Beasts in Winter

by Heather Rainier

  Bestiale grunted. “That sounds like something I would want to get away from, too, mon ange.”

  That poor thing, Fleur whispered telepathically as she padded delicately over the tablecloth and carefully climbed down into Angel’s lap. She kneaded the heavy velvet of Angel’s gown and turned repeatedly until she was satisfied with her bed and then curled up.

  Angel patted her and then focused on the two of them. “It’s surreal, sharing my supposedly rough ‘real world’ life with two beasts who are holding me captive in some kind of whacked-out fairy tale coma hallucination. At least it’s been interesting—and quieter actually—than I’m used to.” Before they could ask what she meant by her word choice, she said, “As I was saying, I enjoyed exploring the gardens today. Even in the middle of winter, they’re impressive and must’ve represented a lifetime’s worth of work for the gardeners who tended them. I can tell they were loved…except for one thing.”

  Charmeur knew Bestiale wouldn’t be able to keep himself from asking.

  “What do you mean?” Bestiale asked, sitting forward, curiosity in his eyes.

  “The statues located at the center of the hedge maze. I walked all over the gardens, and those two statues were the only things that were untended and overgrown.”

  Charmeur and Fleur both knew how much it aggravated Bestiale that there was even a small part of his gardens that was unkempt or untidy. Bestiale nodded but could offer no explanation or risk damning them all and possibly injuring her with a precipitous departure so far from the portal she’d come through.

  “I cleared the branches away, and piled them up to be dealt with by whoever takes care of the garden. They were very dense, and I had to pull at some of them and was clumsy in the cold. I had several scratches from the thorns. I suppose I could’ve…desired a pair of work gloves, but I didn’t think of that. I was curious about what the statues looked like.” She looked down at her hands and then gasped.

  Bestiale held out his hands, and Angel placed hers in his grasp, and Charmeur could see that her soft skin was undamaged.

  Bestiale said, “I’m sorry you were injured, but it does appear the…magic of the castle has taken care of you as tenderly as you cared for the garden. I’m sure the gardener will be grateful…should he return.” She glanced up at him, and her brows furrowed as she tilted her head and studied him.

  Bestiale glanced at Charmeur, inquiry in his eyes, and Charmeur silently replied, Brother, how many times over the years have you cleared those canes away, burned them even, only to have them regrow within a day? Within an hour? I think the enchantress must approve of her. Ask if the statues were still visible when she left the garden.

  Bestiale relayed the question, and she replied, “Yes, and still so on my return trip to the castle. Why? Should I not have touched them?”

  “No, nothing like that. Don’t trouble yourself or risk further pain, Angel,” Bestiale replied in a husky rasp. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against each palm. “The gardener wouldn’t want you to be hurt on his account.”

  As Charmeur watched Angel, an incredible thing happened. She turned her hands in Bestiale’s grasp, and as she withdrew them, her touch was more of a caress. Her fingertips trailed over his callused palms and the roughened undersides of his fingers, and even over his large claws, as if she didn’t worry she might be injured by them. He wished it was him she gave this attention to, but he was surprised there was no immediate flare of jealousy toward his brother. His jealousy was what had led to them being in this predicament, and he had to take that as a good sign.

  Bestiale’s gulp was completely audible in the quiet room, and there was a long pause as they looked at one another.

  Fleur, who was still curled up in Angel’s lap, gave several kneading push-and-pulls on her velvet skirting as she purred with her chin down on her arms. I love her, and I want to keep her, even if I have to stay a cat for all eternity.

  Knowing they were on shaky ground if the enchantress was watching, Charmeur whispered over their mental connection for Bestiale to distract her.

  Bestiale popped a grape into his mouth to give himself time to think and then said, “Tell us more about this paparazzi and your ex-fiancé. Is he dead? Did your uncle challenge him to a duel for dishonoring you?”

