Beast smacked the horse on the bum, and it sped off, carrying Dumas on its back. Just as the horse strode out of view, Beast plopped down on the ground. Beauty ran over to him, threw her arms around him. “Beast, oh thank God you came.”
Beast’s breathing was heavy, startling her. Yes, he’d been in a fight, but it had seemed one-sided. She had never seen Beast look this exerted, even after chopping firewood. She let go of him to look at him. He looked weak and sick and lay down in the grass, breathing laboriously still.
“Beast,” she cried. “What’s wrong?”
“I left the manor,” he said. “I am dying.”
Beauty shook her head, grabbed hold of his shoulder and tried to get him to sit up. “No, you’ll be OK. You just have to get back. I’ll help you,” she said. She gripped his arm and tried to pull him up to a sitting position, but he was so heavy, nothing happened.
“I am dying, Beauty,” he said. “I left, but the sorceress, I think she allowed me to live long enough to save you, and for that I’m grateful.”
“No, Beast,” she cried. He was wrong. He wasn’t that far from the manor. He’d lived long enough to get to her. He had to be able to live long enough to get back. He had to. “You can’t die,” she said. “I came back to tell you that I love you, that I want to marry you.”
He smiled at her. “It’s kind of you to lie now. But, I heard what you told your father. You were coming back as a promise.”
Horror filled Beauty’s heart. He’d heard that. “Didn’t you hear the rest?”
Beast whispered, “No.”
“I just didn’t want my father to think I wanted to leave him, but I do want to be with you. When my father told me about the inscription in the book, I went and read it. I read everything. I saw all the love you’ve shown for me. I love you, Beast. Please,” she lay her head on his chest. “Please don’t die.”
He coughed, then gasped for air. Beauty lifted her head from his chest and scooped one of his hands into hers. “Please, please, please, Beast, stay with me.”
“Don’t call me,” he whispered, and Beauty realized that it was hard for him to speak, that the air wasn’t coming to him as it should. She felt the tears stream down her cheeks. Just as she had realized that it was him she wanted all along, he was dying. “Not Beast,” he said in gasps. “Call me by my name.”
Beauty shook her head. “I can’t. That will kill you.”
“I know, but I want to hear you say it. I sometimes dreamed of you saying it to me. I want to hear you say it just this once.”
Beauty was still shaking her head, but she could see the light fading from his eyes. She could see he was going. He was going to die, and he had only one wish. She had to grant it. “I love you, Emile.”
Chapter 23
Beast was on the ground unmoving, and Beauty lay on his chest, sobbing. She couldn’t believe it. He was gone. Gone. To save her. She cried harder, her tears rolling onto his chest. Then, she heard something. Something she hadn’t expected. She pressed her ear closer to his chest. Was it? Could it be?
A heartbeat.
She sat up, wiped her eyes, and looked at Beast. The hair on his face, his arms, and his fingers was slowly receding, his body, so massive before, was shrinking, and his snout-like mouth was morphing into a normal man’s mouth.
He was becoming a man again. Beauty watched the transformation. She watched the beast she had come to love morph into a man, a man with a slender nose, fine red lips and a mane of thick, curly black hair. His arms and chest were still muscular and toned, but not as broad and bulky as when he was a beast. He still had hair on his chest, only you could see the pale flesh beneath it now. She stared, dumbstruck.
He opened his eyes. “Beauty?” he said, blinking.
“Beast?” she asked.
He nodded, and started to sit up, putting his hand on her leg as he did so. Then he stopped, his eyes widening as he saw his hand. He lifted it closer to his face and examined it. He lifted his other hand and examined it, too. Then he looked down at his feet. He reached up and touched his face. “I’m normal again,” he said, amazement in his voice. He pulled her to him. “I’m normal. You broke the curse, Beauty.”
She felt his arms around her and they were familiar and strange all at once. It was odd to be here with Beast, and have him be so different. He released her and looked at her. “Beauty,” he said. “It’s me. I know I look different, but it’s me, Emile.”
