Beast (The Submissively Ever After Series Book 1)

by Kim Faulks

  I knew where he was headed.

  He was coming to the house where I was trapped.

  I forgot about the dipping sun as we broke through the edge of the forest. The warm rays couldn't breech the canopy above, casting us into deep shadows as we headed into the woods.

  I couldn't see the forest floor, let alone make out any path. The horses plodded now, easing over fallen branches and wide dips. Their snorts echoed through the forest. Each draw of breath held my focus. I tucked the long skirt in tighter, feeling the chill settle into my bones.

  Belle's father didn't seem to notice the sudden drop in temperature. The neighs and nickers grew louder. One mare reared, pawing the ground with her hoof before making one small step closer. The back of my throat ached. I let out the trapped breath, feeling the cold air rush in to leave me lightheaded. My eyes burned from the icy air as I searched the ever-darkening woods. The horses sensed something dangerous, something I couldn't.

  "Easy now. Easy, girl."

  I flinched at his words. The old man hadn’t spoken to his dead wife since we left the tavern. A hopeless resignation seemed to permeate him, as though some crippling disease of the heart had taken hold. A sharp snap somewhere in the darkness sent a flurry of wings surging skyward and my heart thundered in time. Every sound triggered a warning that burned through my veins like wildfire.

  My gaze chased the snap of a twig, or the chirp of a bird, scanning the dark woods. I searched the forest for some reason we were here. There was no house I could see, nor light to mark the way. The horses whinnied and stamped the ground. I could feel a gaze like ice on the back of my neck. Something watched us as the old man climbed down from the wagon and tethered the reins to nearest tree.

  My nails dug into the seat. I tried to force my legs to work, but the stubborn lumps of flesh refused to budge. I could feel him out there, waiting for me, watching me.

  The old man turned and headed deeper into the woods. If I didn't move now I'd lose sight of him, then I’d be stranded. I stared down at my hand and turned my left arm. The scar was more than a reminder. It was a warning. Don't lose again. Don't fail. Not this time, for if I failed again, I feared I'd never find my way out of these haunted woods—or the past.

  I stood on shaking legs and eased down from the wagon, fighting the need to run. The horses shivered as I passed and the poor creature’s eyes went wide. Their soft neighs sounded pained. I took that as a warning. I lost sight of Belle's father as he side-stepped the massive pines, then moved into view further off in the distance than I expected.

  The damn dress was hard to run in. I knew there were sticks and stones all around me, but if I stepped on any, I never felt a thing. I hurried, climbing over the fallen branches to gain the ground I lost.

  He moved through the trees with ease, as though this trek was familiar. His stride was constant, his footing sure. I followed, moving closer as the night descended on the forest floor. All around me, the trees thickened, crowding one another. There were no markings to guide my way. I glanced up. There weren’t even stars in the night sky to use as a compass. My teeth chattered. I hugged my stomach and hurried. If I became lost in here, I'd never survive.

  We weaved through the dense overgrowth, squeezing through openings barely big enough for me to fit through, let alone Belle's father. One low branch caught me off guard as I ducked underneath another in front, hitting me square in the chest. I stumbled backward, raking my fingers down the rough trunk, searching for a hold, and lost sight of him. My pulse sped, the vein on the side of my head kicked, thudding with a beat I couldn't control.

  He was just here. I swiveled, unable to determine which way I’d been heading, or which way I'd come. Trees. That's all I could see. Trees and darkness, waiting for me. I should've stayed with the horses. I should've listened to my gut. I sagged against the branch. The ruptured bark snagged my hair. I yanked my head forward, breaking the strands, and caught the sound of a voice, whispering.

  And then another, sounding like a growl. Was it a wolf? A bear? I searched the shadows. Finding a bead on the sound, I crept forward. The old man’s soft tone grew louder. He was here, talking to someone. But who could be in the middle of a forest, with no sign of a house in sight?

  "If I mean anything at all to you, please hear me out." The beseeching voice begged. I edged closer, finding myself staring at the biggest trunk I'd ever seen.

