No Prince Charming Read online

  We rolled over the floor and I hissed out a breath as one punch caught me in the ribs. I felt the bone break, felt the pain explode through me. I shoved it aside and drove a fist into the host’s nose. She laughed.

  Blood splattered across the host’s face as she rolled me under her again, straddling me.

  Horror jolted through me as I felt the hard, brutal length of the host’s erect penis pressing against my abdomen. She smiled down at me, a gruesome sight. The male face, the demonic, female hunger that hovered in the air around her.

  “I think I might wait to kill you,” she purred.

  Was it the blood roaring in my ears or something else that made it sound like there were two voices coming out of the host’s mouth? The male’s voice and then something darker, colder, alien. Hissing and harsh.

  “If I kill you now, I can’t have fun with you. And I’ve never had this particular pleasure.” She stilled her struggles, her head cocked to the side. A thoughtful look passed over the male’s face. “But I think you have…haven’t you, pretty little Grimm? You know what it’s like to have a man tear inside you? Ripping soft flesh? Bruising your lovely body? Did he laugh?”

  I snarled.

  Fucking bitch. I wrenched my body, tearing one hand free from her grip. Driving my fist into her throat, I shoved her body aside.

  I was staggering to my feet when I heard the gun.

  I whirled around in time to see the drone shove Michael’s inert body off him.

  Blood pulsed from the gaping hole in his chest. Heart blood. I stumbled towards him, forgetting the demon at my back, forgetting the drone and his gun.

  Michael…

  The drone lifted his gun and the queen said, “Stop. I want him to watch this.”

  I felt her coming at me, but shock and grief slowed me down. He could heal it—he could. I just needed…

  Her fist plowed into the back of my head and I went down.

  Dimly, I heard the drone arguing with her.

  “My queen, he must die. He will heal.”

  “Not fast enough.”

  The pain was beyond nauseating. Beyond intense.

  He struggled to function past the pain, to make his body move. But the injury was too severe and until it healed…he was all but useless.

  Rolling his head to the side, he stared at Elle trapped between the two of them.

  Help—they needed help.

  Ren—where was that cocky bastard now? Couldn’t take that fucking long to deal with cameras, now could it?

  No. More than Ren. They needed more help than that…

  Will.

  Michael closed his eyes, blocked out the sight of Elle struggling. Had to focus—had to…

  The medallion around his neck burned hot. Without waiting for Will to speak, he cried out for help. No words left his mouth. He couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. The call came from his mind, his heart…his soul.

  “Help us, Will.”

  Will’s voice came, flat and emotionless. “I already am.”

  Michael wanted to look, but he couldn’t move—couldn’t move. Darkness edged in on his vision and he knew he was about to pass out. No—

  “Elle…she needs…”

  “I’m sorry, Michael, but you have to help Elle. My hands are rather full.”

  The connection between him and the oldest Grimm went silent and Michael opened his mouth, a silent scream of rage.

  She was going to…no. No. He couldn’t let that happen. Even as he imagined what was coming, he shoved it from his mind. No. Not again. He wouldn’t let that happen to her again.

  Adrenaline flooded him. A fresh, hot wash of blood pumped from the hole in his chest. Shoving upright, he reached for some last vestige of strength. But his body had none. It took everything he had not to lose consciousness.

  He was helpless.

  No.

  Physically, he was pretty much done for, but there was another way.

  He collapsed back onto the floor, conserving what physical strength he still had and gathering his mental power. Turning his head, he focused on the three struggling in front of him.

  They had Elle pinned down. Hot, potent rage pooled inside him. Michael reached for it, drew it inside him, welcomed the rush of energy it brought. Then he focused his power and launched it.

  It arrowed out, spiraling towards the drone…and the queen.

  They stiffened as he wrapped a mental net around them.

