Modern Fairy Tale

by Proby, Kristen

  I would never grow up when it came to my father.

  It drove my mother bananas.

  According to my watch, I’d been at this party with her for five hours, and wanted to go home. My feet hurt, my tummy rumbled, and I was done being polite to people who didn’t deserve it.

  But then Mr. Kewet smiled and asked for my company on the balcony; I stupidly went with him, even though I recognised him for a wolf.

  I was a psychologist’s daughter. I was here to schmooze her clients and endorse her sponsorships. I wouldn’t let her down.

  The conversation was unremarkable. Mr. Kewet complimented my dress, my hair, my smile. Then his eyes dropped to my Minnie Mouse watch, and his smile turned cruel. He was no longer a wealthy man who carried the totem of worldly age over me but a killer licking his lips at his dinner.

  “Why is such a pretty girl like you wearing an ugly thing like that?”

  Warning shivers scattered down my spine as he inched closer. The urge to bolt fizzled in my legs but my drilled lessons to remain polite at all costs overruled. “It means a lot to me. It’s not just a watch.”

  “That so.” He laughed. “In that case, I’ll hold it for you for safe keeping.”

  My eyebrow rose. “Hold it?” I had no intention of giving this man my father’s final present. Cupping my fingers protectively around the red and white wristband, I shook my head. “I don’t plan on giving it to you.”

  “Oh, it’s not a matter of giving.” One second his hands were by his sides. The next they were on my throat. “It’s a matter of taking.”

  My fingers soared to scratch; my mouth opened to scream. But he didn’t strangle me softly—he didn’t work up to murder. He committed it with swiftness and strength.

  Vice-like hands blocked my windpipe. Tears spilled as my brain gave way to hypoxia and shock. My arms became useless paddles. My legs turned from kicking missiles to pointless sticks. My head roared, and it seemed only a second where I was alive and breathing and then dead and…not.

  Even when I came to in a garage below the party, with his vile lips on mine blowing air into my deflated corpse, all I noticed was my wrist was bare.

  My watch was gone.

  My childhood stripped away.

  He’d not only stolen my life but my nickname, father, and happiness, too.

  * * *

  I fell asleep with soft caresses into welcoming arms of memories. Good ones, bad ones…ones that reminded me I’d been a girl once and not this dying slave.

  I didn’t have heart palpations at the thought of yet another day in hell. I didn’t break out in a cold sweat wishing I could retreat into sleep and never wake again.

  However, that wasn’t how I woke.

  The reoccurring nightmare disturbed me first, heralding my fingers to my empty wrist, the common pang of loss lacerating my heart, and homesickness carving a hole in my soul.

  But none of that mattered as a sultry purr saved me from my heart stabbing itself over and over with the past, giving me an order I could hold onto.

  “Come back, Pimlico. Now.”

  Sleep swirled away, trading the night I lost my life with a hard mattress and contented relaxation even with a stranger in my bed.

  How long had I been away from this existence? How long had Mr. Prest let me rest? And how much longer before Master A bombed his patience and came for me?

  I blinked as Mr. Prest swung his legs to the floor, his hands balled beside him. “Stand up. Immediately.”

  Finally, a command I could obey without a second thought.

  I didn’t have to return to full awareness—merely the automation of a slave.

  Dropping my eyes from his hissing dragon, I sat up and prepared to slip to the carpet.

  However, his bark stopped me mid uncurl. “Don’t get on the floor. Stand on the bed. Hold the frame if you need to.”

  Okay…

  Unfolding, I planted my feet on the unstable ground and stood.

  He grunted as my full body opened to him.

  The bare pussy that Master A demanded I shave. The concave stomach of a starving girl. The small breasts of a woman with no spare fat or hips to be feminine. I wasn’t attractive. Not curvy or bootylicious like the pop singers I’d danced to a few years ago.

