenty. Enough to have her father turn beet-red and order her from his study after a heated argument. One she’d managed to draw out over several weeks until they could barely stand to look at each other.
Yet, in the end, she bent to his wishes.
Odessa slipped her elbows off the counter, the jeweled edges of her dress heavy and clunking as she slid her bare feet across the floor. Another ridiculous statement: the dress. Sewn through with pearls and crystals to offset her light hair and fair skin. She felt like a display at a high-end retail store. Something better kept behind glass than a flesh-and-blood woman with thoughts of her own. Feelings of her own.
Desires had no business here.
Calen had his back to her, shoulders shaking as he carefully removed each individual tart to place them on a cooling rack. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
She paused mid-movement, her toes grazing the floor. “What? Me? Nothing.”
“I can hear you when you move. You try this every time.”
“Then maybe I should just use brute force!” Thinking herself sly, Odessa launched herself across the short space separating them, intent to land on Calen’s back and snag a treat over his shoulder.
The heft of the dress kept her from her mark, and she ended up with her arms wrapped around his neck, strangling him.
Calen stumbled as she scrambled for purchase, choking him in the process. “Dessa...”
“Got it!” Good thing she had long arms. Once she struggled into position, her legs wrapped around his waist, she shifted her weight to reach the cooling tray.
She ended up slipping down his legs like a monkey on a tree trunk, the prize burning her fingers as she tried to hold onto it. Calen, for all his faults when it came to shifting, still possessed amazing reflexes, and swiveled around to grasp her wrist before she had a chance to move away.
“You seriously think you can strangle me to get your sugar fix,” he said, more a statement than a question. His brows drew together in a quizzical line, though his eyes held warm humor.
“I wasn’t trying to strangle you,” she insisted. Then scooched a step in the opposite direction, dropping the tart onto the top of the island when it burned her fingers, unsurprised when Calen held on.
They moved together through the kitchen, a dance they’d done a thousand times before, her hair beginning to stand on end at the crackling tension of being this close to a male. Not any male, my friend, she reminded herself.
Their bodies instinctively knew the moves even when she tried to switch them up. Using the weight of her dress to balance her, she twisted her torso left before bending back, the curled ends of her hair nearly reaching the floor. Another inch and she would have a plate.
Calen anticipated the distraction and already had one hand on the small of her back to steady her. “I thought we had a rule about strangling? In the kitchen or otherwise.”
He twirled her around, plate in hand, and Odessa leapt lightly, landing on her tiptoes. Her free hand reached out when Calen left her enough room to stretch, and soon she had the tart on the plate.
He retained possession of her other wrist. “Dessa!”
She spun in a circle, the dress throwing her off balance so that the plate tipped, and the tart plunked to the floor and landed with a splat, the fluffy meringue squished.
Odessa set him with a glare. “See what you made me do?”
“Me?” Calen pointed to his chest. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me like this, Missy. Especially considering the work involved with catering your damn wedding.”
Her wedding. Reality smacked home and her arm went slack. Calen dropped his hold at last, staring at her with eyes that saw too much.
He’d always been able to see right through her. In all ways. She called it his gift; one he’d had no choice but to hone since he could not change forms like every other member of the pack. He had more sense in his little finger than most wolves in their entire body. Not to mention he noted everything, down to the tiniest detail.
“I’m sorry,” Calen said and stared at the mess on the floor. “I didn’t mean to ruin your good mood.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not you ruining my good mood. I’ll probably never be in a good mood again after this.” She sighed.
“Try not to look at it like a life sentence, Dessa.”
But that’s what it was. A life sentence, complete with eternally binding ties, and her father’s might compelling her in a direction she didn’t want to go.
Calen forced a smile to his face, a lock of dark hair falling over his eyes and shadowing them. “Are you ready for the dance tonight?” he asked.
Dance. Yes, that she would enjoy. A small silver lining in an otherwise moribund situation. It took effort to affect a similar gesture on her own face. “Yes. I’ve been practicing.”
“I know. I’ve seen you.”
She punched him in the arm. “You are supposed to be focusing on the copious prep you just told me about. Not watching me dance.”
“I can’t help it. You shine so brightly.” Calen ducked his head, crossing the room and returning with a small broom and dustpan for the downed tart.
“It’s the moon,” Odessa insisted.
She’d always felt the sway of the dark lady overhead, even when she wasn’t in her wolf form. Using the draw and the magic, she combined both with her physical stamina, dancing when she couldn’t stand her own company.
A blush colored Calen’s tan cheek, but he did not flinch away from her stare. He did not cower. Odessa forced herself to do the same when she desired to glance down.
“It’s you and we both know it. But hey, at least you got plenty of practice time in. You won’t fall flat on your face in front of your guests.”
The easy banter dispelled whatever lingering heaviness had fallen between them. The heaviness didn’t belong, she knew. Things never felt forced or weighty between her and Calen. That’s the way it had always been. Simple, easy, and comfortable. Like plopping down in front of a roaring fire on a cold day, when the ice made its way to your bones and you suddenly started to thaw.
Odessa stared at her best friend, and for the thousandth time, wondered how different her life would have been if her father hadn’t decided to keep Calen with the pack. It wasn’t within the pack’s protocol to dispose of orphans, normally. In fact, whenever a cub lost both parents, other members of the tribe stepped forward to shoulder the responsibility. In Calen’s case, not only had he been orphaned, but to this day, he couldn’t shift. The full moon rose, and like any other natural-born Lycan, he should have been able to shed his skin and run on all fours beneath her pearly light.
That wasn’t the case.
So, he remained confined to the kitchen, putting the talents he had to good use.
Odessa wondered, since she’d be forced to move to her husband’s grounds, if she would be able to persuade both parties to let her bring Calen along.
Footsteps pounded down the stone stairs toward the kitchen, sounding like an elephant rampage. It
came as no surprise when a delicate redhead popped her head around the corner.
Jean always knew how to make an entrance.
Bright brown eyes fell on Odessa, and worry shifted steadily into exasperation. “I should have known you would be down here! Can you hurry up, please? The rest of us are ready to party, and here you are getting dirty.”
Odessa shook her head. “There’s no dirt on this dress, let me assure you. I’ve been very careful.”
“Then what is that bit of flour doing on your bosom?”
“There’s nothing there.” Odessa smacked a hand over the offending stain. Not before noticing a matching spot on Calen’s back. “Mind your own damn business.”
“I hate to break it to you, Princess, but you are my business.” Her number two proudly pushed her nose into the air. A position that might have knocked the protuberance out of whack if it were anyone else. Jean managed to carry the look flawlessly as she stared down her nose at Calen.
A radiant queen without a throne of her own.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” she asked Calen.
It was impressive to see Jean square her shoulders, her spine straight as steel.
“Go pluck your eyebrows and slap some makeup on your face,” Calen stated softly. “Whatever it is you normally do. You’ll find nothing here to occupy your time.”
“I’ll see you later,” Odessa said on her way out, tossing a small smile behind her.
“Sure. Of course.”
The two made their way from the kitchen seconds before the other chefs piled in through the side door.
Calen shook his head to clear it, forcing a smile to his lips when Chef Bozart came up to him. A rotund man, the ends of his goatee bristled with disappointment as he stared at the row of tarts Calen had just taken from the oven.
“Yes, they’re there,” Calen retorted. “I had to resort to underhanded dealings, but they’re all there.” He crossed his fingers behind his back and hoped the chef would not notice the one missing tart.
Bozart set him with a stare. One that left no room for argument. “Good. Because you know how he—”