Beauty and the Wolf

by Bridget Essex

“Nah. I want to be a cheese farmer, so that Mr. Cheese can eat every kind of cheese in the whole world!” He says this with such adorable determination that I have no choice but to take him seriously.

  “That's...a noble ambition.”

  We're still discussing the various and sundry merits of cheese farming when we reach Grim Tower—which means that I'm wholly unprepared to confront Lucile at the door.

  Chapter 17: The Dance

  Rex's mother stomps out of the building to meet us, and, wow, she looks pissed. I take a step back as she makes a beeline for her son and grabs him by the shoulder, giving him a little shake.

  “Did you ask me if you could leave?” Her voice is low, rumbling, like thunder.

  But Rex doesn’t seem daunted by her anger at all. He glances up at his mother and actually sighs. “Aw, Mom, you’re going to scare Mr. Cheese.” The little mouse has hidden himself in Rex's messy mop of hair.

  Lucile lets her son go and turns on me, her amber eyes flickering with lightning-bright rage. “What were you thinking, taking Rex out of the building?” If she were a dog, her hackles would be raised. She’s literally baring her teeth at me—her sharp, pointed teeth...

  “Sorry...” I shake my head, step back again. “I’m...sorry. Jordan asked me to watch him, and Rex wanted to go see his friends, so—”

  “Rexie!” Lucile snarls—actually snarls. “You know you aren't good at keeping your mouth shut. You could get us all into serious trouble.”

  I wince, confused. What on earth is she talking about?

  I have no opportunity to ask her, because Lucile falls to her knees in front of her son, her fury dissipating as she takes up his hands and squeezes them, staring hard into his face. “Honey, did you tell anyone?”

  “Mo-o-om...” Rex shrugs, trying to wiggle his hands free from her grasp. “The kids know, but they won't—”

  “What?” Her face flushes as red as strawberries. Lucile takes Rex by his shoulder again and begins to drag him after her. He looks perfectly calm—actually, a little bored—as his mother pulls him into the building and out of my sight.

  I...have no idea what just happened.

  Granted, it wasn't any weirder than the other weird things that have happened today—and it’s only morning! Honestly, I want to lie down somewhere and sleep for about, oh, a thousand hours, but Grim didn’t give me a designated room, and I certainly can’t go back to her room...

  So I hide myself away in the only place I have a right to: the kitchen.

  Besides, technically, I should be preparing lunch right now. So I begin to ponder the culinary possibilities—and Googling “recipes with lots of meat” on my phone—when Lucile storms down the staircase and regards me with an accusatory expression.

  I almost laugh—I should have anticipated this, given the way the day has been going—but I stop myself short from making a sound, considering how Lucile reacted the last time I laughed in her presence.

  “I need to speak with you.” Her voice is clipped, and her eyes are blazing.

  Immediately, I drop my phone on the counter and hold up my hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m sorry I took Rex outside. I didn’t know it wasn’t allowed, and it won’t happen again, promise.”

  “You need to understand something, Bella.” Lucile’s tone is sharp, cutting, but she draws in a deep, shaky breath, lets it out, and then continues speaking to me in what could almost be considered a normal voice. “I know that Grim wants us to be polite to you, but the thing is...I don’t want you here. It was reckless of Grim to hire you. Your presence jeopardizes all of us, and things are going to go down just like they did in our last town, and then we'll have to—”

  “Enough, Lucile.”

  Both of us jump a little, glancing back toward the stairs.

  At Grim.

  Her face is pale, weary, but that doesn’t stop her from pinning Lucile in place with a fiery, pointed gaze. “If anyone is going to jeopardize this family's safety, it’s Jordan. He’s up in his room, completely intoxicated. Is there any way you could go clean him up?”

  Lucile narrows her eyes, opens and shuts her mouth, and then she glares at me with a nasty, disgusted expression.

  “Lucile,” Grim growls, drawing her attention back. “If it weren't for Bella, he’d be wandering drunk on the streets right now. And you know how dangerous that is.”

  Still scowling, Lucile bows her head.

