Modern Fairy Tale

by Proby, Kristen

  My cock hardened, recognising the conqueror inside her. That was why I couldn’t forget her. Why I had to steal her.

  She was unique.

  My equal.

  Even though I’d never admit such things.

  “Do it, Pimlico. Slaughter him.” My voice ruffed with impatience and greed. “Finish it.”

  Alrik locked his hands in prayer. “Wait! Pim…sweet little Pim. Don’t do this. I love you!”

  She spat another wad of blood, splattering it all over his face. Her loathing told him exactly what she thought of his so-called love.

  Alrik squirmed, his temper once again getting him into trouble. “Why, you little bitch! I’ll whip you so fucking—”

  My fists clenched to punch the bastard. But hot rage settled over Pim, giving me a split-second warning to get out of the damn way.

  Dropping Alrik, I sidestepped to avoid an incorrect aim or ricochet. I jolted as the gun exploded.

  The scent of sulphur hit my nose as the boom of a bullet tore around the white lounge.

  For a second, Alrik stayed swaying where I’d placed him.

  Then, he fell.

  Dazed and confused, he stumbled as his hands came up to hold a newly formed hole in his belly.

  Pim stared. Shock merged with disbelief that she’d finally repaid him with pain.

  He screamed, “Fuck, you shot me! You sho—shot me.”

  She did but it’s not enough.

  It wasn’t a mortal wound.

  I had no intention of leaving here with any chance of him being found by paramedics.

  Taking a step forward, my fingers ached to finish it.

  But once again, Pim surprised me.

  She smiled with a gruesome red grin, pulling the trigger for a second time.

  Boom!

  The shot went into his cheekbone.

  Two holes but still alive.

  She’d missed his brain and heart.

  Alrik screamed harder, no longer stringing concise words together but howling for his life.

  Sobs wracked her body as adrenaline quickly switched to stupefaction.

  She’d pass out any second—I was shocked she hadn’t dropped already—but I didn’t want her to black out without seeing him dead.

  She needed to see that.

  I refused to let him haunt her.

  Moving around the couch, I kneeled beside her and took her trembling hands in mine.

  “Here, I’ll help you.”

  Alrik garbled, “No! Do—don’t!” Blood spewed from his cheek as he did his best to hold both wounds.

  His pleas didn’t register as I guided Pim’s rapidly failing strength and pointed the gun directly at his forehead. “Go ahead, silent mouse.”

  Her body jerked at my nickname for her, but her finger latched onto the trigger for a third time.

  Bang!

  Thrice was the charm.

  There were no screams, no begs—nothing but throbbing silence and the steady drip, drip, drip of her blood raining on the couch.

  Alrik turned from rapist to corpse, doing the world a favour by no longer breathing.

  She didn’t gloat over her kill.

  She didn’t cry or question.

  And I didn’t let her wallow in what she’d done.

  I had more important things to worry about—not about police or witnesses or other trivial things. No, much more important than that.

  The woman I’d come to claim was dying.

  I couldn’t permit that until I’d taken what I needed.

  Almost as if on cue, Pim dropped the gun by Alrik’s cadaver, toppling spent and fading over the settee.

  “Shit.” I caught her, bundling her into my arms and climbing from the furniture.

  Her skin no longer held pigment, looking blue and bloodless as I strode from the room. I gave no heed to the three men turning the lounge into a lake of gore. I only focused on the tiny but formidable woman in my embrace.

  “Stay with me, Pim. I’ve got you.”

  She didn’t respond as I marched through her prison and carried her over the threshold, stealing her from the white mansion into freedom.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Pimlico

  It hurt.

  So much.

  It was all I could think about. The only thing I could focus on.

  I washed in and out of blackness.

  My body wanted to sink and sink…to shut out the pain. But my willpower had waited too damn long for this.

  He’s dead.

  I killed him!

  I couldn’t sleep now.

  I’m free!

  But, oh my God, the agony.

  Mr. Prest’s arms around me couldn’t compete with the excruciating stinging of my tongue. Fresh air after two years of being locked away went unnoticed. The world and everyone in it were nothing as I lived in a torturous hell of warm oozing blood choking me and more pain than I thought possible.

  I couldn’t understand what was going on.

  I was outside!

  Away from the white mansion for the first time since Master A outbid my one million to buy myself.

  The crunch of pebbles beneath Mr. Prest’s shoes were muffled. The view of Master A’s house perched high on the cliff with ultimate sea views was hazy. I wanted to kiss the concrete of the driveway and dance in the soil where bright green bushes slept.

  The breeze. The salt. The screech of seabirds. So much chaos after so much silence.

  And I was too swaddled in agony to enjoy it.

