Rumpel's Prize Page 3

  It wasn’t just her imagination that his keen eyes gleamed even brighter, as if he were putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

  “Just stay away from her.” Daddy grunted. “I’ll do as you said.”

  Rolling her eyes, Shayera decided it was time her parents understood that as much as she loved them and valued what they’d done for her all their lives, the sacrifices they’d made, ultimately it was her life to live and they could no longer protect her from herself.

  “Mother, Father, stop.” She stepped around them, and giving them each an arm tap, she nodded. “It’s time for you to let me go.”

  She didn’t look back at Rumpelstiltskin, because the truth was, whether it’d been him or not, she’d have left. It was time for her to go, to fly away from the nest and be her own woman. Notching her chin higher, she watched as her parents’ emotions washed across their faces.

  Her father was full of anger, worry, grief; her mother showed worry, fear, and then finally acceptance.

  “She’s right, Gerard.” Betty sighed. “We have to let her go.”

  “To him!” Gerard spread his arms wide. “Non, I refuse this.”

  “Daddy, I love you.” Shayera stepped into his arms and kissed his bristled cheek. His impossibly dark blue, almost-black eyes silently pleaded with her that she not do this. Her smile was soft and sad. “But I have to go.”

  It wasn’t that she was a martyr, or even much of an adventure seeker. But more than anything she needed to leave this hamlet, needed to go someplace where no one knew her, knew of her affliction. Where she could just be herself. More than that, if it was in her power to save her father, then why wouldn’t she?

  She touched his cheek and he kissed her palm quickly. “My beautiful wild rose,” he whispered and her throat clogged.

  Eyes starting to water, she quickly dropped her hand and stepped away. She would not cry in front of the broker. She’d not show him any weakness. It was the only way to survive whatever he might have in store for her. Shayera wasn’t fool enough to believe for one moment that Rumpel’s intentions for her were noble, regardless of his claims. But if the choice was her father or her… she’d make the same decision every time.

  The world was better with him in it.

  “Let’s go.” She looked straight ahead.

  Licking his front teeth and sliding his hands into his jean pockets, he quirked a brow. “After you, my dear.”

  Shayera refused to look back at her parents as she walked out of the kitchen and she might have been okay, might have been able to walk away from them without crying, had it not been for Briley hanging on to the stair banister with a forlorn look on his cherubic face.

  Briley appeared to be no older than ten, twelve tops, but the truth was he was much, much older. He was from Earth, just as her mother was. And because of the illness in his brain, Danika had frozen his form so that he would remain a perpetual child all the days of his life. Briley had insisted he wanted to stay a kid forever because kids had more fun, and she’d been so grateful to have him growing up.

  He was her favorite person in all the world.

  “Shay Shay,” he whispered as she brushed her fingers across his forehead. “You’re leaving me.”

  Kneeling so that she was eye level with him, she gave him a cheery and very false grin. “It’s okay, Briley, I’ll be back.”

  His eyes flickered to the man hovering over her shoulder. It was odd how strangely aware of him she was, but then again she’d never been long in the presence of a male who was not her own kin.

  “You better be nice to her,” Briley said, but he wasn’t looking at Shayera.

  Rumpel didn’t answer.

  Wrapping her arms around Briley’s neck, she planted a swift kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back, squirt. I promise.”

  Lips thinning, he shook his head as a lone tear slid down his cheek. Wiping it with the pad of her thumb, she sniffed as her own eyes swam.

  “Let’s go.” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice was like steel wrapped in velvet and made her insides go crazy.

  Twirling, she glared at him. “Give me a second. I’m leaving with you; the least you can do is give me time to say my good-byes.”

  Then turning her back to him, she hugged Briley even tighter. “Never change, Bri. I promise I’ll come back soon.”

  Rubbing his nose in her hair, he nodded as his small fingers clutched at her back. “I’ll wait for you.”

  “In our favorite spot?” She smiled through her tears.

  He nodded. “Every day. Even if it rains.”