  The old man's white cotton shirt peeked from underneath his jacket and was like a beacon in the dark. I narrowed in on his voice as I tried in vain to find the top of the tree in front of me. The trunk spanned the size of three men standing side by side. The thinnest branches were more than twice the breadth of my arm, shooting over his head.

  A snarl in response to the old man drew me from my search for the top of tree. I couldn't make out the words, only the tone. The skin on my arms puckered. That sound captured my breath. Feral. Dangerous. My feet felt like stone. I forced myself forward, one slow agonizing step at a time until the deep growl turned into something I could understand. This beast remained out of focus. The night seemed to be its ally, hugging the massive outline, keeping whatever the creature was out of sight.

  "How long have we known each other?" the old man asked. His tone held a tinge of despair.

  "You're not making sense, boy. Why are you here?"

  The clipped tone was followed by a growl. The deep snarl vibrated inside me. I held onto a branch, craning my neck. Fear prevented me from moving any closer. The shadows cloaked the beast. For that, I was thankful.

  "Please, humor me. The mere fact you still call me a boy should remind you."

  "Fine, I'll humor you. Since you were a fresh-faced, pimply brat who got himself lost in this forest and knocked on the wrong door," the animal spat.

  A deep-throated chuckle followed. I blinked and stared until my eyes watered, unable to believe my ears. "A brat, eh? I suppose I was, at that point. And in all my years have I ever asked anything from you?"

  "No. You have not."

  "Today, I'm asking for more than an old friend should. I'm asking for sacrifice, commitment, and for you to place another needs above your own. For I fear, if you cannot, not only is my life at stake, but also the life of my daughter."

  The growl tore from the shrubs like rolling thunder. I gripped the branch to keep myself from falling forward.

  The one word demand was simple. "Who?"

  I fought to control myself and stop from screaming out her name as the old man answered. "My youngest, Belle."

  The sharp intake of breath sounded like a gust of wind. The soft rumble grew deeper, like the closing in of a thunderstorm. I pressed my body against the trunk, wrapping my arms around my stomach, trying my best to stave off the chill.

  "All my life I have wished for someone to love me. I have listened to the stories of your daughters, laughing, crying as though they were family of my own. But I want you to answer me this, before I make up my mind. Could she love me? Could she set me free?"

  My ears buzzed with the strain of listening for the answer. Then finally, in a shudder, the old man answered. "No. Her heart belongs to another. But it’s a false love, for she doesn't see his true face. He's a cruel, sadistic man. He truly is a beast."

  "You have wealth. You have family. I have only ever wanted someone to love me, someone to see beyond what I am. If I do this, if I marry out of loyalty and not love, I’ll never have that chance."

  "I know, which is why my heart is heavy. All the gold I have, all the jewels I have, are pointless. My fortune is my daughters. I beg of you, take Belle from this tyrant, and treat her well. I hope one day, she might grow to love you."

  "When do you need an answer?"

  The old man's answer was so faint I held my breath to hear. "I'll wait."

  A growl tore through the underbrush, followed by a shuffling of leaves and the loud snap of a branch. I tracked the beast's movement. Pine trees groaned, bowing outward as he passed. I splayed my hand against the butt of the tr
ee beside me and pushed, testing the give in the roots. I may as well have tried bending stone. The sheer strength it would take to make even the tree shake was astounding, but to make it bend? Jesus, how big was he?

  That sound. Jesus, that sound. Every nerve in my body was screaming, Run! Hide! The thought of something that powerful filled me with fear. But underneath the fear there was also something else—something I didn't want to acknowledge. I stared at my trembling hands. My lungs burned with each breath of frigid air. I rubbed my arms, creating warmth from what little friction I could manage.

  I was sure hours slipped by until the soft boom echoed through the brush. The ground shook under my feet. I pressed my palm against the bark. The tremor grew as the thunder came closer, moving in like a deadly storm, ready to wipe the old man's existence away with one word. No.

