Sleeping Beauty and the Lion: A Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling of Sleeping Beauty (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 3) (3 page)

I
paced
from one side of my office to the other, although there wasn’t much difference between the two. One side had a boring IKEA desk and my medical textbooks, the other my framed diploma and a photograph of a mountain. All of it felt empty. The opposite of Rose.

Her gentle brown eyes, her pink adorable lips, the way she turned up her face begging me to kiss her when I told her not to be embarrassed. All of it was so much more than I ever thought I’d have. Then I’d ever feared I lost.

But the frantic joy propelling my feet forward was edged with worry. Someone had been trying to poison her. Before I could give myself the luxury of truly bonding with my mate, I had to make sure that she was safe. If I went into this without all the facts and the drug company had hurt Rose intentionally, getting close to Rose would put her at risk.

Three knuckle-bruising raps pounded at the door.

I inhaled to get a read on the intruder’s scent.
Male. Sanitized mint veiled the chemical musk of over-engineered deodorant, and underneath that… The scars on my upper biceps ached with a phantom pain.
No, I’d killed them all the night I’d escaped.

“Who is it?” I called. There were no goosebumps on my neck now.

“Lonan Brown from GR Scientific. You left a message for us so I thought I’d pay you a visit.”

“Come in.”

The man who entered had sharply trimmed raven hair, a hawkish nose, and calm, beady green eyes. When he saw me, a smile slicked over his lips like oil over water. He held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Ward.”

I stared at his hand.

“Put your hands on your head, sir, or we will shoot.”

No. This was not the same man.

“Likewise.” I took his hand and shook it. It was softer than a soldier’s would’ve been.

Lonan kept smiling. His teeth had a dead pearly look I knew were veneers. “Nice office.” He rose his eyebrows at the photograph of the mountain. “Have you climbed it or just like the look of it?”

I stared the picture for the first time in a long time. A single peak piercing the clouds, it was too generic to have a name. I didn’t know if it was a real mountain or just something Photoshopped into being. “I just needed something to fill the walls.”

Lonan nodded in uncomprehending agreement, sat down and placed a folder on my empty desk. On the corner of the folder was a generic looking check-mark logo. My breath stalled in my throat. I’d never known who it was who had taken me. Was it them? I had to be careful.

Placing both hands on the desk, I lowered myself into my chair, not breaking eye contact with him. “I had a patient who was in a car accident earlier today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lonan crossed his legs, one balancing over the other, taking up too much of my space.

“After being struck by the vehicle, she slipped into a brief coma. I believe that she was unable to awaken from this coma due to acute silver poisoning.” My words were so measured you could’ve timed out CPR to them. I gave nothing away.

“Well, that’s weird,” he said. “Now, I don’t have an M.D, but I’ve never heard of any connection between brain activity and silver.” He laughed and it felt stale. “Unless you want to talk about werebeasts or weremates, but we both know that’s as relevant to this discussion as the bubonic plague.”

He mocked looking around my office, one hand shading his beady eyes. “You’re not hiding the plague here are you, Doc?”

There was a special place in the hellscape between worlds for men that called me “Doc.” It was very tempting to slit this man’s throat and send him there.

“Aurora Thorne,” I hissed.

His hand fell sharply from his forehead and his smile shriveled. “Who?”

“My search didn’t turn up much about your drug or GR Scientific, Mr. Brown. But in the public court records I did find a lawsuit brought by a woman named Aurora Thorne.”

“I’m afraid you’ve got me, Doc. Never heard of her.”
Liar. Liar. So tempting to set him on fire. I went on, “Like my patient, Ms. Thorne slipped into a coma. She was also taking Erostoxifam at the time, and when her doctor noticed heightened levels of silver in her blood, he also performed chelation therapy.”

“This sounds like you’ve got some legal questions, Dr. Brown. I can’t answer those, but I can—”

“If you can’t answer them, why did they send you?”

He held up his hands and gave me that dead smile again. It sat on his face like road-kill. “Don’t ask me. I’m just the jack-of-all-sales guy. Solve the basic problems. Someone else could—”

“I think you should know—” I ground out. “What kind of organization you’re a part of. I’d want to know, if I was employed by people who were hurting women.”

“Of course you would, I understand how you feel, but —”

“By the time Ms. Thorne had finished the therapy it was too late, she had suffered irreparable brain damage and severe short-term memory loss. She and her family sued your company.”

“I am really sorry to hear about all of this.” Lonan’s palms glided forward as if he could offer me condolences from the tips of his too long fingers. “But are you or your patient planning on suing, Dr. Ward? If so, you’ll want to talk to our lawyers.”