She stared, still feeling awed by the change. Even though he looked different, she wouldn’t call him that. “Beast,” she said. “I won’t say that again. I don’t know that it won’t kill you, or maybe it did kill you, but I can’t risk it again. I won’t say it.”
He smiled, then leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm, and the way his tongue moved in his mouth was familiar to her. It was him, she was sure, but she wasn’t used to the new him. His lips lingered on hers a little longer than necessary, leaving them warm on this cool evening. Beast looked around.
“We should go inside, in case he comes back,” Beast said, standing. He seemed well now, no signs of the deathly fatigue that had plagued him just moments ago while in his beastly form. “I felt comfortable taking him on without a weapon before. But, I’m not as strong as I used to be.”
He took Beauty’s hand, and they walked briskly toward the manor, shutting the gate behind them. Once inside, Beauty followed Beast, watching him closely. As a man, he was handsome, with symmetrical features anyone would find attractive. And she found that she did. Not quite in the same way she found Beast attractive when he was furry, but still, there was something there. They walked into the main room and sat down. There was no fire now. Beauty wished there was a fire. Suddenly wood appeared in the hearth, and a fire blazed from it.
“The house is still enchanted,” Beauty said, staring at the fire, enjoying its warmth.
He looked at the fireplace, furrowed his brow. “You’ve broken the enchantment on me, but not on the house, it appears.”
“But how?” she said. “How did you become a man again?”
“You read my story?” he asked, then paused. “Our story?”
Beauty nodded.
“I didn’t put it all in the book. I knew you were going to read it, so I didn’t put it all in. The sorceress told me how to break the spell. She said I had to find a maiden who truly loved me. And you do. That’s probably why it was OK for you to say my name, because you said you loved me first, and that broke the curse. Now, I’m free,” he said, breaking into a grin. “We are free. We are not bound here.”
At that moment, they heard the front door creak open. Beast stood and grabbed a poker from the fireplace, prepared to fight. Beauty stood behind him, fearful M. Dumas had returned for her. They were both shocked when a woman in a red cloak entered. They could see nothing of her face, only her glowing red eyes.
Beauty heard the poker clatter to the floor, then saw Beast drop to his knees. “Please,” he said. “The curse is broken. Please do not punish me again.”
A voice floated out from the sorceress. “I am not here to punish you,” she said. “You asked for mercy those seven years ago, and I gave it to you. I find those who ask for mercy actually need it most. I simply came to tell you I am proud of your change, and that you may stay here in this manor. You may also contact your family and use your name again. You have changed and repented, which is all that I wanted.”
The sorceress turned her attention to Beauty, her glowing eyes focusing in on the girl. Beauty shrank back a little, not quite happy for the scrutiny. “And Beauty,” the sorceress said. “My sister Giselle was right. You are a very special girl. When Beast first began writing his stories, I thought he had learned nothing, and simply missed his debauchery. But, I showed them to Giselle, and she said that I had missed the point. Yes, they had sexual fantasy, but that wasn’t what they were about. At their core, they were stories of a man who wanted nothing more than to love a woman and have her return that love. I re
alized she was right and let her read them each time Beast completed a new one. Little did I know that she had decided a year ago to share the books with you. But, it seems it was for the best.”
Beauty couldn’t move, shocked that her friend Giselle had a sister who was a sorceress.
The woman began speaking again. “I have left the enchantment on the manor for the rest of this evening, but in the morning it will be gone, so get any provisions you need for the next few days. And Beauty, your father is awake now. You may want to use the mirror to talk to him and allay his concerns. Now, I am off. I need to deal with Mr. Dumas.”
Then she vanished.
Beast stood and wrapped his arms around Beauty, and she tried to breathe evenly. It was over, all over. She felt warm in his arms, happy to be there. “Everything is going to be alright,” Beast whispered in her ear. Only his voice was his new voice, his Emile voice. She supposed she should get used to calling him that.
“At least for us,” she said, pulling away from him, and walking toward the stairs. She wanted to get to the mirror and see her father. “I wonder what she’s going to do to Dumas.”
