Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel

by MJ Haag

  “Well, last night, you didn’t inspire—”

  “It was not supposed to.” His exasperation was obvious.

  “Then what was the purpose?”

  “Did you fear me touching you this morning?”

  I shook my head. Even naked I hadn’t been afraid, just uncertain.

  “Did you feel anything just before I left?”

  The way he watched me had me wondering if he knew.

  “A bit of warmth in my middle, but nothing lingering after I dressed for the day.”

  He reached over, plucked the pole from my hands, and set it out of the way. Then, he gently pushed me back so I lay on the bank. I calmly let him have his way, until he slowly began unbuttoning my shirt.

  “Sir?”

  “Shh. I want to prove a point and mean you no harm.”

  I wrinkled my nose, which made him smile, but he didn’t stop. With my bindings exposed, he traced his fingers over my stomach again.

  “So the warmth was here?”

  My heart gave an odd flip again as I nodded.

  “What exactly caused it?”

  I blushed scarlet and quickly sat up.

  “I’d rather not discuss this. I think my approach was misguided. Even if I had the knowledge, I don’t think I could impart it without...well, doing this." I waved a hand at my flushed face. “Have you ever considered visiting the Sisters? Perhaps they would be willing to—”

  He barked out a laugh. “An intriguing idea. But you’re here now and can tell me what exactly I did wrong.” He tugged on my shirt, encouraging me to lie back down.

  I cleared my throat and attempted to ignore my heated face.

  “I wouldn’t say there was a wrong action. Nothing disturbed me or frightened me. Neither did anything inspire me,” I said, using his words.

  “I see. Please consider giving me another chance,” he said softly, his fingers once again trailing my stomach.

  “Honestly, I don’t see how that will help. You have had fifty years of trying,” I said softly and without censure.

  “But if you’re willing to tell me the effects of what I am trying, I can adjust my technique. Improve perhaps?”

  Something about the look in his eyes made me nervous.

  “And you will stop when I say?”

  “Of course,” he assured me.

  I hesitantly nodded my agreement, and his grin widened.

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded, then softly added, “please.”

  In the obscurity behind my eyelids, I waited for something, unsure what to expect. What he gave was the same touch on my stomach as before. A slow swirl of his fingers over my skin. A circle that slowly expanded, until it almost touched the underside of my breast.

  It grew warmer outside.

  On the next pass, his fingers teased the edge of my bindings. My nipple tingled, and I found it difficult to breathe normally. His fingers left my skin. When I heard him sit up, I blinked in confusion. He reappeared above me a moment later, holding the pole.

  “You have a fish on the line,” he said, handing it to me.

  A fish? I took a calming breath. My skin tingled from his touch. As I pulled the line in, I saw my error. He had lulled me and was slowly building a tension within me. His declaration for a few days now made sense. He would take his time pulling me further and further into a world I did not yet understand until...fornication. Of course. The beast. I scowled.

  I strung the fish onto the line of another shorter pole and stuck the pole into the bank so the fish trailed in the water. My hands drifted to the buttons. His hands reached around me, closing over mine.

  “Not yet,” his rough voice tickled my ear.

  “I would like to stop now.” I moved his hands away and buttoned quickly.

  He bowed his head at me and said nothing, staying close.

  I caught another fish, and ready to leave his quiet, watchful presence, I declared our time outdoors complete.

  * * * *

  After crossing the wall and walking through the fields and hills, we came to the border of trees on the east side of the manor. Just at their edge, I caught movement. I stopped walking and watched the nymphs, unwilling to disturb a playful moment.

  “I’m glad he forgave her,” I commented as the nymphs chased each other.

  “Forgave her?” the beast asked quietly.

  “The first day I read to you and you dallied with her, he refused to talk to her afterward.”

  The beast’s brow furrowed as he watched them as well.

  “She looks well,” I added softly, studying him instead of the nymphs.

  “Yes. Quite,” he said and turned away.

  When I looked at the nymphs, she was again on her knees in front of her companion, his wooden penis in her mouth. I wondered how exactly that worked for trees. Then I wondered if the baker would like the taste of her sap.

  “Must you study them?” the beast said with impatience, already a distance from me.

  I hurried to catch up with him.

  * * * *

  A soft touch on my thigh woke me in the night. My skin felt hot and sensitive, uncomfortable, and my heart thundered in my chest.

  I sat up abruptly, again naked.

  “Stop.”

  His hand fell away as I turned to look at him. He lay beside me, watching me closely. I had the absurd urge to roll toward him and wrap my arms around him.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “Touching you.”

  He looked calm, but even the pants he wore couldn’t hide his massive erection. Unknowingly, I’d started a dangerous game with his control. If he could not control himself, I would be the one broken and bleeding like the nymph.

  “When I suggested it might be your approach, I didn’t understand. Now, I have a better idea what continuing with this means for me. And it frightens me. I do not want to end up like the wood nymph. I do not want to be used and forgotten. Though you might not treat me as a whore, you would treat me as a body with no head attached. Have you given thought to how the pursuit of your game will make me feel?” I spoke softly, hoping to reason with him without angering him.

