Depravity: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (A Beastly Tale Book 1)

by M. J. Haag

  “Then I would greatly appreciate it. Though, I’m not sure my father would like it. I would prefer no one mention my extended visit unless he specifically asks.” I wouldn’t ask them to lie.

  “We understand,” Aryana said as Ila calmly led the way to the back bathing room.

  While Aryana spoke to Gen, Ila quickly explained what I should do. Once they all left, I stripped to nothing, draped my clothes on the pegs lining the wall, and stepped into the trough.

  Using the buckets nearby, I wet my skin then used the special scented soap that Aryana had brought down for her own bath. The light, sweet smell made my stomach rumble, reminding me that I hadn’t yet eaten. I lathered my hair, enjoying the heat from the stove as I stood there covered in nothing but suds. Then I tilted the first bucket over my head, slowly rinsing it all away. As they directed, I used the second bucket to ensure I missed nothing.

  Nervous, I peeked around the curtain before tiptoeing out and sliding into the first tub with a gusty sigh. The water stung my skin with its heat, but in a good way. I melted against the edge, sinking until my chin hit the water. Delightfully, my knees stayed submerged, too. My eyes fluttered closed.

  “Benella,” Aryana’s now familiar whisper drifted to me. “May we sit on the cushions by you while you relax?”

  I opened my eyes and nodded easily. These women strove to bring a sense of calm to everyone they encountered. I knew they would do nothing to intentionally disrupt that. And after the way they moved around me, I felt comfortable enough with my submerged nudity to talk to them without shame.

  Ila glided into the room with her, and they both sank to the cushions.

  “We just replaced the rocks in the tubs. You don’t find it too hot?” Aryana asked.

  I shook my head lazily with a slight smile. She reached over the tub and tested the water.

  “It would be best to only sit in it for a few minutes then move to one of the cooler tubs. Too long in the heat could make you ill,” she cautioned.

  “You have very pretty hair, Benella,” Ila whispered, reaching out to touch the wet strands hanging over the edge of the tub. “Would you mind if I oiled it and brushed it?”

  Mind? I vaguely recalled my mother doing that when I was young; but after that, I’d struggled with my own hair, often tearing through tangles to braid it without combing it.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” I assured her. She stood smoothly, left the room, and walked upstairs.

  “Come.” Aryana stood. “Let’s move you to a cooler tub before she returns. You’re looking too red in the face.” She held out her hand, and I hesitated. “I promise you, I’ve seen all manner of parts on my sisters, and yours are no different.”

  They might not be so different, but they were parts never seen before by anyone. She was right about the water, though. I could feel sweat beading my upper lip.

  “Maybe another rinse bucket would be beneficial before going to another tub,” I suggested, accepting her hand.

  I stood and avoided meeting her gaze or moving too quickly. Everything they did was slow and measured. I didn’t want to do anything they would consider aggressive or manly. I wondered what they would think if they knew I often wore trousers and a shirt. Inside, I laughed at the thought. They probably wouldn’t say anything. They wore nothing, after all.

  As I stepped into the trough, Aryana spoke.

  “You are very beautiful, Benella, and when you fully realize that, I pity the men in your path.”

  The sincerity in her tone had me raising my eyes. She gave me a gentle smile then bent to pick up the rinse bucket.

  “Ready?” she asked with the bucket poised over her head, her breasts lifted high, their rosy peaks taunting me with my own inadequacies.

  I didn’t think of myself as unattractive, just unendowed. Everyone else sported nice round breasts while mine seemed a bit smallish.

  “Ready,” I whispered.

  The cool water rushed over my head, putting out a fire I hadn’t noticed. I sighed in relief, and she laughed.

  “I thought you looked too warm. Come, you still have time to relax while we oil your hair.”

  Nine

  Long before the first client stepped through the door of the Whispering Sisters, I found myself walking toward the estate’s gate. After leaving the sisters, I’d known I couldn’t go home. My hair smelled too nice for Bryn not to notice and start asking questions that I didn’t want to answer. Father didn’t like me knowing where he worked; I could only imagine how he would feel if two of his daughters knew.