A low, throaty growl escaped Beast. Beauty turned to see whether he still looked like a man. He did, but clearly he had retained some beastly attributes. “Whatever she does to him, he deserves worse.”
They ascended the stairs and found the secret room. Beauty was able to use the mirror to see her father. She wasn’t sure if the sorceress had cast some spell or not, but she was able to project and talk to Pierre. He told her his head hurt, but other than that he seemed well. Beauty said she and Emile would come tomorrow to see him. He seemed he’d be well enough overnight. With that, she ended the conversation, and the mirror returned to its normal reflective surface.
Beauty turned to find her new Beast staring at her with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What?” she asked.
He gently touched her ear, sliding his fingers down her neck, gliding across her collarbone, down her bosom, where he rubbed his thumb in a circular motion on Beauty’s right breast. She felt warm where he touched her. She looked up and smiled. “I think I know what’s on your mind,” she said.
“I just want to see if this body fits as well with yours as my other one did.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “Would you like to see?”
“Yes, Beast,” she said, sliding her hand up his shirt, feeling his stomach muscles and his muscular chest. It was different, but definitely worth exploring.
He lifted Beauty in his arms, and started toward her bedroom. “And definitely call me Beast tonight, because I am going to be one.”
THE END
***Thank you for taking time to read Beauty & Her Beastly Love. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Thank you.
Turn the page if you want to read the first chapter of the next book in this series: Cinders & Ash: A Cinderella Story. ***
Cinders & Ash: A Cinderella Story — EXCERPT
Chapter 1
Ella had delivered the sketches of plants to Mr. Halliwell, the owner of the apothecary that sat at the edge of the town market. She’d done this today, as discreetly as she had on any delivery day for the previous six months. He’d paid her a small sum, which she had tucked in her shoe, so her family wouldn’t know about it. When she first started doing this, walking with the coin squeezed into her already tiny shoes had been hard. But Ella was used to it now. In fact, she enjoyed the discomfort just a bit. It was a reminder of her plan. That if she could just save enough money, she could get away from her evil stepmother and stepsisters.
“Ella,” she heard a voice call out, and turned to see her friend Faye running toward her through the market. Faye was a stout, tough girl who’d had a life as full of tough breaks as Ella’s. They’d become fast friends, confiding in each other the mutual miseries of life. While they shared misery, Ella did recognize that she had it better than Faye. Ella’s father had been noble. Even though Ella was banished to the cold north tower to sleep and treated like a servant, the home she lived in was much nicer than any part of the meager dwelling Faye occupied. Like Ella, both of Faye’s parents were dead. But unlike Ella, Faye had lived in a home for orphans and just recently moved into her own little room in a boarding house. Faye was a little older than Ella, but as resilient as the wind and willing to give anyone a chance, so long as they did right by her.
That was one of the reasons why Faye was Ella’s best friend. Ella had had a tough time making friends. Her stepmother rarely let her hang about and chatter with friends, the way she let her own daughters. Ella’s stepsisters had friends and attended the social events, so they might find a suitable husband while Ella was left to do household chores and errands. But Ella was not sad about that, for if the rest of the girls were as vapid as Bathilda, she was glad not to participate. And if her stepmother had been nicer, Ella might not have become friends with Faye, whose life was also mainly work.
Ella smiled and started toward Faye. She knew talking to Faye would make her late and her stepmother would be mad, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. If Faye needed something from her, she would offer it. Faye was really Ella’s only friend, and while her stepmother had taken so many things from Ella, she couldn’t take away Faye. This friendship was the only part of her life that Lady Kenna could not control.
Ella stopped in front of Faye, in the midst of the crowded street. “Yes, Faye,” Ella said, a smile on her pink lips, her cheeks a little flush from the heat of the late summer day. Faye shook her head, grabbed Ella by the arm, and pulled her away from the heat and pungent odor of the crowds. People generally made way for Faye, for while she was short, she was quite wide and had a face like a bulldog, one that seemed ready to bite if you crossed her.
Faye tugged Ella into a little alley and then Ella knitted her brows and gave her friend an expectant look. “What is it?” she asked when Faye didn’t answer quickly.
