Charlotte

by Mima

  “I trusted you and you blew it. Just go away.”

  He stopped, chin lifting. “I see. I’ll call you when you’re back in New York. I hope we can see each other again.”

  She walked away, throat strangling on bitterness. “I don’t know.” She felt like saying never, but at the same time, her palm still itched with the memory of holding his erection. Her thighs were sore, her nipples were tight, and oh, he was fine.

  “I’ll send my assistant Hans to your room. You need to learn fantastical laws immediately and register as well.”

  She waved her hand in irritation at his words, then took the driver’s hand and stepped aboard the small flat boat. She smiled blindly at the young family of ruby-skinned people who looked at her, and sat on a cushioned seat. They could either be some magical ethnicity or simply have magic-grade sunburns.

  The engine started with a roar, and the boat flew away in a plume of white foam. The ship sat like a floating castle on the horizon. She swallowed a few times, then burst into tears.

  Would she agree to see him if he actually called her in New York? If she did, how would she know when the wolf mind games started again? She wanted to turn and see him one last time, but what if Isabella’s lovely form stood matching his?

  She shook her head. This was part of the adventure. The getting . . . and the leaving. Gram had told her how important it was to be the one doing the leaving. And she was. Sort of. She wiped her eyes angrily. The moonlight had been magical, but the daylight was much harsher.

  You’ve reached the

  RED ENDING.

  ✦

  Click on this link to return to the Choice Index.

  Dare to decide again!

  “Gram, I’m scared.” Charlotte started to cry, the tears sliding thick and hot from her pressed lashes.

  There were so many times when she’d had to be brave for Gram, so many times where she’d shoved down the tears. This wasn’t anything like those times. This was messed up and she just needed a moment to sob the fear away.

  Ryder begrudged her the moment. He snarled and screamed, snapping his chains taut again and again. Huddling in as small a ball as she could in the corner, Charlotte cried, gasping and coughing her way through every clang. Some of his lunges were so violent his feet left the floor when his neck was brought up short. Seeing the way the links cut into his torn throat just made her cry more.

  The metal scraped, the chains chafing against the seam where they were set. The harder Charlotte sobbed, the more the chains jangled. His arms swinging, hands mindlessly reaching for her, he leaned his whole body into a steep angle, face turning first cherry, then magenta, and just starting to edge into eggplant when there was a loud boom!

  Purple glitter sparkled through her tears. When she blinked her wet lashes hard enough for clarity, Ryder stood over her, mouth hanging loose, fangs shining. A short length of chain swung from his neck.

  Charlotte stared into his wild eyes, breathless. He would kill her. The gargoyles would kill him. The Elder would arrange their remains. Would she see Gram? Would she be able to haunt the Elder and torment her? Did vampires have souls?

  Ryder still didn’t move. He trembled, drooled. One hand banged into the side of the ship and stuck like a magnet. The other curled into a fist, skin white with tension. Faint lines of blood still trickled from some of the cuts on his body.

  Charlotte had to breathe, but now her eyes were burning, unable to blink, unwilling to miss the last moment. Ryder’s nostrils flexed. His lip rippled. Charlotte thought a heart attack would take her first.

  Then, he whirled away. In two long strides, he gripped the ship-anchored end of the broken chain in both hands. “Go.”

  She actually tried, but the rope brought her up short, as much of a shock the second time. She stared at it, stupefied. Licking her lips, she whispered, “I’m tied.”

  But as she spoke, she saw the gargoyle above him stir. It shifted its shoulders, then angled the pig snout. Finally, it crawled down the wall like a spider, steps light for stone on metal.

  “Gargoyle,” she breathed even quieter. Would they attack Ryder? Or her? Were they intelligent? Controlled by the Elder?

  A scrape came from her corner, then the one opposite. In moments, four gargoyles gathered to the side of the door. They had real eyes in their stone faces, the pale orbs shining wet and fragile from gray rock lids.

  “Never have I seen such control,” the dog said to the pig.

