She walked further in, and to her right there was a doorway to another room. It was large, and had a fireplace with a roaring fire, some chairs and a sofa. This must be the room her father had fallen asleep in. It was as he described it. Large and warmed by the fire that roared quietly in the hearth.
She went to the chair that had a table beside it and looked for a plate of food, wondering if she would have the same experience as her father. But, when she walked over to the chair with the little table next to it, there was an empty silver serving plate set on the table. No food. She frowned. From behind her, she heard, “Beauty?” The voice was low, but gruff, almost like a growl.
She blew out, squeezed her hands tight, mentally bracing herself for what she’d find when she turned around. Beauty turned slowly and kept her lips clamped shut, so she didn’t gasp. What she saw was a large creature. He stood on two legs, but he was as large as a black bear. He was clothed like a man, like a well-dressed, respectable gentleman, a fancy blue overcoat, black britches, and a decorative cravat. But everything that wasn’t clothed was covered in fur, thick black fur. His face had bestial qualities, his mouth sticking out slightly, like it was a snout, but not quite as long as any animal’s snout. When he opened his mouth to smile, she saw his fine, sharp teeth, the kind that would frighten anyone daring to get into a fight with him. Though, she couldn’t imagine anyone sane trying to fight with this creature. He was muscular — it shown through his clothes, the way he was stuffed into them, the way they practically burst off of him. Not the way fat, slovenly people’s clothes didn’t fit. He was well defined and toned. She couldn’t help but look down and notice he wore no shoes. Probably because his feet were like paws. Long and thick with pointed claws at the ends. His hands were similar, but on a smaller scale, probably more human in look, but with unkempt nails.
“Beauty?” the creature said again.
She couldn’t find her voice just yet, so she nodded her head and looked into his eyes. And that was the thing that struck her. While the rest of him seemed some combination of beast and man, his eyes, dark brown and deep with wonder, were completely human. There was something about them that pulled you to them and made you want to draw closer to him, even though everything else about him said you shouldn’t. She stared into those deep brown eyes and wondered how he came to be this way. Was his mother human and his father an animal? Had he been cursed — or enchanted — by this house? Who was he — this creature with eyes that said there was so much more to him than what was on the surface?
“You may call me Beast,” he said, approaching her, trying to look friendly with a smile, Though it was impossible for him to succeed at looking friendly with his long, sharp fangs jutting from his mouth. “Did your father explain the terms of your being here?”
Beauty nodded. “I am to be your wife and stay here with you.”
The beast chuckled, a sound that began with a growl and ended in a luscious, yet airy howl. “Maybe that is how your father looked at it,” he said. “You do not have to be my wife.” Beauty was surprised by this, but she just kept her mouth shut and watched, waiting for him to continue. “Your only obligation is to stay here with me, forever. If you want more, I would like that, but I won’t force you. The important thing is that you must stay here. You don’t get to leave.”
Beauty stared at him, trying to comprehend. “I don’t get to leave?” she asked. “I’m confined to this house?” She could not hide the alarm in her voice. The idea of being stuck inside all the time, of not going out, even if for a walk to see the birds swoop through the air or the ants build a little hill, frightened her.
“You can go anywhere on the grounds. The property is four acres. But, not beyond that. You must stay here on the estate.”
Beauty breathed out, slightly relieved. She could go outside, explore the grounds. That was better than nothing, but that hardly seemed enough. “My father,” she said. “May I go see him, or go back home to collect my things?”
Beast shook his head. “You must stay here.”
Beauty frowned. She’d have preferred a forced marriage, where she could occasionally leave to see her family, to the arrangement he was describing. She was stuck here with this beast until she died, and she could visit no one or talk to no one. “And if I refuse?” she asked. She thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.
“Your father and I agreed he could take enough gold to pay his debts and I would spare his life, if you came here to live. If you refuse, then his agreement with me would be null and void. I would claim his life, and his heirs, you, would have to repay me the worth of the gold he took. As I understand, he’s already spent it. Do you have means to repay the gold?”
His voice had been monotone through most of his little message, but at the end, when he asked his question, he stared at her bosoms and grinned.
“It doesn’t matter,” Beauty said, flushing lightly as he continued to stare at her chest. “I do not refuse. I will stay here with you.”
Beast nodded. “Let me show you to your room,” he said as he turned and walked out of the room, not looking back. He clearly assumed she’d follow, so she hurried behind him as he went back into the main hallway. She turned her head and briefly looked at the front door, wondering if it would open to allow her out. If it did, could she escape? Even if she did get out, he would come for her father, and then for her to repay the gold.
She turned back to Beast, followed him up a beautiful marble staircase, and turned right at the top. They walked down a long hallway, past a few doors, and then to one on the right. He opened the door and motioned for her to go in. She walked past him and into a peach-colored room, with a large canopy bed in the center. There were several windows in the room, letting in the remains of the day’s light. She imagined it would be bright and sunny at the start of the day. The drapes were open, but she could easily close them if she wanted darkness to sleep late. There was an ornately carved bureau, some plush chairs, a dressing table, and other accoutrements that she’d read that the wealthy have in their homes. Only, she’d never actually seen such things with her own eyes. It was much nicer than the little home she shared with her father. Only, at this moment, she felt keenly homesick for her tiny featherbed on the floor, and the coziness of curling up on it with one of Ferus Lucunditas’ volumes.