  If not for my growling stomach and the lack of food and coin at home, I wouldn’t have come. The beast hadn’t expected me today, and I wasn’t sure of my unplanned welcome.

  Standing inside the gate, waiting for the gathering mist that heralded the beast, I reflected on the new friends I had made. They’d taught me so much in a short period of time. When I’d left, they’d invited me to return any day before ten for another visit. I knew I would return. Their veils begged to be questioned.

  “You have returned,” he said.

  I smiled slightly at his puzzled tone.

  “I hope you don’t mind. Do you have work for me? I’m really hungry.”

  The barest scrape of his foot on the ground behind me warned me where he stood. I’d grown so used to his cloaked presence that I felt no fear, just uncertainty. Perhaps the relaxing morning had something to do with my mood as well.

  His hand touched my hair, and I heard him inhale deeply.

  “No cleaning the kitchen today.” His voice clicked with agitation. “Do you read?”

  The question surprised me.

  “Yes.”

  “The pages often tear when I try to turn them. Today, you will read for me. Come.”

  He led the way to the estate, his outline always just on the edge of my vision. We entered through the kitchen door. The mist swallowed all of the light indoors.

  “I cannot see,” I said. Hearing my own whispering voice, I wondered if I should try speaking softly to the beast. Perhaps he might growl less.

  “Take my tail,” he said with an agitated growl.

  Something thick and heavy whacked against my side. I reached out and curled a hand around his thick, furry tail. He waited a moment before moving, walking slowly so I could keep pace without tugging on his appendage. While we walked, I couldn’t help but bring my other hand to his tail to touch the coarse fur. When he’d carried me, I’d been too hurt to notice his fur, and I couldn’t recall much detail from when I’d slept on it.

  I spread my fingers and delved into his fur, stroking it the wrong way so the hair tickled between my fingers. Changing directions, I smoothed it back down. He neither growled nor spoke, so I continued with my touch as we wound through black hallways until we entered a large muffled room. We walked several steps in, and then he stopped. Reluctantly, I released his tail. It felt like the first semi-friendly touch we’d shared where my role involved more than holding still.

  “Light a candle and sit facing away from the door,” he said with a deep growl. “I will return shortly.”

  He left, taking the mist with him. A sliver of light shone straight ahead, and I cautiously shuffled toward it. Heavy drapery met my touch, and I tentatively pushed it aside. The large, glass-paned window framed a beautiful view of a very overgrown yard.

  My mouth dropped open as a tree—of sorts—scampered into view. Its white paper skin marked with black dots and raised lines reminded me of a birch’s bark. The fingers on her hands and the toes on her feet sprouted with leaves. Where hair should have streamed down her back, a cascade of wisp thin branches, heavily adorned with bright green spring leaves, grew instead. Her form looked very human, including two lumps on her main trunk to indicate breasts. A tree nymph.

  Enthralled, I watched her spin and look over her shoulder with a smile. Another nymph came into view, this one obviously male, based on the short thick branch that extended from the area just above where the main trunk split into s
omething resembling human legs.

  The male nymph caught up to the female and spun her to face him. She tilted her head back with a wide smile, her leaf hair catching the light prettily. He grasped her behind the knee with one hand and drew her leg up over his hip. Between them, I could see his jutting root. The leg he had lifted melted into his trunk, solidifying the two into one. Slowly, he flexed forward, and I watched the root disappear. The scene left me warm as if I still sat in the hot waters at the Whispering Sisters. The male withdrew and flexed forward again. Both seemed to be enjoying it very much, and I felt a twinge of shame for watching.

  Prying my fingers one by one from the curtain, I was about to let it drop when a dark mist came rolling in from the left. The male’s head shot up, turning unnaturally to look at the mist. When he saw it, he broke away from his partner and immediately solidified into a tree.