  Blood began to leak from his nose. He couldn’t psychically control a queen. Not safely. Even the drone was straining his ability. The drone—he needed…

  The darkness swirled back in on him. Snarling, he reached up and slammed his fist into the wound on his chest. Pain tore through him and he used it to force the darkness back.

  “Get the gun,” he rasped out. His voice was hardly more than a gasp, a mere whisper. But he didn’t need to be heard to control a mind.

  The drone was reluctant, his motions jerky, like a puppet on a string.

  “Shoot the fucking bitch.”

  The queen shrieked, struggling against Michael’s hold. Pain splintered through his mind and he felt the connection between them drawing tight, felt it snap as the connection was severed—

  But the drone shot her before she could move.

  Her host’s body collapsed lifeless to the floor and her essence faded into nothingness.

  Michael closed his eyes. Blow your fucking head off, he thought, one last desperate command.

  The last thing he heard was the second gunshot.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I scrambled across the floor to Michael. Carefully, I lifted his head into my lap, cradling him against my breast. His face was streaked with blood—it was leaking from his ears, his eyes, his nose. Even his mouth. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…”

  His chest moved faintly, his breath rattling. A death rattle.

  No.

  No, he wouldn’t die.

  The door opened and I looked up. Will stumbled inside, the last soul I’d expected to see just then.

  Ren was at his side, supporting the other Grimm’s weight. His animals were gone and the look in his eyes was dark, worried.

  Ren brought Will to us and Will collapsed on the floor next to me. I opened my mouth, but Will’s hand shot out and cupped the back of my neck.

  “Get closer, Ren. Now.”

  Ren hunkered down next to us and light exploded and we fell into it.

  Time stopped.

  My heart stopped beating. My lungs stopped working. Everything froze.

  Then the brilliant white light dimmed and we were in a cabin.

  I recognized it. Will’s cabin—not exactly what I’d been expecting, but I didn’t care. Will was here. Will could heal Michael.

  “Heal him.”

  Will’s shoulders rose and fell. Lines of strain fanned out from his eyes and he looked grey, exhausted.

  All I could think was… “Damn it, you bastard, heal him.”

  “I can’t.” His lids drooped over his eyes. His head fell forward, his silvery-white hair shielding his face. “No energy left.”

  “Damn, he needs help!” I stared at the hole in his chest, willed it to close. I should have been able to sense the healing inside him. I should have.

  But there was nothing.

  Nothing but his fading life force. “Why isn’t he healing?”

  “Pushed himself too hard,” Will muttered. “Nothing left.”

  “Then help him.”

  “I can’t,” Will roared. His head lifted, just a little and he glared at me from under his lashes. “Fucking can’t. The drones…there were too fucking many and I damned near killed myself dealing with them. There’s…there’s nothing left, Elle.”

  A harsh sigh escaped him and once more, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Elle. But his fate is out of my hands.”

  The drones—fuck.

  “No.” A sob tore free from my chest and I shook my head. “No, damn it. I can’t lose him now.”


  Gentle hands curled over my shoulders and then Ren settled down next to me. I shoved at him. “Leave me alone!”

  “Let me try to help, poppet,” he said, his voice gruff. “Just let me try.”

  Numb, I watched as he felt he wound in Michael’s chest. Wound—shit, I could put my fist through that hole. It wasn’t healing…

  I fell into a fog, aware of nothing but Michael’s weak breaths and Ren’s quiet competence. There were no jokes now, so sly innuendo, no teasing smiles. Death hovered close and I shrank away from it.

  He couldn’t die. Not like this. We didn’t die from gunshots.

  But it wasn’t the gunshot. I’d felt the punch of his mind control as he used it on the queen and her drone—saving me. I would have survived being raped, and if he’d just let himself heal…

  He hadn’t though, and he’d killed himself in the process.

  Ren curled a bloodied hand over my shoulder. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but I can’t do much more than that. All we can do is wait. Pray.”

