Pay Me Not in Gold

PAY ME NOT IN GOLD

by EV Whyte

© 2022-2023

 
ISBN Novellea Edition: 978-1-989016-77-0

Chapter 1

TORY

 
I leaned forward, eyes fastened on the woman in the scene unfolding in another world. The light from the scrying glass mimicked the glow my skin had before fate robbed me. I lost much over the centuries. I refused to lose Miss Mainstrom as well.

Come on!

White-knuckled, I gripped the edge of the glass as the slouched male figure appeared in the gloaming behind her, hands in pockets and hood pulled low over his face. The man’s long legs ate the distance between him and Miss Mainstrom until he was right behind her. Digging in her oversized purse, she didn’t notice her impending demise.

Her pursuer tapped her left shoulder. Reddish bronze hair flying, Miss Mainstrom turned to look as he passed her on the opposite side.

At last, she saw her death. It barreled toward her on eighteen wheels, an accident no one could foresee or avoid. A strap broke free, sending the load of metal pipes swinging across the sidewalk as the transport took the corner too sharp. Miss Mainstrom scrambled backward as the end of the pipes swept past her face and the truck barreled on.

I sighed, head bowed. Safe.

“Ohmygod! Thank you!” Her alto voice shook, drawing my attention back to the glass.

Miss Mainstrom scanned the street for her savior, stumbling in the direction my hooded pawn fled. A determined look locked into place and she hurried after him. The hunted had become the hunter as Miss Mainstrom chased him down the block and around the corner.

Damn her tenacity.

“Lose her,” I growled.

Miss Mainstrom stopped, confused. Her gaze raked the storefronts, then she was in motion again, peering into windows. She stumbled to a halt in the mouth of the first alley. Her prey stood with his back to her, fumbling with the palm-sized disk I gave him.

No. I watched in dismay as she reached for him.

“Thank you for—”

She touched his shoulder. He looked back at her, shocked and horrified.

I turned my face away from the flare of light. By the time I looked back, they were no longer in the alley.

The glass went dark, reflecting the liquid gold of my eyes for a heartbeat before a burst of light deposited the couple in the middle of my office.

RAMONA

 
The dank smell of trash and hot asphalt faded, replaced with the warm scent of cinnamon and brown sugar. Odd. My vision cleared. The alley was gone and I stood in a large, brightly lit office.

The burly man in the hoodie stood in front of me. His disk with the coiled snake insignia was snapped in two. A dark chunk of hair spilled from under his hood.

“Where are we?” I asked.

The look of terror in his brown eyes was at odds with his massive size. Did he think I was going to bite?

“His world.”

Not my world. His. Too much to unravel there.

“Take me back,” I demanded. He could explain what happened once I was back where I belonged.

He rubbed at his arm, wincing in pain. “Can’t.”

I frowned at his stilted replies. “Why not?”

The broken disk shimmered and disappeared. The man licked his lips nervously, eyes drifting over my shoulder.

“Because,” a raspy voice said, “if he didn’t get the job done in one trip, there wouldn’t be a second.”

I turned toward the speaker, more curious than frightened. The guy with the sexy voice seemed to have answers and a vocabulary to give them.

A gold dusted man sat behind a large wood desk emblazoned with the same coiled snake. Eyes like melted gold drank me in as deeply as I devoured the sight of him.

High cheekbones, round lips, and strong chin. So handsome my chest ached. I held my ground despite the urge to step away from him.

A glowing white tattoo flowed from the back of his hands, up his corded forearms, and disappeared under the edge of the folded cuffs. Was it writing or an intricate pattern?

Did they creep across his shoulders? His partly unbuttoned shirt gave me a delicious view of his smooth collarbone, but not enough of his chest to tell if the tattoos continued there.

I tried to focus on the designs, but they slithered as if shy of my attention. If only I could follow where they led, I might convince them to give up their secrets.

Noticing where I was staring, the man hastily buttoned his shirt. I sucked back a pout. This man was all manner of interesting and he was already keeping secrets.

“I paid your fee.” My savior’s voice grated through clenched teeth as he gripped his forearms. His terror hadn’t been directed at me. Something about the gorgeous creature at the desk terrified him.

Golden Boy’s eyes snapped to the other man, narrowing. Danger glittered in those strange eyes. “My fee was to do the job without being seen or caught.”

Job? Saving me was a job. Why?

My savior’s hands clenched into beefy fists. “That’s not fair!”

“Fair, Woodsman Hans? You want full benefit for a botched job and dare call me unfair?”

Woodsman Hans took a step forward, fist raised. “You twisted little gimp!”

I stepped away from the men with a squawk of protest, but the blow never fell. With a slight movement of Golden Boy’s forefinger, Woodsman Hans froze in place.

Magic! I looked closer. He wasn’t dusted in gold. His skin actually had a golden hue. He’s beautiful. Too beautiful. The tips of sloped ears poked from straw blond hair. Elf?

“You dare insult me?” The golden elf stalked around his desk to stand nose-to-nose with Woodsman Hans. Despite the slight drag of his right leg, he moved like someone used to commanding respect.

“You called me, begged for my help to save your precious Lina and her red-hooded granddaughter. You had one simple task. Not only did you let her catch you, but you dragged her into my world.” The elf leaned forward, husky voice reduced to a hiss. “I should let them both die for your incompetence.”

Woodsman Hans shrank into his hoodie, anger replaced with horror and regret. His fear-filled eyes rolled toward me, pleading. What did he expect me to do?

Golden Boy’s gaze slid toward me, as if he’d forgotten I was there. He stepped away from the cowering hulk and tugged the hem of his shirt, struggling for composure.

“To your great fortune, Woodsman Hans, I have a policy against harming children.” A large ax appeared in his slender hand. “This will destroy the beast, but you will only be able to save one of them. The other made her choice and pays the consequences. The child will live if you get to her in time.”

He thrust the ax into the woodsman’s hand, freeing him from the spell. “Hurry now.”

Woodsman Hans’s mouth opened, perhaps in protest or plea, but he vanished before his words escaped.

Golden Boy stared at the spot the other man had been. A muscle in his jaw twitched with repressed fury. The tattoo on his forearm flared and faded until his skin was blank.

My thumb flicked across the nail of my ring finger in a rapid staccato. That was quite the display of power. Unintentional, but impressive nonetheless. What could he do if he wanted to show off?

“Thank you.”

He waved away my gratitude, avoiding my gaze.

“I would have died.”

He disguised his flinch with an uncomfortable shrug. Why did he care if I became gruesome sidewalk art? More interestingly, why didn’t he rescue me himself?

A familiar cotton candy sunset image caught my eye. A copy of my romantic thriller sat atop the pale wood of his desk. He noticed where I was looking and shifted to hide the book from sight.

The plot thickens.

“That was generous of you.” I motioned to where Woodsman Hans had stood.

His look of surprise softened the edges anger had etched into his face. “Not many would agree.”

“Not many have the integrity to keep a deal.”

He snorted. “That’s what contracts are for.”

“To make you follow through, or them?”

His eyebrow twitched. “Both.”

Hm. What did that say about him? Duplicitous or cautious?

I pointed at his arm. “Is that what that was? A contract?”

“Yes.” He jerked his cuff down and muttered. “You’re cleverer than I expected.”

I got that a lot.

“Not just a pretty pair of boobs.”

His fingers froze mid-buttoning.

“Breasts only get you so far. Charm slightly further, but a person with a working brain . . .”

His eyes drifted to my chest.

I bit back a smirk. Yeah. I got that a lot, too.

“Working brain?” I prompted.

He tore his gaze away from me and finished buttoning his cuffs. A blush turned his cheeks an adorable rose gold. He waved a hand toward the far end of the desk and a large bowl of fruit appeared. Grapes, apples, pears, oranges, and cherries.

“You must be hungry.”

I snagged my bottom lip between my incisors. I had a late dinner, but this was a good opportunity for research.

“Is the food safe to eat?”

Confusion furrowed his brow. “Safe?”

“You’re fairy?”

“Fae,” he replied, grudgingly.

Noted. I tried to recall every detail I’d read about Fae Folk and being in their world.

“You’re taking this remarkably well,” he observed.

“I write fantasy and paranormal stories for a living.”

He shifted nervously, fingers exploring behind him as he pushed my book further out of sight. His effort was pointless. I could see it reflected in the large mirror on his desk.

“You take a lot of liberties with them.”

Ah-ha! The book on his desk wasn’t one of my paranormal romances. He’d read more than just that one.

I laced my fingers together with a teasing smile. “Is that a critique?”

He folded his arms and looked at the fruit bowl pointedly. “You may eat without being adversely affected or compelled to remain here. But you will be safer if you do stay.”

“Safer?” Visions of gremlins, redcaps, and bogarts capered through my mind.

His mouth tightened until those round lips flat lined. “Not everyone is fond of humans. There are things here more frightening than the little horrors your simple minds invent to titillate each other.”

My eyebrows shot up and I sucked in my cheeks. “‘Simple minds’. Wow. You’re a dick.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but gave another shrug instead. “I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”

“I bet.” I locked eyes with him.

“You haven’t eaten.”

I crossed my arms in imitation of his pose. “I don’t know if I can trust you. You haven’t told me your name, and you did have me kidnapped.”

He gaped and stood, arms falling to his sides. “I did no such thing.”
 
"Not only did you let her catch you, but you’ve dragged her from her own world."
 
Okay, that wasn’t fair, but I found the weak spot I suspected from his interaction with Hans. Call him a dick and he didn’t deny it, but his character was beyond question. Narcissist, or someone who had to constantly fight to prove their integrity? The guy did keep a mirror on his desk . . .

Why do I care? Granted, this was a once in a lifetime chance to visit another realm with the most interesting fan I’d met, but the reality of nearly dying and being dragged to fairyland was setting in.

“So you’ll send me home now?”

His chin dropped. “No.”

Creepy stalker alert!

Self-preservation instincts belatedly kicked in and I shuffled toward the room’s only door.

Can I outrun him and find an exit before . . .?

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t in good enough shape to outrun a napping tortoise, but I could put up a good fight . . . If he didn’t use his magic. Or both hands. Or unbutton his shirt again.

Crap.

His eyes widened and he raised his hands.

“I can if you want, Miss Mainstrom. I meant . . .” He glanced at the door. “Names have power.”

“I know.” I changed direction, inching toward a Greco-Romanesque bust next to the plush visitor’s chair.

“You can call me Tory.”

“Hi, Tory. You gonna send me home?”

“If you’re willing to make a deal.”

I lunged for the bust and hoisted it like a baseball bat. Or at least, I meant to.

The gray stone was heavy and I didn’t have a clue how to properly hold a bat. A fact which never ceased to annoy my ex. I widened my stance and tried to look menacing despite the fine layer of fear sweat forming.

“Send me home and I won’t cave your pretty face in. Deal?”

To my irritation, Tory smiled like I was a cute kitten meme. Rude!

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Mainstrom. As long as you’re in my home, you’re under my protection. We take the Hospitality Law seriously here.”

He motioned for me to lower the bust. My fingers curled around it tighter.

“Okay,” he soothed. “I understand trust issues.”

I shuffled toward the door again.

“I’m not permitted to use my magic for my own gain or help others without receiving payment,” Tory explained. “Reciprocity. How about an agreement?”

The bust slipped in my clammy grasp and my wrist ached from its weight. “What kind of agreement?”

“I’ll make sure you are safe and your every desire is met while you’re in my home. No harm will come to you. Nothing will happen to you against your will while you’re under my protection. In exchange, you agree not to run away or leave my home without me.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re sending me home.” The muscles in my arms and shoulders screamed for me to drop the bust. I desperately wanted to, but I wasn’t keen on playing a captive Beauty, even if my books were stocking his library.

“Do you really want to leave already?” The pleading tone of his question dug into my magic-loving heart. When would I ever have a second chance to visit another realm?

“For how long?”

“Until you decide to renegotiate our contract.”

“Doesn’t time work differently here? Years could pass. Centuries.”

He gave a humble smile. “I’m somewhat powerful. I can return you to the exact moment you left.”