  The female, however, did not solidify. Instead, with a small smile, she glanced at the mist, then bent forward. The position brought to memory—in vivid detail—how Ila had looked when she bent to pet the cat. The mist consumed the back half of the nymph, pouring over her like an angry wave. Bent forward as she was, I watched the nymph’s leaf hair sway as something pushed against her again and again.

  Carefully, I let the curtain fall, hoping it wouldn’t draw the attention of any of the parties outside, and scrambled to find a candle and a book. I flopped onto a sofa, kicking my feet up in a relaxed pose, just as I heard the beast enter the room.

  “What book did you choose?” he asked softly, with only a hint of a growl. His hand found my hair and gently tugged it out so he could stroke it. I could smell a hint of outdoors on him.

  I couldn’t find my voice to speak. Lifting the book, I showed him the cover. I stared at it, too. A book on farming. My already thumping heart beat harder. Would he know now that I had seen them?

  “This will be an enlightening hour,” he said, and I felt him settle on the floor by my head, his hands still running through my hair. He breathed in deeply again, and I knew he was smelling the oil Ila had rubbed into the strands.

  “Proceed.”

  After clearing my throat, I began to speak softly about a farmer’s woes and how to alleviate them.

  * * * *

  More than an hour passed before I set the book on my chest. What most would find boring had interested me to the point that I’d forgotten the time and the hands running through my hair. When I ceased reading, the beast halted as well.

  “Why have you stopped?” he demanded in a growl.

  “I haven’t had anything to eat today and am thirsty,” I said softly.

  He grunted his objection, but I heard him stand.

  “Can I hold your tail again?” I asked, thinking of the dark halls.

  The mist in the room suddenly churned so darkly it extinguished the candle. I recalled the scene outside the window and regretted my request. I sat up in concern and tentatively reached out a hand. Almost immediately, I connected with fur, more than I could wrap a hand around. Unsure what else to do, I trailed my fingers along the fur until I understood I touched his hip. I carefully trailed my hand further back and clasped his tail.

  Through it all, he held still and said nothing. I whispered a quick apology. He began walking, and this time, I didn’t do more than hold his tail.

  A few minutes later, we stepped into the kitchen.

  “There is a tray on the block for you. Will you read more to me after you eat?” he asked impatiently.

  “Yes,” I whispered, trying to emulate the sisters to help calm him.

  “Then, I will return shortly,” he said, anger clipping his words.

  “Wait,” I called before the mist left. “I would rather eat in the library if you don’t mind.”

  I’d noticed the number of books that lined the walls of the library when I’d raced to grab a book earlier. I wanted a chance to explore that space.

  “Of course.” The clicking quality was back in his voice.

  I carried the tray in one hand while holding his tail in the other. He had barely stepped into the library when his tail tugged from my grasp. As he left, the candle flared to life so I could see. I sighed and set the tray down.

  Curiously, I peeked out the window to see if the nymphs had resumed their frolic. To my surprise, the male remained frozen in the same position. The female sat at his feet, idly touching his root, which no longer stood out stiffly. I felt pity for her. Obviously, the interruption to their play had upset her partner.

  As before, a black mist roiled in from the left, catching my attention. The female nymph stood slowly with a lingering sad touch on her partner before backing away a few steps. She didn’t look as eager this time as she bent forward.

  The mist rolled over her. In its depths, I discerned the shadow of the beast as he reared back on his hind legs. He braced his hands on her back and thrust forward into the nymph. He drove into her tirelessly, and I wondered how she stayed upright, until I noticed her feet rooted into the ground.

  Troubled, I let the curtain fall. The enchantments on this place were a puzzle to me, often not appearing to adhere to any rules, such as the food that grew outside the wall. Now, I wondered if there were rules to the creatures here. Why hadn’t the female nymph solidified into a tree to escape the beast? She hadn’t appeared to want the beast’s attention this time. Yet, instead of solidifying, she had rooted her feet in order to accommodate him. Why?

