Beauty and the Beast: An Adult Fairytale Romance

by Vivienne Savage

  “Your father promised you to me,” Edward taunted. “It’s no wonder you’ve turned savage when your own family no longer wants you.”

  She ignored him, refusing to fall prey to his mind games. Every magical attack she tried bounced off of him, but they kept him at bay.

  “If you won’t be mine, then no one will have you.”

  Edward penned her in, the higher ridge of the mountain to one side and open space to the other. His combat experience and shield combined into an impenetrable forward defense. She struggled to split it with her magic and screamed as his sword whistled toward her.

  He was going to cut her down, and Alistair wouldn’t arrive in time to save her.

  Despite the likelihood of her demise, Anastasia didn’t give in. She clung to her consciousness, tenacious will forcing her tiring arms to endure. She raised the staff once more and deflected his strike.

  Then she summoned everything she had and placed it in one spell. All of her emotion—despair and hope, anger at Edward, and love for Alistair—unbottled at once. Lightning fell from the sky, raining from the heavens in multiple shades of color.

  Fairy lights. A spell only the descendants of the fairies could accomplish. And somehow, she’d pulled it off at the moment when her life hung in the balance.

  A sizzling, mauve bolt struck Edward. It tossed him to the ground, seared him, then lightning struck twice more, serene cobalt blue and teal green. A branching network of burns discolored Edward’s face and disappeared beneath the neck of his chest piece.

  Alistair landed and rushed forward on four legs with murder in his eyes, only to draw up short when he saw Edward’s motionless body stretched over the ground.

  Chapter

  SOBBING, ANASTASIA LAUNCHED herself into Alistair’s arms, colliding with his scaled chest. His arms raised automatically to embrace the tiny woman, and the flat heel of his clawed hand pressed between her shoulders. “We did it. We defeated them!”

  What remained of Dalborough’s forces had turned tail and run without their leaders to command them.

  “We did, my princess. That we did.”

  “Are you all right? Were you hurt? You were amazing, soaring into the battle as you did. Let me look at you.” Her hands began to move over his massive chest, fingers traversing his scales once she pulled back to inspect him for injury. He’d lost a few, creating sore spots that burned beneath her touch.

  Alistair laughed through the pain, and for her benefit, he nuzzled her cheek with his snout. “I am fine, Ana, truly. See?”

  “Look at me, babbling out a million questions when you must have so much you need to do. And the rest of your people, they must be so bewildered. We must see to them, and to you.”

  Taking his human shape felt odd. After so many years in dragon form, he had forgotten what it was like to stand on two legs. His dreams hadn’t prepared him for the reality. Everything ached, and yet it was worth it to have her in his arms.

  Hugging her close hurt so good, despite bruises and a number of cuts under his tattered clothes, each one stinging beneath a layer of sweat. “Yes. I must see to them. You’re right,” he agreed.

  Alistair leaned back on unsteady feet and raised his head to look at a number of people awaiting his command. Dozens of archers stood on the castle battlements, soldiers with swords and wooden shields on standby observing them in silence.

  “There will be plenty of time to talk.” Ana moved to his side and took his hand. “We should secure the castle and see that everyone is fed and tended. The army is gone for now, and it will be weeks before they can mount another attack. If they even try.”

  Anastasia took charge without awaiting his command. The timid princess of months ago no longer existed, and in her place stood a formidable warrior queen. Suddenly, the dragon prince realized he wasn’t the only one to change. She had grown into a capable woman worthy of the throne beside him. His pride for her surged, second only to the love swelling in his heart.

  “Aye. A good idea,” he agreed. Pride wouldn’t allow him to limp beside her. He gritted through the pain and moved tall at her side. As they approached, the many men and women lowered to a knee to greet them.

  “Your Majesty,” they greeted him.

