Then turning her back to him, she hugged Briley even tighter. “Never change, Bri. I promise I’ll come back soon.”
Rubbing his nose in her hair, he nodded as his small fingers clutched at her back. “I’ll wait for you.”
“In our favorite spot?” She smiled through her tears.
He nodded. “Every day. Even if it rains.”
Sighing, realizing she’d pushed Rumpel as far as she probably could without suffering dire consequences, she kissed Briley’s blond head once more and then stood.
“So.” She sniffed haughtily. “Let’s go.”
There was a predatory gleam about him, one that caused her knees to want to shake. The man was really disgustingly attractive. It made her angry at him, at herself, at the whole world. Clenching her fists, she shrugged. “Well?”
“Don’t you want to bring some clothes with you, or personal items?”
“I don’t intend to stay long, and what I have on me works just fine, thank you.”
The slight widening of his eyes suggested he was either shocked by her brusque tone or impressed that she dared defy him.
“You’re not scared of me, are you?”
Surrounded by the knickknacks of a home she’d known her whole life and guarded by those who loved her more than life itself, she felt brave when she shook her head.
“No. You’re just a bully, a cruel man who’s so desperate to have his way that he’d strong-arm an innocent man into either killing himself or giving up his only daughter to fulfill some wild caprice. Men like you are a dime a dozen, and I don’t fear you.”
Rather than roar with fury or laugh in scorn, he inclined his head. “Continue to be as you are, girl, and we’ll get along just fine. My chariot awaits.” Stepping back, he gestured with his arm.
Shayera felt the heated press of her parents’ eyes on the back of her skull as she followed Rumpel out of the only home she’d ever felt safe in.
The moment she stepped foot outside, she could feel the eyes of the town, feel the hate and the loathing they directed at her whenever she made an appearance. One by one, bodies came out of their homes and shoppes, openly staring at her with scornful, grimacing faces full of hate.
“I do not think those hate-filled eyes are directed at me,” Rumpel said with a chuckle. “Which is rather shocking. You must be a very naughty girl, Shayera Caron.”
Refusing to be baited, she stared straight ahead, ignoring the people as she’d done for the past eleven years. Ahead sat a gleaming metal contraption. Confused as to what it might be, she wondered where his chariot was. When Rumpel straddled the huge beast and sat, then patted the spot behind him, his brow lifted, she realized this was his mode of conveyance.
“What is this?” She stopped, entranced as the silvery sheen of metal almost seemed to undulate beneath her watchful gaze. And then he did something that caused the beast to roar to life.
Frightened, her breathing increased as a plume of smoke and fire poured from its rear. For once, the eyes around her weren’t looking at her anymore.
“This is Genesis, and you must ask for permission to ride her as she’s quite the jealous wench.”
“What?” She looked up, wondering if he was joking. But though he laughed, he appeared to be genuine. “Ask it for permission? It is metal.”
“Is it?” He throttled the knob and the conveyance screamed, rumbling throatily and making her ears ring. “Just try to sit on her then.”
Knowing that not one piece of her hair or skin could touch him, Shayera gathered her wild mane back into a tight knot, slipped on the ever-present gloves she always kept on her and, unsure whether to sit sidesaddle or not, made an attempt to sit. She said made an attempt because the moment her behind landed on the seat, a powerful shove rolled up and before she knew it, she was sprawled out on the pavement with stars dancing in her vision.
His laughter tickled her ears, and he reached out a hand to help her. “I told you. And good gods, Genesis. I’ve never seen her shove someone off so violently. She must really hate you.” He patted the gleaming tank of the beast once before again offering her his hand.
Ignoring his gesture, she held tight to the scrap of dignity she had remaining, determined to ignore the mocking laughter ringing all around, and stood, dusting herself off. Heat crept up her neck and bloomed in her cheeks; the curse of being so fair-complected was that her humiliation was visible for all to see.
“May I sit on you?” she ground out through clenched teeth, feeling utterly idiotic talking to machinery this way.
The seat rippled and she glanced up at him.
His amber eyes danced. “She says no. I do believe she doesn’t like you, Shayera. But then I told you my steed was quite jealous. Cajole her with kindness and perhaps she’ll forgive you for your treatment of her earlier.”
Nostrils flaring, she snapped. “Is this a joke to you?”
“I assure you it is not.”