I lowered the bust. Tory shuffled toward me, slowly raising his hands to take it. I sighed with relief and shook my arms.

“Anytime I want?”

“Anytime, as long as there’s payment.”

“I don’t have money on me.”

“Pay me not in gold, Miss Mainstrom.” The bust shimmered between his hands, changing from grey stone to gold, then back again. “I have no need for money, gold, nor gems.”

The bitter taste of envy filled me. ‘Starving artist’ was a phase of my life which lingered too close to the present. What was it like to never have to worry about money?

“What kind of payment are we talking about?”

“Only what you’re willing to pay. Your virtue is safe.”

Virtue? I blushed. Why would he—?

Oh, right. I wrote steamy romance for a living. Of course his mind would go there.

“Do we have an agreement?” he asked eagerly.

“I don’t like the part about not being able to leave without you.”

“It’s for your protection.”

“It’s isolation and captivity.”

Tory’s lips pressed together, nostrils flaring. I dinged his honor again, but he needed to deal with it. He was a stranger and needed to earn my trust.

“I will grant you a mark to keep you safe wherever you go. No one would dare harm you.” His steely tone and flat glare send shivers up my spine. “Safety. Your needs met. You will stay here as my guest, free to come and go from my home as you please. I ask you use the same caution you’re showing me with everyone you meet, and until you know this world and its customs, please let me accompany you. Are the terms acceptable?”

More promising than my marital vows, but not acceptable quite yet. Trust issues didn’t create themselves, and almost every fairytale warned of Fae deceptions.

“You will be completely honest with me at all times.” My voice sounded tiny. I forced myself to look him in the eye again. The swirling gold of his irises were unsettling, but I needed to do this. “No lies, half-truths, lies of omission, illusions, manipulations, or deception from others on your behalf.”

“Nothing but the truth between us,” he granted. The declaration went both ways, but there was safety in honesty. It might hurt at times, but you always knew where you stood.

TORY

 
I couldn’t read the look on Miss Mainstrom’s face and I needed her clear consent for the agreement. “Do you accept the terms?”
Fwip-fwip-fwip. Her fingers flicked rapidly, nails against thumb as she debated. Finally she stilled, shoulders squaring and chin coming up. “Yes.”

My heart surged with joy. “Accepted.”

I swiped my palm over her wrist, leaving the mark of a golden snake wrapped around it. She glanced at the emblem on my desk, making the connection. My mark. Her freedom. As promised.

I hissed as the tattoo of our agreement blazed from the spot over my heart up the side of my neck to my ear. The stupid things always appeared somewhere connected to the type of agreement.

With Hans, the contract required might and physical action, and appeared on my arm. For Miss Mainstrom, desire and honesty were involved. Heart, throat, and ear. Mercifully, she hadn’t asked me to be faithful to her. One day I’d make that promise to someone, but it would be worth the pain.

As my discomfort faded, Miss Mainstrom yelped and fanned her neck uselessly as she moved to the scrying glass.

“Matching set,” she murmured, staring at her white tattoo.

I summoned a glass of cool water and held it out to her. Miss Mainstrom gaped, pretty hazel eyes riveted on the glass as my golden magic shimmied across the surface.

“How did you know?”

“Your every desire, as per our agreement.”

“I gave you permission to read my mind?”

“Your heart,” I corrected quietly. I didn’t know if I had the courage to read her mind, but her heart was a special place to see. “One of my gifts is the ability to see the desires of a person’s heart. After your near-death scare and the fright of captivity, you desperately want a drink.”

“Water?”

“You don’t trust me enough to drink anything else right now, but I’m bound to keep you safe. Even from me.”
Her hand shook as she took the glass, avoiding my gaze. I wanted to do that ‘grazing fingers’ thing from romance stories, but held myself in check.

Miss Mainstrom drank in long, deep swallows. My fingers drifted to the collar of my shirt, hiding the part she stared at earlier.
Once the shining second son of the Fae’s royal couple, my selfish desires cost me the melodic voice and ethereal beauty which marked me as High Fae. I didn’t begrudge my brother the throne, but the loss of my glory brought the loss of respect.

They’d called me Ratchet for so long, most people forgot my real name. The names humans gave me in their tales were variations, with Rumpelstiltskin currently popular.

No. I wouldn’t dare graze the beautiful fingers which wrote my favorite tales. Miss Mainstrom wrote stories about love, intimacy, and real men. I wouldn’t burden her with my deformed body or the racket which spewed from my throat when I spoke.

“Thank you.” She held out the empty glass. I made it disappear with a small wave.

Now what? Miss Mainstrom still hadn’t eaten and — I checked her heart — she didn’t currently want for anything. There wasn’t protocol for what to do when you accidentally kidnap your favorite author.

She did agree to stay. Which made her an official guest. Etiquette dictated she needed a place to sleep and work.
I squeezed my hands together. I never had guests, with the exception of the week Puck got so drunk he stumbled here instead of the palace. But that didn’t count. Puck slept the entire week and left with as much notice as he’d arrived.

Silence stretched like gooey taffy and Miss Mainstrom peered around the room, restless.

“You probably want to see where you’ll be staying.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

I motioned her toward the door. Tension melted from her as she opened it, free at last from the office.
The corridor beyond wasn’t much to look at. Unlike my brother’s palace, I had no silver gilding or live butterflies adorning my home. Of course, I also didn’t have the staff to polish all that silver or clean discarded cocoons and insect carcasses. Considering my preference for solitude, it was a fair trade.

What I did have was clean simplicity with warm colors and touches of whimsy in the form of cascading air plants and veins of crystals running through the walls. I even had a geode wall in the dining room. A bit of silliness I indulged in, but I enjoyed watching the light twinkle along the crystal surfaces while I ate.

Miss Mainstrom took in everything, as if committing it to memory. I smiled to myself, leading her to the awaiting room. Her fingers reached for the burnished bronze trim then hesitated.

“Is there anyone you need to contact so they don’t worry?” I asked, breaking her concentration. “I can connect your phone to your world.”

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered darkly as we stopped at the door to her room. “No, thank you,” she replied louder. “The only one who will miss me is my cat.” She frowned in distress. “Oh, my cat.”

Her heart spoke boldly on that issue. A small expenditure of magic solved the problem.

I pushed the door open with a flourish and stepped aside to let her enter. I patterned the room after her home’s aqua colors. Despite my temptation to create a sprawling suite with every luxury, I decided to personalize her space.

Miss Mainstrom’s happy gasp was rapturous. “It’s mine.”

“Yes.”

She beamed with big, shimmering eyes. “It’s mine.”

I nodded with an amused smile. Her delight was nearly blinding as she drifted through the room. It was indeed hers. Most of it anyway. Her bed and favorite chair. Her computer and office plant. Her clothing and toiletries. Her—

“Mrrrrooow!”

—cat.

“Solomon!”

She scooped the brown and black tabby into her arms, raining kisses between his ears until he squawked in protest.

“Thank you, Tory.”

“My pleasure, Miss Mainstrom.” Gods, I could bask in her pure glow.

Solomon jumped from her arms. “Ramona.”

“Ramona.” My heart pressed against my ribs with joy. “I want you to be comfortable and feel at home.”
She stopped in front of the veiled patio doors, glancing at me for permission. She didn’t need it, but I nodded encouragingly.
Vibrating with excitement, she stepped into the courtyard garden. A two person tree swing hung from the towering maple in the middle of the yard. Its thick branches and fluttering leaves offered the perfect amount of shade.

White and yellow Oxeye, black centered Susans, and fiery Gerbera daisies bordered the edge of the yard while lavender Swan River and pink painted daisies lined the walk. Bumblebees visited the flowers, making them droop under their weight.
Ramona gave them a cursory glance, drawn to the small fountain. She stared at the James Browne style fawn at its center, eyes shining. Water flowed from his pipes while a chickadee scolded from a lower branch of the maple.

“It’s beautiful.” Her whispered words drifted to me softly in the breeze.

This contract was officially my favorite. I never had the freedom to pluck people’s desires and make them come true. I hoped she stayed so I could keep creating her dreams. They were marvelous.

RAMONA

 
After Tory bid me good night, I explored the courtyard garden while Solomon tucked his nose under his tail and napped on the tree swing. Wild strawberries grew around the fountain, and after a peaceful night’s sleep, I sampled them.

So yum! Warm and juicy from the sun, they were a refreshing breakfast.

Turning the hem of my shirt, I filled the makeshift pouch with ripe berries. Following the vines around the fountain, I ate one for every two I put in my shirt. The berries were delicious, the company was purrfect, and the afternoon sun was relaxing.

Of course, Tory kindly brought my computer so I could work, but when was the last time I took a day off? I checked my mental calendar.

Ah, yes. The third of Never. That’s when.

I just finished edits on book one of a paranormal romance trilogy and outlined the next two books. I could afford to step away from the screen for a few days. Especially considering I was in the freakin’ Fae realm!

Days off? Nah. Days of research, which was a zillion times more fun. I could write events and people exactly the way I experienced them and my readers would chuckle and say, “That Ramona and her imagination. Where does she come up with this crazy stuff?”

Honestly, people barely believed me even when the answer didn’t include literally leaving Earth.

“I love my job.” I popped another strawberry in my mouth. Sweetness exploded across my tongue and the seeds crunched delightfully between my teeth.

I moaned, eyes rolling to the back of my head. The Fae didn’t need to bespell their food to keep people here. It was just that good.

I came full circle and stood, happy with my harvest. Bouncing my shirt to get a good look at the berries, I realized I’d picked too many. I could bring them inside and nibble on them throughout the day, but they were too scrumptious to eat all by myself. Something this amazing needed to be shared.

I turned to offer the berries to—

No one.

What did I expect? I’d been alone for five years, but somehow always forgot that little detail in my fleeting excitement. I still expected him to be there to share the special moments and was always blindsided by the harsh reality.

I’m alone.

My throat closed and I choked on the strawberry I’d been eating. Tears blocked my vision, turning the yard into a blur of glittering green. A sob from the depths of my soul brought me to my knees in the soft grass.

So stupid.

My readers would laugh and call me a fraud if they knew how badly I failed with my own relationship. I wrote my leading ladies with backbone and a keen sense of what’s what. Traits I didn’t possess during my marriage.

I had loyalty, perseverance, and absolute faith in my marriage. Virtues I thought were noble only made me blind to the red flags. They made the betrayals and dishonesty strike deeper, and left me gutted when my husband finally ended the marriage.

Tears dripped onto the strawberries cradled in my shirt. There’d been little to share during my marriage, but in the years on my own, many blessings found me. I had so much to give, but nobody wanted it. Not my love and loyalty, and not the sweet abundance life brought. Wasn’t there anyone for me to share with?

"I paid your fee."

Fee. My tears stopped and I sniffled.

Tory paid Woodsman Hans to protect me. Why?
 
"I’m not permitted to use my magic for my own gain or help others without receiving payment."

The rescue wasn’t to help me, though I was extremely grateful for the aid, and it certainly wasn’t for Hans’s benefit. It was the woodsman’s payment to Tory for help. Tory wanted me safe. My well-being was important enough for him to make it the point of our agreement.

"I understand trust issues."

He’d been trying to calm me, but his words held the sharp edge of betrayal and anguish.

What happened to you, Golden Boy? Why would someone with so much power be put on a short leash like that? Not able to help himself or do for others without a price? Was it a Fae rule or something specific to him?

I struggled to my feet and returned to my room. Careful to not spill my windfall, I opened the door and ventured into the corridor. Where is he? I couldn’t wander around like a lost ghost, calling his name.

Had he gone back to his office? I retraced my steps but must have taken a wrong turn. What I expected to be his office was a sitting room littered with books. I looked closer. Not any books.

Mine.

Tory had everything I ever published. He even found copies of books I wrote under another name. Paperback edges ragged, pages curled and dog-eared, spines creased. These books had been read a lot.

“You have need of me?”

Tory’s words were quiet, but I spun on him as if he’d fired a gun by my ear.

