Sleeping Beauty and the Lion: A Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling of Sleeping Beauty (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 3) by Sylvia Frost Page B
Authors: Sylvia Frost
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burdened with false sympathy.
“Yes.”
She reached the end of the longest scar but kept on going rubbing my healthy skin with just as much tenderness. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”
“I’m not ready,” I covered her hand with mine, not meaning to stop her. She stopped all the same, twitching backward.
“But I don’t have a choice,” I said. “If you’re going to be mine, you have to know the risks involved.”
“So what happened?” She dipped her shoulder, seeking out my eyes. Her other hand ghosted over the edge of her own neck.
I let go of her reluctantly, forcing myself to give her space enough to get out of the bed, if she wanted. “There’s no other way to say this Rose, but — ”
I stopped halfway through my sentence. My inner lion was suddenly alert, tail stiff. Through the purple curtains down in the street below, I noticed a black, boxy speck. A Humvee. Lonan.
“Daniel?”
Hissing through gritted teeth, I strode to the window and parted the curtains to confirm my guess. And there, in the parking lot of the brewery across the street, was the damn black Humvee again. Headlights off. Windows tinted. License plate reading “GARCIA”
I closed my eyes, sorting past the sound of the nearby construction crew. Lurking underneath the cover of the jackhammer was the murmur of an idling engine and a click of a digital camera shutter.
Lonan was in that damn car. Taking pictures. Likely of my Rose. Or me. Probably for his drug company and who knew if they were really a drug company and not the people who had kidnapped me years ago. I was done hiding. I was done running. It was time to do a preemptive strike.
My hand shot out to grab that damn Werehawks T-shirt from the floor and I put it on over my head. I opened the door of her bedroom and stopped before exiting. “Stay here.”
“Why? What? What’s going on?” Rose sprung out of bed, or tried to, before realizing she was naked by catching her reflection in the mirror on the back of the newly opened bedroom door. She covered her breasts with her hands. “Daniel!”
“It will just be a second. I’m going outside to make sure everything’s okay.”
“What’s okay?”
“I will explain it when I get back.”
“Sweet Jesus, Daniel. You can’t just disappear! Talk to me!” Rose called one more time, but I closed the door. Her cries felt like nails dragging against my spinal cord, but I had to do it. I had to take care of her.
I took the narrow steps down to the street level two at a time. Claws grew from my fingertips, and I let them. Although I hid my hands in my jean pockets to be safe.
Outside, a brisk March air battled the heat of my adrenaline. I caught the rumble of the Humvee’s engine change from park to drive and the accelerator begin to whine. Broken glass crunched underneath my sneakers as I strode into the street.
The Humvee’s tires squealed. Navigating through the crumbling concrete barriers of the parking lot, it was executing a smooth three-point turn. I wouldn’t be able to catch it. Not at human speed.
With one quick surveillance of the apartment buildings around me, I checked for open windows and nosy eyes. None that I could see.
Then I tensed my thigh muscles and, using the curb like a starting block, launched myself across the street. It was a glorious feeling, the wind sharp against my cheek, nothing but air underneath my feet, that black Humvee getting closer and closer with every second.
As I flew through the air, I was only probably a foot above the ground. But it felt like miles. It felt like freedom.
I landed with a crunch. The bulky-nosed grill of the Humvee was already turning to try to avoid hitting me, but it was too late. I grabbed the fender so hard it crinkled under the pressure of my fingers. One of my feet slipped backward as I took in the force of the vehicle, channeling it through my body and muscles and into the ground below.
The wheels kept turning
“Yes.”
She reached the end of the longest scar but kept on going rubbing my healthy skin with just as much tenderness. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”
“I’m not ready,” I covered her hand with mine, not meaning to stop her. She stopped all the same, twitching backward.
“But I don’t have a choice,” I said. “If you’re going to be mine, you have to know the risks involved.”
“So what happened?” She dipped her shoulder, seeking out my eyes. Her other hand ghosted over the edge of her own neck.
I let go of her reluctantly, forcing myself to give her space enough to get out of the bed, if she wanted. “There’s no other way to say this Rose, but — ”
I stopped halfway through my sentence. My inner lion was suddenly alert, tail stiff. Through the purple curtains down in the street below, I noticed a black, boxy speck. A Humvee. Lonan.
“Daniel?”
Hissing through gritted teeth, I strode to the window and parted the curtains to confirm my guess. And there, in the parking lot of the brewery across the street, was the damn black Humvee again. Headlights off. Windows tinted. License plate reading “GARCIA”
I closed my eyes, sorting past the sound of the nearby construction crew. Lurking underneath the cover of the jackhammer was the murmur of an idling engine and a click of a digital camera shutter.
Lonan was in that damn car. Taking pictures. Likely of my Rose. Or me. Probably for his drug company and who knew if they were really a drug company and not the people who had kidnapped me years ago. I was done hiding. I was done running. It was time to do a preemptive strike.
My hand shot out to grab that damn Werehawks T-shirt from the floor and I put it on over my head. I opened the door of her bedroom and stopped before exiting. “Stay here.”
“Why? What? What’s going on?” Rose sprung out of bed, or tried to, before realizing she was naked by catching her reflection in the mirror on the back of the newly opened bedroom door. She covered her breasts with her hands. “Daniel!”
“It will just be a second. I’m going outside to make sure everything’s okay.”
“What’s okay?”
“I will explain it when I get back.”
“Sweet Jesus, Daniel. You can’t just disappear! Talk to me!” Rose called one more time, but I closed the door. Her cries felt like nails dragging against my spinal cord, but I had to do it. I had to take care of her.
I took the narrow steps down to the street level two at a time. Claws grew from my fingertips, and I let them. Although I hid my hands in my jean pockets to be safe.
Outside, a brisk March air battled the heat of my adrenaline. I caught the rumble of the Humvee’s engine change from park to drive and the accelerator begin to whine. Broken glass crunched underneath my sneakers as I strode into the street.
The Humvee’s tires squealed. Navigating through the crumbling concrete barriers of the parking lot, it was executing a smooth three-point turn. I wouldn’t be able to catch it. Not at human speed.
With one quick surveillance of the apartment buildings around me, I checked for open windows and nosy eyes. None that I could see.
Then I tensed my thigh muscles and, using the curb like a starting block, launched myself across the street. It was a glorious feeling, the wind sharp against my cheek, nothing but air underneath my feet, that black Humvee getting closer and closer with every second.
As I flew through the air, I was only probably a foot above the ground. But it felt like miles. It felt like freedom.
I landed with a crunch. The bulky-nosed grill of the Humvee was already turning to try to avoid hitting me, but it was too late. I grabbed the fender so hard it crinkled under the pressure of my fingers. One of my feet slipped backward as I took in the force of the vehicle, channeling it through my body and muscles and into the ground below.
The wheels kept turning
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