Beasts in Winter

by Heather Rainier

  He turned back to find them both staring down at her thumb.

  “It’s healed,” she murmured then frowned up at them. “How do I know that wasn’t part of the dream then?”

  This had to be the enchantress’s doing. There was nothing they could say to reassure her, without putting them all at risk, so Charmeur did what he could to distract her. He drew her attention back to the telescope. Bestiale wouldn’t have blamed her for retreating to her room, but Angel followed Charmeur’s lead, the confusion obvious on her lovely face.

  The moon had crept over the horizon, and Charmeur showed her a close-up view of it.

  “That’s amazing. I’ve never seen detail of the surface like that before. It must be the absence of light pollution.”

  Bestiale took a deep breath to clear his head, and the music of her voice as she spoke to Charmeur calmed his spirit further. To touch her, to taste her…it was to truly be with an angel. He kept his mouth closed on such clumsy thoughts. Welcoming distraction, as well, he focused on the chess pieces as he arranged them on the marble playing board set into the table nearby.

  “Wait, this is wrong,” she murmured and then straightened up to look at the night sky.

  “What is wrong, mon ange?” Bestiale asked as he brushed a twig from the chessboard.

  She leaned in to look again, and he was pleased that she’d found something to harness her attention away from her healed injury.

  Charmeur nudged him telepathically. Something is truly wrong.

  Bestiale looked up from the pieces and noticed that she looked pale as she gazed directly at the sky and then looked at her thumb and then at each of them in turn. She backed up under the arbor, near the doors, her chest heaved with her panting. “I am awake, aren’t I?” Her voice shook with panic as her wide-eyed gaze darted at the sky, at them, at her surroundings, and she whimpered. “Where am I? This is not…I’m not…”

  Charmeur caught her as her knees buckled, her head falling back as she lost consciousness. Careful to not jostle her more than necessary, he carried her into the music room and laid her down on the chaise that was located near the lit fireplace. Their shared concern was palpable through the telepathic link as they kneeled beside the lounger and took her hands.

  “Angel?” Bestiale whispered, bending over her hand to kiss her knuckles. Her cheeks were even paler than normal, and her hand hung limp in his grasp. He looked at Charmeur and used the mental link. What have we done?

  Not even looking up, Charmeur clasped her other hand against his heart. His voice was hoarse as he said, In my mind, fixing the curse was simple. Find a woman. Any woman. Ply her with charm and words and win her over enough to break the magic. No harm done. What if she is trapped with us but can never love us?

  Fleur butted in between them. You mean to tell me you feel nothing for her? You just wanted to use her to break the curse?

  Both of them recoiled at the question.

  Fleur nodded her head. See? So shut up and don’t loom over her so. When she awakens, you’ll frighten her. Let her come around to what her mind has been rebelling against all this time. She thought she was dreaming, and now she is waking up. Ah! she added, raising a paw to stop Bestiale before he could speak out loud. No what-ifs. Now, Bestiale, you be sweet. You were doing fine. Charmeur, just because you can’t speak doesn’t mean you have to be silent, you understand? You speak through your actions and your attitude. It seems in her world there are not many men who understand manners and chivalry.

  Angel drew a deep breath, and they both stood and backed away, giving her space while Fleur meowed and purred beside her.

  Angel opened her eyes and lifted a hand to stroke Fleur’s head. “You’re still here. This is all real?”

  “Oui, mon ange, we are here. You are here.”

  She lifted her hand to her head and sat up slowly. “My head hurts.”

  Charmeur whispered to Bestiale through the link. Tell her a tonic will be waiting on her vanity in her bedroom.

  Bestiale told her as much and took her hand in his. “We will take you to your room.”

  He admired her bravado as she stood.

  “I can walk, no need to—whoa.”

  Bestiale caught her as her knees gave way and gently lifted her into his arms. “Even a strong woman such as yourself can let someone else care for her now and then, yes?”

  “You don’t need to do that. I’m heavier than you think. Put me down. I’ll just take a few more minutes to get my equilibrium back, and then I can walk to my room.”