  For them, the thirteen years had been no more than a day. He’d have much to share with them. Many explanations, but in the meantime, he had only orders. “Have the uninjured assemble in the audience chamber at once. I want the five men most able to stand to remain on the tower watch. I will address them personally after the wounded are accounted for.”

  “Of course, my king.” Diarmad put a hand to his chest and bowed. Then he took off to relay the order to his guardsmen.

  The corridors teemed with flesh and blood people who had awakened in time to see a war. Alistair and Ana made their way inside toward the audience chamber, no longer a gallery of statues, now filled with living, breathing people.

  “They were the statues,” she whispered in awe.

  “Aye, lass,” Alistair confirmed, a heavy sadness in his voice. “I condemned not only myself, but every living being here. They lost thirteen years of their lives because of me.”

  The servants and maids of the castle who had defended it during the siege watched them move with wide eyes. Two young women hurried to them with woven baskets filled with bandages and bottles of healing salve.

  “My king, you’re injured!”

  “Thank you, Adaira, but care for Princess Anastasia first,” he said. “I can see to myself.”

  “I am fine,” Ana assured the maids. “Please, if you’ll help me, we can see to our wounded soldiers first.”

  Humbled once more by her selflessness, Alistair watched as Ana took charge of the menders. She did more than delegate orders; she helped nurse the injured with her own hands, no matter how small or great the wound, while he saw to his remaining guardsmen.

  Most of the warriors were much like their king, refusing to acknowledge their wounds. Along the way, Alistair gave orders to secure the mountain, for their archers to remain alert, and for any able-bodied members of the castle staff to join them.

  And then he told the remaining members of his loyal staff everything.

  “Though many of you are too unwell to stand here now, I owe you all my eternal gratitude—and my apologies,” he began.

  He didn’t take his father’s throne. It didn’t feel right. They’d been attacked for the second time because of him after all, and they’d all lost countless time with their loved ones who didn’t live within the castle. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “It may seem like only a day to you, but thirteen years have passed. All of you, including me, have been under a fairy’s curse. And the fault is mine. I brought this upon us all.”

  He held nothing back, enduring shouts of dismay and justified anger. Tears. And finally forgiveness. They had all shared his pain, and when it was over, he dismissed them for the evening to rest and recover.

  “Come, that means you as well.” Ana stepped up from behind him and took him by the arm. “You’ll be of no use to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion.”

  “But—”

  “Please,” she whispered, “for me.”

  She guided him to the large bathing room with her arm around his shoulders and crouched beside the brass fixtures and unfamiliar knobs. Eos had transformed his castle into a place filled with strange new conveniences. The enchantments spun for Ana’s benefit remained, and he wondered if it was the fairy’s way of granting them a gift.

  Seconds later, steam billowed up and around them, accompanied by the smell of fresh water in the air.

  “You will not leave?” Alistair asked when she emerged, drying her wet fingers against her robes.

  “Your room?”

  “The castle.”

  Ana shook her head and smiled. “No. This is my home, Alistair.” She kissed his cheek and guided him to the door. “Meet me in the library once you’ve freshened.”

  Alistair tried to smile
in return. “To ask me more questions?”

  “Of course.”

  He yearned for a bath, and realization of the many things he could do once again flooded back to him at once. Read a book, sit at a table, soak in a tub. Embrace a woman. Without warning, he surrounded Ana with both of his arms and squeezed her tight, burying his face in her hair. How did she still smell so good even after a battle, with the scent of blood and smoke on her skin?

  “I’ll meet you in an hour,” he promised, sending her off with a soft pat on her bottom.

  With so much blood and grime clinging to his skin, he rinsed the filth away first with a bucket of water while standing over the grate to the castle cistern. Then he soaked in the deep basin until a concerned maid rapped on the door. By the time he retired to his bedroom, his joints protested movement, and his muscles screamed for rest. But he couldn’t sleep yet. Not until he’d taken Ana in his arms one more time and spoken his heart.