  Sighing, realizing she’d pushed Rumpel as far as she probably could without suffering dire consequences, she kissed Briley’s blond head once more and then stood.

  “So.” She sniffed haughtily. “Let’s go.”

  There was a predatory gleam about him, one that caused her knees to want to shake. The man was really disgustingly attractive. It made her angry at him, at herself, at the whole world. Clenching her fists, she shrugged. “Well?”

  “Don’t you want to bring some clothes with you, or personal items?”

  “I don’t intend to stay long, and what I have on me works just fine, thank you.”

  The slight widening of his eyes suggested he was either shocked by her brusque tone or impressed that she dared defy him.

  “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

  Surrounded by the knickknacks of a home she’d known her whole life and guarded by those who loved her more than life itself, she felt brave when she shook her head.

  “No. You’re just a bully, a cruel man who’s so desperate to have his way that he’d strong-arm an innocent man into either killing himself or giving up his only daughter to fulfill some wild caprice. Men like you are a dime a dozen, and I don’t fear you.”

  Rather than roar with fury or laugh in scorn, he inclined his head. “Continue to be as you are, girl, and we’ll get along just fine. My chariot awaits.” Stepping back, he gestured with his arm.

  Shayera felt the heated press of her parents’ eyes on the back of her skull as she followed Rumpel out of the only home she’d ever felt safe in.

  The moment she stepped foot outside, she could feel the eyes of the town, feel the hate and the loathing they directed at her whenever she made an appearance. One by one, bodies came out of their homes and shoppes, openly staring at her with scornful, grimacing faces full of hate.

  “I do not think those hate-filled eyes are directed at me,” Rumpel said with a chuckle. “Which is rather shocking. You must be a very naughty girl, Shayera Caron.”

  Refusing to be baited, she stared straight ahead, ignoring the people as she’d done for the past eleven years. Ahead sat a gleaming metal contraption. Confused as to what it might be, she wondered where his chariot was. When Rumpel straddled the huge beast and sat, then patted the spot behind him, his brow lifted, she realized this was his mode of conveyance.

  “What is this?” She stopped, entranced as the silvery sheen of metal almost seemed to undulate beneath her watchful gaze. And then he did something that caused the beast to roar to life.

  Frightened, her breathing increased as a plume of smoke and fire poured from its rear. For once, the eyes around her weren’t looking at her anymore.

  “This is Genesis, and you must ask for permission to ride her as she’s quite the jealous wench.”

  “What?” She looked up, wondering if he was joking. But though he laughed, he appeared to be genuine. “Ask it for permission? It is metal.”

  “Is it?” He throttled the knob and the conveyance screamed, rumbling throatily and making her ears ring. “Just try to sit on her then.”

  Knowing that not one piece of her hair or skin could touch him, Shayera gathered her wild mane back into a tight knot, slipped on the ever-present gloves she always kept on her and, unsure whether to sit sidesaddle or not, made an attempt to sit. She said made an attempt because the moment her behind landed on the seat, a powerful shove rolled up and before she knew it, she was s
prawled out on the pavement with stars dancing in her vision.

  His laughter tickled her ears, and he reached out a hand to help her. “I told you. And good gods, Genesis. I’ve never seen her shove someone off so violently. She must really hate you.” He patted the gleaming tank of the beast once before again offering her his hand.

  Ignoring his gesture, she held tight to the scrap of dignity she had remaining, determined to ignore the mocking laughter ringing all around, and stood, dusting herself off. Heat crept up her neck and bloomed in her cheeks; the curse of being so fair-complected was that her humiliation was visible for all to see.

  “May I sit on you?” she ground out through clenched teeth, feeling utterly idiotic talking to machinery this way.

  The seat rippled and she glanced up at him.

  His amber eyes danced. “She says no. I do believe she doesn’t like you, Shayera. But then I told you my steed was quite jealous. Cajole her with kindness and perhaps she’ll forgive you for your treatment of her earlier.”

  Nostrils flaring, she snapped. “Is this a joke to you?”