  She seemed tiny in his arms as she looked up at them. “We can carry you with no problem. It is my pleasure to do this.”

  Charmeur bowed over her hand and kissed it several times as if reiterating what Bestiale said until a faint smile appeared on Angel’s lips. “All right, just don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’m some damsel in distress.”

  “I do not think that,” Bestiale said as he carried her across the corridor to the staircase. He hid his smile when she tightened her arms around his neck and held on to him, and he tried to not dwell on how it would feel for her to cling to him without the fur, leather, and velvets between them.

  He carried her to the bedroom at the top of the east tower. With a flick of his hand, the door opened, and he carried her through the portal.

  “Thank you,” she said as he set her on her feet, fidgeting before she removed the cloak and smoothed the velvet gown and cast her gaze around her room. The scent of flowers and humidity told him that her bath had just been prepared for her, and he wanted her to warm up, but first…

  This time, he went to one knee before her and took one of her hands, clasping it carefully between his own. Charmeur joined him, taking her other hand in his gentle grasp. He didn’t stop there, however. He bowed his forehead to her hand and then gazed up at her.

  He was reluctant to say the words but nonetheless compelled by the curse to ask and resigned to being rejected each time. “Marry us, ange doux?”

  Fleur waded in between them and even added her soft kittenish query. “Purr-kitt?” Then she rubbed her head against their elbows and knees.

  Angel looked back and forth between them, seeming scarce able to speak, but at least she wasn’t shocked or exasperated.

  Charmeur gave him a mental nudge and then elbowed him, as well.

  “Of course, say no if you must without fear, Angel.”

  Regret was obvious as her shoulders slumped a little, but she didn’t throw off their hands. “Do you plan to keep asking?”

  Bestiale and his brother cast their eyes down to the floor, bracing for the rejection. Without raising his head, he whispered. “I’m sorry. Yes.”

  “Why do you keep asking? Is it because I’m the only woman here and you’re lonely?”

  He paused before responding. “We have accepted the loneliness. We are compelled to propose marriage to you each night. We must. I cannot say more.” There was so much more he wanted to say but he couldn’t risk angering the fae, for all their sakes.

  Her fingers were so gentle in the hair on top of his head he wasn’t completely sure she stroked him but thought she did as she whispered, “I’m sorry. No.” There was a long pause during which none of them moved. “I have to ask you a question and hope you understand.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Do you want me for the fortune I inherited? Because, if so, you’ll be disappointed to know—”

  Bestiale recoiled as if she’d slapped him. Her words stung harder than a slap would have. “No! I have no need for money. Neither of us does. We have more gold than we could ever spend and more wealth than we could possibly need, and it means nothing. Nothing. All the gold in the world couldn’t buy us what we desire. If that was so, I would lay all of it at your feet!”

  Appearing fatigued, she held up one hand to her head and another out in front of her to halt him. “I meant no offense, and I don’t think that. I just needed to make certain. I’m not even sure the money coul
d transcend whatever…bridge…brought me here. I just…I’m sorry. Remember, I just broke an engagement. I thought I knew what true love was, but I have my doubts now. He wanted my money, so now it’s hard to trust. I want to be loved for who I am, not for what I am.”

  Calming, Bestiale nodded, and Charmeur backed away to stand at his side. Neither of them wanted her to feel crowded. Bestiale said, “I think you understand how we feel better than you realize, then.”

  He longed to show her just a glimpse of who he once was—who they once were. And then he remembered the stained glass window. She hadn’t mentioned it, but she continued returning to it, learning their story, even if she didn’t realize it was their story yet.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t marry you. I can’t…” Her shoulders slumped, and she rubbed at her forehead as she dropped her gloves and the muff on the bed and sniffled. “This place has messed with my head. I’m not where I should be. I miss Caresse and Elaina and Harrison…and my dad. The Little Dipper is backward, and I’m making love with hot guys from portraits and stained glass windows, and walking around in the snow when it’s supposed to be summertime, and”—she pointed out her bedroom window—“the moon never ever looked like that back home, and…and…” She grabbed up the tonic that had been provided to her. “Bottoms up.” She drained it with one gulp and then set the empty glass on the table.

