Winter's Tale (13 page)

The hand that had been braced on the
headboard grabbed the thick curls behind her neck, winding them
around his wrist like she was his captive. She had no fear of him
abusing the control. She loved that he secretly craved to possess
her. She only wanted him to be as overwhelmed as she was. She
licked her longest finger, reached down his body, and pushed it
into his tight asshole.

The nerves she woke shoved him past the edge.
He slung into her and came, jammed deep, spilling hard and moaning
with ecstasy. Each burst of seed added a glow to her long
climax.

“December,” he groaned as his own continued.
“God.”

If they’d been in his world, perhaps the peak
would have gone on forever. Her world had beginnings and endings.
On the bright side, this meant she could look forward to him
rocking her universe again.

“Wow,” she breathed, when his strength gave
out and his torso dropped onto hers. She patted his sweating back,
enjoying that she’d made him pant this hard.

Then again, he had her trembling all
over.

He put one weakened hand on her breast and
sighed. “Thank you. That was an excellent start.”

“An excellent start! If you’re just
starting
, I need a break before next time.”

“As you wish. Just . . . going to . . . close
my eyes one second.”

He closed them for a lot more than one
second. For a minute, December enjoyed petting his unconscious
spine. Then she fell asleep herself.

~

When she woke, Hans was dressed. He’d moved
an upholstered granny rocker beside the bed and was sitting
pensively in it. Seeming to know she was awake without looking, he
stretched one hand to rub her bare shoulder. The caress was
absentminded but very sweet.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“The beer clock says ten fifteen.”

She sat up and scrubbed at her face. The
covers he must have pulled over her fell down. Not so absentminded
after all, Hans looked at her breasts and smiled. December grinned
back a bit smugly.

“We should decide what we’re doing next,” she
said. “Besides having sex again.”

“I can escort you to your parents.”

That idea startled her.

“They’ll be worried,” he said. “Soon enough
the school will tell them you’ve gone missing.”

“Assuming the headmistress can reach them.
They’re probably in Europe skiing. Or Aspen.” She shrugged, her
long curls whispering along her naked arms. “As for being worried,
my father warned me the next time I got in trouble at a school, I
could damn well get a job.”

Hans stared at her. “Your father said
that.”

“He’s not a monster. Well, no more than any
slightly unscrupulous hereditary head of a giant conglomerate. To
be fair, I’m a handful. I wore out his patience. And eighteen is
old enough to work.”

“But he’s your father.”

December squeezed Hans’s thigh. “He’s just an
ordinary rich guy who doesn’t understand his kid. I don’t know why,
but I was never like either of my parents, even when I was little.
I had more imagination than they could cope with.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for your
imagination.”

December wagged her eyebrows. “I suppose you
should.”

It was a joke, but he looked away, clearly
thinking hard. December had an inkling she knew what about. “Your
mother was a hero, giving her life to defend yours. And watching
over you as a spirit. I assume even in Faerie, that level of
sacrifice is rare.”

“Yes.”

She let him muse on that for a bit. “I could
probably find work as a waitress. I did that once before when a
school chucked me out.”

“That’s too menial for a smart girl like you.
I will play the Lottery.”

He was serious. “Hans,” she cautioned. “I
don’t think—”

“As I understand it, winning depends on luck.
My luck has recovered. I believe I’ll be successful.”

“Okay, but maybe we shouldn’t count on
that.”

This time, he was the one to grin.

“Really?” she said. “Just like that, you can
win the Lottery?”

“Not often. That would draw too much
attention. I wish to pass as one of you. The human realm is your
home, and you’ll be happier here.”

His consideration stunned her more than
anything he’d done yet. She took a moment to regain her breath.
“You did a lot of thinking while I slept.”

“Did I reach a wrong conclusion?”

“I don’t
think
so. Maybe I’d enjoy a
peek at Faerie at some point.”

He stroked his fingers around her cheek. His
ice blue eyes were soft. “If I find a safe way to visit, I’ll
gladly give you one. There is, however, an imbalance I need to
address first.”