  “I assure you it is not.”

  The evil laughter still ringing out around her made her very much aware that everyone was still outside and watching the show, hoping for her to further humiliate herself.

  Turning her neck, she caught a glimpse of her parents hanging tight to one another, staring at her with love and sadness. She was grateful that neither one of them tried to offer pointless platitudes.

  Briley was also outside, standing beside the rose hedge and giving her a thumbs-up sign.

  “Genesis…” She inhaled deeply. “Please forgive me for breaching your trust earlier. I did not understand the offense I caused by sitting without your consent. May I please ride you?”

  This time the bike purred like a throaty kitten.

  When she turned to Rumpel for translation, he shrugged.

  “It would seem, Carrot, that she’s forgiven you.”

  Glaring at him, she gingerly sat and breathed a sigh when she wasn’t bucked off. “Do not call me carrot,” she snapped.

  “Straddle the seat, woman,” he said, ignoring her, “and hang on tight to my waist.”

  Straddling the seat would mean exposing her legs. Normally she wore leggings beneath this smock, but today she’d been hot and hadn’t dressed as she otherwise would have. She shook her head. “I don’t want to show my legs.”

  Now he didn’t look nearly so amused. “Do it. Or I’ll make you.”

  She swallowed hard. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh believe me, I do. I’ve been around many vain women in my day. You think you’re a special little snowflake, but you are not.”

  Growling, furious with him, but knowing she had no choice because she’d be damned if she let her father kill himself over some powermonger’s stupidity, she yanked her frock up, exposing all of her calves and a fair bit of thigh.

  The laughter within the village ceased instantly, and even Rumpel’s eyes were drawn to her legs. She couldn’t read the expression in his gaze as his eyes traced slowly up the length of her pale, slender legs.

  She arched a brow when he got to her face. “I’ve got my own charms, imp, never forget it.”

  With a tight swallow, he growled but uttered not a word.

  Feeling as though she’d finally gotten the upper hand in something, she kept her eyes straight ahead and with her gloves on, she grabbed his black leather jacket.

  When he went to lean back on her, she jerked. “Don’t get too comfortable against me; touch no part of my skin without clothing on.”

  Twisting around so that their noses very nearly touched, he stared at her as if waiting for her to flinch or back down. But she’d given him warning enough and refused to be cowed.

  “Not a special snowflake.” He lifted his brow, but she had the sense that this time he said it to reaffirm his own belief in the matter.

  “Whatever that means, I’m sure I don’t care.”

  His rumbling laughter melded with the noise of his beast, and with one final parting glance at her family, Shayera turned her face into the wind. She might be riding with the devil himself, but as long as it meant getting away from this place, she was willing to take the risk.

  The way she’d been covered up, Rumpel had expected at the very least to see a disfigured body covered in scars or welts or something equally horrific. But her legs had been long and lean and almost seemed pearlescent, they were so fair. They’d been creamy and shapely and his mouth had watered.

  It wasn’t that Rumpel didn’t enjoy the occasional tumble; a woman’s body was a thing of beauty. Expertly crafted and meant to entice, whether old or nubile, fat or thin, there was beauty to all and he could appreciate the aesthetics of the fairer sex. But that was a superficial appreciation. In all his years, he’d only ever met one who’d not cared to use her wit or beauty to possess that which she’d wanted.

  Caratina had been special, but now she was gone.

  Genesis purred beneath his touch when he shut her engine down. She was his truest companion, and none knew that his conveyance wasn’t merely a machine. In fact, she’d started her life out as a mortal woman. But due to a curse she was now his immortal mechanical steed and he was grateful for her company, especially considering the rest of his existence.

  His great castle was a frightening, almost macabre structure built within the hills of Air Mountain. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and the sky crackled with ozone, making the fine hairs along his neck and arms stand on edge. Gargoyles and gremlins decorated the balustrades, staring down at them with elongated teeth and fearsome eyes.

