A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(20)

“Why would someone wander in here and tell you? We didn’t even know you turned into a man. Or that anyone could still shift.”

“None of the other villages have it.”

“We are confined to the village, genius. I created the elixir. How would I share it with anyone beyond our borders? Mental telepathy?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I suppose you have a better theory. What did you think we came in here for, a dare? To stuff our pillows with extra fluff? Maybe a lovely little fragrance pot for the corner of our—”

He bristled again, and blistering heat crunched down on me. The consuming need to shut up washed over me.

“We struck a bargain,” he said. “The past grievances of your village and your brother are erased. I will show them no wrath. Come now. You must pay for your sins.”

The wind went out of me. I looked down at the everlass plants one last time as tears clouded my vision. I nodded, to myself mostly, and picked my way forward.

He waited beyond the birch, tall and stoic against the dark wood. I faced him with head held high.

“Do you want your weapons?” he asked.

I huffed. “Would they do any good?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

I shrugged indifferently and collected them, wiping the blade of the pocketknife and putting it back in my pajama pocket, then hefting the dagger.

“You could’ve been incredible one day, Finley,” he said.

The enormous beast emerged, and he lunged for me.

I swung my dagger on instinct, driven purely by fear. It clanged off his armored face. His glowing golden eyes blinked shut and then his teeth closed against my body.





5





I didn’t have the breath to scream. The dull points of well-worn teeth pinched me between them as he ran, crashing through the trees. Branches thwapped my face, hard enough to sting but not to do lasting damage. If he let go, I’d have a long way to fall before I went splat. That was the only reason I didn’t try to swing my dagger around and stick him in the eye or nostril.

We smashed through yet another wall of foliage, and his clawed feet crunched on the brittle grass beyond it, probably long since dead. Vines and thorns twisted through a gazebo off to the left, the paint peeling and the skillful woodwork splintered and broken. Arching, I could just see a grand entrance to what must be the royal castle.

He stopped before the grungy and cracked marble staircase and let me go.

I screamed as I plummeted toward the ground.

Before I hit, the large shape of the beast quickly reduced down to the man, and his arms snatched me from the air. My dagger clanged against the ground, now out of reach, and he crowded me to his chest as he climbed the steps.

I had expected the smell of sweat and dirt and body odor but was instead surprised by a fresh, light, almost balmy smell of pine and lilac with a hint of honeysuckle. It was the same scent from the wood earlier, when all my senses had gone on high alert for a moment, and it was absolutely divine. It called up an image of a windswept mountain top overlooking a crystalline lake with a mirrored surface. It spoke of comfort and peace and familiarity, feelings so at odds with the moment and this horrible place that I froze as he barged through the doors into an empty foyer. Marble columns rose around us, and the ground had been cleaned to a glossy shine.

“Put me down,” I ground out, trying to wriggle out of his arms.

He didn’t budge, his hold too strong for me to break. Two staircases on either side of the cavernous space curved up to a landing above. He took a left, bypassing the stairs, and walked deeper into the castle, toward a set of closed double doors painted white. A dull thump vibrated through the air, pierced with occasional screams of mirth.

He kicked in the doors. Light was the first thing to hit me, glaring from what must’ve been hundreds of candles spread around the room and stuck in the crystal chandelier where light bulbs should go. I threw up my hand to cover my face as my captor walked forward. Next came the cacophony. Bawdy laughter and loud music filled the space. Frenzied movement accompanied a plethora of colors, none of them subdued. Feathers waved, and a string of what looked like beads flew across the air. Bodies gyrated to the music that must be powered by magic in some way.

Pulling my arm away, I took in more detail.

It was some kind of masquerade party. One woman wore nothing but a black feathered mask and robe. Her lips were scarlet, and her body was painted in elaborate designs, curling around her bare nipples and smeared on the inside of her thighs.

A man on the other side of the room wore a large headdress in bright fuchsia and yellow, jewels dotting the forehead and across the bridge of his nose. A large red robe draped down his front, the tie loosely knotted around his lower chest and the rest completely open. A metal ring surrounded his cock and balls, and red lines had been painted on each side of his erect penis.

Directly in front of us, two women writhed as they danced, each completely naked except for their masks, one with her fingers in the other’s mouth, and the other with her fingers in the first’s pussy.

My gaze darted to an orgy of all men in the back. It was some sort of train, with four men attached with cocks in asses and in perfect sync, ramming forward and pulling back in opposites so they all had friction. Their timing was impeccable. One premature thrust and the whole party would disentangle.