“I’ve seen many wishes in the hearts of others, but this is the first time I’ve seen myself.” His voice quivered with emotion, though his face betrayed only curiosity. “You . . . desire me?”

Well, when put that way . . . I blushed.

“I . . .” My voice cracked as another flood of tears threatened and I lifted my shirt to show him the strawberries. “I picked too many and they’re so good, I wanted to share them with . . .”

“Me.” A legion of confusing emotions crossed his face; wonder, hope, joy . . . guilt, fear, and sorrow. “No one’s ever wanted to share their bounty with me.”

“No one’s ever wanted what I have to share.” I held the berries out to him.

His eyelids fluttered, breaking our gaze. Selecting a berry, he bit into it, eyes closing as he savored the burst of flavor.

His enjoyment was transcendent. The blissful expression on his face and little throat noise of pleasure he made sent a bolt of excitement through me. I wanted to hear it again.

“Perfect,” he breathed. His tongue flicked out to lick juice from the corner of his mouth.

My heart lurched, pumping a tingly wave of desire through me. “Yeah.”

I found someone to share with. Finally.

TORY

 
Seeing myself as her heart’s desire surprised me. Ramona’s simple and pure offering nearly undid my composure. The desire was connected to something so deep in her heart, it was woven into the fabric of her soul. By the time I finished the strawberry, not only had I fulfilled that desire and freed her of it, I’d given her something so vital to her being, her heart desired me more.

I was completely unnerved. No one wanted me. Ever. Unless it was to get something from me. Not only did she want me, but she’d come to me to give.

Sweet gods. The concept made me numb from shock.

I backed away from her, rubbing berry juice residue from my fingers onto my shirt like a child. I felt like a child. Lost and overwhelmed.

Ramona smiled shyly and motioned to the piles of books in the room with her chin.

Oh no. A flush burned my neck and face, searing with nearly as much pain as our contract tattoo had. She found my reading room.

I’d collected all her works, including articles, letters to the editor, non-fiction publications, and co-written government reports she took to pay her bills before her fiction career took off. I was a shameless fan until she stood in the same room as my well-loved collection. Now, I felt like a disgusting stalker.

She should have pepper sprayed me and demanded to go home at once. If it was her heart’s desire, I’d send her without further payment.

Instead, amusement twinkled in her eyes. “Yard sale?”

I flushed darker. “No.”

I read each one so many times the poor things were falling apart. The romantic thriller in the office was my favorite, but the paranormal thriller under a pen name had wormed its way deep into my brain. I slept with the lights on for nearly a week.

Her smile widened. “You want me to sign them?”

I paled, cold dread replacing the heat of embarrassment.

The smiled disappeared. “Or not?”

“It would be rude of me.”

“I volunteered. But after.” She lifted her shirt, drawing my attention back to the smooth skin of her—uh, strawberries. “When my hands aren’t full.”

I swore under my breath. “Forgive my manners.”

I materialized a wooden bowl and helped her transfer the berries.

“Oh, shoot.” Berry juice stained her shirt.

“I can—” I reached to magic away the stains and she brushed my fingers away. My heart skipped a beat at the fleeting contact.

“It’s not my heart’s desire and you’re not my housekeeper. A little peroxide will get this out.”

I blinked, uncomprehending. She refused my magic. Who did that? Who stopped someone from using magic to make their life easier?

Ramona-freaking-Mainstrom, that’s who.

She held out another strawberry. I leaned forward and let her put it in my mouth. She pulled away too slow and my lips closed over the tips of her fingers. A bolt of electricity passed through me. Dear gods, her skin was sweeter than the berry. The longer she kept her fingers in my mouth, the more I wanted to suck—

A sharp pull tugged at my gut and I straightened with a gasp.

Ramona stepped back, startled. “I’m sorry . . .?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m being summoned. Someone wants to make a deal.”

Her face shone with hope. “Can I come?”

I shook my head to wipe away the dirty thoughts her question evoked.

Mistaking my action for a ‘no’, she put on puppy eyes and a pout. “Please? Call it research for a new book?”

How could I refuse her delightful face and a logical request?

I sighed at how easily she manipulated me. I didn’t even resent it. What she asked wasn’t unreasonable, and I didn’t even need to use magic to grant her request. It was refreshing.

“Very well,” I acquiesced, “but I know you won’t be comfortable in this shirt.”

I used magic to replace her stained shirt, giving her a pretty purple blouse with white embroidered flowers.

She gaped at me.

“Don’t worry,” I assured. “I didn’t wash it.”

Ramona laughed. “You’re such a gentleman.”

“Wait until you see me conduct business,” I warned.

“Bring it, Golden Boy.”

TORY

 
I leaned back in my seat, the picture of comfort and power. Ramona sat in the office’s only other chair next to the desk. Whoever was summoning me would have to stand, which worked to my advantage.

That whoever pulled hard. I made them wait. I was a prince, not some lapdog to perform at someone else’s whim.

“Tea?” I asked.

“Please.”

I made a steaming mug with a blue phone box appear on the corner of the desk. Green tea, two sugar.
Ramona took a sip and hmm’ed in pleasure. “Thank you.”

Satisfied, I sent a portal door to the prospective client. My office door opened and a tall, skeletal man entered.
The frayed cuffs of his faded harlequin outfit rode too high, as if the clothing were made for someone smaller. He pursed his thin lips with a sniff.

“Took you long enough.”

My eyebrow rose as I considered dismissing the man without hearing his request. I sifted through the overspill of thoughts and emotions roiling off him in search of a suitable hell to send him and discovered why I’d been summoned. Interesting. Perhaps it would amuse Ramona.

I let the silence drag out while I formulated possible contract ideas. Ramona waited patiently in her seat with a small smile, relishing the building tension.

“I want recompense.”

Ramona hid her grin behind her hand and my heart fluttered. She was a delightful audience to play for.

I laced my fingers together. “I don’t recall owing you.”

A strangled snort sounded from Ramona and our guest scowled.

“Not you, dämon,” he snapped.

Demon? For a man come to beg favors, his manners were as shabby as his clothes. I sent a current of pain through the man, making him yelp.

Ramona’s smirk and snickers dissipated. Such a shame. But the piper’s head bowed with proper respect.

“Apologies, my lord. My temper got the better of me.”

“Tell me about your grief, piper.”

“I did a job for the bürgers of a Hamelin, but they’re refusing payment.”

Ramona’s eyes glittered with excitement.

“I know this one,” she muttered. “First Red Riding Hood and now . . .”

I cocked an eyebrow at her and her jaw snapped together resolutely. Curiouser and curiouser.

I stood and moved around the desk to stand in front of the piper. We were close to the same height, but seeing my full elf form usually made people uncomfortable. Or perhaps it was a combination of the limp and stone grating of my voice.

“Do you have a contract?”

The piper lowered his gaze deflated. “Nein. I have no proof.”

“I didn’t ask if you had proof. I asked if you have a contract; something which spells out what happens if one party doesn’t fulfill their end of the deal.”

The man shook his head.

“Good.” I savored the moment. “We can be creative about extracting payment.”

“I want them punished!” he insisted.

“Payment or punishment,” I chided. “You can’t have both.”

Ramona cleared her throat quietly. “I think he can.”

The piper glowered, but I could see the gears turning behind her eyes. She had something clever in mind.

I tilted my head, intrigued. “What do you suggest?”

She stood, fingers flicking rapidly. “The children.”

I crossed my arms with a frown, not liking where the conversation was headed.

“Ja!” the piper hooted. “Strengthen the power in meine flöte und I’ll lure them into the river like I did with the ratten.”

“No,” Ramona and I snapped at the same time.

The piper stared at us, pie-hole ajar.

Ramona drew a breath and spoke to him like the simpleton he was. “If the children are alive, you can actually get paid for the job you did.”

I uncrossed my arms, intrigued.

The piper’s thick brows lowered in confusion. “Kids don’t have money.”

Ramona rolled her eyes toward me in a silent plea for strength in the face of stupidity. I pressed my lips together to avoid laughing and gave a small shrug. What can we do?

Her mouth hooked up at the corner. “Are the stories true?”

Startled, I hesitated. What horrid tales has she heard about me?

“I’ve heard Fae children are rare and greatly valued,” she explained. “Sometimes, Fae take human children to raise, treasuring them above all.”

A shaky sigh of relief slipped from me. She hadn’t figured out who I was yet.

“True.”

“There you have it,” she smiled at the piper. “Sell the children to Fae who will care for them, keeping siblings together. The adults suffer for breaking their contract, the children have a better quality of life, and you get paid.”

Wonder and awe bloomed across the piper’s long face as he stared at Ramona. It was a brilliant solution. One I would have come up with given time, but . . .

“You’d steal children from their parents?” I asked. “It’s cruel.”

Her eyebrows shot upward as her chin dropped. “It’s a better fate than what they’ll have if they stay in medieval Europe. And much better than what he had in mind.”

Accurate on both counts.

“It’s cruel to the parents,” I corrected.

She crossed her arms, boosting her breasts higher. “Can they pay?”

“Yes.”

The piper’s eyes flitted eagerly between us.

“Then it’s a kinder punishment for their dishonesty than they deserve.”

“I like her,” the piper gave me an overly-friendly grin.

I snarled in warning. “And what do I get out of it?”

“A percentage of the—”

“Pay me not in gold,” I growled through clenched teeth.

The piper paled, turning a desperate eye to Ramona.

She leveled a steady gaze at me, nibbling her bottom lip delicately. “A date.”

Date? I looked at the bowl of fruit I’d conjured for her earlier.

“I’m not hungry.”

She leaned against the desk, drawing my attention to the curved edge pressed into her buttocks. The delicate material, trapped between wood and flesh, cupping her soft curves in the place I longed to—

“A date,” Ramona repeated, “with me.”

My eyes flew back to the firm hold of her gaze. “You’re negotiating for the lives of strangers with your body?”

“I don’t put out on the first date.” A smirk teased the corner of her sensuous lips. “Dinner, dancing, a show; whatever passes as romance here.”

“Romance!” The piper laughed and we both shot him a dark glare. The laughter died in his throat and he lowered his face.

I pressed my lips together, debating. Ramona’s fingers skated over the glossy wood as she waited for my decision. Was it a ploy or game? If so, to what end? What if it was something worse? Like pity.

I wanted to refuse, but her heart didn’t speak of pity. Very well.

“I enchant his flute to affect children, which he will bring directly here. The children go to caring Folk who will give them good lives with love and abundance. He keeps payment of the children as recompense for their parents’ crime. I court you as I see fit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t—”

“I understand.”

Again, she focused on the wrong detail. I resisted the urge to peer into her past, afraid my suspicions were correct. If I knew for certain someone violated her, my retaliation would make millennia of human brutality look mild.

“One whole night,” I continued. “You’re mine from sunset until dawn releases us. Your virtue remains intact.”

Her features softened and heat glowed in her cheeks. “Yes.”

This was the second time she agreed to the unfettered use of my powers. Innocent or . . . Hm. The eager glint in her eyes said she knew what she was doing. But she didn’t know why the Folk put inhibitions on me. She would soon.

 “Accepted.”

Our contract formed from abdomen to heart, twining with our first contract. The exhilarating sear and sweetness of her writhing brought a wolfish smile to my face. I barely noticed the contract tattoo with the piper form around my wrist, though the man squalled like he’d been terminally maimed.

The piper rubbed his wrist with a glare. “It seems you are hungry after all.”

Ravenous.

I dismissed the idiot with an impatient wave. A glowing flute appeared in his hand and he returned to his world, mouth open in surprise.

“How did you know?”

Ramona turned wide eyes on me. “Know what?”

“When the piper told us his tale, you said you knew this one and you know details about Fae. How?”

“We have stories about the Pied Piper, Red Riding Hood, and—” her eyes became guarded “—others.”

Me? More secrets I’d have to excavate from the sealed tombs of her mind.

“I see.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “H-how soon do you think he’ll . . . so we can . . .”

She blushed delectably and sucked her bottom lip. Her flesh was shy, but her heart shouted. She wanted our date. Her body reverberated with excitement, which was confusing. No one wanted me. And yet . . .