  I gripped the tree until the barrage faded. The harsh heavy sounds of his breaths marked his presence. "Do you understand what you ask of me, boy?"

  The old man was slow to answer, as though he weighed each word carefully. "Yes, but, as her father, I must ask. No, I must beg you."

  The deep sigh echoed like a gust of wind. "You gave me something I'd longed for, something others never could give—friendship. For that, my friend, I thank you. But bind myself to someone who can never love me back is a damned existence. One filled with pain and loneliness. This is what you ask of me. No, this is what you demand of me. If I were to choose between pain or nothing, every ounce of my being screams for nothing. Yet, for you, I must choose pain. I must choose knowing there is no hope... there will never be hope."

  Pain ripped through my chest. The old man’s white shirt shimmered through my tears. I blinked and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. But there was nothing but my own pale skin and those desolate words echoing from my very soul.

  Pain. Loneliness. I felt the beast's words as though they were my own, because they were my own. I turned my hand and stared at my wrist. I didn't need to see the scar to know it was there. I felt every jagged tear. I don't love you anymore, Anna. I don't think I ever loved you.

  I shook my head, understanding with blinding clarity what the old man had come to ask for. I curled my hands into fists.

  "Protect her. Care for you if you can. But please, I beg of you, see no harm comes to her, even at the expense of yourself. Can you do that? Can you promise these things?" The small thud resounded. This time I felt not pity, I felt no quiet desperation. I lifted my gaze to the darkness as something reached out of the night to caress the old man's shoulder. I felt only an empty sense of longing.

  The deep voice was soothing. "Do not weep my old friend. I will care for her. I will protect her where I can. This spell, sealed with blood."

  A hiss from the beast was followed in kind by one from the father. A loud slap scattered the silence. Palm against palm. The deal was now complete. I moved forward, needing to see what the shadows behind the old man held. Needing to see the beast for what he truly was.

  Dried leaves crunched under my feet. I slowed my steps, focusing on that shifting ebony gloom. He was there, if only I could reach him. If only I could see. My breaths were harsh rasping sounds. I slid my tongue over my arid lips and tried to slow my gasps.

  The towering pine seemed to grow bigger, the closer I came. The hunched figure of the old man was now mere yards away. One careful step at a time, I edged closer, moving through the forest. He was there. If I reached out, I could almost touch him. My feet were so cold they were numb. I didn't feel the stick until it was too late, sending a crack like a gunshot through the air around me.

  The night shifted.

  Blazing golden eyes pierced me where I stood.

  The snarl was soft, yet forceful. I know you're there. I fought the urge to run.

  He shouldn't be able to see me. No one else had seen me.

  "I will expect her tomorrow, then." The beast whispered, never taking those fiery eyes from me.

  Then he was gone, moving faster than I ever thought something that big could run. The forest floor quaked with heavy footfalls, leaving one thought floating helplessly in my mind.

  He saw me.

  The sharp cluck of a tongue had me spinning. The vicious grunt headed straight toward me. "You stupid fool."

  Something moved out of the gloom. I caught the glint of steel and raised my hand in defense. "No."

  He moved past me, heading for the crouched old man. I knew that voice. I knew why he’d come. I'd always known. Mark wrenched Belle's father to his feet. "Tell me his name, old man. Tell me the name of the man I'm to kill."

  I stumbled backward. My numb feet slid on the slick leaves. A cruel chuckle reached me.

  It's too late. The deal is done.

  I knew in my heart that whatever magic brought me here was the same magic that would bring Belle to the beast’s door. I craned my neck as the two men tussled at the base of the giant pine tree. A sharp hiss, followed by a grunt, had me reeling. Two shadows moved in a slow dance, until one fell.

  "No!" The word tore from my lips. The white shirt blurred in the gloom as the old man fell. I glanced up at the hunter, now knowing the truth. "You sonofabitch! You killed him. You fucking killed him!"

  The leaves shifted under my feet. I slipped and scrambled for a hold. My fingers sunk into the cold earth, stopping the slide.

  "You should've stayed out of this. I warned you. That money is mine and I won't have anyone stand in my way."