“What imbalance?”

He looked down as if embarrassed. “I never
considered what I did to those girls I lured out to my statue. I
was too focused on breaking free of the curse. Now that librarian
is dead, and your French teacher may have ruined her life for
me.”

“I’m not convinced you should feel guilty
about them. Mrs. Blake wanted to use spells to make you her toy.
And you gave Miss Westin a glimpse of a world most people would
kill to know was real. If she chose to let that make her bitter,
that was her deal.”

“Nonetheless, in my heart, I believe I owe a
debt.” He pressed his hand to his huntsman’s vest, beneath which
she had no doubt his heart experienced everything he said. “I want
to help human women find loves that bring them joy.”

So . . . not only was he magical and gorgeous
but also principled. There had to be some illogic in her ending up
with him.

“You mean you want to be a matchmaker?”

“Yes,” he said earnestly. “Would it be
possible to start my own match dot com?”

She laughed. “Leave it to you to know what
that is.”

“I only know in a vague fashion. I could
provide a little faerie dust to facilitate good pairings.”

“Faerie dust is an actual thing?”

He twisted one of her curls around his
finger. “It is, though I’m not as . . . dusty as a pureblood. I
believe I’d fare better with a partner, one more familiar with how
humans arrange romance.”

His tone was coy. December rolled her eyes.
“When it comes to romance, I might have to study up as much as
you.”

“But you think you’d like being my
partner?”

She didn’t know how he could doubt it.
“Better than waitressing. And working with you sounds fun. I’d like
seeing your ‘dustiness’ in action.”

He leaned in to press his lips to hers. “I
feel better now. I didn’t like that weight on me.”

“Mm. What sort of weight would you like on
you?”

He pulled her into his lap to demonstrate—and
to kiss her more deeply. That kept her quiet for a bit. Him too, if
she didn’t count moaning.

She stroked his shoulders, then dug her hands
into his hair. His neck rolled as her fingers massaged his scalp.
The long ridge she sat on grew harder.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured
wonderingly against her mouth.

“Of course I am. I love you.” This time the
words felt exactly like they belonged.

Hans pulled back to look at her.

“I love you,” she repeated.

He laughed breathily. “My being here is
living proof of that, and still I adore hearing you say the
words.”

She smiled. “Because
you
love
me
.”

He passed his hands up and down her back,
shooting wonderful streaks of sexual buzziness through her
vertebrae.

“I do,” he said. “You’ve grown too accustomed
of making the best of wherever your parents threw you. I want to
cherish you forever. I want to make up for everything that ever
disappointed you.”

December was touched beyond expressing that
he remembered her saying that. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you
tried.”

“Well, well,” drawled a voice from the
doorway. “Looks like we have our own Goldilocks.”

“Crap,” December gasped, realizing the
junkshop owner must have come back early. She scrambled off Hans’s
lap, remembering too late that she was naked. Hans yanked the
blanket off the bed, handing it to her even as he turned to
confront the intruder.

Once the covering was wrapped around her,
December blinked in shock. Hans had his longbow loaded and pointed
at the man. He’d done it so quickly she hadn’t seen him reach for
the weapon.

“Easy, cousin,” said the lean dark-haired
man. His palms were lifted peaceably.

“
Cousin?
” Hans growled the question
more like a werewolf than a half elf.

The man smiled with a great many straight
white teeth. December couldn’t help observing he was very
good-looking. “I haven’t lived in the mortal realm long enough not
to recognize a fellow fae.”

Hans wasn’t swallowing his charm. “Friend or
foe,” he demanded.

The man stopped smiling, which immediately
made him more imposing. He wore a plaid flannel shirt and dark
khaki trousers. Despite this humble garb, he gave off a different
air from Hans—more prince and less common man. December concluded
he was the pureblood version of whatever sort of fae he was.

“Friend,” he said, “unless you give me reason
not to be.”