  He’s dead.

  Darryl, too.

  Tony.

  All dead.

  Mr. Prest did what I’d dreamed of for years.

  Even that knowledge was muted and not quite real. I needed my tongue to stop drowning me in blood, so I could focus on this new reality.

  I just witnessed a murder. A gruesome, awful murder.

  I just committed murder. A cold-blooded revengeful kill.

  And I rejoiced!

  I didn’t suffer sadness for the deaths they endured. It was their karma. If anything, they didn’t endure enough. However, I couldn’t figure out what came next. Would Mr. Prest slay me, too? Why had he returned? What plans did he have for me to pay him back for his rescue?

  Should I run, scream, beg?

  I couldn’t do any of those things with my body quickly dying, but I needed to know, to prepare…what is my new fate?

  Along with a constant wash of copper, I struggled to breathe. My tongue had swollen to the size of a cruise liner. It didn’t listen to my commands to move. It merely sat, partially severed and agonising, distracting me from everything.

  Mr. Prest carried me to his car, ignoring the shocked look from a man with dark hair standing motionless, his eyes dancing up and down the driveway as if expecting law enforcement to appear at any moment.

  “Sir…”

  “No questions.” Mr. Prest waited until the man opened the vehicle then jumped inside. He didn’t speak again as he manhandled me, sitting down all while keeping me in his arms. My blood decorated his cheekbone where he’d smeared it as war paint, daubing him as the devil I suspected while fresh crimson soaked like oil into his clothing.

  I shivered from pain and cold.

  Understanding without asking, Mr. Prest slid me across the black leather (no longer white and white and more white) and wrenched off his blazer. Draping it around me, he tucked in my arms, not caring my blood saturated his clothes and car.

  How much had I lost?

  How much could I afford to lose before I died?

  Already, I was light headed and wispy. My tongue continued to swell, blocking ability to swallow.

  For so long, I’d begged for death.

  And now that I was only heartbeats away from it, I didn’t want to go.

  I was free.

  I was in a world of colour rather than monochrome.

  I don’t want to die.

  If I wasn’t so confused and wracked with pain, I might’ve cared that
this rescuer, this dark angel, saw me drooling and glassy eyed. He watched me fade in and out of unconsciousness.

  “Drive, Selix.”

  The muffled sound of a door closing happened a nanosecond before the car tore off with tyres screaming.

  “Where to, sir?”

  “Phantom. Call ahead. Tell Michaels to be ready.”

  “Right.”

  The sliding partition rose as Mr. Prest dragged my woozy form back into his arms. He kept me tight, acting as a seat-belt as the vehicle soared around corners and squealed down roads I’d never seen before.

  Breathing hard, he ran a death-dirty hand over his face, smearing blood over his brow and chin.

  I huddled in his embrace, trying to turn invisible all while gagging on flowing metallic.

  Oh, God, please let the pain stop.

  Please, don’t let me die.

  Not now.

  Mr. Prest looked down, catching my out of focus vision.

  Close your eyes.

  You’re safer that way.

  It was a stupid trick, pretending he couldn’t reach me when I couldn’t see him. But my loss of blood and strange vaporous agony gave whimsical fancy solid reasoning.

  Curling tighter in his arms, my skin prickled with intensity as Mr. Prest bowed his head, his hot breath skating over my bloody face. For the longest time, he sat there, still and silent, waiting for me to open my eyes.

  But I couldn’t.

  I can’t.

  I wished I was blind as well as mute. Deaf too, so I would never hear the squelching sound of my tongue being cut or the crunching of bones as he threw Master A against the kitchen bench.

  Finally, his patience ran out. Taking my chin, he guided my face upward.

  I was weak and queasy and had no choice, but I obeyed because I’d just witnessed what happened to those who angered him. He killed so quickly, so easily—it was nothing to him.

  I didn’t want to be nothing.

  I wanted to remain in his good graces. There, I might find a kind word or gentle stroke. I didn’t want more violence. I’d had enough to last me a lifetime.

  Mr. Prest cupped my jaw, his fingers slipping in sticky blood. “He deserved to die for what he did.”

  I agree.

  He deserved to die in a hundred ways.

  I didn’t move. No nod, no twitch. Nothing.

  He frowned. “I know you understand. What are you afraid of? You’re safe now.”

  Afraid?

  I’m afraid of you.

  I don’t know what’s worse, you or death. And I don’t know how to get answers before it’s too late.

  My eyelids fluttered as icy blackness stole over me, blanketing everything for a moment. Was that death? Or merely shock?

  I was vaguely aware of Mr. Prest growling at his chauffeur, “Drive faster, Selix.”

  The car lurched at his command, engine snarling.