She turned to see Beast staring at her. He seemed to be waiting for her, perhaps for her to say something. “Thank you,” she said. He nodded, though he’d seemed to want her to say more. “Are there clothes?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “In the wardrobe, there are some dresses I thought you would like. But those are my tastes. If there is anything you want, just think it, and it will appear.”
Beauty’s mouth popped open. She’d known the house was enchanted, but she hadn’t expected it to be so easy to control. “Just think it?”
“Yes,” he said, as he walked closer to her. He stopped right in front of her, his barrel chest almost touching her bosoms. He closed his eyes and held his hand out to the side. A moment later, a book appeared on his palm. He grinned and offered it to Beauty. She looked down at the book: Volume 18 by Ferus Lucunditas. “I thought you might like this. Perhaps we could read it together,” he said, raising an eyebrow. As he stared, it felt as if he were undressing her with his eyes. As if he were imagining taking off the dress she wore and the simple chemise she wore underneath it, to stare at her naked body.
Beauty took a step back, but did not take the book. She stared at it, knowing the kind of story it held. One about a couple that yearns to touch each other, a couple who has a spark between them, the air practically humming with a quiet electricity when they are close. A hum that can only be muted by passionate, all-encompassing sex. She watched him look at her as if he were trying to make them connect, trying to make the air between them hum. For a second, she felt it, the gentle pull toward him, and a whiff of his musky scent that seemed to say he wanted her. And then she stopped herself. She was angry
, because she felt this was some type of trick. The beast thought that because her father had tried to take one of those books for her that Beauty read them and enjoyed them. He thought that because she enjoyed those tales, he could have his way with her. He’d pretended downstairs that she had a choice. He’d said her only obligation was to stay, that she didn’t have to do more if she didn’t want more. But she realized now there was no choice. His eyes spoke the desire of his loins as they watched her greedily. She looked down and could see the burgeoning lump in his pants.
“You pretend I have a choice,” she said. “But, I know what you want. You can take it, because I can’t stop you, but please stop pretending I have a say. You want what you want, and you plan to take it.”
Beast’s nostrils flared, and the desire in his eyes turned to anger. For a moment, she thought he would hit her, that he would be cruel, that he would be the beast that he looked like. Instead, he leaned in close to her, placing a hairy finger on her shoulder blade near the neckline of her dress. He slid his finger down her flesh, following the curve of the neckline, which made a V intersection at her breasts. His finger lingered on the left breast a moment, and then he made a circular motion that sent tingles through Beauty. No one had ever touched her like that before, and it made her warm in all the right places. He slid his soft, hairy finger to the other breast, back up the neckline of the dress, to her neck, which he caressed lightly. Beauty found her breaths becoming shallower as he did this, the light tickling sensation making it hard for her to think clearly.
Beast leaned into her ear and whispered, “I will not touch you again without your permission. I will not talk to you about the books again, unless you ask me. I will not pleasure you from head to toe like Marat Rossini does to Helena in Volume 3, unless you ask me. But, when you do ask me, know that I will. I will do it, as much as you want, as long as you want, over and over and over again, if you want. There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to pleasure you, or you wanting to pleasure me.”
Beast took a step back, removing his fingers from Beauty’s skin. The spot he’d been touching still felt hot. It felt almost as if the heat from that spot could grow and consume the rest of Beauty’s body. It had left her alight with desire, but she didn’t want to show it. Beauty could tell her face was red, and her expression was still shocked. She watched as he turned and left the room without another word.
Chapter 6
Beast stormed back to his room and closed the door with a thud that was harder than he’d intended. He wanted her to think he was in control, that he was able to master himself, to not hurt her, to not take what he wanted.
Only, he wasn’t sure he was. It had taken every bit of constructive will within himself not to rip her clothes off, throw her on the bed and take her. He’d imagined it. From the moment he saw her, with her straight auburn hair flowing to just beneath her shoulders, and her beautiful breasts tempting him from within that dress. Why was the neckline so low? He was sure her breasts beneath it were beautiful and round, like grapefruits, with gorgeous pink areolas that he could suckle. And when he did, she would moan with pleasure. She had wide, tempting hips, and he wanted nothing more than to grab them and hold them tight as he slid right into her and pounded her until she could take no more, until she cried out in pleasure that she wanted him to come. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he had wanted anyone, and he wanted her now.
He shook his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t. That would mean he hadn’t changed. All these years, he’d been confined to this estate would have been a waste if he hadn’t changed. He thought he’d become enlightened, learned his lesson, and was someone who could want a woman who didn’t want him and not let it bother him. But it wasn’t true. He wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted anyone. More than he’d wanted Isabelle. Beautiful, beautiful Isabelle, the pretty, shy girl that every boy wanted. Hair the color of straw, large round breasts, and a full rump. But he wasn’t every boy. He was a Verran, and all the girls wanted to be with boys from the Verran family. He was 18 and had bedded more of the town’s pretty girls than he could count. They threw themselves at him, hoping he would fall for them, hoping he would take them and be so enamored that he’d marry them. Marry them and they’d gain access to the Verran fortune.