  “Elle…”

  I looked at Will. My oldest friend. My once lover. And I hated him. I looked away, focused on Michael. Bending over, I pressed my brow to his and whispered, “Please, Michael. Please don’t die.”

  “Elle.”

  Will’s voice was strained. A little louder. Commanding.

  I snarled as I met his gaze. “What?”

  “Take his hand. He…he needs energy. That will spark his body into healing. You’ve got energy. Take his hand…and pray.” Will’s lids closed.

  Dimly, I realized he’d passed out.

  But I didn’t care.

  I closed my hand around Michael. Closed my hands. Prayed.

  If this didn’t work nothing mattered. Nothing would ever matter again. Not for me.

  Please…please don’t take him from me, not now.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Michael drifted in velvet darkness.

  He was aware of only two things. Elle’s presence—the warmth of her body against his. And the cold. When she wasn’t there, he was so cold he ached.

  He didn’t know how long he drifted. Time lost all meaning and, save for Elle and the cold that came whenever she withdrew, he was aware of nothing. But then something began to push in on the darkness, an annoying light that wouldn’t let him sleep, wouldn’t let him drift.

  If it wasn’t for Elle’s soft voice, he would have turned his back on that light and just continued to drift. It was easier. It took nothing from him.

  Concentrating on the light, on Elle, drained him, took what precious little energy he had, left him even more tired.

  Forcing his lids open, he stared, waited for his vision to come into focus.

  Slowly, it did and he realized he was flat on his back, staring at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling overhead. Something popped, hissed. He recognized the sound of a fire, saw the flickering sway of shadows on the wall by the bed where he lay.

  It was cold despite the fire. Damn cold, and it wasn’t just because he was weak either. There was a window across the room and it was covered with frost.

  Rolling his head on the pillow, he stared around the room and tried to figure out where in the hell he was.

  And where in the hell Elle was.

  The answer to the latter came just seconds later when a door opened. Elle and a small whirlwind of snow came inside. Snow?

  She stopped in her tracks, staring at him.

  “Michael…”

  He tried to smile, but his mouth was stiff—hell, everything was stiff. He couldn’t force his voice to work, couldn’t do anything but stare at her. Then she dove for him and he realized his body could work.

  Just sluggishly.

  She wrapped her arms around him, cuddling close. She was icy cold, but the tears that fell onto his face were hot. “Shhhh…” he murmured, curling an arm around her neck, holding her close. “Don’t cry, my darling girl.”

  She slammed a fist into his arm and said, “Don’t tell me not to cry, you bastard.”

  “But I hate to see you cry.”

  She sniffed and straightened, staring down at him. “You’ve spent the past five months flat on your back. You can’t tell me not to cry.”

  Michael blinked. “Did…did you say five months?”

  “Yes.” Elle reached out and traced her finger along the curve of his mouth, his jaw. “You’ve been in stasis-sleep.”

  Stasis-sleep—when a Grimm’s body basically went into shutdown, usually to conserve all energy and focus on healing. “Stasis.” He scowled and rubbed a hand down his face. “I’ve never been down that long. You’ve been here? All this time?”

  “Where else would I be?” She cocked a golden brow and pressed her lips to his and whispered, “We had a date, remember?”

  “A date?”

  “Hmmm.” She nipped his lower lip and then lifted her head. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she said softly, “You asked me to marry you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted…to be with you. You’re not getting out of it just because you almost killed yourself protecting me.”

  Tears glimmered in her eyes. His heart wrenched and he reached up, covered her hand with his. “I can think of nothing better to die for.” Then he cupped her neck and tugged her close.

  He felt whole. Her soft, strong body pressed so close, and more…he could feel her. Inside. Inside his heart. Connected. Just as they’d connected all those years ago.

  He was complete.

  Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, “I can think of nothing better to die for. Nothing better to live for either. You’re my everything, Elle. My heart. My soul.”