  Hora floated in the center of the room, wispy and translucent without the thin guise of humanity granted by magic. She turned to face him and smiled.

  “Hora.” He turned and gazed at the woman who had been his governess since infancy. “You’re still here.”

  “Eos has given me this time to say farewell to you.”

  By habit, he stepped forward to embrace her, only to remember at the last second that he could not. Spirits, even those as strong as Hora, had no substance. She smiled at him and lifted a hand to his cheek. Alistair felt only cool air.

  “Your mother and father would be proud of you this day, Alistair. So proud. Not only did you guard this castle, but you owned up to your own shortcomings. You admitted your wrong.”

  “I don’t deserve their forgiveness.”

  “You do. War is ugly. It is cruel. Wars have started over lesser crimes and smaller slights than the loss of a family, Alistair.” She dropped her hand and stepped back. “Let the cycle of vengeance end with today’s battle.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Know that I am proud of you as well, Alistair. Anastasia is a good match for you. Treasure her always.”

  “I will, Hora. I swear it on my scales.”

  Hora smiled. “So much like your father you are.” Seconds later, she faded away, leaving Alistair alone with his room and the fading sunlight.

  For the sake of Ana’s modesty, as well as concealing wounds that hadn’t yet healed, he donned a tunic with the family’s green tartan. For once, he didn’t mind the cold, unyielding floor beneath him as he adjusted the garment in place.

  Alistair didn’t shave, too eager to see her again to delay their reunion any longer, and with damp hair around his shoulders, he pushed through his exhaustion to pound down the hallways—lively corridors filled with conversation and household staff. Family members without blood ties.

  Despite the men lost on the battlefield, a celebration carried on inside their grand dining hall. He only slowed to accept tearful hugs from overjoyed castle residents, the library his true destination. Warmth from the hearth greeted him as he stepped inside to join his chosen bride. Ana had beaten him, curled up in her favorite chair with a cup of tea in her favorite night rail and dressing gown. A second cup sat beside the teapot.

  “I wasn’t sure if you even liked tea, let alone how you prefer it,” Ana said by way of greeting. She smiled shyly at him.

  “I do. With sugar. Too much, as Hora would say, but I favor sweets.” He took a seat in the chair across from her.

  Her smile wavered. “She said goodbye to me moments ago. She’s truly gone for good now.”

  “Aye, lass. She passed away a year before the castle fell, quietly in her sleep. I’m not sure why she was brought back during the curse, but I was grateful for her presence and the company she gave during the dark times of these past thirteen years.”

  Ana quieted while pouring his tea. She added three heaping teaspoons of sugar before passing him the fragile cup. “A curse….”

  Anxiety gnawed an acidic hole into the pit of his stomach, and he directed his gaze to the surface of his tea to avoid making eye contact. “Yes. A curse laid upon me by my fairy godmother.”

  “What fairy would do such a thing?”

  “Her name is Eos, though that’s only short. She’s known to my people as Eleanor of the Southern Wind.”

  She blinked. “Eos?”

  “You know the name?”

  “Though I’ve never met her, my mother’s mother went by that name. As far as I know, she’s never been a part of my life. Like all fairies, she gave her child to her human lover and visited her infrequently. But why did she curse you?”

  He had been waiting for the question, fearing it, but knowing he owed her the truth. “After Dalborough attacked my home and killed my family, I sank into despair. Over time, I let rage consume me, and it became my only motivation to live. I burned villages and pillaged towns. I hurt many people, killed others, and I did it all thinking I deserved justice.”

  “Oh, Alistair,” she whispered, hands lifted to her lips and tears shining in her eyes.

  “All I did was bring pain and misery, Ana. I had truly become a beast, and so Eos cursed me to live as one until I could find someone who truly loved me.

  “Me.”

  Alistair set the teacup aside and lowered to his knees in front of her. He claimed one of her hands, warmed by the mug, and pressed his cheek to her palm. “You reminded me of what it was like to care about another person’s well-being, lass. You saved me.”