Testing, I brushed a thumb along her lips. Her breath shuddered in response and she leaned toward me minutely.

Dear gods. How soon? Not soon enough for my liking. Fortunately the ‘as I see fit’ term of our courtship agreement permitted me use of my full powers. I was under contractual obligation to act selfishly and I planned on taking advantage of the freedom.

“Why don’t you have a nap so you’re refreshed for this evening?”

“Really?”

The happiness in her tone brought a wide smile to my face. So easy to please.

“Really.”

“Thankyouforthetea.” She swept from my office at slightly less than a sprint.

Fingers rubbing the warmth in my chest I watched the sway of her hips and swish of her hair as she disappeared down the corridor.

A minor tweak of time and the children of Hamelin were safe in the arms of caring elf parents before dusk graced Ramona’s room. The piper had his coin and I had a date to prepare.

What do human women like? No. Not the right question. What does Ramona like? I sorted through her heart while she dozed, gripping my desk as some of the more colorful desires washed over me. Those were definitely not first date desires, even if a few of them featured me.

Please, gods. Let her stay long enough for me to make those ones come true.

The more I rooted through her innocent desires, the more frustrated I became. I shouldn’t have looked. My teeth ground together as I struggled to calm myself.

She was so bloody easy to please, yet I only found two dating experiences she enjoyed. Neither of them involved her ex-husband. Those desires were wrapped in pain and faded, never to be granted.

Her big heart wanted me, unfettered in my abilities. Done. She wanted romance, but her version of that didn’t match the one her society touted. Fine. I’d been able to please her thus far. I’d keep doing what worked.

I dressed in a teal pinstripe suit and paused the sunset, sitting to wait for her to wake.

RAMONA

 
Pinks and oranges chased each other across the sky. They painted the clouds as I dressed in the turquoise dress sitting on the foot of my bed. The matching bra and panties were sexy as hell, but comfy as heaven.

Tory left my makeup and options for jewelry on a pretty vanity. Passing over the heavy string of pearls and elaborate silver torque, my hand went straight for the gold serpent necklace with ruby eyes. It matched a ring I had as a child, a gift from my great-grandmother. I’d been heartbroken when I lost it.

I fastened the necklace around my neck and it shimmered with violet energy. Odd. I thought Tory’s magic was gold. The matching earrings didn’t shimmer. Huh.

A knock sounded at the door as the sun touched the horizon. Tory.

Forgetting all about the shimmering, I slipped on the velvet heels and opened the door. My breath stuttered. His golden hue skin and the white of our contract tattoo contrasted beautifully with the dark teal of his suit.

“Good evening.”

Breathe, Ramona!

“H-hi.”

He held an elbow out. “All set?”

Am I?

I swallowed hard and linked my arm through his. Wow. He was solid muscle and his cinnamon and brown sugar scent made me salivate.

“Dinner first?”

When was the last time I ate anything besides strawberries? Strange. I hadn’t felt hungry until he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He motioned to a door which hadn’t been there before. Excitement trilled through me. I was going through a magic door! Better than falling down a rabbit hole. My fingers tightened on his arm as he opened the door. Darkness greeted us.

Ooooh! Hello, Darkness, my best friend! Maybe this was a rabbit hole.

A dim glow beckoned beyond the door. I grinned at Tory. The guy could do anything, but this was probably one of the few times he’d been let off his leash to use his magic as he wished. From the twinkle of excitement in his eye, he was already having fun.
We crossed the threshold into the cool dark beyond and the door closed behind us. I blinked to let my eyes adjust, following his lead. We were in a tunnel. I inhaled the earthy, damp stone smell.

Various fungus glowed pale blue and eerie green, marking our path. Smaller varieties of fungus speckled the walls and ceiling. It was delightfully magical without actually being magic which made it all the more impressive.

He escorted me at a casual pace. Turning a corner, the tunnel opened into a yawning cavern with a blue bio-luminescent pool. Hundreds of red and yellow sparks danced over the water. Blue-green orbs dotted the ceiling like distant stars and strands of the same color hung like willow branches.

Tory watched me expectantly. I put my hand on his bicep to acknowledge him, but couldn’t tear my eyes away from the visceral beauty of the scene. A tear spilled down my cheek and he made a concerned sound.

I slid my hand into his, squeezing gently: I’m okay.

He stared at our intertwined fingers, eyes wide. A tremor moved through his warm fingers. Too forward? He gripped me back with a shy smile.

“Where are we?”

“Nowhere,” he replied. “Everywhere. I borrowed from here and there to create this. Come dawn, they’ll return where they belong.”

“So it’s temporary.”

“Isn’t everything? That’s what makes it so precious. The ephemeral nature of life is what makes even the ordinary extraordinary.”

That was deep. As deep as his inky pupils which sucked me in until there was just us in the moment.

He leaned forward close enough to kiss. “You are not ordinary, Precious.”

His whispered words went through me like champagne bubbles, making my body react with a hunger I hadn’t felt in ages.

He smoothed a stray curl from my face and motioned with his chin. A table set with a candlelit dinner for two waiting.

We followed a narrow walkway to the small island in the middle of the pool. He held my chair for me, then poured us each a glass of Zinfandel. Curious as to what the thick chop was on our plates, I cut into it. Cheese and herbs oozing from its center.

He waited for me to take my first bite. The meat tasted like lamb without the greasy twang I’d come to expect. The tangy cheese and herbs accented the meat perfectly.

Eyes rolling in pleasure, a deep moan escaped. I blushed and covered my face.

“Sorry,” I muttered around the food in my mouth. “It’s fantastic.”

His cheeks turned pink under their natural gold as he picked up his utensils. With his first bite, soft music whispered through the air. Haunting and peaceful, it itched at a primal place in my mind. I glanced around to find the musician. We were alone except for the insects which flashed and flickered in time with the ethereal melody.

Dinner and a show.

Everything was perfect. The meal, the display, and the company.

“Does everyone here have magic like you?” I asked. “Can they see people’s desires?”

“Not like me, no.” His tight smile said it was a touchy subject. “Some of the Fae have abilities, mostly confined to the basics of their race. As a royal, our more powerful residents gathered for my Naming ceremony upon my fifth year. Each gave a blessing.”

Hm. Sounded like Sleeping Beauty. Did the dark Fae queen show up for him as well? Was she even real?

“Along with being blessed with the usual; good luck, abundance, unearthly good looks, I was blessed with the Gift of Seeing the Heart’s Desire and the Gift of Selflessness, so I would be a good and generous prince, serving others.”

“You’re a prince?”

He stiffened, fork partway to his mouth. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” I assured him. “I imagine it’s been difficult for you, though. All that power, the gifts specifically to better serve your people, and being put on a leash like a naughty puppy.”

His nostrils flared and the muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“It was . . . accurate.”

His lip hooked upward in a sneer.

Oh crap.

“We don’t have to discuss it.”

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s best you understand.”

I waited, breathless for him to continue.

“My brother was already ruler. You know how rare children are to our people, so you can imagine the Folk’s joy at another royal. And perhaps, too, the jealousy of my brother. He’d been an only child for a long time and rulership of the Folk is not passed from parent to eldest child. Sometimes, it doesn’t even stay in the family. Rulership goes to the person most suited for the job. Having power is important, but . . .”

He licked his lips and watched the light show.
I could guess what came next. Tory was set to grow into a generous and benevolent king, making him a threat to his brother’s rule.

I jammed a roasted potato in my mouth to avoid saying anything. This was his tale to tell.

TORY

 
I cleared my throat and stared at my half-eaten meal. “My gifts and name were given based on my nature as a child. My name — given name — translates to Giver. It’s been a long time since anyone’s used that name.”

Ramona shifted, uneasy in her seat. Her fingers reached for my hand, but froze in place as I shifted my voice in imitation of my brother.

“‘It doesn’t seem fair that he gives everything to others, but not get anything for himself.’” My voice shifted back to normal, though gruffer than usual. “My dear brother gifted me the Requirement of Reciprocation. I must receive payment for helping others whether I want it or not.”

She put her fork down and stared in mute horror. I was ruining the mood of our date. Waving a hand over the table, our plates disappeared, replaced with the chocolate lava cake her heart adored.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

I nodded in acknowledgement, biting my lips together and sending the music into a happier tune.

Her naughty puppy comment hit deeper than she intended, though I didn’t hold it against her. She didn’t know, and I couldn’t tell her the profundity of my shame. I wasn’t ready to confess how the selfish act of trying to heal my broken leg triggered the darker side of my brother’s gift.

Requirement of Reciprocation extended to using my powers for my own benefit. Since one cannot make a contract with one’s self, the backlash of my act fused my bones together wrong. I’d never heal properly.

And punishment didn’t stop there. The lilting tenor of my voice dulled to a gravelly rasp and the delicately pointed features of my face blunted, birthing the monstrosity I’d become.

Even Folk called me Rumpelstiltskin or some variation of it. They even named a drink ‘Noisy Goblin’ after me, pungent and rough, and perfect for the ‘How Many Noisy Goblins Can You Down Before You Fall Over?’ drinking game.

Twelve. Not that I ever told anyone I tried the vile drink.

The cake, however, was delightful. Soft and sweet with more goodness inside than expected. Like her.

Ramona nibbled the cake in small bites, savoring each one.

“I know it’s not the same,” she spoke slowly, eyes firmly on her plate, “but I understand having someone you love and trust turn on you.”

A blush darkened her cheeks as she took a hearty swig of wine.

“I used to be married.”

I didn’t confess my knowledge of this fact. She was determined to share something private with me. Reciprocity.

“We struggled a lot. Jobs were hard to find and even harder to keep. All work, no play. Every penny went to keeping a roof over our heads. One day, my . . . he told me his mother had two tickets to a beauty seminar. She invited me to a girl’s weekend out of town. Her treat. I was shocked. She never asked to spend one-on-one time with me and the expense of the weekend . . .”

Ramona shook her head and took another bite of cake. She tried to swallow and it stuck in her throat. The blood drained from her face and she tried again. No good.

It took me a moment to remember I had full use of my power. Before I could act, her shoulders dropped and she took a deep breath through her nose, fighting against panic. After a few deep breaths, she swallowed and took a sip of wine like nothing happened.

Remarkable. How often did this happen to her? Her past was literally choking the life from her and she shrugged it off with the sheer willpower to survive.

She folded her hands on her lap. “I didn’t want to go. A whole weekend with a woman I wasn’t sure liked me, but it was important to my husband that I spend bonding time with his mother. So I went.”

I curled my fingers around the seam of my pant legs, out of her sight. I knew what was coming. I’d seen glimpses of the incident while looking for perfect date ideas. This left a darkness in her like rot on a tomato.

“She . . . She dropped me off in front of the building where we lived. She knew. She knew and she did it without remorse or guilt.”

Yes, she did. They all did, and the moment the sun kissed the horizon, I dealt with them as I saw fit. The family business unexpectedly went bankrupt, her ex-in-laws arrested for tax fraud while her ex-husband’s new wife left him for a kind, wealthy man. By the time her expensive divorce lawyer was done with him, the fiend who abandoned my sweet Ramona would be a penniless pariah.

But Ramona didn’t need to know that right now. She needed to purge, so I sat with hands fisted and jaw clenched.

“While she had me out of town, my husband, his father, and his brother moved him out of the apartment. The place was bare except for my belongings. The lease was canceled, and since it was the end of the month, I couldn’t even transfer the apartment into my name. The phone, electricity, and internet were disconnected the next morning. Divorce papers were delivered to my place of employment a few weeks later.”

“I’m sorry they did that to you,” I murmured.

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, burning with smoldering rage and determination. “I’m not. I didn’t understand why his friends and family didn’t like me until I learned he’d been using me as a scapegoat. If he didn’t want to show for an event, he made me his excuse. If things went wrong, he blamed me. If he wanted to stand up to his mom, he used me as a shield.

“I don’t know what he said to convince them to help him, but I’m not sorry. If I stayed with him, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on my writing career. I wouldn’t have invested in my own future because, as long as we were together, we were always struggling to survive.”