Faye stood on her tippy toes to look over Ella’s shoulders. She apparently saw nothing to give her pause, but still spoke softly. “Ella, I think I know a way for you to save enough money to escape your family, like you want to. Save enough money in just a couple of weeks”
Ella was shocked. That much money. There was no way she could earn enough money in such a short period of time. Drawing the plants and earning money from Mr. Halliwell was a slow process. Her plans to start over in a kingdom far away required patience, and the ability to start over with the most meager of sums. She had been sure it would take more than a year to save up. “What do you mean?” Ella asked.
“There’s a man, a man who is willing to pay girls for their time,” she said, her voice low. “He’ll pay them a whole king’s gold for a night of work.”
Ella narrowed her eyes and focused on Faye, trying to figure out the catch. She knew there was something wrong with that. That was a month of pay for a night of “work.” She gritted herself and asked, “What kind of work?”
Faye lowered her eyes for a moment, then looked up at her friend. “The kind of thing your stepmother tried to get you to do with that gentleman a few months ago.”
Ella balled her hands into fists and tried not to let the disappointment she felt turn into anger. She remembered the time her stepmother had told her a man was going to pay for the privilege of painting Ella. She’d been sent to Marigold’s bedroom to pose, which should have tipped her off. Only she had been naive then. She didn’t realize, until he was asking her to disrobe and planting kisses on her neck, what he really wanted, what her stepmother Lady Kenna had really given him permission to do. She’d screamed, kneeing the man right in his dangly thing, and run out.
She ran straight to Lady Kenna and said, “I am not a prostitute and you won’t make me one. If you try again, I swear, the spirit of my dead father will haunt you for the rest of your life. For all the cruelty you commit to me now is within your rights. But what you just tried to do, is be
yond your right and you will pay for all eternity if you ever try that again.”
She’d tried to sound brave and fearless. She supposed she must have sounded so, because Lady Kenna did not bring another man around to “paint” or do anything else to Ella. The idea of having sex with a strange man who simply wanted a body, not caring if it were hers or someone else’s, bothered her. She supposed she clung to the memories she had of her parents’ marriage: happy, kind, loving, and filled with mutual adoration.
Ella shook her head. “I can’t,” she sputtered. “Faye, you know I can’t do that.”
Faye frowned. “It’s a lot of money, Ella. It won’t be so bad to do it. And you’d be able to get away from that torture Lady Kenna heaps on you each day.”
Ella thought about her dream of walking out on that hag who had inherited all of her father’s estate, who had spent all that should have been hers. Part of her hated Lady Kenna for her cruelty, but part of her understood it. It was nearly impossible for noble women to earn money of their own. At least noble women who wanted to pretend they had the wealth to accommodate their station. They were dependent on men for everything, so when Ella’s father had died, Lady Kenna had to make sure she was taken care of, that her daughters were taken care of. That, Ella understood. What she didn’t understand was why Lady Kenna couldn’t include her in the family, why Ella couldn’t benefit from the largesse. She closed her eyes, breathed out. She’d had Lady Kenna as a stepmother and Marigold and Bathilda as stepsisters, for the last nine years and withstood it well enough.
A few months ago, Ella had gotten lucky by running into Mr. Halliwell in the woods near her home. She was drawing a bird on some scraps of paper she’d saved, when she spotted Mr. Halliwell stooped over collecting plants to use in his medicines. When he saw how well she’d drawn the bird, he asked if she could sketch some plants for him. He was training his sons to apprentice him, but knew that the oldest wanted the current business, while the youngest planned to open an apothecary in a town further over that had no such shop. He wanted to give the youngest information to take with him, but his arthritis had made it impossible for him to draw anything. Halliwell had agreed to pay her to draw some of the herbs he used, and then his son would write the pertinent information beneath it. Mr. Halliwell didn’t pay a lot, but it was more than nothing, which is what Ella received from Lady Kenna. So, she’d happily taken the assignments. And if he kept giving them to her, she’d have enough money to leave. “I’m already halfway to my goal, Faye. Thank you, but I don’t need this.”
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