“What I want to know, is why you continue to cut your drugs with a substance you and the federal government know is pois—”

“Sorry, going to have to stop you.” Lonan drummed his knuckles on my desk, loud as a gunshot. His green eyes gleamed with cold annoyance. “Silver isn’t poisonous in the amount that your patient consumed. Just isn’t. FDA says so, our tests say so, everyone says so. In fact, silver helps fight infections.”

“And Ms. Thorne?”

“Ms. Thorne’s family tried and failed to argue our drugs harmed her, but the only way that theory would make any sense was if Ms. Thorne or your patient were the mate of werebeasts. And…well that’s just not possible.” He spread his arms wide and as he did his shirt strained against his bony chest. In a physical fight, I could demolish him.

Then he tilted his head and smiled at me, as if he were genuinely curious, except the angle was too dramatic. “Unless you know something that I don’t.”

My inner lion’s fur went stiff, and the tiny human hairs went my arms were stiffer. What I knew that he didn’t could’ve filled the bookshelf behind me, and on the very first page would’ve been “Werebeasts are real.” I understood now. Lonan’s company had hurt my mate through stupidity, not malice. But if I questioned him further, he might get a clue.

“I’m afraid everything you say makes perfect sense to me, Mr. Brown,” I said, surprised by the calmness of my own voice. “I’m just having a hard time squaring away what makes sense and the facts. Maybe you can help me? Please.”
Be polite. That’s how you hide.
The only problem was I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lonan was hiding too.

“Well.” Lonan’s smile faded. “My advice is to forget about it. All of this stuff is just business, anyway.”

“It’s hard to forget things when someone’s life is in danger.” My claws itched at my toes, breaking through my skin and then my socks. With his manicured nails and over-sized watch, Lonan had never known what it was like to fear for someone’s life. To fear for his own. I could show him.

“Your patient’s life isn’t in danger anymore, though, is it?” he asked. “And if it was, I bet the car that hit her was a big part of the problem. I’d tell your patient to get the plate.” With no warning or sound my sensitive ears caught, he pressed a hand to his pocket abruptly. “Looks like I’m getting a call. Big boss, got to take this, unless you have any other questions I can answer?”

“No,” I said, pushing my lion down. My claws retracted back into my skin. The thick leather tips of my shoes were safe. There was nothing to gain from a fight. “I think we’re done here.”

“Good, good.” Lonan moved his phone to his left shoulder, cradled it, pushed the folder toward me and mouthed. “Free pen.”

The door thumped shut as he left, and then there was just the humming of the heater and silence. I watched the pen slowly roll out from between the covers of the folder. Its fat body clicked against my desk. My inner lion wanted to break it in two and run its claws across the cheap pine desk until wood shavings curled up and the whole world knew that this was my territory. Until the whole world knew that I would tolerate no one hurting what was mine.

But I had learned my lesson the last time. Don’t mark territory that doesn’t belong to you. In the human world nothing belonged to me. I was not king of this concrete jungle, I was hiding in it, and if I claimed Rose and shared my secret with her, I’d force her to have to hide with me too. I’d put her in danger.

Could I do that? Could I force this life of empty walls and polite smiles on her? I’d saved her life, but now, if I claimed her, would I be dooming her to an empty existence? I didn’t think I could do that.

I fell into my chair. A wash of cold certainty slipped over my face. This silver medicine was a fluke. Just business. An accident. One after my stern lecture yesterday she wouldn’t be likely to repeat. Any further involvement on my part was only likely to put her further at risk. Oh gods. In order to keep my mate safe and healthy, I’d have to do what I should’ve done the first moment I smelled her: let her go.

T
he plastic spoon
bent as I scooped up a mound of rice and brought it reluctantly to my lips. The rice was so mushy I couldn’t see the individual grains anymore. Worse, either because I was off the Erostoxifam or because my brush with death had heightened my senses, my taste buds were hypersensitive to the slimy texture and bland flavor.

It was afternoon now, although the white drop ceiling and tiled floors were reflective, made it feel like the light slanting through the window was coming from everywhere and nowhere. The bulky machines to my right showed all kinds of technical graphs I didn’t have the first clue about, and without Dr. Ward here to impress, I felt my lack of know-how keenly. For the past twenty-four hours the machines and the nurses had been my only company.

It didn’t matter how eagerly I turned when someone knocked at the door. It was never him. Dr. Ward. My doctor. God, no. He wasn’t mine. He was a real man, I couldn’t pretend like he was my book boyfriend. It wasn’t fair to him. Or me.

I pushed the spoon between my lips and swallowed down the hospital mystery mash. Just as I was gagging, someone knocked at the door. I swallowed, my heart jumping a little.

“Come in?”