  “So you should be thanking her, not berating her,” Grim says dryly, smirking, “not that you will. Please go look after Jordan. He needs your hangover remedy.”

  “But...” Lucile's cheeks puff out with emotion, or words left unspoken; either way, she doesn't finish her sentence. Instead, she turns on her heel and leaves, and the angry slant of her shoulders confirms that Grim's attempt to soften her toward me didn't work—at all.

  Big surprise.

  “Grim,” I sigh, stepping out from behind the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about Rex—”

  “You did nothing wrong. Lucile is just being...Lucile. It has nothing to do with you.” She frowns, drawing my cell phone out of her pocket and placing it on the counter beside me. “In my family, we anger easily. It's an unfortunate inheritance.” She mutters these last words, almost shamefully, and then she searches my eyes as if she’s looking for something specific, something hidden.

  I don’t know what she wants to see in me.

  But I do know what I want from her.

  “Grim...” I trail off and watch her closely; her face, as usual, reveals less than nothing. “Look, what’s going on? I’m—I'm here.” I press a hand to my heart, wrinkling my brow. “I’ll help you in any way that I can. I mean, if you need help. Do you?” I draw in a deep breath, ask, “Won’t you tell me your secrets?

  Grim stares at me for so long that I feel as if she's examining me, memorizing me. Self-conscious, I push my ponytail over my shoulder and fidget with the seam of my skirt. She's close enough that I can smell the wildness woven into her skin, the fragrant warmth of her body... I remember the feel of her mouth against mine, and it’s enough to make me go weak at the knees. But I force myself to stand, to hold her gaze, though I want to step forward and draw her into my arms...

  Finally, Grim looks away.

  “I can’t,” she growls, bitterness tinging her words. “I’m sorry, Bella. It’s not my secret to tell. It’s all of ours. And...” A lock of black hair falls across her eyes as she shakes her head. “No. I can’t tell you.”

  “Sorry.” It's not the right thing to say, exactly, but it's the only word I have. I lower my gaze, unable to bear the pain in her eyes, pain I've caused her to feel—again. “Sorry,” I repeat, and I start to move toward the refrigerator, hoping to break the tension by asking her what she'd like me to prepare for lunch—but then she’s closed the distance between us; her perfume washes over me, and my thoughts are transported back to the forest.

  The forest and its impossible wolf.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice—with its low, rumbling timbre—is lovely, heartachingly lovely...

  I whisper to her, trembling as she places a hot hand on my hip, “You can trust me. Just...let me in.”

  Let me in. Those words sum up everything I feel for her, everything I desire from her.

  Still, for a long, silent moment, her walls stand solidly between us. I long to beat my fists against them, to break them down stone by stone. They aren't needed; she doesn't have to protect herself from me.

  “Let me in. Please,” I breathe again.

  And slowly, by degrees, her walls fall away.

  There is an intensity to Grim that reminds me of a thrashing, raging storm—powerful enough to fell trees and flood streets and set the world on fire. It’s wild and potent and sexy as hell.

  She's all lightning as she stares down at me now.

  The change isn’t subtle. It's like the difference between night and day. Her chest rises and falls, her breathing comes faster, and those beautiful lips part, teasing me w
ith their pinkness, with their hot, inviting sheen beneath the cold fluorescent lights.

  I stand up on my tiptoes, feel the surety of her hand at my waist. My fingers trail over her collar, find the back of her neck, and I tug her down to me, pull her toward me like gravity: she must come, must kiss me now.

  And she obeys.

  But, despite the storm crashing in her eyes, the woman that my best friend calls the Beast meets my lips hesitantly. As if she doesn't want this. As if she doesn't want me.

  I begin to step back, removing my hands from her, my mouth from her—and then, before the cold comes between us again, she makes a decision. She wraps her arms around me, draws me so close that I lose my air. Her arms are strong, and her mouth is strong, and she tastes of mint and something like fire.

  Quite frankly, her kiss knocks my socks off.