  * * * *

  Bestiale studied Angel’s features as she talked during the meal, his ears attuning to her manner of speech and enjoying the way she used her hands to speak while stroking Fleur, who still lay contented in her lap. Angel was so different from them, but the differences were ones he appreciated. She was no shy miss, awaiting the decisions of anyone else in her life, and he admired her independent spirit, even though it meant she wouldn’t always do as she was told. He liked a woman who knew her own mind.

  Charmeur sat on her other side at the table, his chin propped up in his hands, watching her, listening to her. His occasional romantic whisperings through the telepathic link were met with agreement from Bestiale and eye rolls from their sister.

  If Charmeur couldn’t keep his observations euphemistic out of deference for Fleur’s perpetually teenaged state, he and Bestiale were also able to communicate privately, but doing so took greater concentration. Right then, Bestiale had enough on his plate carrying on one conversation with Angel.

  Until they were saved from the curse, they wouldn’t age, and the seasons wouldn’t change. He’d eventually adjusted to having his sibling’s voices in his head, and was grateful for the advantage it provided in dealing with Angel, but he was everlastingly sick of winter.

  Angel set down her silverware and said, “I can’t eat another bite. I’m sorry for dominating the conversation. I have many questions about the castle and grounds, but I’ve been sitting here boring you with stories of my life.”

  “Not boring at all, mon ange, I assure you,” Bestiale replied. He rose from his seat and helped her from hers after Fleur jumped down and shook herself awake from her catnap.

  Charmeur came around to her other side, held out his elbow, and motioned outside to Bestiale, and he nodded and said, “Angel, my brother has set up a little diversion for you this evening.”

  “Oh?”

  She walked with them, her hand clasped around Charmeur’s elbow and her other hand clasped in Bestiale’s, and they escorted her to the music room.

  Her face brightened as the candles flared to life in their candelabras and sconces. He asked, “Have you enjoyed exploring our home?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t seen this room yet. You have a piano…and a harp.” More candles flickered to life, revealing other instruments on stands, but she paused at the piano. “Do either of you play?”

  Bestiale chuckled. “No, I do not. Charmeur once played, but…”

  Angel turned to his brother, and he held up his furred and clawed hands. “Ah. You wouldn’t be tickling the ivories so much as puncturing them, huh?”

  Charmeur laughed through their link, and he said, I love her wit.

  “Can you play the piano, Angel?” Bestiale asked.

  She shook her head. “My father’s mother played the piano, and she tried to teach me, but I was always more of a bookworm. I love listening, though. It reminds me of her and my dad. Maybe someday someone will play this piano once more.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Charmeur stepped forward to the leaded glass doors leading to the terrace and opened them outward to reveal what he’d been working on that day.

  When he saw her shiver and rub her arms as she stepped outside, his desire was fulfilled when the fur-lined cloak appeared in his hands. She smiled in appreciation as he wrapped it around her shoulders, and he thought she needed leather gloves to protect her small hands and fur-lined boots on her feet. He was pleased when a matching fur muff also appeared with the items he wanted for her.

  “I could get used to this magic stuff,” Angel giggled, lifting a hand to look at the fur-trimmed gloves that matched the colors of her dress and the cloak. “Too bad this is probably just a
coma hallucination. Magic’s not real. Annnnd I think I may have had too much wine with our meal.”

  Diverting her attention, Bestiale drew her out onto the balcony, and she looked up at the stars. The night was clear, and the cold was sharp and made mist of his breath. The moon had yet to rise, and the stars sparkled like millions of beacons above them.

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He stilled and watched her lovely face, and he noticed Charmeur did, as well, his hands fisting the cloth he held.

  When she opened her eyes, she blinked rapidly and then sniffled a little as she turned to them. “What do you have under there, Char-moo?”

  Bestiale sensed she was trying to elevate the mood by using the teasing version of his brother’s name, and Charmeur seemed aware of it, too. He slid the cloth from the contraption and then held out a hand in a grand gesture toward his beloved toy.

  Bestiale had the one and only non-dormant rosebush to tend. His brother had this.