“Duvall,” called a woman in the next room,
“who are you talking to?” She stopped short in the doorway. She was
pretty in a New England way. Long dark hair. Rangy body. Kick-ass
riding boots that showed off her legs. She was older than December
but not a lot. She seemed displeased to find her companion in
Hans’s arrow sights.

“Goodness,” she said with deceptive mildness.
“Please don’t point that at my husband.”

Hans didn’t precisely relax, but he lowered
the bow. “I am Hans,” he said, “And this is my true bride,
December. I apologize for our intrusion.”

“And for the sandwiches,” December added.
“We’ll pay you back for them.”

“You’re the girl who ran away from Rackham,”
the woman said. “Your picture was on the morning news.”

“She didn’t run away,” Hans corrected as if
this were a slur to December’s character. “She helped save me from
Queen Araun.”

“Queen Araun?” Duvall repeated, his mouth
open. “Don’t tell me you’re the huntsman she turned into a statue
for breaking her daughter’s heart. Good Lord, that had to be two
hundred years ago!”

“I am he,” Hans said a bit stiffly.

“And you ended up at Rackham?”

“In the cemetery behind it. The villagers
established it around my statue. They assumed I already marked a
grave.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Duvall said. “Nasty piece of
work, that Araun. Met her once at a party. I don’t suppose you were
lucky enough to kill her.”

“Couldn’t,” Hans said. “Her husband was my
king. I’d sworn vows to both of them.”

Duvall nodded as if this conversation were
perfectly normal. His wife’s expression, by contrast, combined
stupefaction with amusement.

“Are you human too?” December blurted
out.

The question inspired more surprise than she
expected. The woman pressed both hands to her mouth like she was
about to cry. “Oh! Only the other morning I was wishing.”

“What did you wish, my love?” her husband
turned to her to ask. His voice and manner had gone soft—protective
too, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

Now
that’s
romantic
, December thought.

His wife answered him with wide eyes. “I
wished I had a female friend I could talk to about fae stuff. I
love my brother, but some things I can’t share with him. Not that
I’m assuming,” she said hastily to December. “You probably don’t
plan to stay in Kingaken.”

“We don’t plan
not
to,” December said
slowly. “Maybe we could for a while. Hans could use a chance to get
his land legs.”

She glanced at him, and he shrugged, a
let’s-see-how-it-goes gesture. Would he enjoy having another fae to
talk to? The woman seemed kind of cool, but was this prince who
dressed like a handyman bro-friend material?

We’re thinking about each other’s
happiness
, she realized.
Maybe we won’t suck at this romance
thing.

“I’m Belle,” the woman said, offering her
hand.

December tucked the blanket tighter beneath
her arms and shook it. She noticed neither Belle nor Duvall
volunteered their last names. Good to know they expected strangers
to earn their trust.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said.

She shook Duvall’s hand as well, giving him a
firmer than normal grip. Let him chew on the fact that she was no
more of a candyass than his wife.

Maybe he guessed what she was doing. He began
to smile a little. “This should be interesting,” he commented.

Belle slapped his arm as wife code for
don’t be rude
. “My brother owns a bed and breakfast,” she
said to December. “And he knows about the fae. I’m sure he can put
you up until you find your way.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Hans responded.
“December and I will pay him back as soon as we win the
Lottery.”

Belle burst into a laugh, which she cut short
abruptly. She looked at her husband. “Seriously? They can do
that?”

Not worried about the answer, December caught
Hans’s hand. She squeezed his fingers, and he squeezed hers. His
happy eyes crinkled with affection as he smiled down at her. She
was sure they’d face challenges—how to explain events at Rackham,
to begin with. No matter what sort of being Hans was, they’d have a
real life and not a fairytale. That didn’t frighten her. With him
beside her, every day would be magical.

Beloved
, he mouthed silently.

December knew they’d won the biggest prize
already.

“
WE
don’t have to do this,” Hans said,
not for the first time.

December sat behind the wheel of their shiny
gold Jaguar. Making good on his promise, Hans had won exactly the
right sum of Lottery money to start their lives and their company
comfortably. They’d based their matchmaking firm in Kingaken, which
she’d initially had doubts about.