  She's hungry, devouring, ferocious, and then she’s pressing my hips back, and she’s lifting me up so that my rear rests on the counter, positioning herself between my legs. Yes. Absolutely, I am here for this, and she’s not smiling, but I am as I wrap my legs around her, just like last night, before everything went wrong.

  I respond to her wildness, try to match it, kiss for kiss—but then Grim’s backing away, her eyes cloudy with desire. “Not here,” she growls. “We should go to my room.”

  Her room...

  “Grim.” I shake my head, whisper, “Is this what you want? Because if it isn't... It can't be like last night. I can't—I don’t think I could bear that.”

  She watches me with gleaming eyes.

  “I need to know that you’re one-hundred-percent on board with...this. With what we're about to do.”

  “Wasn’t that implied?” she asks, arching a brow. A mischievous smile plays over her lips.

  I smile back, but my heart is still skipping beats. “Listen to me, Grim.” I cup her face in my hands, worried that she'll wall herself off again, shut me out. “I...really care about you.”

  And that was the wrong thing to say, because she blanches, starts to step away from me, but my hands move to her shoulders, holding her in place. She doesn't resist, but she’s tense, breathing hard.

  “It's okay,” I say in my most soothing tone. “If you don’t feel the same way about me, just tell me now. I want things to be clear between us.” I pause, swallow, and draw in a ragged breath. “If this is a one-and-done kind of thing, if we just sleep together now and that's it... I mean, I’d be okay with that.” Not really, I think, but I would respect her feelings. “I just want...”

  I want, more than anything, for her to allow me to know her.

  And I tell her as much, my voice shaking, raw, bare, thin.

  Grim closes her eyes and begins to speak.

  “I can't give you normal, Bella,” she says deliberately, choosing each word with utmost care, like a florist picking blossoms from a garden. “Things will never be normal with me. With my family. No matter how hard I try.”

  “Grim...” I gather her into a hug, pillowing my cheek on her shoulder. “What’s ‘normal,’ anyway? That's not important to me.”

  “But it is. You don't understand—”

  “No, I don’t understand, because nobody’s ‘normal.’” I draw back, stare pointedly into her shining amber eyes. “We’re all chasing after someone else’s ideal of happiness, and we’re never going to reach it, because it doesn't even exist.” I swallow the lump in my throat, dash away a tear. “You know, I went to see Pam today. My best friend. The woman who called you the Beast.”

  She watches me soberly, listening.

  “And Pam told me that she’s been sleeping with Andrew—Andrew, the person I hate most. The only person I hate on this earth. He bullied our friends mercilessly in school. He bullied my father into selling him the diner for half its worth. But he’s considered normal, right? Rich, successful. When the truth is...he's a monster. He’s the beast—not you.”

  Grim winces. “Bella...” Her voice is soft but certain. “I don't mean to be harsh, but you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “So enlighten me.”

  “I told you—I can’t.” She's in anguish, and I ache for her, instantly regretting my words. “If you knew the truth,” she whispers, straightening her shoulders, “you would run. I’m the greatest monster you’ve ever known.”

  “Okay, listen.” I wrap my fingers in her collar, draw her closer to me. My voice is tight. “Did you hurt someone? Kill someone?”

  Grim shakes her head.

  “Then why do you insist that you’re so terrible? You have to stop this. You’re not a mon—”

  “But I am.” Her eyes are calm and clear as they gaze at me now.

  “Please let me be the judge of that.”

  Her hands find my waist, and she ducks her chin, regarding me with an odd expression. “I've never...” She pauses, smiling weakly; a deep furrow is etched on her forehead. “I've never let anyone in. Never.”

  “What are you afraid of?” I ask gently. “Did someone hurt you?”

  A grimace, a flicker of grief. “Many someones. But that’s beside the point.” She laughs lightly, bitterly. “My life is nothing but running, Bella. Running away to keep my family safe.”

  The lyrics of King of Roses cycle through my head as I think about how she and her family showed up here one day, without explanation.

  I think about how Grim keeps to herself, making no connections.

  As if she knows she'll have to leave someday.

  “What are you running from?”

  Grim gazes at me levelly.