  The dragon nodded. “Ryder is a rare vampire, one who chooses to master his appetites.”

  The dog gave a small growl. “Well, he fights them at least. I do not think he’ll master them. He’ll break soon and go for her.”

  The pig sighed. “It would have been good to repay our debt to the Elder, but I find myself irritated at such sloppy assassin work.”

  The bat spoke with a shockingly sultry, feminine voice. “I vote for calling the enforcers.”

  There was a pause. The dog raised its back leg and scratched one long, dangling ear. Small particles of rock showered down like sand. “Acceptable.”

  Dragon nodded. “Agreed.”

  Pig sighed again, deeper and longer. “Perhaps we can get out of this favor yet.”

  Bat hopped like a rabbit over to the door and opened it. Charlotte held her breath, nails biting into the metal wall. The other gargoyles went into the hall, too. She stared, mesmerized, but they all just sat, looking off down the hallway. It was on the tip of her tongue to scream What are you waiting for? But she managed to remain still.

  They were somehow going to help her. She bit her lip. Should she ask them to untie her?

  In the distance, there came a clang, and footsteps. They were slow and heavy. After a moment, the gargoyles clustered closer, their stone skin grinding softly. The stride became clearer, and they pulled from her vision, clearing the doorway by moving away.

  Everything about the steps had shouted “badass.” And that’s exactly who came to a stop in the doorway. He looked like the purest stereotype of a biker she’d ever seen. He was tall and wide, beefy, with a shaggy beard and a bald head. He wore leather, but unlike Ryder’s pants, these were thick and stiff, like chaps. His arms were hairy, muscular, and tattooed. His tee and vest were dusty. He looked at her.

  Charlotte quickly stammered, “Please, help me. The Elder has tied me, and Ryder is at the end of his strength.”

  He looked at Ryder’s sweating, slashed back, standing for a long, endless moment. He looked back at her.

  “The gargoyles can attest that this is an elaborate setup. The Elder wanted to kill us but make it look like a lover’s quarrel. Please!” Her lip started to quiver again, her eyes wet.

  The biker folded his arms. “The Elder. The Fairy Queen.” His voice was gritty, cold.

  Charlotte nodded frantically. “And her assistant Willow. Ask the gargoyles!”

  He looked back and forth again. Charlotte thought about kneeling, prostrating herself, or—

  Entering the room, the biker walked up to Ryder. He stood behind him and put one huge arm against the wall, palm flat. He was tall enough that they did not touch, but Charlotte could see how the arm stretched right past Ryder’s face.

  “Drink.” The command was given with a sneer, like a dare.

  The chains jangled loose as Ryder switched his grip onto the biker.

  Charlotte took a step toward them, horrified at the temptation the man had set up but helpless to stop it. Ryder’s face burrowed into the fold of the man’s inner elbow. Horrible wet, ripping sounds came, and blood splattered the wall and floor. Charlotte gagged and looked away, tears spilling down her hot cheeks.

  “So what are you, chica?”

  The gravelly voice brought her head up again. He stood in the same position, looking at her like he was just resting himself on the street. He was relaxed, not at all like he was
close to losing the lower half of his arm to a vampire.

  Charlotte took a few shaky breaths. “I’m a will-o’-the-wisp.”

  He grunted. “Must not be registered or she’d be bound not to kill you.”

  She nodded. “I found out what I was just last night. First she wanted to trick me, so that an enforcer would come for me. But I wouldn’t do it.”

  All in one breath, marveling at her own nerve, Charlotte blurted, “Whatareyou?”

  The biker shrugged. “I’m a hell-angel.” Then his face wrinkled, twisted, and spread into something vaguely resembling a smile. “And I’m also an enforcer, fairy-girl.”

  “I’m not impressed.” Charlotte lifted her chin, fisting her sore fingers at what needed to be said. Her heart ached for Ryder.

  He grunted, eyes narrowing at her. The voracious, sloppy chomping sounds continued.