  Elle sniffed as she lifted her head. “See? You can be rather charming when you want.” She gave him a wobbly smile. A tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You’re awake. I can’t believe you’re awake. Maybe I’m dreaming…”

  “No.” Michael shifted on the bed and grimaced as his tight muscles screeched at him. No wonder he felt like hell—five months in stasis. The body of a Grimm was a fantastic thing. He had survived the months when a human would have died of dehydration, starvation.

  Now that he was awake though, he was painfully aware of his hunger. His thirst. And the aching stiffness of muscles long unused.

  “Trust me, you’re not dreaming. If you were, my body wouldn’t hurt like this. And I would probably be crawling all over you.” He scowled, utterly disgusted. “But I haven’t the energy for that. I need to eat.”

  She started to rise. “I’m sure you do.” She gave him a wicked smile and murmured, “Let’s get you fed. Then maybe I’ll give you a massage…then you can crawl all over me.”

  He caught her wrist. “No. Don’t move yet. Just give me a few minutes. I can’t let you go just yet.”

  “Not even to cross the room?” She jerked her head towards the little kitchen tucked into the corner. “It won’t take long.”

  “Five seconds is too long.” Michael brought her hand to his lips. “Just give me a few minutes.”

  She relaxed against him and he sighed, smiled. Complete. He could have happily stayed like that for hours, but his stomach had to go and growl on him and Elle refused to stay in bed after she heard it.

  “You’re eating,” she said, her brows dropping low over her eyes.

  With a groan, he let her go, watching closely as she crossed the room. As long as she stayed close…

  He did a mental assessment while she got busy in the little kitchen, flexing his muscles, taking stock. He hurt like hell. But a hot bath and that massage, if she was serious, a lot of food and water, then he’d be fine. As good as new, he supposed.

  Hard to imagine just then though. The slightest movement took so much focus, so much energy. His muscles screamed at him as he forced his upper body upright, bracing his weight on one elbow.

  He looked down at his chest, touched a hand to it. Soft cotton stretched over him and he probed the area with his fingers. Ridges. A scar. Frow
ning, he hooked a finger in the neck of the shirt he wore and tugged. There was a scar.

  “It isn’t going to fade,” Elle said quietly.

  Puzzled, he looked up at her. As he met her eyes, he reached up and touched his medallion. Still there. He still felt…other. Not quite as he had when he was human, not that he remembered much of that life anymore. Other than Elle.

  “Why won’t it fade?”

  She set something down on the small, wood-burning stove—a wood-burning stove? He hadn’t seen one of those in ages. Then she crossed back to him, kneeling beside the bed.

  “You were too weak. You almost died.” She laid a hand over the scarred flesh.

  “We don’t die. Not unless we choose to, or we lose our heads.” He rotated his neck, grimacing as it popped. “I still have my head and I didn’t give up my wings.”

  “No. You just almost gave up your life stopping the queen. You drained yourself and even we can die of exhaustion. It takes a lot…and that’s what you gave. A lot. Damn near everything. You were at the point of death and it took a lot just for your body to heal the injuries in your mind from the attack on the drone and the queen. There wasn’t much left to heal the body, which is probably why you slept so long, and probably why you’re scarred. At least that’s what Ren believes.”

  “Ren.” An automatic scowl tightened his face and he lowered his body back to the bed. “What would he know of it?”

  “He’s got some medical training in his background.” Elle shrugged and climbed to her feet, returning to the kitchen. “He comes out every now and then to bring food, check on you.”

  “Check on you, more likely,” Michael muttered. Exhaustion pulled at him and he felt his lids drooping closed. “Five months.”

  “Hmmm. Longest five months of my life.”

  He heard the sound of something metallic and looked up to see her putting a lid on a huge pot. Already the smell of something delicious filled the air.

  “That didn’t take long.”

  She smiled. “I’ve been living on soup and stew lately. I’m just reheating the stew that I made yesterday.” She gave the pot one more stir and then returned to the bed. “It won’t take much more than a few minutes.”