  He leaned in.

  “I hurt you once. I will not hurt you again. I swear.”

  “I’m glad we agree. Please leave.”

  He snorted.

  “I think not,” he said.

  He reached forward, his fingers skimming my thigh again, first the outside, then the inside. He was just inches from where they met in the middle, his touch causing a slow burn. I desperately wanted to pull him closer, and that yearning scared me.

  I scooted from the bed, grabbed a pillow, and dashed across the room. He stood but too slow. I quickly slipped into his room and locked the door. Then just as quickly, I locked the door coming from the hall.

  He tried both calmly at first. When he understood that I’d locked him out, he pounded on the adjoining doors.

  Raiding his wardrobe, I covered myself with one of his shirts then sat on his bed.

  The pounding turned to rage. He didn’t yell at me, only growled and slashed at the other side of the wood panels.

  The urge to appeal to him, to calm him, held me fiercely. I hated hearing him so upset. Yet, I knew if I opened those doors, he would try to continue with what he had started. So, I remained on the bed, holding my pillow to my chest as I watched for a hint of the rising sun while listening as he tried to tear his way through. The doors held all night, repairing themselves before he could completely breach them.

  With the sun, his racket quieted. I sat on his mattress, tired and wondering what to do. After several minutes, I eased from the bed and tiptoed to the doors leading to my room. I leaned my ear to the panel but heard nothing. I tried the handle. It turned, and I cautiously opened the door.

  The other side of the wood panel was a patchwork of deep and numerous gouges. It was clear that very little material had separated me from the beast. As I stared, tiny wood fibers moved to mend themselves. I
f not for the magic of this place, he would have easily ripped his way through the wood. His temper was a frightening thing.

  My room was littered with broken furniture and shredded dresses. I felt completely relieved that I’d put on one of his shirts. Nothing in my room remained for me to wear.

  My stomach rumbled. Risking running into him and his anger, I tiptoed to the door that led to the hall and eased it open.

  He paced in the hallway on all fours, an angry black swirling mist at his feet. Any semblance of the man he’d been during the night was gone. His head whipped toward me.

  Before I could move, the mist enveloped me. Sightless, I groped for the door. Instead of the door, I touched fur.

  I turned and tried to run, but he caught me up into his arms and started walking with me. I didn’t try to struggle.

  “You’re still angry,” I said nervously.

  “Very,” he growled.

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “Feed you.”

  He set me down on the lounge in the library. The mists receded from me while he continued to remain hidden. A food-laden tray sat on the low table.

  “Eat,” he ordered.

  I nibbled at some food as I watched the mist pace back and forth with him. He moved to the shelves, and the rasp of a book sliding from its place made me curious.

  “Eat,” he said again.

  I quickly took another bite of a tartlet while trying to determine his mood. Obviously angry, but driven, too. He had a goal in mind, but what? Light burst from the fireplace as flames suddenly appeared. He growled, and I finished the tartlet in two more bites.

  “Drink,” he said in a slightly calmer voice.

  The cold spring water had barely touched my tongue when a book landed on the cushion next to me.

  “Read,” he said softly. It was less of a command and more of a plea.

  The sudden shift in his mood made me suspicious. He moved behind me and lightly tugged on my braid to undo my hasty work. My eyes drifted to the book. The Medicinal Properties of Flora in the North.

  My interest piqued, I picked up the book and read as his fingers trailed through my hair.

  * * * *

  I woke with his fingers roaming my body. The mist surrounded me so I couldn’t see a thing. His touch was completely unobstructed by the shirt I had been wearing. Heat flooded me. I’d fallen asleep reading. Warm, full, tired, and lulled by his fingers running through my hair, I hadn’t had a chance.

  The pad of his finger roamed over one nipple, and I gasped at the tingling sensation that spread down between my legs.

  Opening my mouth to protest, he surprised me by covering it.

  “Quiet and listen,” he said, still touching me, fueling a fire that burned me from the inside. “You demanded I consider how my game would make you feel.”

  His finger crossed over my nipple again followed closely by his tongue. The tingling sensations spreading between my legs consumed me. He laved the tender peak for a moment while I panted for breath.

  “I have considered it. Have you? How does this make you feel?”

  Stretching out my hands, I curled my fingers in his hair and pulled him back down to my breast. He obligingly sucked it again, the scrape of his fangs adding to the pleasure. The heat spread out slowly, causing an ache in the other breast.

  Finally, I understood why Bryn had lain with Tennen. Bryn. Pregnant and rejected. The realization of how this could end for me cooled the heat within me.

  I yanked back on his head and sat up.

  He growled loudly and pressed me into the back of the lounge. His head dipped to the other breast, giving it the same burning attention. My thoughts jumbled together and instead of pushing his head away, I pulled it closer again.

  His hands gripped my legs and started easing the right one over the side of the lounge. His mouth drifted from my breast, and his tongue tickled a trail to my stomach, which dipped and clenched wildly.

  With his semi-desertion, a clear thought penetrated the fog in my mind. Sara. The baker. Her crying in shame after he had tasted her.

  “Stop!” I cried loudly, startling us both.