  Charmeur whispered over their connection. We should leave her alone. She is overwrought. She needs to warm up and get some sleep, and we need to leave before she asks questions we can’t answer.

  Fleur rubbed against them, clearly giving them a push toward the door. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with her and make sure she’s okay. I’ll screech if I need you.

  Chapter Seven

  The bath water was the perfect temperature as she slipped into the tub. Warm enough to make a shiver sizzle over her skin and bring a flush to her cheeks. The water folded around her in a soothing caress, and she sighed happily. And then reminded herself she was being held captive. Against her will.

  Fleur hopped up on the edge of the tub and stepped daintily along the lip until she reached Angel, and she banged her head affectionately against Angel’s jaw and mewed softly.

  “I’d pet you, but I have wet hands, sweetie.”

  Fleur gave herself a quick twitch and then sat by Angel’s shoulder and nonchalantly licked her paw. Eventually she settled into a Sphinx-like pose.

  Angel chuckled and then laid her head back. “So are you here to listen to my sorrows?”

  Fleur rested her chin on her paws and tickled Angel’s cheek with her whiskers, and her purr rumbled in Angel’s ear.

  She watched the water trickle through her fingers as she lifted a hand and murmured, “I could so see something like this happening to Caresse and Elaina. I’ve been asking myself what they would do if they were in my shoes. They’re probably worried sick about me, wondering where I am. I imagine Elaina would’ve told Bestiale to stuff it when he ordered her to “put down the animal,” she intoned in a gruff, ferocious voice. “Then she’d whack them with her backpack and run like hell.”

  Fleur made a snorting noise and lightly bumped her cheek.

  “And Caresse, well…” She chuckled. “Caresse would probably strike up a conversation with Bestiale and ask him if he’d ever tried honey and lemon for his hoarse throat. Why is he hoarse, Fleur? Do you know?” she asked, reaching out to dry her fingers on a nearby towel and then rubbing Fleur’s forehead with just her fingertips. Bestiale often sounded as though his throat bothered him.

  Thinking of him made the feelings of compassion she’d had for him earlier well up within her chest. The hot water swirled around her and she floated as she took a deep breath, remembering the feel of the soft fur between his ears as she’d touched him when he kneeled down to propose. His gray eyes had held such emotion, such pleading, as he’d held her hand earlier under the arbor. He didn’t want to ask her to marry him, could see that it upset her, and had delayed it until the last moment before saying goodnight.

  And Charmeur…so eager to please. His flirtation hadn’t been light tonight. She’d known flirts in her life, the sometimes-you-win-sometimes-you-lose nonchalant, self-assured attitude. Players wanted either sex or money—or both. Behind the sparkle in Charmeur’s eyes had been an earnestness, especially tonight, that was just as compelling as the sincerity in Bestiale’s eyes.

  The water eddied around her foot, working upward, caressing from her toes to her ankles. With her eyelids drifting closed, she enjoyed the sensation as the soft current worked its way up her calf.

  “If I’m really here, even if I don’t know exactly where here is, and magic is real, I have to have something I can hold on to, Fleur. Reality is not based in fairy tales or Disney movies. Even if I did believe in fairy tales, I know the piper is going to demand payment at some point. Does that mean I’m trapped here whether I tell them yes or no?”

  Fleur, being a cat—although possibly a magical one—responded with philosophical silence.

  “I mean…I’d be an idiot to think this is just all gonna work out like a fairy tale. I’m not that lucky.” She looked at the cat out of the corner of her eye. “Do they have the gardener and the prince and all the others in a dungeon? Or am I supposed to believe that they are cursed to look like beasts?”

  Fleur just blinked her blue eyes and watched the water spiral around Angel’s knee.

  “Charmeur’s eyes are the same eyes from the portrait. Maybe they’re related?” She chuckled. “You’re good company, but you’re not being very helpful. What do I do?”