  "Too late." The whisper drifted out into the night, followed by a sigh.

  Too late.

  Those words haunted me as I stumbled. The trees crowded in, jostling me from either side. I shoved my way through, sidestepping fallen logs. I ran until my throat burned. One tree looked like the next. Nothing looked familiar. I scampered over a fallen tree. Something snagged my dress as I straddled the mossy log. I hissed at the sting on my leg, sliding my hand down to feel the pointed branch.

  I wrenched the skirt until the fabric gave way and stumbled forward. I had to get out of here. I had to find my way back.

  Back to where? A howl ruptured the air, then deepened, turning mournful. I spun and stumbled, thumping the back of my head and yet knowing what triggered that sound. The beast found the broken body of his only friend. I slapped my hand against the bark, holding on, trying my best not to slide, but I stumbled, knocking into a fallen log.

  I tried to catch my breath, bending to feel the contour. The sharp protruding branch stuck up from the middle. My breath caught as my fingers prodded the slick moss finding the strand of fabric. A sob slipped from my lips. It was the same log. The same damn log.

  I slid to the ground. Icy dampness seeped through the skirt, sinking its stinging teeth into the backs of my thighs. My tears felt warm on my cheek as I shuddered. I drew my knees toward my chest and rocked. I was lost.

  Lost.

  And bitterly cold.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I woke with a jolt, my reflexes slow and my mind numb. The forest was gone and I was back in the frigid house. I shifted, feeling the edge of the counter slide underneath, then I hit the hard ground with a thump. A sickening crunch stole my breath. A small lump squirmed in the small of my back. Something sharp bit me, then it stilled.

  Rats.

  It's a fucking rat.

  Get it off me.

  Get it off!

  A moan tickled the back of my throat as I rolled away, twisting to brush the vermin from my dress. I slapped the skirt and tried to push myself off the floor. I was so cold and my legs refused to work, aching from sitting in one place for so long. The cold of the forest seemed to haunt me. I tried to think, but my thoughts were disjointed, except for one—another few hours like that and I'd have never woken.

  I forced myself to move, gripping the counter, and using it as a lever to work my way through the other side of the kitchen, then back up to the wall. My fingers trembled, sliding against the blistered paint, searching for a doorway. If I couldn't get warm soon, I didn't think I'd ma
ke sunrise. The inside of my mouth was hard and dry. I worked up what little saliva I could and tried to swallow. My stomach churned, aching with an intensity that sent cramps tearing through my abdomen. The thought of food made me gag, but water, what I wouldn't give for a sip. Something warm to wrap myself in and stave away the cold.

  The chattering of my teeth drowned out even the thudding of my heart. I dragged my hand across the wall, skirting the protruding lip of a doorway, then felt nothing. I shuffled my bare feet across the opening, sucking in the stale air.

  I stepped through into the room. My fingers trembled as I strained to reach a wall. For a moment, I teetered on the edge of a vast empty space, until my hand brushed a wall on the other side of the door. I dragged my frozen feet, until I realized this wasn't a room, but a hallway. I stretched to the right, skimming the walls on one side, before moving across to the other.

  If I could find something to wrap myself in and get warm enough to sleep, maybe I might find a way out of this. At first light, I'd run and take my chances with the hounds. There had to be a way out of here. A road. A landmark. Something. The dream returned to me. Belle's father had found a way through in the dark. Surely, in the light, I had a better hope than staying here.

  Even if I could hide for another day, the chances of finding food and water in this derelict house seemed minimal. With each day I'd become weaker—I glanced toward the ceiling—while that bastard hunted me down. I stepped to the side and pressed against the wall, taking half a step more than I had previously. Relief swept over me when I touched the icy door handle.

  The damn thing rattled as I turned the handle, feeling the resistance, then the lock slid back. The squeal of the hinges tore through the hallway. I froze, the door open only a crack. The stench hit me—bloated and diseased. I dropped to my knee. My hand, still gripping the handle, rocked the door back and forwards, back and forwards.