  While I pondered possible reasons for what I’d witnessed, I went to my food and drink. Before the beast returned, I’d drunk my fill, eaten a bit of cheese, and then stored the rest of it in my bag to share with Father in the morning.

  When the beast entered the room, I was exploring a small section of books.

  “Continue,” he prompted me softly, again with barely a growl.

  I cautiously returned to the lounge, noting from my peripheral that no shadowy mist followed him.

  Pent energies, I thought as I began to read. The beast seemed to have a lot of them. I knew the basics of the act I’d seen performed—after all, I’d discovered Bryn doing the same—but some of the finer details I’d yet to puzzle out. For instance, why a woman would want to do that? Obviously, the male enjoyed it. I recalled Sara’s reaction to the baker and Bryn’s noises. Both women made those noises from what I thought came from enjoyment; but afterward, both had been sad.

  I read for a while longer before closing the book softly. The beast’s fingers stilled in my hair.

  I remained prone on the sofa, quietly thinking. He willingly traded my time for food, and he didn’t seem to care how I spent that time so long as it was in his manor. If he truly wanted it cleaned, he would not have asked for me to read. Likewise, if he wanted to hear another’s voice, he would have asked me to read from the beginning. Everything seemed to be on a whim with him, even his frolic with the nymph. Yet, each time I fulfilled my time obligation, he asked the same question and became agitated when I took my leave.

  “Sir, why do you keep asking me to return?”

  “That is my concern,” he growled.

  “It seems my visits cause you more anger than peace. Perhaps I shouldn’t return,” I said softly.

  “No,” he said with a harsh growl before sucking in a great breath. Slowly, the breath eased out. “I apologize for my anger. Return tomorrow, please.”

  “Will I clean tomorrow?” I asked tentatively. “I enjoy reading, but would like to earn more food to take home with me.”

  “You will leave with food today,” he snarled at me as the mist swirled into the room and extinguished the candle again.

  His tail bumped my neck, and I stood with my hand wrapped lightly around it.

  I didn’t understand his mercurial temper. Perhaps it was just his nature.

  When we arrived in the kitchen, he stormed out the door without a word. On the block, I found a variety of cheeses and bread, which I stuffed into my bag.

  * * * *

  The next morning, I waite
d until Father left before rising from bed. We hadn’t discussed where he worked, yet, or that I’d brought him breakfast twice. I decided I would do the same for him, again, since I hadn’t purchased oats with the coin I’d received in trade for a wheel of hard cheese. I had been given a full high silver. Twice the value of a blunt silver. I’d never held so much at once and honestly didn’t know what to do with it. I’d slept with it tucked into my bindings.

  When I arrived at the back door of the Whispering Sisters not much later, carrying a glazed pastry, I had a blunt silver and eighteen coppers still in my bag. The baker hadn’t fussed about making change for a high silver, apparently having plenty of his own.

  The guard at the door nodded and held the door for me to enter. I smiled and went inside, the smoke swamping my head almost immediately. However, Ila was waiting in the hallway with a cup of tea.

  “How did you know I was coming?” I asked, after draining it.

  “We watch from our windows. Another sister spotted you and let me know.”

  I delivered the pastry to my very surprised father who asked to speak with me in the hallway. Ila excused herself and stepped inside to speak with one of her sisters.

  “I would prefer—”

  I stopped him with a raised hand.

  “You’ve raised me, taught me, and uprooted our family to protect me. Let me bring you breakfast when you forget to eat.”

  His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded.

  “I like the sisters,” I said so softly that he had to lean forward to hear. “But you should rest easy when I’m here. Their life does not call to me.”

  He met my eyes with relief and gave me a brief hug to which the population of the room softly aw’ed, embarrassing him. I smiled at him as Ila joined me and closed the door. We retreated to the bathing room by an unspoken agreement.

  “I can see the questions running through your mind,” she said as we descended.

  “Yes, but they aren’t necessarily about the sisters,” I admitted. “We’ve touched a little on the mood of men. What do you do with an angry man?”