  I loved nothing about me when staring in the mirror. Including the discoloured purple, green, and blue decorating me from top to toe. My bandaged hand ached as I spread my fingers for balance as if the minor air displacement would help me soar.

  I dared look at him.

  No matter his odd way of hurting me and attempts at robbing my mind, I still feared he’d snap and be like all the rest. He’d been so oddly kind, letting me sleep when he could’ve used me for his pleasure.

  I don’t understand.

  To him, I was nothing more than a possession he was happy playing with. But what if he grew bored? What would he do then?

  Then again, maybe I was wrong. Maybe, he truly didn’t want to rape me and merely wanted to talk. Perhaps, he’d let me rest because, beneath his shady business and contracts of armoured yachts and warheads, he had some decency left.

  He paced my bedroom floor, rearranging his erection unabashedly, but he didn’t look at my bare form or mottled injuries. His eyes never wavered from my face, drinking in the way I watched him, biting his lip harder as I went against all my vows and sucked in an audible breath.

  We didn’t speak.

  Just stared.

  Me standing like some fallen from grace goddess and him like some devil worshipper doing his best to find the light.

  Time stretched on but he didn’t stop pacing. His jaw tensed, his throat worked, and his body twitched as he worked through whatever thoughts he chased.

  The longer we stared, the more awake I became.

  Whatever chemistry existed between us became tainted—different.

  My ideas of using him for freedom seemed ridiculous now I wasn’t so fuzzy headed and afraid.

  He should leave before Master A killed him. This charade has gone on long enough.

  “Fuck.” His head fell back as a low growl escaped his bitten lips. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

  I shivered with a mixture of disgust and enthrallment.

  Did he want me to care? Did he want me to sympathise with his confusion?

  I won’t.

  I was grateful for the small reprieve he’d given but I wouldn’t forget what he’d done before. He’d made me retreat to protect myself. He’d proven he didn’t understand the word no, even if I never verbally said it.

  I huffed, ignoring the urge to cross my arms and cock my chin at the door.

  You can leave whenever you want.

  “Is it screwed up that I find you stunning? Is it fucked up that I don’t care you’re not standing naked because you want to…only because I ordered you to.” He resumed his pacing. “Shit, this was a bad idea.”

  His eyes flew to his blazer thrown over the edge of the bed.

  Huh, he must’ve picked it up. It was on the floor when I’d fallen asleep.

  His face contorted as if battling the desire to get dressed and leave or stripping naked and finishing what he’d threatened.

  If I were any normal girl, I would’ve fallen to the mattress and covered myself from his lewd stare. To answer his dilemma and force him to choose the first option and leave.

  But I wasn’t and I hadn’t been given instruction to fold, so I remained standing, even when he paced away with his trousers and belt jangling, entering my bathroom to splash cold water on his brow.

  With no door hiding him, I continued staring.

  Not that he cared.

  What had he been thinking about while I slept? Whatever it was had put him on edge.

  Had Master A attempted to come in? Did Mr. Prest do something I didn’t know about?

  So many questions with no voice to ask.

  After swishing his face, he wiped back his hair and buckled his belt. His eyes found mine in the
mirror, black with secrets. He didn’t turn away as he dried the final droplets on his hands using the small towel by the sink.

  Entering the bedroom, he sat on the stool that complemented the dressing table I never used. Linking his fingers between his thighs, he leaned forward, planting his feet on the white carpet. “Come here.”

  Rebellion shook its head, but I fought it down.

  These games he played were starting to intrigue me, despite myself. My desire to disappear and avoid him faded, forcing me to remain here with him…for better or for worse.

  “Pim, come.”

  His heavy timbre forced my limbs to move. I leapt off the bed, hiding my wince as my bruised body did its best to cushion such a stupid activity.

  He crooked his finger, summoning me closer. “Don’t be afraid.”

  I didn’t make a sound as I padded naked and barefoot to stand before him.