Her heat and intensity faded, replaced with a sheepish flutter of eyelashes.

“Besides,” she grabbed her fork and attacked her cake, “writing is good therapy. Getting paid for writing about it is excellent revenge.”

Indeed. And it infused her stories with a raw honesty that connected with her readers. I treasured her and her books more for this new understanding.

With a last slow lick to her fork, she sighed and placed it beside her empty plate. “Dinner was wonderful, thank you.”

She looked at the display overhead with a wistful smile. “I sometimes dream I’m dancing in the air to music like this, spinning and flipping effortlessly.”

I stood to hold her chair. “Perhaps next date.”

She grinned at me with the open enthusiasm of a child. “I’d like that. Another date.”

My heart slammed against my ribs at the promise of those words. Ramona wrapped herself around my arm without waiting for my offer, her soft amber scent filling my head.

We strolled back through the tunnel at a leisurely pace, her head against my shoulder.

“Would a contract counter a gift?”

I peered at her, but the angle of her head hid her face. What was my clever little author plotting?

“If worded properly.”

“Hm.”

The sound sent a thrill through me.

The night was too young for us to return home yet. I opened the door, masking my elf features as lively music greeted us. Salsa was her hidden pleasure, tucked away from a girls’ night out she enjoyed once.

She squeezed my arm with delight as I led her into the lobby of the club. I took her hand and twirled her onto the dance floor.

Ramona fell into step with the music before I reached her, beaming. Gods, she was breathtaking. The intoxicating sway of her hips paled compared to the glitter of joy in her eyes.

An alluring flush blossomed across the top of her chest. I closed the gap between us to feel its heat. She grabbed my hands and put them on her hips. Our grins stayed fixed in place until the hours of dancing slowed her steps.

I finally dragged her, sweaty and disheveled, toward the lobby.

“I’m not ready to go home yet,” she protested, digging in her heels.

“Who said we’re going home?”

She squealed with glee and bounded after me.

We stepped from the club into an open field bathed in moonlight. The cool breeze kissed her damp skin and she shivered. I draped my jacket over her shoulders and led her to the buffet awaiting us.

“Oh, Tory.” Her voice was breathy and my body responded with lustful interest. “I’m so famished I might eat all of this.”

I laughed and nudged her toward the waiting feast. She chatted and grazed as I followed on her heels until the birds woke.

No thank you. This date ended at sunrise and neither of us was ready for that. I froze both sun and moon in place, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. It was a daring move, but she smiled at me and rubbed her shoulder along my arm.

Display of affection accepted.

Our conversation inevitably meandered to the subject of writing. She radiated with luscious passion as she spoke, which matched what my gift let me see of her heart when I read her books.

In those pages, I saw her, naked and vulnerable. Her hurts and injustices, dreams and desires. I saw her heart, not just in her heroines, but in her antiheroes and villains.

I saw more than anyone else could, but without judgment or condemnation for the weak needs or harsh punishments she wove into her books. They were all an exquisite part of her soul.

I decided to be bold once more and breach the topic she’d brought up when negotiating this agreement.

RAMONA

 
This was the best date. The best night out I had in my entire life. Tory had been a gentleman and good sport, dancing, keeping me hydrated, and fending off any casual encroachers — male or female — with ease.

The good-natured energy of the club washed through me in a way the predatory clubs back home never could. The thoughtful and fun energy from him made me forget my self-conscious awkwardness and simply be myself. And Myself was nattering about writing as I sampled every amazing dish on the buffet table.

Tory cleared his throat quietly. “I noticed your sex scenes are devices to explore and forward the characters’ relationship development.”

Jerking to a standstill like he’d walloped me with a brick, I flushed with a pleased smile.

“You saw that?”

“Yes. It tells me a lot about you.”
My fingers tightened around my drink, terrified of what ugly secrets he’d learned from my books. I tried to keep my voice light. “Oh?”

“Sex is more than a physical pleasure for you,” he ventured. “It’s the intimacy and bonding. You’re the type who can’t be intimate with strangers. You have to know your partner. Enjoy them.”

Dang, he was keen. I lowered my face, embarrassment flooding my body.

“There’s a word for that,” he teased.

“Pathetic,” I mumbled, putting down my drink.

He leaned in until his lush lips brushed my ear and murmured, “Sexy.”

My shiver had nothing to do with the predawn chill. A flush spread and goosebumps formed. I tensed as his fingers skimmed my collarbone like the touch of a butterfly. Every delicious place he touched burned with need, but he pulled his jacket like a curtain over my body to block out temptation.

“We have centuries for you to get comfortable with me,” he promised.

Comfortable? I didn’t need centuries, but his willingness to take the time meant more than I could express.

Fingers trembling as I held his jacket closed, I struggled to adopt my usual no-nonsense attitude. “Cocky much?”

His chin rose and he smirked. “Confident.”

I snorted. “No, but you fake a good game.”

He laughed and the tension left my body.

“Besides, you don’t know me yet.”

I meant the comment to be flippant, but his face grew serious.

“Don’t I? You are in every story you’ve written.”

The Christmas romance I wrote a few years ago appeared in front of us, pages flipping as unseen fingers searched through them.

The book flared red. “Here.”

A ghostly image of the main characters rose from the pages, anguish on their faces as they struggled in a snowy street. The heroine trapped in a large jacket as her love interest held her pinned against him.

“You wove one of your bullies into this tale. He hurt you and you never got resolution in the real world, so you created one where you could. But it wasn’t the imaginary apology which healed you, was it?”

The scene over the book changed to one more intimate. Handcuffed to her headboard, the heroine writhed in pleasure and I blushed.

“Not the sex,” Tory murmured. “The empowerment she found through his respect and adoration. That’s what healed you.”

My face burned and tears sprang to my eyes.

The book faded, replaced by another.

“This one.” The new book flared blue and the characters formed in the smoky swirls of light. A disabled woman, head thrown back in song as her partner—

“Stop,” I whispered.

I didn’t need him to explain. He was right. I planted parts of myself in every book I wrote. Confronting things I couldn’t in real life. Rewriting the past. Correcting wrongs. Sharing long-buried truths.

The book disappeared and his perfect mouth was next to my ear again. “I see you, Precious.”

The pet name sent another wave of happy shivers through me. I wanted his hands to follow them, exploring slowly what he’d been shyly eyeing all night. If he didn’t kiss me, I might do something stupid. If he did kiss me, I would definitely do all sorts of stupid things.

The birds twittered in the silence around us. They’d been singing for a while, but the sunrise they heralded still hadn’t arrived and my body said it was long past time for dawn.

“You can’t keep it nighttime forever,” I challenged, hoping to draw our focus away from the intimacy of the moment.

“Actually,” he purred, “I can.”

Heaven help me. I wanted to see what he’d do to impress with his full powers. Mission accomplished.

I licked my lips, mouth dry from the heat of our exchange. I didn’t have the strength to pull away from him to reach my glass. How was he keeping his hands off me? I could tell he wanted more than our fleeting contact. The guy had the resolve of adamantium.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying our date.” My voice cracked and I swallowed hard. “Consider how satisfying the second date will be.”

His sharp intake of breath sent a bolt through to my core.

“Nice try, but that’s not what your heart desires. The night doesn’t end until you have it all.”

A whimper of yearning escaped me as his hands came around, hovering inches from my body. Fuzzy pink handcuffs dangled from his forefinger.

“What’s your safe word?”

My body betrayed me, swaying against his firm chest.

“W-what makes you think I . . .?” My brain blanked as he shifted and his groin pressed against my hip.

“You forget, Precious. I can grant your desires without laying a finger on you. Virtue intact, as promised.”

Oh.
My.
Heavens.

I forgot to breathe as my mind raced. I could say ‘no’ and he’d stop. That made his offer more appealing. Dang it.
Had he stopped time or was the whole realm waiting for him to release the sun? I shouldn’t be selfish. Except . . .

"I court you as I see fit."

“Pumpernickel.”

His lips pressed against the side of my neck and he spirited us home to indulge me with his generosity and creativity.

TORY

 
I’d been hard pressed not to shove the sun to its zenith at the promise of a pleasurable second date. Ramona was delightfully adept at bending me to her whim, but I was master of ceremonies for our date. By the time I allowed the sun to kiss the sky, she was exhausted, aching, and completely sated.

They say you should never meet your heroes. They were right. Now that we’d met, I didn’t think my heart would survive if she left again.

Daylight crept across the sky like a shy lover as I sat on the edge of her fountain, reliving the last hours of our night together. The warmth of the sun soaked into my bare skin while the sight and sound of her pleasure filled my mind.

“So strange this state we find you in.”

The soft voice startled me from my reminiscences. I eyed the twiggy creature next to me, leafy hat in hand and large eyes, taking note of everything they saw.

“Needful yet satisfied,” it continued. “Hungry yet full.”

“Nosey Nellies get surprises” I warned, “when they peer with unwelcome eyes-es.”

It stiffened, bottom lip jutting petulantly. “We heard you snagged a dirt-monkey, Rattle Clank.”

I growled. It wouldn’t do for my brother to know I had a personal interest in Ramona.

“What I may or may not have is none of your business.”

The creature jammed the hat back on its head and crossed its reed-thin arms. “All visitors to our realm are the king’s business. You play with them, but never bring them home. Oberon wants to know what’s special about this one.”

“He can come for tea and ask himself.”

It tittered. “His Majesty would never lower himself to visit the likes of you.”

Exactly.

I struck, viper fast, grabbing the creature by the throat. It wheezed for air it didn’t need, slender fingers clawing for freedom.

“You trespass in my home to spy on my guest and throw insults in my face. I’d kill you for your insolence, but you’ll just bloom in Titania’s garden again on the next dawn.”

“Mercy,” it begged.

A few hours of dissecting the heartless little snot would be a useful distraction, but the less time the creature spent on my property, the safer for everyone. Besides, I was still savoring memories of the fiery Miss Mainstrom.

“I’m feeling generous today. I’ll let you off with a reminder that spying on me is bad for your health.”

It yowled convincingly as I burned out its eyes, but the homunculus had neither nerve endings nor emotion. It was a simple organic construct made for the sole purpose of collecting information for my brother.

And that’s precisely where I sent the noxious little creature; back to Oberon.

Ramona muttered my name sleepily and I slipped back into her room.

“Okay?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Just an unwanted visitor.” I climbed onto the bed and she curled around my waist with a contented hum.

She stroked the blank canvas of my abdomen. Our date contract had faded with the dawn and I missed it already. Not just the power, but the fact she was mine for those fleeting hours. Those white marks were testament to the fact that a remarkable woman granted me permission to be myself, wholly and eagerly.

I ran my fingers through her soft curls, gold against bronze. “Sleep, Precious.”

“Can’t,” she murmured. “Thinking about a second date.”

I chuckled, seeing her desire clearly. “We don’t need to wait for me to do that again.”

She stretched languidly with a deep-throated purr. “You trying to convince me to stay longer?”

My heart skipped a painful beat and I tried to keep my voice even. “Are you planning on leaving soon?”

“Uh-uh.” She kissed my belly and my fingers convulsed, knotting in the silk of her hair.

“Why . . .?” I panicked, not knowing how to finish. Not knowing why I started. I needed to shut up and simply enjoy every moment she shared with me.

Her sharp eyes turned to read my face. “What?”

Did she truly not know?

“I . . . I admire your work,” I confessed. “You. Who you created yourself as. You’re beautiful. I have no delusions a grotesque creature such as myself might—”

The corners of her mouth jerked downward. “Grotesque?”

The rage of her glare scorched worse than the creation of a contract.

“I used to be able to stop hearts and steal the breath from humans.” The whine tainting my voice was more horrifying than my usual gravelly racket. “Now, I’m plain. I barely glow. I’ve shrunk—”

She sat up, ruby eyes of the serpent necklace flashing in warning. “You’re nearly a foot taller than me.”

“My voice—”

“Stop it!” she snapped.

“I limp!” I pressed, determined to make her face the truth of my shortcomings.

“So what?” she countered. “If you still had those things you mourn, we wouldn’t even be able to converse properly. Heart stopping? Breath stealing? Brilliant glow? You wouldn’t be able to be yourself without killing me!”

