His stare was intense. “But if it comes back?”
“I always belonged to you.” Her smile grew wide. “I just didn’t know it right away.”
He inhaled. “I love you more than my next breath.”
“You proved your love to me when you let me go and didn’t even tell me how doing that would doom you. You told me once that after the games, if I willed it, if I wanted to see you, you’d show me.”
Gone was his scheming, calculating ways. The smolder. The roguish, impish grin. In its place was a man who seemed vulnerable and it made her melt.
“There will never be any going back for you, Shayera.”
“Rumpel, even if you didn’t show me, I could never leave you again. My home is here, with you. And before you turn, I have something very important to tell you. I know how to cure your son.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Danika told me there is a quest I need to go on. Fairy lore speaks of an amulet known as the Song of Life. It is guarded by dark elves deep in Under. It is said to break the madness of the moon’s curse and she believes it will heal your son.”
He clapped his hands on hers and she gasped as her curse activated, sucking at his soul. But he clung tighter and then pulled her roughly into him for a kiss.
“That damn fairy would figure it out first. I should have had more faith.” He kissed her cheek. “But I will not allow you to undertake such a dangerous quest, and certainly not alone.”
She jerked her hands from his. “Rumpel, I’m a grown woman, I can certainly handle myself. I managed you, after all.”
He chuckled but shook his head. And there was a definite bounce to his movements now. Rumpelstiltskin was attractive when he smoldered and went all broody, but he was dangerously handsome, doubly so when he laughed with joy.
Her pulse fluttered.
“My love, you handled me quite well. No doubt about that. But the dark elves are no joke. They are warrior trained and a siren’s charms are no match for their deadly arts. I would die before I let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not letting you leave me.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t do that either, Euralis will only feed by my own hand. But there is one in my castle who thirsts for vengeance. Giles!”
The sifting of sulfur emanated a moment before the butler appeared.
“Giles?” She frowned and turned to stare at the attractive, gentlemanly manservant.
“Sir?” The valet bowed his head.
“There is a quest, an amulet to resurrect my son. The way is dark, and dangerous, and full treachery.”
A grin spread slowly across his face and Shayera was shocked to note that he fairly vibrated with excitement.
“Yes. I do it gladly.” Then his eyes turned to Shayera and with a bow of his head, the servant’s clothing he’d been wearing transformed into a warrior’s kilt and leather armor. His hair was no longer brushed back and short, but long and held back by a dark satin ribbon. A huge broadsword appeared in one hand and a spear in the other.
“Mistress, your return is most fortuitous. I thank you.”
As Giles turned to go, Rumpel cleared his throat. “There is a girl by the name of Lilith Wolf. She lives along the howling winds. Seek her out. Tell her the price of my boon is to follow you wherever you lead. And then her debt is cleared.”
Giles’s nostrils flared; clearly he was unhappy at the thought of taking anyone with him. But he did not argue with Rumpel either. With a final bow, he left.
Another fog of smoke appeared then. It was Dalia and she was laughing, beaming from ear to ear. “Bless your heart, miss. I knew you’d win him, I did.”
She wrapped her arms around Shayera and pulled her in for a big hug, then curtsied and bowed to Rumpel. “I’ve ordered the cook to set about making the biggest feast imaginable, all must be well for the wedding, no?”
Shayera blinked. “Wedding?” She shook her head. Everything was happening almost too fast for her to follow.
Rumpel grabbed her hands again, and this time when her energy took from him, she didn’t feel it as cold, but as warm and inviting. He was letting her in and it didn’t hurt, and for the first time she realized it never needed to. The witch had designed the curse to keep her chosen mate from suffering.
He must have realized the same thing, because he picked her up and twirled her around. She laughed, clinging to him for all she was worth.
“Now, or thirty years from now, Shayera Caron,” he said, his deep voice massaging every inch of her soul, “you will be mine forever. And what does a date matter, really?”
He was so right. “It doesn’t. The moment I lay eyes on you, I’ll belong to you alone, for all eternity. The rest is just formalities.”