  My broken hand hung loosely by my side while my right tightened into a fist, forcing myself to let go of my confusion and questions, becoming mute in both thoughts and body.

  Mr. Prest looked up.

  With him sitting down, it gave me a few inches above him. But I didn’t for a second believe he’d given me any control over what would happen next.

  His voice was a seductive whisper. “I won’t force you to do something you don’t like if you promise you won’t vanish on me again. Deal?”

  No.

  Yes.

  Who the hell are you?

  “You’re confused by what we did together, but you didn’t mind it as much as you think you should.”

  Stop putting words in my mouth.

  My toes clutched the carpet as I dropped my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t be able to read me.

  “Seeing as you won’t tell me your thoughts, I’ll tell you mine.” He shifted a little on the stool. “I entered into this deal with Alrik because he has contacts I want. However, in my research, I found he’s a sick fuck who’s killed four other women he claimed were his lovers and has never been prosecuted. He’s also dispatched a few men, but that’s none of your concern. When I dove deeper into the autopsy reports, claims of long-term abuse were prevalent yet still not avenged.”

  His hand flashed out, curling around my hip. “He comes from three generations of money. His great-grandfather was in steel manufacturing, his grandfather gambled the stock market well, and his father died young, leaving all of it to him. He’s swindled most of it away, and I did my part in taking a fair chunk off him. However, I knew nothing of you. He kept you hidden. And fuck if that doesn’t piss me off. In my line of work, I need to know everything there is about a person. Now, I know more than enough just from spending time with you.”

  He looked at where he touched me.

  My skin crawled and heated, utterly confused if it should find some margin of joy from being touched or throw up at being held.

  “I came here tonight wanting to fuck you. But I see now that I’ve got all I can out of Alrik. I won’t screw you over too because as idiotic as it sounds, I feel something. I don’t understand it, and it doesn’t make a fucking difference, but there is something between us.”

  My nostrils flared.

  He felt it, too?

  Holding his palm away from my hip, he hovered a few millimetres from connecting. The longer he hovered there, the deeper the tingle from my flesh to his became.

  “Feel that?” His eyes captured mine. “Because I do. And it makes me so fucking mad because I can’t seem to resist you.” His hand clamped onto my side again, dragging me into the prison of his spread legs. “The moment I saw you and knew what you were, I wanted you. I don’t care that you’re locked here against your will. I don’t care that I should do the right thing and free you.” His fingers dug harder. “Know why?”

  Because you’re just like them.

  “Because I’ve lost everything that made me human a long time ago. I shamed myself. I have no fucking honour. I take and take and take. I steal. And when I steal, I find something worth living for. So you see, silent mouse, I’m not here to be the gentleman. I want my answers, and then I’ll leave and never look back.”

  His fingers bit into a swirling orange bruise from Master A’s shoe. “I want you out of my mind. Out of my head. Do I make myself clear?”

  Wait…you thought about me?

  Those three days since we met, I’d been in his mind like he’d been in mine?

  My lips twitched to think we’d both thought about each other, not with affection or desire, but with hate for different reasons. He hated the smidgen of power I had over his body. I hated him for the end he represented to my life.

  I fought a shiver as he brought me forward with biting pressure, pressing my bare pussy against his tattooed chest. “I’d planned on giving you something in return. So at least I wouldn’t have stolen everything; that I would’ve paid in some small measure. I wanted to give you an orgasm. But I see now…you won’t let me.”

  It’s not that I won’t…it’s that I can’t.

  The expensive material of his trousers tickled my legs as he tightened his knees, keeping me trapped. “You truly are the worst sort of woman, Pimlico.”

  What?

  I jerked back, fighting his grip.

  He chuckled. “Don’t be offended. I meant it as a compliment.”

  You suck at compliments.

  “Want to know why you’re the worst?”

  My forehead furrowed.

  No…

  Okay, fine.

