Little Red (Not Quite the Fairy Tale #5) Read online

  No.

  Hadley snatched her hand away and took several steps back.

  He saw a lot of things in her eyes when he glanced up from the fading marks. Hostility. Hatred. Disgust.

  Surprise wasn't one of them.

  Fuck. How had that happened? Four years. They'd been part of the same pack for four years. How hadn't he noticed?

  Obviously, she had. Thinking back through their entire acquaintance, he remembered the one time they’d touched.

  The very first day, when he’d bitten her ear. Since, she’d stayed the hell out of his way.

  Hell. She’d known from the very beginning.

  Hadley turned her heels and made for the door.

  “Stay.”

  The order held more dominance than anything he'd ever said, anything he'd ever done. She should have shivered. Any female in his pack would have.

  She laughed.

  “Oh, Jackson,” she said, her voice stronger than it had ever been. “You forget. I'm not part of your pack. I'm afraid I don't heel for you anymore.”

  Fucking hell. Now he paid attention, he couldn't feel her – or her brother, for that matter – through the pack link. How had that happened without his consent?

  “You can't leave. You're mine.”

  His, shaped by nature itself. His fated mate. Many wolves spent a lifetime looking for their halves, and never found it. Kyle had never looked, but here she was.

  “How about pretending this never happened? I certainly will.”

  He’d pushed dominant vibes right at her, to get her to stop walking towards the damn door, when something else screwed with his mind.

  She pushed back. Hard. His wolf didn't back down or cower, but he could feel Jack and Lola snivel behind him, as his own power play fell flat against hers.

  He’d always known she was stronger than the others; he just hadn’t realized she topped him, too.

  Then, when the she had them all shocked into submission, she made a run for it, leaving him, the pack, and everything else behind her.

  “Is it true?”

  She didn't need to ask what her brother was referring to. Obviously, the rumor mill had been quicker than what she’d anticipated.

  “Well, I'm pretty, smart and strong. Nature had to screw me over, somewhere.”

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  Just a little peak of Rumpelstiltskin:

  The cat was about to die. It was starved, full of fleas, and probably worms, too.

  He hated seeing things die.

  Rum sighed out loud. Oh, well. What was another day.

  He’d be dead in less than a year, anyway.

  Description:

  As Rumpelstiltskin told Cinderella Fays would live forever, but each spell they cast cost them a day of life.

  After three thousand years and more than twice as many spells, Rum is dying. He knows it, he doesn’t even feat it. It just pisses him off – because there is a way for a fay to beat that fate, and somehow, he’d always believed he’d manage it.

  With less than a year left on earth, he’s given up hope.

  Three hundred spells. Three hundred days…

  Parents are supposed to be protective and all; as far as she can remember, Aria’s have used her.

  They’ve used her beauty, at first, entering her into as many pageants as possible, then, when her career as a designer took off, they used her name to further their own standing.

  She’d never imagined that they might push it that far, though.

  There’s no way out of her situation – her parents owe her captor too much for him to relinquish her. There’s nothing she can do.

  Unless a pile of gold somehow appears before morning…

  By the way, there’s a little bit of basic French in this story – it’s not relevant as Chase doesn’t get a word of what she’s saying, but in case you’re curious:

  Qu’est-ce que vous faites! C’est le roi d’Enom means “What are you doing! It’s the King of Enom.”

  Pense très fort, petite chienne, and demande-toi si tu peux finir ce que tu commences means “Think very hard, little bitch, and ask yourself if you can finish what you start.”

  Laisse-le partir, Norman. Tuer un monarque va nous ramener beaucoup d’attention means “Let him go, Normal. Killing a monarch will bring a lot of attention on us.”

  And finally, C’est ma decision! means “It’s my decision.” I bet you couldn’t guess that one.