I flinched. She was right. We might not have met, and if we did, we would never have been able to form any kind of relationship without risking her death if I lost control of my emotions and let slip my full glory.

“All the things I’ve lost, the person I used to be, is gone.” She pulled away, gripping a pillow to her belly as if staunching a mortal wound. “My youth, innocence, beauty — all of it stolen. Am I less of a person? Am I less lovable?”

Horror, guilt, and shame flooded me at the uncertain tremor in her voice. I’d made her doubt herself. My affection. What we shared.

“No.” I reached for the pillow and she gripped it tighter.

“Then why do you think you are?” she demanded with a tortured look.

My head jerked back as if she slapped me. “I . . .”

I didn’t have a good answer for her and I couldn’t meet her eyes as the blaze in them cooled.

“I’m a monster,” I mumbled.

“Others have told you that lie enough times, you forgot who you really are,” she sighed sadly. “They named you Giver because that’s who you are. The gifts they bestowed were to focus your natural inclinations until . . .”

I growled. Until my brother.

She rolled to her knees, discarding the pillow, and gripped my face in her hands. “You are beautiful, and I would gladly listen to the sound of your voice all day without tiring of that sexy rasp. You are perfect exactly as you are, and if I could undo your brother’s blessing, I would free you to be your true self. Stop doubting. Stop listening to others. Listen to your heart’s desires and know your worth.”

 Heart aching and lump in my throat, I kissed her. Arms snaking around my neck, she climbed onto my lap and deepened the kiss.

Perfect. She couldn’t have been more perfect if I conjured her myself. The gods had granted my heart’s desire. But why? What did they want in exchange?

Ramona’s hips moved slowly, grinding against me, and all thoughts scattered. Whatever the gods wanted of me, they’d have to wait, assured I’d give them everything they asked for if she was my reward.

TORY

Three days. That’s how long it took before hell froze over and my brother arrived on my front step, dew-kissed and silvery pale skin glaring in the morning sunlight.

Two hundred years without having to endure his self-righteous voice and cloying charm, gifted to him by our father at his Naming ceremony. Father never understood the art of negotiation and compromise, preferring to enthrall others with insincere compliments and manipulation. A trait Oberon perfected before my birth.

I greeted him formerly by his given name, despite the fact he’d adopted the Shakespearean one. “Mealltacht.”

Beguiling Seducer. Deceptive Charmer. He thought it a compliment. Idiot.

He breezed across my threshold and past me, white hair trailing like a cloak and arms wide in show though we had no audience.

“Rat—” He covered his gaff with a delicate cough. “Brother.”

My molars ground together. He still refused to use my given name.

“My messenger said you’ve invited me for tea. It’s about time you remembered your manners.”

I tamped a snarl and followed him to my sitting room where I magicked a tray of tea and biscuits. Since I couldn’t do myself any favors, none of it was poisoned . . . but an elf could dream.

Oberon craned his neck in every doorway and corridor.

“Looking for something, Mealltacht?”

“A rumor in the flesh.”

He flashed his dimples like I was simple. When I didn’t trip over myself to offer the information he wanted, he dropped the pretense.

“Where is she, Ratchet? I know you have a human woman here.”

“She’s resting,” I snapped. “You’ve come at an ungodly hour of the morning.”

“Whatever you’ve done to this poor woman,” he warned with a dark tone, “you won’t get away with it.”

“I haven’t done anything she didn’t give me permission to, and that is none of your business.”

“I want to see her.”

My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “She’s not at your beck and call.”

“But you are, brother. You brought a stranger to our realm and I want to see her to make sure you haven’t bespelled her.”

A bark of bitter laughter burst from me. “That’s your department. I don’t need to use magic to keep the company of women.”

His silvery skin flushed crimson at the jab and I added a point to the mental tally of our verbal sparring.

Oberon dropped onto my settee with a flourish of his gem-encrusted robe like he was settling on his throne. Sweet gods! Give me patience.

“Bring her.” He picked up his tea and refused to look at me.

Childish son of a . . . I let my breath out slowly and magicked myself to Ramona’s room. If Oberon was here, so were his spies, and I refused to let them see where her sanctuary was. It was bad enough the disturbing little manikin found her private courtyard.

Hair sleep-tousled and still in pajamas, Ramona was at her desk. Fingers flew over the keyboard, eyes glazed over as she watched events of her story unfold in her mind.

She was insanely gorgeous in this mode.

If she was up this early writing, inspiration woke her. Probably a dream. She needed to write it out while still fresh, otherwise key events and phrases faded from memory. The story lost poignancy.

I was obscenely pleased with this important relationship stuff I learned when she leapt out of bed, wild eyed and grinning, at 4 AM our second night together.

I hated to disturb her work, but the longer I took, the longer Oberon and his unseen minions were in my home. I debated sweeping them from the premises for her safety, but the insult could literally start a war.

The clacking of keys stopped and Ramona’s attention shifted to me.

“I apologize for disturbing your work. The king has requested an audience with you.”

Her face crinkled in confusion. “Your brother wants to see me?”

“Immediately.”

She looked at her ‘Feeling Corny’ unicorn nightie and rainbow panties with a frown. “I’m not fit for visiting.”

Solomon butted against my leg and I crouched to pet him. “Again, I apologize.”

I sent a wave of magic over her, leaving her clean and coiffed, makeup immaculate. I dressed her in a turtleneck sweater to hide the tattoo on her neck and dress pants despite her preference for shorter skirts. If my brother caught sight of her thick thighs and powerful calves, he’d try to copulate with her right there on my settee and I’d have to kill him.

Her frown deepened and she yanked at her collar. “He should have called ahead.”

I captured her hand and kissed it. “He does what he pleases, when he pleases.”

She grumbled and stood. I returned us to the sitting room before she changed her mind and added a selection of breakfast pastries to appease her.

Ramona gave a curtsey which would have given Mother a stroke and snagged a pastry, keeping her eyes on a spot in front of him. Clever girl.

“You asked to see me?”

Oberon’s eyes zeroed in on the serpent necklace. Annoyance twitched across his face, but was gone by the time he set down his cup.

“It’s so rare little Tabhartas has guests, I had to see the beauty that bewitched him.”

She shot me a bemused look. “What an attentive brother Little Tortoise has.”

I choked on a laugh. We’d have to work on her pronunciation of my given name, but her wit was razor sharp.

Oberon’s face twisted like a cat with his tail in a knot and patted the seat next to him with loud enthusiasm. “Let’s not stand on ceremony. Tea?”

She bit her lips and sat. Oberon looked at me with diamond eyes, expectantly. I’d only set one tea cup and a pot of chamomile. I sent Ramona green tea in her blue call box mug and she smiled gratefully.

“It must be terribly lonely for you,” Oberon cooed. “No handmaids or servants. No courtiers to bask in your presence. Just you and Tabhartas rattling about this empty shell.”

His voice caressed like silk, smile dazzling like the sun off water. The glow of his perfect skin lured many women into his bed over the centuries, human and Fae alike.

Most women would be leaned against him, weak with desire.

Ramona nibbled her pastry and chased it with a sip of tea.

“Not at all. I see plenty of people on my afternoon walks.” She graced me with a doting smile which made me glad I’d given her my mark.

The neighbors loved her. The market did, too. My mark let her take what she wanted and the vendors gave her more when they felt she didn’t take enough. Surprisingly, they didn’t bill me for the extra. What did that mean?

“That couple we met the other night was fun.” Her face lit up. “We should go dancing with them again.”

Couple? My brain blanked. Ah yes. The couple at the salsa bar we’d chatted with while rehydrating. They were fun and taught us a few moves beyond the basics we had.

“Dancing?” Oberon frowned at my leg. I bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing. Gods forbid my disability not prevent me from having fun.

“Mmm.” Ramona met my brother’s astonished gaze with narrowed eyes and squinched nose. “He’s very good with his hips.”

Gods help me. The dirty way she purred made my pants much too tight. I was moments away from sweeping her into my arms.

Oberon glowered at me and I shrugged. My agreement with Ramona was to keep her safe. As long as she had my mark on her wrist, every Fae charm, spell, and enchantment aimed at her would fizzle. She could walk naked in the streets unmolested. Best if she didn’t otherwise I’d have to burn out every eye that beheld her.

“She’s not interested in becoming another one of your concubines, brother.”

Oberon gave a disgruntled chuff. “The lady can speak for herself.”

He slid closer to Ramona, amping his charm and glory up to a level which would normally kill a human.

Ramona shifted away from him, putting her pastry and tea aside with a put-upon sigh. Not only did he interrupt her writing session, but he was interfering with breakfast. How rude of the Fae King to impose upon her. I hid a grin behind my hand.

“Tory’s correct. Being one of many conquests is not my heart’s desire.”

Instead of taking the hint, my idiot brother coiled a lock of her auburn hair around his finger. “And what is?”

She looked at me with soft eyes and the slightest curl to her lips. “I am currently well satisfied, thank you.”

Truth. Joy squeezed my chest tight. There were deep, dark things hidden in the shadows of her heart, but she wanted for nothing other than my brother to back out of her space.

I offered her my hand and pulled Ramona to her feet, leading her to the window. She sighed in relief, rubbing her thumb over the back of my hand.

A jarring clatter sounded, startling us. Oberon leaned back in his seat with a smug look and I glared at him. He had a hand in this, damn him. What were his minions doing in my office?

“Security alarm,” I explained to Ramona. “I’ll be right back.”

She squeezed my hand and released me. If I wasn’t absolutely confident in my mark to protect her, I would never have left her alone with my brother.

I shot Oberon a warning glance and vanished to my office.

RAMONA

 
I hated being alone with Oberon. He made me feel dirty. Tory’s mark protected me from any elf abilities or magic which would threaten me. I desperately wished it warded off the king’s clueless attempts to hit on me, also.

A steely hand clamped around my elbow. “We need to get you out of here while he’s gone.”

Oberon hissed and jerked his hand off me as if I’d burned him. The faux pleasantness evaporated from his face, eyes becoming ice chips. Did he just try to use magic on me?

“You let him mark you.”

I gripped the sleeve of my sweater covering Tory’s mark. “It keeps me safe.”

“It keeps you prisoner,” he glowered. “I can’t use magic to free you.”

Oh hells no. I retreated to the settee as casually as possible, concerned he’d try to physically carry me from Tory’s home.
Where’s a stone bust when I need one?

“I can come and go as I please. We have an agreement.”

“I knew it!” he growled. “He’s tricked you into staying.”

“He saved my life,” I replied, cautiously. “I’m here on my own terms.”

“Nothing is as it seems with him,” Oberon insisted, moving across the room with panther grace. “He probably sent the threat in the first place to make himself the hero. He’s dangerous. You’d be safer in my palace. Better cared for. Whatever he offered, I can give you and more.”

The Fae king’s words sounded like romantic overtures, but his face was cold and hard. No beetled brow of concern. Nothing remotely humane or caring. He was absolutely terrifying without elf magic disguising his true self.

The alarm fell silent and I feared he could hear my pounding heart. A voice in my head kept insisting, "You in danger, girl" and every nerve in my body screamed for me to run. I desperately wanted to act.

All humans have one basic command passed through their genes: Survive! Flight, fight, freeze, or faun. I fought with my mind. If I could keep Oberon from putting his icky hands on me again until Tory returned, I’d be safe. Keep him distracted.

I let my face go slack with boredom and arched my brows. “You can see my every heart’s desire and grant it?”

A grin meant to be charming stretched his face. Did he really have zero ability to emote sincerely?

“Whatever you desire, you need only ask.”

“Hm.” I grabbed my mug in case I needed a weapon. “I don’t have to ask Tory. If you can’t give what he offers, I doubt you can give more.”

“Seeing the Heart’s Desire is not my gift, but I could be generous without asking anything in exchange. Tory doesn’t do anything without a price.”

The elf was behind me, but I didn’t dare turn in my seat. I needed to goad him into coming where I could see him.