  “You’re the worst because you’re an addiction. You have so many secrets that all I want to do is rip them out. You have secrets even you don’t know. It takes all my fucking willpower not to do what he does and hurt you to pry them free.”

  For all his pompous judgement of Master A’s murdering escapades, he was as bad, maybe worse, than the monster I belonged to.

  That hurt more than I thought.

  Men are all the same.

  “That surprises you, I see.”

  You saw nothing.

  “Are you more surprised that I have the urge to beat you, that I fight the desire to fuck you, but I’m going to walk out that door without laying a finger on you? Or are you more surprised that I’m honest and told you how obsessed I’ve already become with you?”

  His touch spread from my hip to my belly button. Never looking away, he pressed his fingertip into the indent in my stomach, pushing hard, somehow activating a thread of pleasure I never knew existed.

  I hated sex.

  I only knew pain when it came to fucking, and pain did not turn me on. Even the one instance where fumbling fingers and sloppy kisses had conjured any sort of desire was overshadowed by the fact that Scott (my first and only two-week boyfriend) had used me just like any man.

  He might not have sampled my body but he’d used my mind. Copying my answers on his homework, asking me to help him cheat his exams.

  Maybe all of this is my fault, and I just let men use me?

  Not just men.

  My mother had used me as her perfect daughter.

  A killer had used me as a convenient sale.

  Why should Mr. Prest be any different?

  He interrupted my dark thoughts. “The thing is, you’ll never understand me, just as I won’t understand you. I don’t talk much, either. I prefer silence. I find it grants more than takes away.”

  I tilted my chin in disagreement.

  You’re pretty talkative currently.

  His eyelids hooded as his arm wrapped around my back, dragging me forward. His nose skimmed my belly. “You’re right. For some reason, I talk enough for both of us when I’m around you. Let’s just say, I like to talk when in bed. Sex is where the truth comes out, regardless of what we try to hide.”

  We aren’t in bed…

  His excuse made no sense.

  “Fuck, what am I saying?” Launching from the stool, he paced toward the door. “I need to go.”

  Go?!

  But you can’t…not until I fi
gure out how to use you to free me.

  The rigid outline of another erection showed in his slacks. He hadn’t put on his t-shirt and his tattoo was just as impressive with the dragon’s tail flickering with impatience over his liver as it was from the front protecting his heart.

  “Ah fuck, I can’t. Not until I’ve—” Yanking a hand through his hair, he exhaled heavily. “Shit, I shouldn’t—”

  Stopping by the mattress, he shook his head and once again crooked his finger. “Fuck it. Come here. There’s something I need to do.”

  My feet glued to the carpet.

  Do what, exactly?

  Did it matter? I was running out of chances to make him want me enough to steal me. He’d already admitted he wanted me in ways he shouldn’t. I needed gumption to use that addiction against him.

  I took a step forward.

  He smiled, sharp and as dangerous as his dragon. “Good girl. A little closer.”

  I narrowed my eyes, studying him as his hands opened and closed by his thighs. He looked back and forth between me and his blazer, once again guilt and bewilderment on his face.

  Whatever he wanted to do would pain him as well as me.

  What is he afraid of?

  Curiosity was stronger than my fear.

  I tiptoed toward him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Elder

  What the fuck are you doing?

  I turned off my mind.

  I couldn’t control my body or its pounding lust as Pimlico padded closer, but I could switch off the berating questions of my sanity.

  I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do this. While she slept and the desire to take what I wanted snowballed, I’d chained myself with obedience.

  Fucking good my self-control turned out to be.

  I’m allowed one of everything.

  And I wanted one of this.

  So. Fucking. Much.

  But this goes against—

  I shut off my thoughts.

  Even if it was wrong, I’d never have it again. I needed to know what it felt like before I walked out the bloody door and never looked back. After this, I would leave. I wouldn’t wait for Alrik to bulldoze through our sanctuary and steal his slave.

  He could have her.

  She was too much for me.