A/N: Thank you ladybugsmomma for the prompt :D
V
A Meeting Most Foul
He should turn him into a snail. The crunch and squish beneath his fine leather boots would soothe the beast clamoring within him. Nottingham, pfft! Rumpelstiltskin had heard tales of him before as they ran rampant through the forest. The sheriff was nothing more than a spineless henchman for the wanna be king, a sycophant preying on those less fortunate. Hell, everyone in Sherwood Forest was less fortunate since Prince John had placed himself on the throne to rule in Richard's absence. He sneered in disgust at the man's retreating form. Nottingham had been all too eager to retreat after the Dark One had put him in his place.
Rumpelstiltskin turned on his heel and marched back to the carriage where his little maid awaited him. How dare that miscreant think to bargain with him in such a way? A night with his wench? Over his dead rotted corpse! Belle belonged to him, and he'd be damned if he let another lay hands on her. No woman deserved to be mistreated in such a manner, especially one under his charge. To see his princess bruised and broken, the light gone from her eyes … he shuddered.
A frown marred her smooth brow, as he reached her, that luscious pink lip clamped firmly between her teeth. He pushed aside an errant impure thought about said lip and reached for her hand to assist her back into the carriage. Once they were on their way again, he still couldn't focus on the task at hand. That of finding the thief.
"Master?"
He groaned inwardly. He'd been wondering how long she'd be able to hold her silence. "What?" he snapped.
Again, with the lip, he noticed, as his gaze found hers.
"Why … why didn't you … um …"
"Spit it out, dearie," he hissed impatiently. When had his little maid ever minced words? Those piercing blue eyes of hers dug directly into his soul, and he felt his stomach flutter with nerves.
"Why didn't you agree to the sheriff's deal?"
He bloody well knew she couldn't leave well enough alone. How could he tell her the thought of Nottingham's filthy hands on her person made him sick? He looked away from her, unable to shake the images from his head. The darkness pounded behind his eyes, thick and viscous, urging him to lash out against the world. The little slip of a girl had the uncanny ability to make him feel, and he didn't like it at all.
"Rumpelstiltskin …"
His name on her lips, uttered so softly, was the final nail in his coffin. He reached out, his fingers curling over her delicate wrist as he pulled her forward. His eyes darted to her trembling lips, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the sweet scent of her before finally meeting her gaze. "You belong to me, little Belle," he murmured lowly. Could she feel the darkness swirling about him? Was she frightened, as well she should be, of the monster who held her in his steely grasp? "I. Don't. Share."
Belle averted her gaze to the hand with which he held her, carefully prying his fingers loose. But instead of letting him go, she enveloped his warm hand in both of her own. "Or perhaps it's simply because you care."