Grimm Consequences (10 page)

Read on for a sneak peek at Kate SeRine's
next Transplanted Tales novel,
Ever After
,
coming this August.

 

 

She rose from the bed we shared and wandered a few steps away, the moonlight casting a pale glow upon her fair skin. “Why would you ruin what we have by asking me that?”

I raised up on my elbow, frowning. “How'm I ruinin' it? I want you to be mine forever. Do y'not want the same, lass?”

Her sigh seemed oddly tinged with sorrow. “Of course I do. It's just . . .” When she turned her head to cast a glance back at me, I swear I saw a flash of light in her eyes, but it faded so quickly, it must've been a trick of my mind. “My father promised my mother forever, love,” she explained. “And then he died. Don't make me any such promises. Just promise me
now.
That's all I require.”

My chest tightened at the pain in her eyes. “I'll promise whatever y'ask.” I extended my hand to her. Without a word, she drifted back to me, slipping under the blanket and letting me wrap her in my arms.

“Tell me you love me,” she murmured, her cheek resting on my chest.

I smoothed the satiny length of her dark hair. “I love you with all my heart, you know that. I'll say it as often as y'like.”

She lifted her head and placed a slim hand upon my cheek. “Tell me you trust me.”

My frown deepened, wondering where this uncharacteristic seriousness was coming from, a sense of foreboding beginning to descend upon me like a shroud. “With my life. Why d'ye ask—”

She pressed her fingertips to my lips, stilling my words. “Tell me that no matter what happens, you know how much I love you.”

I shook my head, not liking this line of conversation. “Lass—”

“Tell me,” she pleaded, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “Please. I need to know that.”

I grasped her nape and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to each eyelid. “I've no doubts.”

Her relief was visible as a smile curved her lips. Then she leaned in and brushed a tender kiss to my mouth, the sweetness of it searing the moment into my memory ever after.

Would that I could've frozen our lives at that point, stopped the inevitable churning of time and held her in my arms forever. But when I woke the next morning, she was gone.

Fearing the worst, I went after her, sending out a spell to track her steps. The path of shimmering silver light took hold in an instant. I latched on to her signature and shifted through time and space, the world about me distorting and folding until I popped out where I had willed myself—and directly into her path.

She slammed into my chest with an audible grunt and staggered backward. I grabbed for her, catching her arm to keep her from falling, and knocking a burlap-wrapped bundle from her arms.

“Oi!” she screeched, snatching the bundle up from the ground and sending a frantic glance over her shoulder toward the cacophony of baying dogs and crashing underbrush as her pursuers gained ground. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I was concerned y'might be in trouble,” I snapped, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. “
Obviously
, I was right. What've y'done this time?”

“Just taking back what's mine,” she panted, clutching the bundle tighter as we jumped a stream swollen from the recent rains.

“What happened to stealin' from the rich to give to the poor?” I ground out through clenched teeth as I knocked branches out of my way, grateful when we emerged from the thicket.

She didn't answer, instead sending another glance over her shoulder, her dark eyes going wide. At the same instant, I felt the danger—the death—coming for her. Without hesitation, I shifted, putting myself directly behind her. Searing pain lanced through my back as the arrows pierced my skin and lodged into my muscle, taking me down to my knees with a strangled groan.

She raced back to me on a choked cry, dropping to her knees and wedging her shoulder under my arm. “Ah, God,” she moaned, her voice tight with emotion. “What've I done?”

I wrapped my arms around her, wincing through the agony. “Will y'let me shift you?”

“What?” she gasped, straining as she tried to lift me to my feet.

“'Tis the only way,” I groaned. “Please—just say you'll allow it.”

“Yes, I suppose, but—”

In my weakened state, I couldn't control the shift, not knowing where the hell I was taking us—or when. When I could no longer hold it, we burst from the temporal passage I'd created and onto a precipice near a raging waterfall only about a mile from where we'd been. The cool spray of the falls was a relief on my skin, but our reprieve was short-lived. The ground beneath us suddenly crumbled under our weight, and I felt her slip from my grasp.

I made a grab for her, by some miracle catching her wrist, pain from the arrows in my back bringing me to my knees and then flat on my stomach. Crying out in agony, I strained to haul her up, but even the slight weight of her pulled me forward, nearly dragging me off the cliff.

She cried out as we slipped further, her legs flailing as she twisted in the air and tried to find a foothold. The water churned far below, the roar of the rapids rivaling that of the blood pounding in my head.

“Gimme yer other hand, lass,” I ordered, blinking away the tears of anguish that mixed with the water drenching us. Blood from my wounds dripped from my shoulder onto her cheek. “Please, I can't hold you.”

She shook her head, her lips trembling. “Let me go or we both fall.”

“Never,” I ground out, straining to maintain my grasp as I felt her slipping. My voice was choked with tears that had nothing to do with pain this time. “Just let me shift you again, lass.”

“They'll never stop searching,” she cried over the roar of the water. “Not for this.” The ground beneath me began to yield to my weight, and she cast a frightened glance at the churning waters below.

“Drop the treasure and gimme yer other hand, damn it!” I growled, digging into the ground with my knees in desperation, pain making my vision swim as I strained to pull her up. I heard the baying of dogs growing louder. “Quickly, lass! They draw nigh.”

Her eyes met and held mine for a heavy moment, suddenly filling with heartbreaking sorrow. “I'm so sorry.”

And then she let go.