  “A telescope?” Her face was transformed, a smile once again gracing her lovely face and her sweet full lips. Lips that he knew would be every bit as sweet in waking moments as they were in dreams.

  “My dad had a telescope. He and Harrison were astronomy buffs growing up. Dad used to bring it along on camping trips. Once we were away from the city lights, we could see the constellations. He taught me what to look for, at least with some of them. But the skies here? What I experienced at home pales in comparison. May I?” she asked, gesturing to the telescope.

  Charmeur nodded and drew her close to the contraption with a gentle touch at the small of her back. Her hands, encased in the soft pale leather, seemed so delicate as she stroked the brass of the telescope and made a minor adjustment. “It’s so beautiful, Char-moo. Thank you.”

  Charmeur bowed to her, and she stepped back so he could take a look, as well, and then held up a finger for her.

  “My brother asks for a moment. He wishes to show you the constellations from our view. While he makes the necessary adjustments, I wondered…are you pleased with the castle, with what you have seen so far?”

  She nodded as she stood next to him, mere inches separating them as they both stared out at the starlit gardens. She gestured to the grounds beyond the balcony before sliding her hand into her muff once more. “It must be beyond compare in the springtime when it’s all leafed out and blooming. The roses that grow all around the castle and on these arbors are in themselves a work of art. I can’t fathom the amount of work, maybe a lifetime, to create such a garden masterpiece. Rather than simply pleased, I’m awed by that.”

  “And the castle?” he asked, hesitant to breach the question that might once again ruin their moment. He dreaded it yet knew he was destined to ask it of her every night. This was part of the enchantress’s punishment, to strip him of his desire for control and to flail Charmeur’s pride while trapping Fleur, who was blameless, if they didn’t comply.

  Charmeur glanced up from the telescope and nodded encouragingly at him. Fleur rubbed against Angel’s ankles, weaving her way in and out under the cloak.

  Angel turned to face the structure and looked up, and the movement cast her eyes in shadow. She bit her lip and tilted her face in his direction before looking up again. Maybe she dreaded the moment he asked the question, too, for reasons of her own. He had the growing suspicion she knew more than she let on. “I would be impossible to please if it didn’t impress me, Bestiale. Where I come from, we just don’t see things like this, unless it’s on the Internet or television.”

  “I’m sorry. We don’t have either of those things here, but we do have all of this,” Bestiale said, sweeping his hand around. He didn’t even know what the Internet and television were, but he had the sense that she had a certain appreciation for the real thing.

  As if reading his mind, she said, “Trust me, while they can be used for good, they aren’t a worthy substitute for real life. The castle is still mostly a mystery but I love your library, even though I’m unable to read or speak French.”

  “You have but to desire…”

  She smiled. “The books, too? Translated into English?”

  “Oui, mon ange,” he replied, his face breaking into an uncharacteristic smile, which he quickly hid for fear it revealed too many of his sharp teeth. She didn’t seem troubled by his visage, though.

  “The fireplace, the warmth, and all the furnishings are so inviting…I think it’s my favorite room, after the enchanted bedroom. The stained glass window is…” She glanced up at him and then looked down. “It’s incredible—the pattern, I mean. I guess I’m just waiting…never mind.”

  “What? Never mind what? We are interested in anything you want to share.”

  “I’m just waiting for it to all go poof. For me to wake up in the hospital. I keep pinching myself. Some might say that, as an heiress, I already live in a fantasy world where every need is met and tended too, but the truth is that it’s all a burden that I’m not ready for. I liked my life before…everything became complicated.” Waving her hand around her at the castle, the gardens, all of it, she added, “I would be impossible to please, any woman would be, if I didn’t say living amongst all this simple beauty would be beyond compare.”

  She thought his home was beautiful. Warm. Not desolate, a frozen wasteland with an isolated castle barren of life save for the three of them. “You don’t mind the cold?”

  She giggled. “Wrapped in fur? Uh, no. Now, if my stepmother was your guest instead of me, that’d be a different story. If it wasn’t the cold, she’d complain about it being the wrong season or the dining room being too dark or shopping not being close enough or the lack of good Wi-Fi.”