  He pulled back, but I couldn’t see him.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, obviously confused.

  “You selfish, single minded beast,” I cried, swinging an arm out and connecting with the side of his head.

  He grunted in surprise.

  I quickly scrambled off the lounge and out of his reach.

  “You know what I meant about feelings.” My voice echoed slightly in the room, and I immediately took a slow breath. “You are so focused on you, you would even use the people who are trying to help you. You see something you want and take it regardless of feelings or if it is being given freely. You coerce and bargain to get your way.”

  The beast growled deep and long.

  “No,” I said firmly, cutting off his growl. “You are the Liege Lord still, despite your appearance. Remember your responsibility. Remember who you are supposed to be. That is why you were enchanted, your complete disregard of your every responsibility and obligation in pursuit of your own satisfaction.”

  His growl grew, clicking with his anger.

  “You know nothing of me or my intentions.”

  The mist cleared the room. The beast was gone.

  I let out my pent breath, glad to have escaped. My skin still tingled, and I looked for the shirt. It was gone. Narrowing my eyes, I made my way to my own room. It was neatly restored. The bedding and curtains now a soft green. The white wardrobe stood open and empty. I moved to his room. His wardrobe was also empty.

  Sitting on his bed once again, I debated my future.

  The progress I’d thought we’d made had evaporated last night with his fit. I’d voiced my concern several times that my presence seemed to make him worse, not better. To be fair, my goal had changed from wanting to free him from his curse to helping him become a better person. The two seemed counterproductive. After all, in his way of thinking, I was in his home to help him please another woman for a full night.

  He’d made it clear to me that he expected me to walk around in nothing or next to nothing from the beginning, and I realized he had brought me here to be an object of gratification. I’d bargained for a month of no touching—which had long since passed—thus relegating myself to an object of inspiration. Only I hadn’t known that then. Now that I knew what he really wanted from me, could I still help him become a better man?

  Groaning, I flopped back on the bed.

  Obviously throwing things, yelling, and hitting him didn’t work. After his last attempt, I’d thought I could use the hair oil to help him associate a smell with me. Then, he could use that scent when he was with Rose. But before using the hair oil, I’d wanted to be sure he knew the correct way to build her energies. Combined, I’d been so certain it would succeed.

  I should have never questioned his knowledge. Questioning it had been like a challenge. He didn’t like to be challenged. I groaned again and used a pillow in an attempt to smother myself. It didn’t work.

  I made this problem. I needed to unmake it and earn back some clothes.

  * * * *

  After making a simple meal of cheese, bread, and grapes, which I’d found in the kitchen, I carried the tray to the library. The doors to his study stood open, drawing my attention.

  “Sir?” I called softly holding the tray.

  “Go away. You annoy me,” he called back flatly. Papers rustled.

  I annoyed him? I carried the tray toward the door.

  “I wanted to apologize,” I said, entering the study. I set the tray on his desk, covering some of the papers he studied. I folded my hands in front of me, waiting for his attention.

  “Go away,” he repeated, not looking up.

  I sighed.

  “I shouldn’t have questioned your knowledge on a subject of which I’m so obviously ignorant. Not that I want an education,” I quickly added.

  He still d
idn’t look up.

  “I understand why you would take that as a challenge to prove me wrong.”

  “I was doing nothing of the sort,” he said in an exasperated tone.

  I studied him as he continued looking at, and switching, papers.

  “Doesn’t it hurt sitting on your tail?”

  “Yes. Will you please leave?”

  “Why won’t you look at me?”

  “Because I will see your natural beauty and will be tempted to continue licking every inch of your skin.”

  My skin tingled again at the reminder, and I shifted uncomfortably.

  “If you don’t want me naked, why take all my clothes?”

  “I thought your issue with being without clothes was my gaze. If I keep it averted, why clothe you?” he asked reasonably.

  “I might catch a chill.”

  The fire in his study blazed to life.

  “I doubt that,” he replied.

  Stubborn beast. My annoyance over his unwillingness to concede outweighed my amusement at his quick wit.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked, determined not to leave until I figured out what game we now played.

  “Estate records. Someone once suggested I might find it calming. Go away.”

  I refrained from stomping my foot.

  “What have you found in them?”

  “Just as you said. Practices that made the estate profitable. According to records, we sold flowers to candle makers in the south. You wouldn’t perchance have seen any during your wanderings?”

  “Actually, I have.” Still he did not look up.

  “I sold them to the candle maker in Konrall.”

  “There’s still a candle maker there?”

  “Yes, and a butcher, a smith, a tinker, and a baker. You know nothing of the people closest to your estate?”

  Finally, he looked up.

  “You’ve lectured me enough for one day,” he said, rising from his chair and walking toward me on two legs.

  I stood my ground as his gaze roved over my breasts then went slowly down and back up again. He stood inches from me, his gaze now resting on my pink face.

  “Did you learn anything else of interest in the papers?” I asked to distract him.

  “Several things, but nothing I’d care to discuss at the moment.”

  He reached out a finger and trailed the underside of my breast. My skin prickled, and my breast began to ache. His finger drifted over my nipple in a painful yet agreeable way.