“Why is that? He’s been gifted the ability to see into people’s hearts and the power to grant their desires. Wonderful attributes for a leader. Imagine the good he could do. Yet, someone purposely blessed him with a need for recompense, restricted him from being able to give freely.”

Oberon stormed around the end of the settee to glare down at me. “It was for his own good. I did him a favor! He kept giving people whatever they wanted. Making them—”

Forget about Oberon and his false charm? Love him more?

You piece of crap! There’d been a chance Tory skewed the story to garner sympathy, but Oberon’s confession blew all doubts out of my head.

“Sounds like his charitable heart made him a target of a selfish creature who felt threatened by a better option for rulership.”

Oberon gasped like I kicked him in the crown jewels, which was just as gratifying as actually doing it.

“Charitable? He prevented the sun from rising for nearly an entire day. This is exactly why I limited his powers. I should have known he’d find a loophole.”

“I gave it to him. I’ve spent my life being restricted by others. I wanted to see what he’d do with no expectations and no limits to his abilities.”

His fists bunched, face crimson. “And now you’ve seen his selfishness.”

“Yes, and it’s glorious.” I preened smugly.

TORY

 
Neither noticed my return to the room. I stood behind them, gauging the situation. Ramona sat coiled on the settee and Oberon loomed over her, both looking ready to murder each other.

“He’s thoughtful, creative, and passionate in his generosity.”

“You’re as selfish as he is,” my brother growled.

“Says the insecure king of a fickle realm.” Ramona raised her tea to her mouth. “He’s smarter than you, more powerful than you, and capable of doing more for your people than you could ever hope to.”

She took a delicate sip like she didn’t have a care in the world, but I saw the tremor of her hand, the tightness of her body, and pinching around her eyes. Fear fueled her anger and her restraint was slipping.

“You’re mad!” Oberon barked, nostrils flaring.

“Not yet, but if you keep insulting him, I’ll definitely lose my patience, king or not.”

Oberon shook his head and looked away. The tension drained from his body, which alarmed me worse than his anger. He’d come to some conclusion and it wasn’t in her favor.

“He’s bewitched you with lies.”

There it is.

“He cannot lie or allow me to be deceived.”

“He twists things—”

I cleared my throat. Oberon startled and turned to me with resentful eyes. Ramona gave a relieved smile as the rigidity melted from her body.

“Is all well?” I asked, moving cautiously to her side.

“Fine,” Oberon snapped.

“I’m not sure,” Ramona replied. “Your brother is concerned you’re being dishonest. I’ve tried to explain our agreement—”

“Nothing but the truth between us.”

Oberon snorted derisively.

A blush heated my face, but the flush creeping up Ramona’s neck was pure rage. She stood and faced me.

“Tory, I hate being here with you.”

The words barely left her mouth before our original tattoo flared with eerie light. A slight itching burn on my throat let me know our agreement was violated. As the one breaking our agreement, Ramona shrieked in pain, clutching her throat.

Seeing her in anguish, defending me . . . It was wrong. Unacceptable.

Oberon’s cold eyes stared at her mercilessly as she gasped and wiped tears from her eyes. “Proves nothing but that he’s bespelled you in some way.”

I stepped forward, growling. His eyes snapped to mine, face curling in a sneer. That waste of elf wanted to humiliate me. He wouldn’t believe a word I said to him.

“My dear Miss Mainstrom.” My words clipped through stone lips as I turned my determined gaze on her.

Her eyes widened in horror, head shaking slightly. Too damn clever.

“I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

Her hand flew to her neck. “Tory, no.”

The scorching pain hit, ripping a cry from me.

“I despise the way your eyes shine—” The contract burned like a fist sized ember placed on my neck. I gasped, dropping to my knees. “I hate the way you l-laugh . . . th-the taste of y-you—” My body seized, pulling me into a tight ball. A guttural keening escaped between clenched teeth.

“Stop!” Ramona dropped to my side, voice cracking with grief. Her fingers dug into my cheeks as she clamped a hand over my mouth. Tears streamed down her splotchy face. “Stop it!”

We stared at each other, gasping for breath as the pain subsided. I pressed her hand tighter to my lips and kissed her palm before sitting up.

Ramona turned blazing eyes on Oberon who watched with a mocking sneer.

“You have no idea who he is, girl.”

“Fi-diddle-dee-dee,” she replied in a dangerously low tone. “You can’t fool me. The great Rumpelstiltskin is who you made him be.”

Oberon’s jaw dropped, mirroring my own shock.

“Get out,” she snarled, standing over me protectively.

Fear flashed across his perfect features at the guttural snarl of her command.

“Now.”

The high and mighty King Oberon vanished.

Ramona curled around me, smoothing a hand over my face.

“Safe,” she cooed, kissing my temple. “You’re safe now.”

I gripped her hand. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Who I am in your world.”

“Not just a pretty pair of boobs.”

“I’ll not be so easily distracted,” I grumbled, standing to put distance between my mouth and those pretty breasts.

“The Pied Piper, Little Red Riding Hood, there was bound to be a tale of you, as well.”

“But how did you know?” I insisted.

“There isn’t a plethora of Fae who insist on reciprocation for granting wishes.” Her vocabulary made me want to kiss her. “There are several versions of the story, but the character is described the same in every one.”

“Grating voice and limp.”

“Sexy, hot voice,” she corrected, sliding her hands across my hips. “And that swagger.”

I let her pull me down for a brief kiss, murmuring, “I’m the villain of the story.”

“The boastful father is. Rumpelstiltskin simply helped a girl out of a jam while the greedy king kept making it worse. But why accept her jewelry if you don’t take payment in gold?”

I shrugged, embarrassed to confess the only thing I wanted from that young lady was a few hours of her company. She had a lovely voice and liked to sing as she worked.

“And the baby?”

“The king would have kept us spinning gold for years if I didn’t up the stakes. I honestly thought she was barren.”

“Is that why you gave her a way out of paying you?”

I blushed. “Do I seem like the type who would be careless enough to cavort around, cackling and singing my own name? Fi-diddle-dee-dee.”

She snickered at my imitation of her rhyme. “No, fi-diddle-dee-dee. You’re the type to make sure the new queen was in the right place at the right time to overhear exactly what you wanted her to, Tortoise.”

“Tabhartas,” I corrected.

“Tor-tus.”

Close enough. I kissed her sweet lips again.

“Would you like to be queen?”

A peaceful smile softened her face. “I already have my kingdom. I create make-believe worlds for other people to escape to; loyal fans who love me, enjoy my work, and share it with others.”

She wasn’t just a queen. She was a goddess, creator of worlds and weaver of realities.

My chest clenched, though I kept my voice light. “Do you want to return to your world?”

Her eyes narrowed, fingers flicking. “Do you?”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of me at the thought of giving up everything. It wasn’t much, but my home and this realm . . . the people I loved and those few who still loved me . . .

She leaned against my chest, fingers teasing my lips. “I can do my job anywhere there’s electricity and internet, and you . . .” Her mouth followed the white trail of our contract down my neck while her fingers unbuttoned my shirt. “You don’t have to stay where you’re not welcome, Sweetness.”

Her mouth moved across my chest as she pushed me onto the settee, kneeling between my legs. Heart pounding furiously, I dug my fingers into her hair.

“Where someone can come into your home and try to take what’s yours.”

My fingers clenched. “He tried to take you?”

“Got a nasty shock,” she confided to my belly button, undoing my pants.

My rage at Oberon for his violation warred with the pleasure of her mouth on my abdomen.

“You are a king, Tor-tus, made to serve with joy.”

I shuddered in pleasure as her mouth went lower.

Gods help me. I’d go anywhere and claim any throne she wanted.

RAMONA

 
I put my toothbrush aside and rinsed my mouth, careful not to gob on the pajama set I’d found on the foot of my bed next to Solomon. The pink cami and shorts fit comfortably and I didn’t want to change again because exhaustion made me clumsy.

It’d been a long day and I looked forward to climbing into bed. My hand fluttered to my throat, but I’d already put the serpent necklace on the vanity for the night. All set.

As my butt hit the bed, that horrid alarm wailed again. What the hell was going on? Were we under attack? I hesitated, torn between waiting and finding Tory.

The haunting note of a wind instrument warbled through the air, pushing all thoughts from my mind. I turned toward the sound. The door to my courtyard stood open.

How—?

More notes followed like the rush of a stream, hurrying me along. I drifted through the patio door and into the night beyond, searching for the source of the music.

That tiny voice in the back of my mind screamed for me to flee. Find Tory. But it faded, along with the clatter of the alarm.

The night breeze caressed me as seductive music wrapped me snug in gauzy serenity. I floated gentle as a feather in the wind. I saw nothing but the undulating flow of the song in pastel colors. Time was meaningless. There was just the music. The perfect never-ending music . . . Until it ended.

One long last note like a farewell kiss and silence fell. With the silence came wakefulness.

And fear.

What happened?

Time started again.

Where am I?

Vision returned and my surroundings took shape. The familiar furniture and aquatic pallet of my room had been replaced with high ceilings, crown molding, and crisp symmetry of Georgian décor.

A burning sensation gnawed at my chest. I tried to touch the spot and found my hands tethered to the bedpost of a king-sized bed.

Fear became horror.

“Tory!”

TORY

 
Hot pain tore through me. Grabbing my chest, I cried out and scrambled to the scrying glass. My contract with Ramona glowed and writhed in anger over my heart.

She’d broken our agreement by running off? No. The pain was too great for that.

Peering closer, I found the break in the contract . . . on my side. I broke our agreement? How?

Pain twisted my stomach, threatening to toss my last meal across the desk. I gripped the scrying glass, white-knuckled. “Show me.”

My reflection faded from the surface, giving me a view of Ramona’s room. Sheets lay in disarray across her vacant bed. The door to her empty bathroom was ajar, as was the door to the courtyard.

The burning in my chest sank deeper and tears blurred my vision.

"I will make sure you are safe . . . Nothing will happen to you against your will while you’re under my protection."

I failed to keep her safe. Ramona had been stolen from my home. Who could have taken her without Fae magic?

Hearing my unspoken question, a haunting tune emanated from the scrying glass. A lone pipe beckoned with hungry yearning.

“That sonova—” I slammed my fist into the desk, pain and fury blurring my vision.

The alarm that morning was a test to see if someone could enter unnoticed while the alarm was going off somewhere else. The answer was ‘yes’. While I was off quelling the evening’s alarm at one end of the manor, someone had entered her courtyard.

No. Not ‘someone’. The piper.

I pulled the traitorous human into my office, feet pinned to the floor so he couldn’t flee my wrath.

“Rumpelstiltskin!”

“Who paid you to violate the sanctity of my home?” I demanded.

“W-what?”

“Don’t play games with me, piper. The pain of a broken contract makes me . . .” I hissed as the burning flared “. . . impatient.”

“I-I didn’t—”

I jerked his hands up in front of his face. “Were you about to lie to me?”

“Nein! I can’t—”

I broke the bones of his left hand, his shriek mingling with the blinding pain in my chest.

“Erbarme dich!” he sobbed.

Mercy? I had none to give.

“Where have you taken her?”

“Bitte! Please!”

I slowly applied pressure to his other hand and his voice soared higher.

“Oberon! Please! I took her to Oberon’s palace. He paid—”

I crushed the bones in his right hand.

“Why?” he wailed.

“You broke the Law of Hospitality and betrayed the woman who made you rich. You’re lucky I don’t kill you and deliver your broken body at her feet.”

I raised my hand to return him to wherever I snatched him from.

“Du bist ein dämon,” he spat.

I changed my mind, sending the piper’s crushed body to the front step of my brother’s palace.

I needed to do something quickly. I couldn’t repair the damage to the contract if the pain made it impossible to act. Think!

Who could I turn to for help? No one. Oberon was the king and I was good ole Rattle Clank, little brother who couldn’t act for himse—

Wait. Ramona’s heart cried out for me. I was her heart’s desire, and with Oberon in violation of the Law of Hospitality, I could not only enter his home to retrieve her, but use any and all means to grant her desire. No limitations. No negotiating. No mercy.