  A few minutes passed.

  I danced between awake and unconscious.

  His voice dragged me back; his question made me open my eyes.

  “Are you grateful? That I saved you?”

  Tired, so, so tired.

  I stared.

  No.

  Yes.

  Thank you.

  He stared back, unable to stop waiting for an answer that would never come. Finally, he huffed. “Well, you shouldn’t be.”

  My heart tap-danced.

  The car bounced over a bump, pressing our bodies closer. His fingers dropped from my jaw to lash around my floppy wrist forming a new bridle, a new master, a new life in servitude. “I’m not the hero in this story, Pimlico. I’m another villain. You’d do best to remember that.”

  Looking down at the mess I’d made and the shackles of his touch, my eyes fell on the dollar bill he’d given me. I’d somehow managed to hold it while my tongue was severed and three lives were taken.

  He noticed too, stealing it from my tight grip. The green money now resembled a macabre tie-die with threads of dirty crimson. “You found my origami.”

  It’s mine.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the one thing I had left.

  I didn’t care that it was money. I only cared that it was a gift and I wanted it more than anything.

  Sensing I needed it back like a child needed its favourite toy for comfort, he opened his palm.

  I snatched it.

  “It’s yours. I’ll fold you another when we’re home.”

  Home.

  Where was home?

  What was Phantom?

  Dark clouds stuffed my head with cotton wool and thunder storms. My eyelids drooped as I skidded into blackness again. However, as my vision stuttered and I clung to lucidity, something flashed white inside the breast pocket of the jacket I wore.

  Instantly, the fog lifted.

  I know that corner.

  My eyes shot to Mr. Prest.

  You did take them.

  My letters to No One.

  How dare you!

  Tucking bloody hair behind my ear, he smiled. “Yes, I stole them. But now, I’ve stolen you, so you can have them back.”

  Did you read them?

  Did you laugh at them?

  Is that why you returned—because you felt sorry for me?

  I shuddered, liking and loathing him. Grateful and confused. Shocked and shivering.

  His smile was rough. “You have every right to look at me like that. I took something you treasured but I won’t apologise.” His legs bunched beneath me. “I won’t apologise because I’ve just taken you and that is not a good thing.”

  I sucked in a breath, choking on blood.

  Why?

  Why is it not good?

  He’d rescued me. I was alive because of him. If he wanted me dead, he didn’t have to return.

  His voice hushed to a whisper as he cupped my cheek. “I will say I’m sorry for one thing.”

  I trembled as his thumb stroked me sweetly.

  “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. I’m sorry for what I am. You’re worth pennies, but I’ll make you worth fucking millions. However, what I expect in return will be unpayable.”

  His face softened just a little, unable hide the ferocity he wielded. The sleekness he harnessed. The threats he promised. “We’re leaving this place and you’ll never be found. You belong to me.”

  His lips touched mine, smearing my blood between us. “Oh, and seeing as you’re mine now, you might as well call me Elder.”

  * * *

  Thank you for reading PENNIES!

  Read more about Elder and Pim’s journey together in DOLLARS.

  “I should never have asked for a night with you. This would never have happened if I’d had more willpower.”

  Once upon a time, I was a mute captive who wished for death.

  Now, I’m stowed away on a yacht.

  Saved and taken, the thief who stole me demands my voice, my past, my everything.

  I won’t give in.

  But Elder refuses to take no for an answer.

  He pushes and cajoles, slowly discovering who I am. Until I find out he plays the cello to escape his demons, all while his music conjures mine.

  He’s rich, I’m bankrupt.

  I’m mute by choice, he’s curious by nature.

  So many reasons why we can never work.

  But that doesn’t stop our connection, our passion.

  Until one night, he ruins everything.

  And our relationship becomes twisted and full of sin.

  ONE CLICK DOLLARS NOW >

  Thank you for reading MODERN FAIRY TALE, the limited-time boxed set of bestselling romance! Sign up to receive the hottest NEW book boyfriends in your inbox every week here: http://bit.ly/2STmWoh

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbid
den without the express written permission of the author.

  Kissing Jenna © 2018 by Kristen Proby

  American Queen © 2016 by Sierra Simone

  Hold You Against Me © 2016 by Skye Warren

  Cheeky Royal © 2018 by Nana Malone

  Unconditional © 2014 by Lexi Blake

  Just Desserts © 2013 by Marquita Valentine

  The Prince © 2016 by Jillian Dodd

  To See You © 2016 by Rachel Blaufeld

  The Player © 2015 by Denise Grover Swank

  Slow Burn © 2017 by J. H. Croix

  Merciless © 2018 by Willow Winters

  Pennies © 2016 by Pepper Winters

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