  “It stands to reason, right?” I go on. “If you’re running, you’re running away from something.”

  “Yes,” she whispers, as I cup her cheek with my palm, feel the inexplicable heat of her skin. “But maybe I was running toward something, too.”

  My heart hammers at my ribs. I’m turning liquid against her; craving rises from the deepest recesses of my belly.

  She places her hands against the small of my back, draws me close.

  Last night, Grim chose to step off, to leave. That was her decision then.

  And here and now...

  She makes a different one.

  “I want this,” she growls, piercing me with her eyes.

  And there’s a question in her gaze: Do you?

  “Yes,” I say too quickly, desperation making me tremble. “I want you,” I tell her, just in case there’s any doubt. There’s no room for doubt; I take matters into my own hands. She said she wants this, and that’s all the invitation I need.

  I’m still seated on the counter, my knees tight on either side of Grim’s hips. I scoot forward a little, and then I’m connected to her, my chest pressed tightly to hers as I reach up, wrapping my arms around her neck. I lift my chin, capture her mouth, kiss her like this is my first kiss and my last kiss, breathing her in like oxygen.

  Still kissing her, I push up the hem of her shirt at the small of her back, trailing my fingertips over what I find there: skin, petal-soft skin that’s so hot beneath my touch, it makes me shiver. I draw my hands around, smoothing my palms over her hips. Her body is muscular—she doesn’t have much curve to her—and the voyage of my hands is teaching me her landscape.

  I kiss her as I undo the lowest button on her shirt, then the next and the next and the next. Soon, her taut stomach is pressed against mine, and her skin is so hot, deliciously hot, as I place a cool palm against her middle, just above her bellybutton. She radiates heat, and I shiver again; she’s glorious to touch, to taste...

  With a growl, Grim hikes up the skirt of my dress, pulls at the sleeves so that the wide neckline is drawn down to my shoulders. She bends her head, her mouth trailing kisses from my neck to my collarbone to the hollow of my throat. I throw my head back, and she drags the front of my dress down over my chest. There's a bra to contend with, but she removes that quickly, and, my breasts freed, she cups the right one, holding my gaze as she flicks a thumb across my nipple.

  I m
oan, arching my back so that my breasts rise toward her mouth. Half-smiling, she bends closer: the tip of her soft, pink tongue licks me, and then her sharp teeth bite. I moan again. My center is pressing against her hips, my legs wrapped around her as I lean back on my elbows. Her mouth is lingering over my heart, yes, but that’s not where her hands remain. Feather-light, her fingers tease me, barely touching, touching just enough...

  The intensity sends waves of heat through my body. As I watch her face, her hooded eyes, I realize that she’s deliberately taking her time, lingering in this moment.

  Honestly, I can hardly believe this is happening. Even before Grim offered me the job, I dreamed of what her skin would taste like, what it would feel like beneath my fingers. And now my hands are at the waistband of her jeans, undoing the button before sliding the zipper down—slowly. I want to savor this, too...

  I thought our coming together would be fast, fiery, burning us both up like a comet rushing through the sky. And maybe, last night, we would have made love like that—devouring one another, sating ourselves too quickly.

  But today, our movements are measured, intricate—this dance, this falling in love... And I startle myself with that word, love, even though I feel it, even though I've been falling in love with Grim moment by moment, with every word, every mystery, every heated glance. Each smile she’s given me is a gem I’ve hoarded in my heart.

  And this moment, too, is precious to me.

  A soft sigh and a low growl as she tastes my nipples, hardened in the heat of her mouth to jewels. Her hands claim my thighs, her palms radiating heat as her thumbs trace circles over the soft skin there, moving toward my inner thighs now...

  I think of the softness of roses when her mouth meets mine again. I think of every soft word those lips have given me.

  But then I stop thinking at all, because her thumb has found my center, has pressed against me, through my underwear, found me wet as she brushes a soft line over my ache. She smiles against my mouth, and I moan as she draws the fabric away, the back of her hand against my center now, teasing my clit, making me dizzy—as if she knows me, as if she’s touched me and teased me countless times before.