  He felt Shayera tremble behind him. But she didn’t utter a sound, a fact he appreciated. Normally when one came to his home, there’d be keening and gnashing of teeth. Of course, the fact that he played up his demonic nature might account for the fright.

  His castle was built of the brilliant gray stones mined from the hills of Under. The stones might appear dull and mundane on the surface, but if you could look beyond the initial fear his palace elicited, you would see the perfect symmetry and craftsmanship of each square block, the silvery veins that ran like liquid mercury throughout and almost gleamed with each strike of electric light. Rock dwarves took their job seriously and none were as talented at stonework as they. Though it’d cost him a small fortune to build his castle, it’d been the one time he’d parted with his money gladly.

  “We’re here,” he murmured, lifting himself off the seat and finally undoing the snarled knot he was forced to keep his hair in when he rode.

  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, but she nodded and carefully stood. He was almost sad to see her delicate legs covered by that ghastly burlap sack once more.

  Rumpel smirked as she gazed around in wide-eyed wonder. It was easy enough to deduce the chit hadn’t traveled much in her life. In fact, he’d not be surprised if she’d never once left her tiny hamlet.

  “Come,” he said, gesturing toward the carved doorway that led to his kitchens.

  Clutching her arms to her chest, she followed his lead. The girl stank of fear, but he was impressed that she was at least reining it in.

  The moment they walked off, Genesis roared to life and rode off in a cloud of fog.

  “That thing is alive, isn’t it?”

  It was the first question she’d asked since leaving. He was glad to see she was still among the land of the living.

  “Aye.” He nodded.

  “How?” She brushed a thick red curl out of her eyes.

  Turning around, having no intention of answering any personal questions, he headed straight to his pantry area.

  His larder was stocked with several years’ worth of provisions. Basketfuls of vegetables and fruits and cheeses and nuts were stacked up, and drying meat swung from the rafters. Canned jars of pickled goods and mulled wines lined the shelves, all of it guaranteed through magic to never rot or spoil. If an apocalypse should ever come, he’d
survive it in grand fashion.

  She gasped.

  “Good goddess,” she breathed. “What kind of staff have you got to keep such a store of goods?”

  “Dozens.” He shrugged. “A castle this size demands it, though none of them eat. It is just me. And now you.” He nodded. “If you’re hungry.”

  She licked her lips and the pulse at the base of her throat jumped. “You plan to feed me?”

  He grimaced. “Did you think I brought you here only to starve you, Carrot?”

  Huffing, she ignored his obvious jab and finally gave a stern nod. “I am hungry, thank you.”

  “Well…” He turned to his towering shelf of foods. “We’ve everything—what would you like?”

  “Whatever’s on hand. I’m not picky,” she whispered meekly and his nose curled.

  “Please gods, do not be a meek little mouse. I’ve no tolerance for it and what you’re about to experience will demand you not be. Say what you will, I will not bite.” He flashed his fangs, experiencing a cheap thrill when her ivory skin bloomed brightest pink.

  Licking her front teeth, she ground out, “If you must know, I’m rather partial to stews and crusty bread. Have you any of that?”

  “I’m sure Cook has something.” Pointing out the door that was straight ahead and led to the dining hall, he jerked his chin. “Go sit and wait for me. I’ll return promptly.”

  A stubborn light flared in the depths of her ice-blue eyes. Shayera had fire, which would serve her well. Rumpel was beyond exhausted from his search; in fact, he was weary, though he’d never show it. But if he didn’t find what he was looking for soon, he’d have to resort to drastic, brutal measures. And as much as he enjoyed the reclusive solace his so-thought cruel nature afforded him, he didn’t really enjoy inflicting pain just for the sake of it. However, he’d do whatever he must to see this nightmare come to a quick end.

  “Go,” he said, more forcefully this time.

  With a final clenching of her jaw, she spun on her heel and walked to where he’d indicated.

  “Cook!” he snapped the moment she’d gone, shoving his fingers through his hair.

  Just then a funnel of black smoke apparated from the ground up, undulating and swaying like fog over waters.