  “Tempting him like that was just a setup. I think it is horrible of you to condemn Ryder. He was trying so hard not to attack me. She hurt him so much he was starving. This isn’t his fault.”

  The biker propped his free hand on his hip. “I like you.”

  She turned and faced the wall, nauseous at the grinding, smacking, sucking sounds of Ryder feeding to his doom.

  “Yeah, see, the interesting thing is, an enforcer isn’t a fantastical. We’re humans with magic.”

  She turned her head. “You’re . . . not going to punish him for drinking from you?”

  “I’m pretty sure I offered. He’s going to be fine. So are you. Bueno.”

  Charlotte sat on the floor, her rope biting into her ribs, and sobbed in earnest. With great wracking, heaving gasps, she cried and cried.

  It was Ryder who got her to stop. He came and sat next to her, his body healed but disgustingly sticky. With his arm around her, he rubbed her shoulder until her tears dried up.

  Lifting her swollen, snotty face up to reality was difficult. “Are you back with me?” she asked Ryder, touching his cheek with trembling fingers.

  He stared at her, so still, so intent. His lashes swept down and up, his head tipping so slightly toward her touch. Silently, he stood and held out his hand. There were no claws, but it was bloody. She put her own into his, and was lifted onto her feet. Her knees held.

  The biker cut her rope with a white knife from his belt and then the questions began. After the gargoyles answered their fair share, they left. But the biker, whose name was Sam, said it wasn’t safe for Ryder and Charlotte on the cruise. They were taken to another room and magically sealed inside until the Elder could be taken into custody.

  Charlotte sat on the bed while Ryder used the shower, then they switched. When she came out, she shivered to see her periwinkle sundress. Kicking it into the corner, she snugged deeper into the ship’s robe.

  Ryder lay on one of the tiny twin beds, his eyes closed, hands folded over his belly. The sheet was thin enough she could see he was nude. Charlotte sat facing him, jittery.

  “Quit staring at me.”

  Charlotte looked at the floor, taken aback by the snarl in his voice.

  Ryder sighed and sat up. “Look. The whole point of this cruise is to find a lover and indulge with our own kind. And when you dabble in our waters, there’s always danger. You can’t help the fact that you didn’t know what, or even where, you stumbled into. I wanted to sleep with you, and we had a fine time, so I can’t blame you for trapping me.”

  She certainly hoped not! Charlotte opened her mouth, but he held up one stiff finger.

  “I’m just generally pissed off about this whole mess. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, but not the way I wanted to.” His voice was grim, his lovely dark eyes narrowed. “If you think taking out the Elder is going to be a one-night function, you’re wrong. Not only do you have no idea of the import of what is happening right now, you have no clue what it’s going to do to your life.”

  “Well, can’t you help explain it?” She clutched the robe lapels closer.

  As he swung his legs over so that he sat facing her, she noted the sheet stayed across his lap, barely. He put his elbows on his knees and scrubbed at his raggedly shorn hair. “The fairy kingdom is shattering. The fear and anger will be wild for as long as the Elder lives, and the enforcers won’t kill her right off. We’re going to be under a lot of scrutiny. Our vacation is pretty much a scratch.”

  “Oh.” She studied him, his smooth cream skin and dark hair. “I’m glad I’m with you, Ryder. Thank you so much for not eating me.”

  He laughed, but it was cold and bitter. “You could have been a superstar right now, the owner of a lifetime slave, mindless but powerful. Doesn’t that sound like a better possibility?”

  She pulled her head back, wrinkling her nose. “No way.”

  With a huff, he threw himself down to lie on one elbow. “You’re all right, Charlotte, but I’m not where I want to be. Now I’m going to need to deal with vampire crap and fairy crap and here you are, all big-silver-eyes. I just don’t want to add lover’s crap to a busy situation, you know?”

  Her gaze slid away. She knew. Kind of hard to be attracted to the woman who unknowingly caused you to be beaten into madness. Her tears welled up again, weighing heavily on her lower lashes. So this was how she lost her first lover.