I’d burn down the realm and sacrifice everything I had to grant her wish. And maybe, just maybe, she’d still love whatever was left of me.

Well. One more negotiation.

I found my royal sister-in-law in the meditation labyrinth of her endless garden where she liked to walk the loop from beginning to end and back again. She found it calming. I imagined being married to my brother gave someone with the given name Peaceful a lot of rage and frustration which needed soothing.

“Sìtheil.”

Her willowy body stiffened, but she didn’t turn toward me. Who could blame her? The ragged wheezing of my tortured breath was frightening even to my own ears and I stood hunched, clutching my chest.

“Why are you here, Tabhartas?”

“Your husband has broken the Law of Hospitality, violated a contract, and stolen someone precious to me. I mean to rectify the situation.”

She sighed wearily, fingers grasping the long silver braid over her shoulder. “Petty squabbles with your brother don’t concern me.”

“I’d like it to stay that way.” I pulled open my shirt to show her the broken contract and she flinched from its writhing glow. “This grants me free reign of my powers to fulfill her heart’s desire and right now she only wants one thing: to return to me.”

Her rose gold flesh paled, cherry blossom eyes locked on my chest. “Your full powers?”

“If I have to kill him, what’s his becomes mine, including—”

“Me.” Her delicate hand flew to her rosebud lips.

“Unless you’d like to negotiate,” I offered before she vomited on my shoes.

She nodded stiffly.

RAMONA

 
I gnawed at the rope binding me to the bed, ignoring the eerie little twig doll watching me from the edge of the bed. At least, I think it was watching me. It had burnt out eye holes and its pointed ears twitched occasionally. Disturbing.

I just needed to keep my head and logic through the knot. Patience and persistence until . . . the knot loosened. Victory!

The rope drew tight again and I screamed in frustration. Stupid magic.

“Scream all you wish, but he won’t hear you.”

Oberon stepped from the shadowed corner of the room and the creepy no-eyed creature skittered off the bed to watch from the top of the writing table.

“You.” I gnashed my teeth at Oberon, ready to bite through his jugular.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot earlier—”

“You think kidnapping is better?”

“I rescued you.”

“You stole me from my bed and are holding me prisoner!”

“Guest, not prisoner,” he insisted with a smile. “You should thank me.”

Wow, this guy is delusional.

“All your guests get tied to your bed?”

He frowned, confused.

“I’m keeping you safe.” His tone softened as if speaking to a child as he moved to the bedside.

That’s right dill-hole. Get close enough for me to reach.

“You’re obviously not in your right mind and I can’t return you to your world in this state.”

“Return me to Tory or he’ll tear this building down around your ears to get me back.”

Oberon chuckled. “Hardly. Without his full powers—”

I moved the hair off my neck to reveal our contract tattoo. “You mean the full powers this contract grants him to keep me safe?”

Oberon’s eyes followed the trail of white down my neck and chest. His shiny face dimmed like a light bulb in a power outage.

“Y-you’re perfectly safe.”

“But you’re not.” Hunched over and fever-eyed, Tory appeared at the foot of the bed. Pain bathed him in sweat and dulled his golden skin to the brassy sheen of an old penny.

Eyeless squealed and vanished.

“How did you get in here?” Oberon demanded, stepping away from his brother.

I squawked in surprise as the bed filled with small, warm bodies. Children. Human. Frightened. They crowded around me, creating a wall between Tory and I.

Leave it to the glorious king of the Fae to use children as a shield.

Tory leaned against the footboard. I didn’t know how he wasn’t writhing on the floor. The burning of the contract brought tears to my eyes and ground my teeth to dust.

“She doesn’t want to be here, Mealltacht.” Tory’s voice rasped and his fingers clawed into his chest as if he could physically tear the ache out.

“Which is why I’m going to wipe her mind and send her back to her own world where she belongs.” The king’s tone suggested we were too stupid to understand the obvious.

“I don’t want to forget,” I snarled.

Oberon dismissed me with a flip of his glossy white hair. “They all say that. It’s for the best.”

“I want to be with Tor-tus.”

“Sleep, child.” He waved a hand at me.

I held up my wrist, showing Tory’s mark to remind him he couldn’t use magic on me, and flipped him the bird.

He huffed and turned on Tory with pointless bluster. “What did you do to this poor girl, Ratchet? You’ve completely brainwashed her. I never expected you to sink so low.”

“You think I could harm her? What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“The worst kind, brother. The kind that thinks they’re doing good while they tear the world apart.”

Tory’s eyes went hard as his brother’s words banished his physical torment momentarily. “You think it impossible for someone to enjoy my company?”

“You just happened to find someone so damaged they think you handsome?” Oberon full belly-laughed. I wanted to claw his eyes out. “Am I expected to believe she might actually love you?”

Tory looked at me, fear and torment in his eyes. I didn’t know how much more of the contract’s punishment he could take but a smile flitted across his lips and his back straightened.

“Yes.”

Oberon sobered. “She’ll forget you.”

“She deserves to have her wishes granted.”

“Not by you.”

Oberon raised his hand toward Tory and . . .

Nothing.

His pale eyes roved around the room in search of some magic thief. “Why didn’t that work?”

“I’ve been unleashed.”

Tory reached toward me. My bonds and the huddled children disappeared.

“It’s not possible,” Oberon stubbornly insisted as I climbed off the bed.

Tory’s chin came up, eyes flashing. Even crumpled in agony and washed out by exhaustion, he looked every inch the king he was meant to be.

Before I managed the few steps to Tory’s side, armed soldiers appeared around us, creating a barrier between us and between the brothers. I pulled a blanket around myself. Elf soldiers didn’t need to see me in jammies, though several of them noticed Tory’s mark on my wrist.

“I have the entire realm at my command, Tabhartas. What do you have? Nothing but your precious human.”

“That’s all I need.” Pain twisted his smile into a grimace, but love was there. “I also have the law and the means to enforce it. Law of Hospitality applies to even the king, Mealltacht. You stole a guest from my home and hold her prisoner. I demand rectification.”

The soldiers looked amongst themselves, lowering their weapons.

“I am still king here,” Oberon bawled, panic gilding his words.

“But I hold the Queen’s Blessing.” Tory stripped his shirt off to reveal rose gold tattoos circling his biceps.

Oberon’s bottom lip quivered as he eyed the markings. “I don’t understand. Why is everyone against me? I’m a good king!”

“You want me to make deals?” Tory growled, fingers gouging into his chest. “Here’s yours: release Miss Mainstrom immediately and leave us in peace. I won’t destroy you and take the throne.”

Oberon looked at the soldiers, pointing to me. “She obviously needs saving. She’s mad or—or he’s tricked her.”

The soldiers shifted uneasily, sizing me up. I stood straighter, head cocked in challenge. Do I look mad or deluded?

The king turned to me, as if I cared for whatever case he pleaded. “He can’t use his powers without payment. He’s lost his glory. He’s an outcast!”

“He respects my wishes,” I replied between clenched teeth. “Which is more than you’ve done.”

Abashed and heads bowed, the soldiers finally parted to grant me access to Tory.

“I will gladly grant your every wish,” Tory vowed, reaching for me, “if you stay by my side as my—”

“No!” Oberon threw out his hand, silencing his brother as he stepped toward me. “There isn’t enough money in all the realms to buy his loyalty.”

Pay me not in gold.

I grinned, cold and hard. “He doesn’t take cash, you dick. My only wish is that he’s free of your blessing and I pay with my consent.”

Oberon’s jaw dropped, eyes round with terror.

“I forbid it!” He thrust a soldier at Tory. The elf staggered off balance and his sword plunged into Tory’s chest. Golden blood slithered along the blade to drip like melted ingots onto the stone floor.

I yowled in savage fury and shoved the soldier away. The sword fell from the elf’s numb fingers with a harsh clatter as he scrambled away.

I dropped to my knees to Tory’s side. “Heal!”

He gripped my hand with more strength than I expected. “Accepted.”

The white tattoo of our new agreement blazed from heart down to — I shrieked and grabbed my lady bits as Tory collapsed. He gasped as organs, muscles, and tissue knitted together.

I turned to Oberon as the searing faded and he stumbled away from the primal hatred I radiated.

“This ends now.” I pointed at him, finger shaking with suppressed violence. “You will let us live our lives peacefully or I will have him end you. Do you understand?”

Oberon’s mouth quivered and tears pooled on the edge of his eyelids like a child who didn’t know why he was being reprimanded.

I turned to Tory as he climbed to his feet. “What does his heart say?”

“He will not stop until we concede.”

I looked at the soldiers and they stepped back, weapons lowered. We didn’t have to worry about them.

Exhaustion crept through me. I buried myself against Tory and his arm wrapped around my waist.

“Make him stop,” I murmured.

“As you bid, my Precious.”

Oberon stepped forward, arms out, beseeching. “Brother—”

Tory raised a hand. The king froze in place, silvery skin fading to white as he transformed into a marble statue.

Safe.

The bands around Tory’s biceps flared and the soldiers dropped to their knees, fists over their hearts and heads bowed.

Oberon disappeared.

“A gift for the queen’s labyrinth.”

The queen’s labyrinth. Oberon’s widow remained queen of the Fae. Thank goodness.

Tory looked at me, worry and hope warring in his eyes. I sighed in relief and nodded.

“Take me home, please.”

He kissed my forehead. “As you bid.”

TORY

 
The thought of being king to the celebrating mass around us terrified me. I fidgeted with my wedding band, its weight foreign yet comforting at the same time.

Ramona captured my hand in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. Her elegant gown teased the eye and hugged her curves.

“It’s not too late to disappear,” I reminded my lovely wife. “A quiet corner of your world were I can—”

“Keep making contracts with historical storybook characters?”

I blushed.

“You’re a leader, Sweetness. This is who you were meant to be. Without contracts.”

“What if I can’t fulfill their needs?”

“You don’t have to give them everything they want. You just need to make sure they have what they really need, as a whole. Anything beyond that is a gift given because you’re moved to. Boundaries are still important. This time, you decide what they are.”

My chest filled with adoration and I kissed her temple.

A towering woman in black flowing gown wove through the jovial crowd. Auntie Mab. Gold gilding and gems adorned her spiraling horns, sparkling as she curtsied before us. Ramona watched her approach, eyes wide with excitement and a healthy dose of fear.

“I’m proud of you, Tabhartas.” Her deep voice slid through my memories. It had been a long time since her last visit. “Now that you’ve stepped into the role your dear mother wanted for you, the gifts you were given can finally be used for their intended purpose.”

I kissed her chiseled cheek. “Thank you, Auntie.”

“Of course, Nephew.”

Mab tossed her dark hair over a shoulder and gazed at Ramona with a bemused and affectionate expression. She looked pleased with her handiwork. She should be. Auntie gifted me the perfect mate who would be pulled to me when the time was right.

She tapped the ruby-eyed snake necklace around Ramona’s neck with a spindly finger. “You got my gift.”

“You?”

“Just a little pre-wedding gift to help your dreams come true.” She held out a ring which matched the necklace. “This is the wedding gift.”

Ramona gasped and took the ring with wide eyes. “You found it! How?”

“That which is meant for us will always find a way home. Welcome to the family, darling.”

Speechless, Ramona put the ring on and hugged Auntie with tears in her eyes. Though Auntie did her best to hide it, she was thrilled.

“To Tabhartas!” someone shouted from the gathered crowd, raising his cup.

“Tabhartas!”

“About bloody time!”

A roar of approval shook the hall as more cups were raised and wine drank.

“Remember the fine horses you gifted my daughter, Tabhartas?”

“How could I forget?” I asked, finding ol’ Tom in the crowd. “Her smile was more beautiful than the sun.”

“Well, they fetched her a good husband and she still smiles!”

Another round of cheering brought more tales. They remembered. Despite my losses, they remembered who I truly was.
Ramona was right. I was made for this as surely as she was made for me.

*END*

Thank you so much for reading Pay Me Not in Gold. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed it! you can find my full length novels at www.EvWhyte.com.

If Ramona’s books piqued your interest, you can find them at www.RamonaMainstrom.com.