It was one of the nurses, the Asian guy. John. And someone else I couldn’t make out looming behind him. He looked at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Ms. Briar. I told her that visiting hours were almost over, but—”

“My daughter needs me.” A tall woman stepped out from behind John. In her early fifties, Mamma had perfectly coiffed charcoal hair and a waist-line so thin that just seeing her could make a super-model combust in a jealous rage. Even after a red-eye flight, she still managed to rock a wrinkle-less ivory dress and lipstick red enough to belong under stage lights

“Mamma!” I laughed through an open-mouthed smile.

“Baby.” Mamma’s stilettos clicked as she walked to my side, leaving the nurse in the dust. Before I could say anything else, she had sucked me up into a hug so tight, I wondered if she was trying to squeeze my internal organs out like toothpaste from a tube.

“Ugh, Mamma. I’m doing fine,” I squeaked.

Mamma let me go and gave me a skeptical once-over, hands on her hips. “I think I need another hug to be sure.”

Then she was enveloping me in another hug, this one a little looser. Her cheek pressed against mine, and I heard her murmur something that might’ve been, “Please God don’t ever worry me like that again,” but I couldn’t be sure. She smelled like French perfume and airplane but felt like home. I forgot how much I missed her. It’d been over a year since I’d last seen her. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away on her shoulder.

The nurse butted in. “As I was saying, visiting hours are tech—”

“If you think I’m not going to see my daughter after she was in a coma, you are sorely mistaken.” Mamma patted my back before releasing me, her strong mask back in place.

The nurse put up his hands. “I can give you fifteen minutes, but then she has an appointment with Dr. Ward to process her release from the hospital.”

Dr. Ward? My stomach flipped.

Mamma crossed her arms. “I’ll stay here for that too.”

The nurse turned to check with me, probably only a legal requirement. Usually around Mamma no one ever checked what I thought.

I gave a small nod. “It’s all right.”

Mamma shot the nurse a look of calm superiority. Mamma was good at getting her way, that was how she had started her Internet clothing company Amazon Glam, now worth half a billion dollars.

With a well-worn sigh, the nurse left the room. I had a feeling he was used to doing other people’s bidding.

Mamma ignored him, pulled up a chair, and clutched my hand. Hers was soft and warm. “What happened? They said something on the phone about you running into the street.”

I placed my hospital tray on the night-stand not near Mamma. I knew showing her the rice would lead to a long lecture about how the hospital cuisine was the next industry she’d revolutionize. “I was
crossing
the street when a cab came out of nowhere.”

Mamma raised her eyebrows, not fooled.

I rubbed the miniature magnesium sword still hanging around my neck, as if I could summon Naomi’s bravery like a genie from a bottle. “I may have been a little distracted.”

“Rose Briar, being hit by a car because you didn’t look both ways is how household pets die, not full-grown women.”

“Should I buy myself a leash and collar?” I asked dryly.

“Don’t sass me.” Mamma clicked her tongue, grabbed my other hand from where it was clenching the sword, and laced all my fingers into hers. “I was terrified. I got on the first flight over when they called.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” The sword swung back against my chest. “I just had a bad day and wasn’t paying attention. I’ll do better. I promise. And actually it turns out I’ll be going off the Erostoxifam. Hopefully that will help with some of my focus issues.”

Mamma brushed my braids behind my ear, just like she did when I was little, checking for new growth to see if it was time to go back to the salon. “You’re too hard on yourself, baby. You didn’t have any focus issues when you worked for me. You should come back to Illinois. It’s this city.”

“I can’t just leave. I have a job here,” I said.

She frowned. “As a secretary.”

“That’s what I was for you, an
executive assistant.
” I tried my best not to sound bitter.
I was more than blessed to have a mother who gave me a job right out of college. No one else was hiring English majors. But I didn’t just want a job out of pity. I wanted to earn it. The irony was the only reason Rex had hired me was because I had “assistant to the CEO of Amazon Glam” on my resume.

“If the title’s a problem we can make it director of marketing and you’ll work with Louisa. Whatever you want, baby,” Mamma cooed.

“Mamma.” I closed my eyes, unable to turn my head in bed, but needing to look somewhere other than her. “I can’t.”

“No, you just don’t want to.”

I bit my tongue. Since the day my Mamma had lost the court case against the drunk driver who hit Daddy, I’d never seen anybody beat her in an argument. In my weakened state, I was not about to break her lifelong victory streak.

I wished I could though. I wished I could tell her how much I loved cuddling up with her on the couch, watching
The Bachelorette
and throwing popcorn at the TV any time one of the bad boys made the bachelorette cry. Then she’d rant on and on about how the only time Daddy ever made her cry was the day the doctors told us that he wasn’t going to wake up from his coma.