  He reached out and patted her knee. “Sam will sort this out. Soon the Elder will be taken down, but until then, I need a little space.”

  She nodded. Her gut tightened over his increasingly patronizing tone.

  With that, he lay down and rolled over, giving her his smooth, pretty back. The one she’d clung to as their bodies strained together.

  Anger pricked into the soles of her numb feet. This wasn’t quite how it would end with her first lover. “I wanted to sleep with you, too, so I’ll try not to blame you for trapping me.”

  Ryder whipped around, staring at her in amazement.

  She narrowed her eyes. “After all, you didn’t know how paranoid your powerful enemy had gotten. How could you know telling the innocent fairy you’d met not to register would make the Elder suspicious and crazy?”

  “Now listen here—”

  Charlotte held up a stiff finger. “I’m generally pissed off to have been chained with a starving vampire, so I guess I’ll just have to tolerate your pompous ass while we spend so much time together during the fairy liberation. But I suppose we can maybe be friends. Tomorrow night.”

  Clenching her jaw, she lay down on her thin, cold bed and tried not to cry. “Don’t stare, please.”

  To her irritation, Ryder gave quiet, sarcastic applause. They both turned away, backs to each other.

  She wondered how long this would indeed take and if they were safe against fairy vengeance. Giving Ryder his own words back hadn’t made her feel better, but she was still proud of herself. Tears burned down her cheeks.

  Finally out of the silence came a deep sigh. “Charlotte. I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry, too, Ryder.”

  The crackling air cleared. Their breathing evened out.

  Ryder sat up. Charlotte rolled to look at him. Their eyes met in the faint light from the tiny bathroom. The hollows of his face were artfully shadowed. He needed a haircut.

  Her breath synched to his. His lips were sculpted, rich. Her breasts were heavy. The bed was comfortable and the cool darkness welcome after the bright metal box they’d survived.

  “We’re going to be together. I can’t stay mad at you. You were a hero.”

  “A slobbering, starving hero?” His voice was wry but slow and seductive, too. “I have no idea how I pulled out of my blood rage. But I think it has to do with . . . feelings.”

  She nodded. “We’re alive. We’re free, sort of. We’re going to win against that old crone.” She licked her lips.

  “We could be here all week,” Ryder purred.

  “W
hy were we fighting?”

  “I was stupid.”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  He smiled, too. She loved that cocky smile. “It was your tears, you know. Even in my madness, I could not stand your tears.”

  “I’ll try not to unleash my tear power on you again.”

  He stood then sat beside her on the bed.

  She reached out and put a hand on his thigh. He covered it with his. They breathed together in the darkness.

  “Let me hold you?” his voice crooned to her.

  She melted. Charlotte stood to face him and undid the belt on her robe. He lifted the sheets and slid in, holding them up for her. She tucked herself in against him, forced tight by the narrow bed.

  His arms closed around her shoulders and waist. “Thank you.”

  Burying her nose in his chest, she let her eyes sag closed. They were alive, strong and whole. Maybe it wasn’t over with her first lover, and maybe it was. But it was going to be okay.

  You’ve reached the

  ORANGE ENDING.

  ✦

  Click on this link to return to the Choice Index.

  Dare to decide again!

  “The sailboat!” She sat on the dock, grabbed a life jacket, and shrugged into it. Scooting down gingerly, she clutched at the dock as the boat tipped under her feet.

  “Sit in the middle, toward the back.” Ivor stepped in and pulled a line. The sail snapped into place. He took a piece of wood the size of a cupboard door and jammed it down into the deck, and the boat took off like it was alive.

  Struggling to zip her life jacket, she shouted over the screams and the air horn. “Get your jacket on!”

  He slid to the side, canting the boat, shoving the tiller. The boat flew across the surface of the water, silent, light.

  A mechanical drone overrode the falling wail of the island’s alert. Isabella flashed past in a plume of white water, laughing maniacally, black hair fluttering. The sailboat bobbed in its wake, waves sloshing over the white fiberglass while Charlotte clung to the side with a death grip.