Getting girls had always been easy. He didn’t care that he left some heartbroken. He would always buy them something special, usually a rose or a trinket, and then tell them it was over. But Isabelle. She had been different. She’d been beautiful, of course. All the girls had been beautiful. But Isabelle had played hard to get. She had pretended she wasn’t interested. It just made his passion all the more wild. He pursued her relentlessly, and she continued to deny him.
Finally one night, when most of the town was at the winter ball, he cornered Isabelle in the stables where she liked to tend to the animals. He told her it was time to stop playing, that she would finally be his. She told him no, but he knew it was just more of her playing, more playing designed to drive him insane with lust, so he pushed her down on a bed of hay intended for the animals and began to tear her clothes off, even as she begged him to stop. He was about to rip off her undergarments when she said something he’d never heard before, something so strange to his ears, that even now he couldn’t reproduce the sound. It was like a primordial cry. And then, behind him, he heard a thud, and in walked a woman in a red, hooded cloak. He couldn’t see her face, obscured by the hood, but he could see her eyes were red like a demon. The eyes scared him so much that he turned away, back at Isabelle, who was in tears, flanked by the shreds of her dress. It only occurred to him, then, at that very moment, that she had not been playing, that she really did not want him, and he felt sorry that he hadn’t seen it. He said her name like a question, “Isabelle?” In his mind, it was a question. He wondered, was that really her? Had he really caused her to cry like that?
“Don’t you dare!” said a voice behind him, and he turned back to see the cloaked woman standing before him. “Don’t you dare say this sweet girl’s name again, not after what you tried to do to her. I’ve watched her for a long time from afar, because I thought she was kind, and I knew you were no good. I told her if ever she was in trouble to call for me, and, thankfully, she did. You are a vile, vile human being for trying to hurt her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. Even now, seven years later, he wasn’t sure if he had meant that he was sorry for what he had tried to do to the girl or if he was just frightened of the creature’s wrath. He didn’t know if the creature was a devil or sorceress or both.
“You’re sorry you got stopped,” the woman hissed, “Not sorry for what you did.” She looked at Isabelle, and said, “Encampe maison.” The girl disappeared. His heartbeat quickened. This woman was definitely an evil sorceress.
“Please,” he said. “Please, I’m sorry. I thought she was just teasing. Please don’t hurt me. Please have mercy on me.”
Before that moment, he had never begged for anything from anyone. He had always been given what he wanted, or taken it, if it wasn’t offered. He had always felt entitled to it, the way he’d felt entitled to Isabelle. But, he knew in that moment, as he stood in the shadow of this woman, that he was entitled to nothing. Not even life. He feared she would kill him. Some days, he wished she had killed him.
Instead, she said, “You are a beast, and everyone will know it by looking at you.”
He stared at her, confused, and waited a moment for her to say something more, but she didn’t. The fear that was paralyzing him moments earlier trickled away as he realized that she was all bark without bite. He laughed. “That’s it?” he said. “You call me a beast and say everyone will know it.”
“Your fear turns to hubris too easily,” she said. “Look at your hands.”
He looked down, and though he’d felt no change, his hands were covered in fur. He looked down at his legs. They were still in his pants, but his feet, somehow without him noticing, had broke
n through his shoes and were now giant paws, with clawed toes. He reached up and felt his face. It was covered in hair. His ears were now pointy, like a wolf’s. He felt his nose and mouth; they had morphed into something larger, like a snout. “What did you do to me?” he asked, wishing there were a mirror, wishing he could see himself.
She laughed, her whole frame shaking as her cruel cackle left her hood. “You will remain a beast until you learn how to control yourself.”
“I can,” he said. “I can do that now. I won’t ever do anything like this again. I promise.” He got onto his knees. “Please,” he said. “Please take it back. Please undo this sorcery.”
The hood shook from side-to-side, only the red eyes visible. “Only you can undo this.”
“How?” he begged, “Please, tell me how.”
“You must learn to control yourself, and you must convince another that you are worthy of her love, despite your appearance.”
He could do that. He would go home and tell one of the girls he’d been with what had happened. She would profess her love, and this curse would end. He was sure he could convince someone to love him, even if it was just the love of his status as a Verran.
There was a snarl from the woman. “You are so transparent,” she said. “Reading your thoughts is like finding the moon on a cloudless night. Too easy.”
He looked up at her, confused.
“You think your name, your status, will save you?”
His mouth fell open. She actually had read his mind.
“Emile de Verran, from now on, you will be called Beast. I suggest you tell no one your real name, for if they call you by your real name, it will be catastrophic.”
He waited for her to say more. She didn’t. He wanted to grab her and ring her neck, but he knew her magic was too powerful for him to counter. Why would she curse him to this beastly form and then play word riddles with him? “How will it be catastrophic? What will happen?”
Beauty and Her Beastly Love (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 2) Page 3