  “But….” Her cheeks flushed hot. “You must think the most wicked, horrible things about me. I threw myself at you in those dreams,” she whispered. “I was brazen.”

  Her words brought a surge of heat to his loins, awakened by the memory of their kiss in the spring and the slick sensation of her naked skin to his skin. He’d thought her to be no different from any woman of his kingdom, full of confidence and a desire to take what she wanted, with sexual needs she planned to fulfill.

  “How could I think anything wicked when you came to this castle and gave me a reason to live again?” For over twelve years, he had endured a half-life of loneliness in the shadows, the days in her company the only ones filled with light.

  “I was very… forward.”

  “Discovering those dreams were connected was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.” Her touch felt so good, better than the warmth of a campfire on a frigid night. He turned his head and kissed each fingertip before whispering, “But I looked forward to them whenever they came.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt you. I am still your dragon, Ana. Yours.”

  “I still can’t believe this is all real. That you really can turn from a dragon to a man.”

  “Aye,” Alistair said. “Many of us in Ocland have this gift, a secret rarely, if ever, shared with outsiders.”

  “You mean, there are more dragons out there who can become human? Or are you humans who become dragons? Which is your natural shape?”

  Alistair blinked at her. “My natural shape? I… I don’t think I know anymore,” he admitted. “No one does.”

  “It doesn’t matter then. You’re still my dragon.”

  The Anastasia he’d come to know would have a million and one questions, her inquisitive nature spitting out one inquiry after the next. Exhaustion rendered his princess unusually silent.

  “The hour has grown late. Come, I’ll escort you to your room.”

  Hand in hand, they traveled through the castle to her old bedroom, where he kissed her at the door with all of his passion and desire. Ana sighed sweetly as they parted, eyes half-lidded and a dreamy smile on her face.

  Leaving her was an exercise in willpower. Thanks to her, there would be time on the morrow for an in-depth discussion of their futures. Tomorrow, he would claim her as his in every way.

  Chapter

  TENDER FINGERS AND an even gentler voice disturbed Ana’s sleep. She awakened to a nervous chambermaid lu
rking beside her bed. “Princess Anastasia?”

  The young woman’s name swam into her memories, recalled once she’d blinked the sleep from her eyes. “What is it Fiona?” She’d met Fiona, among a handful of the other maids, when the group outfitted her in the Witch Queen’s battle robes.

  “King Alistair has asked that I attend you until such a time that you demand my presence no longer.”

  “Oh! I haven’t had a lady’s maid in months. I shouldn’t need one at—”

  The girl carried on, voice strong and determined as she said, “But it would please me greatly, Princess, to be in your service. You who have saved us all from sleep and our beloved king from death. Please allow me to guide you through life in our castle. I beg you….”

  “I….” Touched by the girl’s open display of honesty, she tilted her head in a wordless nod.

  Fiona washed Ana’s hair and helped brush the knots from it. For the first time in months, the princess donned multiple layers of attire. It smelled of fresh lavender and roses, the fabric soft as flower petals. The simple cream, floor-length underdress kissed her skin like silk, worn beneath an overdress in copper-gold, its matching bodice in the Oclander style. She’d never shown so much cleavage in all of her life, and flushed as she tried to adjust the neckline of the underdress to conceal more bosom.

  “His Highness requested that you join him for breakfast in his study, if you so wish, else I am to bring you whatever you like.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll join him.”

  Alistair’s personal study adjoined his bedchamber and was one of the few rooms she hadn’t explored during her time in the castle. Fiona left her at the door with a smile and a wink.

  The prince—no, the king, rose from his seat the moment she entered.

  Her cheeks flushed hot, the memory of their shared kisses and encounter in the hot spring sending a jolt straight to her core. She’d thrown herself at her dream prince, and for a few minutes, she’d had him at her mercy, his flesh hot, alive, and stiff beneath her fingers.