A ragged scream tore from my throat as I grasped for her, encountering only empty air. I tried to shift, but my strength was gone, focus impossible. All I could do was watch in horror as she fell, the mist swallowing her. Feeling as though my heart had been ripped from my chest, I made to follow her, but powerful hands took hold of me, dragging me back from the edge of the cliff.

I struggled, trying to break free, to shift away, but their combined strength was more than I could combat after the amount of blood I'd lost, and soon they had shackled me in enchanted chains, sapping what little magic I could muster. One of the soldiers shoved me forward. Unable to catch myself—and not caring—I slammed into the ground, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. Numb, disbelieving, I lay there, too stunned to move, mud filling my mouth and nose, choking me. But I didn't give a damn, my will to live as drained as my magic.

The guards dragged me behind them, heedless of my wounds. “On your knees, brigand,” one of them ordered gruffly when they finally stopped. When I merely lay mutely in the muck, he and his companions pulled me up until I was kneeling.

“Is this the man?” a deep, imperious voice demanded.

“Aye, sire.”

The man must've motioned to the guard because a rough hand grasped my hair and jerked my head up, forcing me to meet the calm gaze of none other than the King of Fairies. I knew his face well—all of us did. He was so feared by his subjects that we didn't even dare to speak his name.

“Where is my treasure?” the King asked, his tone even as he stood peering down his nose at me, his great height nearly equal to my own.

I blinked at him through my mud-caked strands of red curls, no doubt appearing as monstrous and contemptible as the aristocracy of Make Believe believed my kind to be. “Gone.”

The King's blue eyes sparked briefly. “And the thief? Where is the one they call Robin Hood?”

Sorrow squeezed my throat in its merciless grasp, making it difficult for me to utter the word. “Dead.”

An emotion I couldn't decipher passed across the King's face, so fleeting, I doubt anyone else noticed. “You are certain?”

I pushed past the grief that strangled me. “Aye.”

There was a long pause and then the King crouched down before me, his gaze level with mine. “I am sorry for that. More than you know.” He heaved a sigh, his shoulders hunching ever so slightly.

I let my senses drift, attempting to read him, but the shackles kept me from seeing him clearly. Even so, what I
could
see surprised me. His heart was filled with sorrow that nearly rivaled my own.

He must've noticed as my eyes changed from blue to silver, for his own narrowed. “You are an Unseelie,” he marveled. “And an empath at that.”

I squared my shoulders. “I don't deny it.”

He studied me for a moment longer, then motioned to his guards as he rose from his crouch. “Remove your arrows from this man's back. Allow him to heal.”

I lifted my brows, baffled by his show of mercy, but my astonishment was soon replaced by the agony of the arrows' removal. It took six of the guards and a sedation spell from the King himself to keep me still while the arrowheads were dug out. Fortunately, with the magic arrows gone, the healing process was fast and the haze of pain cleared within moments as my flesh knit back together.

“Why restore my health afore y'murder me as you've done the rest of my people?” I panted, glaring up at the man who peered at me with such cool curiosity.

The King's brows came together as if I'd offended him with my question. “I did not destroy your people,” he countered. “The Unseelie waged war against
us
, pillaging our villages, murdering our children in their beds. I merely acted to protect my own.”

“We waged war for
equality
,” I growled. “We'd no longer be yer subjects, bowing and scraping and kissing Seelie arses just for a chance at yer sloppy seconds.”

The King studied me for a moment. “You were a warrior once, were you not?” he finally asked. When I merely glared in response, he continued, “If someone attacked the people you loved, would you not act with every ounce of strength you possessed? You cannot tell me that you would not have done the same in my place.”

“I'd fight to the death against any who threatened those in my care,” I spat. “And had yer men faced me in fair combat today insteada shootin' me in the back like cowards, I woulda fought to the last breath to protect the woman I love.”

The King inclined his head. “I have no doubt of it.” Before I realized what was happening, he took hold of one of the shackles around my wrists. Immediately, the chains fell away, leaving only intricate designs encircling my wrists, burned into my skin. They were the symbols of the King's house, his brand, infused with the same shade of blue as his magic. “I bind you to me in service. You will protect me, my family, until such time as I see fit to release you.”

I gaped at him. Death would've been preferable to serving my enemy in such a way.

“What is your name?” he inquired, more solicitous than I would've expected.

“Little John,” I spat, using the name that had been mine for three years, the name
she
had given me.

The King scoffed, grinning at me with a twinkle of genuine humor in his eyes. “I doubt that very much. That is the name of a thief, a common outlaw. You are no such thing. Tell me your
true
name.” When I remained silent, he prompted, “Come now, give me the name of a man who will be my most trusted warrior, my noble protector. I command it.”

I lifted my chin higher, fighting against the power of his command but unable to refuse it. “My name,” I snarled, “is Gideon Montrose. And one day, sire, you'll be sorry to know it.”

Kate SeRine
(pronounced “serene”) faithfully watched weekend monster movie marathons while growing up, each week hoping that maybe
this
time the creature
du jour
would get the girl. But every week she was disappointed. So when she began writing her own stories, Kate vowed that
her
characters would always have a happily ever after. And, thus, her love for paranormal romance was born.

 

Kate lives in a smallish, quintessentially Midwestern town with her husband and two sons, who share her love of storytelling. She never tires of creating new worlds to share and is even now working on her next project. Please visit her at
www.KateSeRine.com
.