  Fleur’s blue eyes didn’t reveal any secrets as she turned her gaze on Angel. She just purred.

  “Fine. I’ll just enjoy the moment then.”

  The image of them kneeling in front of her was front and center when she closed her eyes. No longer afraid of them, she’d wanted to make them feel better somehow. If she was being honest, it had hurt to hurt them.

  Bestiale’s and Charmeur’s eyes had spoken to her heart, asking, “Can you love us?”

  Both of them.

  It was a different world where she came from. But not that different. Her uncle would have a conniption if he knew the question Bestiale and Charmeur had put to her. Lately, where her protection was concerned, Uncle Harrison put the capital “A” in Alpha.

  And she was focusing on the fact that they were sincere in their proposal, rather than on the beastly features and fangs, the claws, and the fur? “Stockholm Syndrome, for sure. I need my head examined.”

  She looked out the window, and a shiver rolled through her at the sight of the moon shining through the leaded glass window. It wasn’t just that the lack of light pollution that made it look brighter or different. It was different. Suddenly she felt incredibly tiny, sitting in her magical tub with a blue-eyed cat, in a fairy tale castle, on a planet that was not her own, with no idea how she’d ever get back to where she’d come from, or if she’d ever see her world again. Her panting made ripples in the water around her chest.

  Calm, ange. You are safe here.

  Amazing that imagining the sound of Bestiale’s voice settled her anxiety.

  Angel regulated her breathing as she rested her head on the edge of the tub, and Fleur’s contented purring helped her relax. What Bestiale’s accented voice did with her name, all the French variations of it that she’d heard him use, was comforting, and, if she was going to continue being honest with herself, quite sensual.

  She drowsed as she floated in the water and was barely aware when Fleur stood to stretch and jumped down from the tub. She wondered if it was just her imagination that the door opened and she slipped through before it closed again. One could never tell in a magic castle.

  The hot water cocooned her, and she let out a deep sigh. It felt as though she was floating within an embrace, the heat soaking into her pores leaving her languid, warmth surrounding her on all sides. This time there was no arousing touches, no questing invisible fingers to lavish pleasur
e on her nipples and pussy. She needed comfort tonight, and she received it. Warmth brushed down her back, over her ribs, down the outside of her thighs, and currents tugged at her fingers and her toes, drawing the last of the tension from her.

  Sometime later the whisper of snowflakes against the window caught her attention. The moon had moved higher in the sky, but the bath was still just as warm. “I could get really spoiled, tub. Thank you.” Even the sides of the tub were warm and seemed to caress her as she lifted herself from the water and was immediately blown dry by a warm breeze that came out of nowhere. “Gonna miss instant dryer, too.” Assuming I ever leave.

  After combing out her loosened hair, she brushed her teeth. Her skin was still warm and rosy from the bath, and she hesitated when she saw the transparent shift hanging on its hook.

  She turned without putting it on and stumbled to her bed, feeling naughty for climbing into it naked. She lay there for a time, watching the dance of the flames in the fireplace, and her mind rambled. She wondered about Caresse and Elaina and made a mental note to ask the mirror to show her their images again in the morning. Then images of Bestiale and Charmeur from earlier in the evening, peering at her with such concern reflected in their eyes.

  The dwindling firelight cast deep shadows in the otherwise dim room, and she turned on her side. The bed felt huge. Pulling the pillows close around her, she’d just settled back into a drowsy state when she noticed a slight draft as the covers were lifted and then replaced.

  Warm hands startled a gasp from her beneath the sheets and blankets and furs. Her dream lovers had shown up after all. Her pussy clenched with sudden need, and she stretched and arched her back as gentle hands and lips tweaked and sucked at her nipples while another pair of hands came around her hips from behind. A deep sound of male appreciation reverberated in her ear as a hand slid down her waist to her hip and around the curve to her pussy. Callused fingers moved between her pussy lips, slipping easily through all her slick juices, rubbing her clit, and teasing her opening with just the tips of his fingers.