I wished I could tell Mamma how much I loved coming up with new names for Amazon Glam dresses with her while eating Cherry Garcia ice-cream. My favorites were: “He Loves Me, He Loves Me Naut-ical,” a beautiful sailor print vintage dress, or “The Rouge Brouge" for a dashing pair of Oxfords, and “Beauty and the Bonnet” for a hat that reminded me of what a costumer designer might craft for a romance novel that was a lovechild between Jane Austen and the
Little House on the Prairie
. Sometimes I even wrote little stories about girls galavanting around town in Mamma’s clothes. My stories always increased sales.

But Mamma never let me actually change the main copy on the website. She said it was too a big a project for me, but I think the truth was she was too afraid I might fail. She could never bear to see me disappointed or hurt. But I needed to take risks and live my own life.

I wished I could tell Mamma that. Except I already had.

What I really wished was that she would listen.

“I do want to,” I said finally. “It’s just—” The sound of the door opening, and the feeling of my neck prickling, stopped me. Dr. Ward was near. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.

Then he was striding into the room
,
the white tails of his doctor’s coat trailed behind him like a noble cape. His tawny hair looked neater than I remembered it, pulled back behind his ear, and I noticed he had a nametag pinned to his chest. I waited for him to meet my gaze, but he didn’t.

Like everyone else in the world he stared at my mother first and gave her a curt, professional smile. “Hello, you must be Rose’s mother.”

Mamma stood and she offered Dr. Ward a hand. “Alycia Briar.”

Dr. Ward shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Briar.”

She angled her body so that she had the dominant position in the handshake.
A firm handshake, Rose, that’s how I got through Harvard. That, hard work, and your Daddy’s support.
I winced for him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

She released Dr. Ward’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my Rose. The nurse said that chelation therapy isn’t a usual way to deal with these things. Sounds like you had to do some innovative thinking.” Mamma nodded, like she always did when praising an employee.

“Thank you, but I’m just doing my job,” Dr. Ward said. I kept trying to meet his eyes, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was avoiding me.

“Don’t be humble.” She pulled a business card from her purse and I winced again. “Tell the development team here to give me a call when they throw their next benefit.”

He took the card, bemused, like he had never seen one before. “Of course I will. Now, Rose. Shall we get you checked out?”

Finally, Gods, finally he turned to me. But the face I saw now wasn’t the same one I had seen when I woke up yesterday. His rugged jaw was stiff, his golden eyes just as dull as the nurse’s when they updated my chart. Like I was just another statistic. I knew that he was looking at me, but I couldn’t help but feeling as if he was just staring at the point in between my eyes.

My face felt numb. I tried to smile. “Sure.”

He didn’t smile back. “Good.”

The rest of the appointment was agonizingly normal. He stood a healthy distance away from me, and Mamma kept rubbing the back of my hand as he asked me standard questions. Was I experiencing any head pain? Did I need a referral for a new primary care physician? Would I be sure not to take the pills? I must’ve just imagined our rapport yesterday.

I ignored the words and listened to the rhythm of his voice. I’d never tell Mamma, but it made me feel even safer than her hand in mine.

Eventually, he reached the end of his routine and tapped the tablet with an authoritative swipe of his thumb. “So I think that’s everything.”

“Great.” Momma stood and brushed off her dress, as if that would get rid of hospital germs. “See if a nurse can bring a wheelchair.”

“Mamma—” I gave one last hopeful glance at Dr. Ward. Maybe he’d at least smile at me before we’d left. After I’d woken up he’d touched my face and been so kind to me.

“I have to agree with your mother.” Dr. Ward’s hand stilled on the tablet, as I swore he caught my gaze out of the corner of his eye, but then he just nodded. “I think a wheelchair sounds like a good idea.”

I crossed my arms, hating how like a teenager they both made me feel. I was twenty-three god-darn-it. “I can handle myself.”

Mamma rolled her eyes. “If that’s true then you need to stop running into the street.”

But I wasn’t paying attention. Dr. Ward was actually meeting my eyes for the first time today. He smiled softly at me.

My stomach fluttered.

“I know you can look after yourself, Rose. You’re very capable.” A strand of his tawny hair had escaped from behind his ears and I swore I caught a glint of golden fire hidden in the depths of his eyes. “But I’ve done everything I can for you now.”

His soft smile twisted into something lonely, which reminded me of my own reflection when I stared out the windows of the offices of Rom Investing. All the lights of the far-away offices would twinkle like stars and I’d make wishes on them, knowing that they’d never come true.

But then Dr. Ward’s face reformatted into professional coolness, he tucked the strand of his hair behind his ear, and he gave Mamma a terse nod. “I think that’s everything.”

When he walked to the door and opened it, he didn’t look back at me once. The numbness on my face spread down to my toes, and the only part of my body I could still feel was the back of my neck. The thing that I had once thought was a matemark. The thing I now knew was nothing but a symptom of a disease. It hurt.