  “I don’t know what that last thing is, but I’m glad it is you and not she who is our guest here. Do you play chess?” At her nod, he continued. “We have a chess table out here that has gone unused far too long. Care for a game while Charmeur adjusts the telescope?”

  “I’d love to.” Angel looked around at the flagstones. “What is that noise? Fleur, is that you purring? Or did you get a fish bone stuck in your throat?”

  Bestiale realized it was him and immediately cleared his throat, stopping the decidedly pleasant vibration rumbling deep in his chest.

  Fleur giggle-snorted in their silent link and whispered, No, mon ange, it’s my brother purring because he looooooves you.

  Shut it, Cinder-tail, Charmeur growled mentally. He can’t help it.

  Love-love-love-love-looooooves you, she intoned, wiggling her furry butt so her tail swished back and forth in an s-pattern.

  Angel looked back and forth between them. “Was it you, Bestiale? You’re…um…feline…sort of…”

  He kept his lips pressed together to avoid reminding her not only was he feline and had accidentally let a purr slip loose—something that had never happened before—but that he also had fangs. “Forgive me. Yes, it is possible.”

  Fleur looked at him with big eyes, and he muttered through their connection, I know. I know. I’m being careful what I say. Now stop teasing me, little fur ball, so I can concentrate.

  Fleur stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her blue eyes.

  With a gentle hand on the small of Angel’s back, he directed her to the table in the corner, where a candle flared to life to chase away the shadows.

  In the glow of candlelight, she lifted his hand, after giving him an inquiring glance, and gazed at his palm and then tugged one of her gloves off. She cradled his wrist and manipulated his opened hand, touching the thick roughness of his palm and the undersides of his fingers. The slight rumbling she had noticed earlier returned before he could squelch it, assuring Angel that he enjoyed her touch. This time she only smiled and made no other comment about it. She stroked her thumb over the furred tops of each one, turning his hand to brush her warm fingers over his knuckles. Then she turned it back and stroked his claws. The sensation drew a gasp from him that he tried to withhold for fear she would pull back. The touch on his claws sent a vibration
through his nerve endings that made his cock jerk to life, growing hot and hard, aching to feel her in truth rather than just in a dream. But his present form could never know such fulfillment.

  “Mon ange.” My God. I would do anything for you, ange doux. Sweet angel.

  With greater purpose, she grasped the sides of his hand and pressed her thumb against one of his claws, hard enough to draw blood. She whimpered and gaped at the blood welling fast from her fingertip.

  “Angel, why did you do that?” He took her bleeding hand between his own, worried that he’d injure her further if he wasn’t careful with those razor-sharp claws.

  “I wanted to know if it was a dream. Surely the pain would wake me up.”

  With worried eyes, Charmeur drew close on her other side, and Bestiale did the only thing he could think to do. He drew her thumb to his lips. She gasped as he licked the blood from her finger and sucked her delicate digit. “What are you doing?”

  Her blood pooled from the deep puncture wound and slid across his tongue, the essence of her life setting his gut on fire, the coppery tinge like the finest of wines to the predator and human that warred for dominance within him. He stopped breathing in order to keep from growling, knowing the sound would terrify her.

  Please don’t, Bestiale, Charmeur demanded through their silent link. Control, brother. Control.

  Bestiale, please don’t hurt her, Fleur whimpered at his feet, her blue eyes imploring. I love her, too.

  Angel clasped the hand holding hers to his mouth. “Bestiale, please don’t. You could make yourself sick.”

  Her words shocked him, and he released her finger from his lips, the beast instantly tamed.

  “To simply touch you is to be healed, beauté. I would never harm you or wish harm to befall you, but to taste your blood…” He turned his face away from her and said, “Before you, you see a beast, but I would never willingly cause you pain. Forgive my trespass.”

  He released her hand, and her panting slowed as Charmeur checked her injured finger. “Beast?”