“I love you. But I owe them, I owe them everything.” Erik dropped down to four feet again, manoeuvring his arm to pull the sword from his back. Once removed, he dropped the blood-stained weapon at Isabelle’s bare, filthy feet.
“Who?” She didn't look at it, had eyes only for him.
“My people. This curse, it’s my fault, they’ve been trapped because of me. My happiness for their freedom, it’s the only choice I have.”
“So, I’m just a casualty of circumstance?” Isabelle shook her head disbelieving, “you chose me. You lured me here.”
“I had to. I didn’t know-” he stopped, closing his eyes in anguish.
“You didn’t know what?” She demanded, stepping closer to him.
“I didn’t know that I would love you. I didn’t know that this would be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Staying away from you. But I cannot let my people down, centuries of this cursed existence. Two lives, just two, to save hundreds.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to die.” She replied harshly.
“I would if it would save you.” He muttered quietly.
“Stop it.” Isabelle fired, turning away, “you’re full of talk and I don’t want to hear it. Do what you must, kill me, but at least save me the fate of being bored to death by pointless lies.”
“You’re beastly stubborn.” He growled angrily.
“You’re one to talk.” She shot back. He made to grab her arm, but she pulled back, “you don’t get to touch me. You had your chance. You’ve made your choice.”
“You have very little say in what I do.” His voice rumbled. He grabbed for her again. This time he didn’t miss, and he pulled her towards him as if she were little more than a rag doll. Isabelle pulled against him, but his grip didn’t slacken.
“Be careful. I know how much you hate touching me.” She accused; eyes wide.
“For once in your life, would you shut up?” Erik growled, but Isabelle wasn't for listening. Of all the opportunities in her life for her to have shut up and been a good girl, it seemed stupid now, of all times, to break the habit. She pushed, his grip tightened, and he lifted her further from the ground, toes barely scraping the floor. Using what little momentum she could gather she pushed a leg against him, he swatted it away easily. "You cannot fight me!" He pointed out arrogantly.
"Is that what you want? Me to stop, to just fall in line like the rest of your puppets?"
"You have no idea what I want," he warned.
"So tell me." Isabelle's eyes met his, him looming over her, watching him carefully through thick lashes. If she was going to die, then it wasn't going to be without trying to get a straight answer from him.
The question made him falter, she saw it, the imperceptible glimmer in his unnatural yellow eyes. "Tell me what you want. You're running out of time. I'll be dead tomorrow." Was that sorrow? There was a strange poetry, her murderer at least felt bad about it. His hand flexed against hers, she squirmed, "you're hurting me."
"I thought you liked when I hurt you?" There was something else in his eyes now and she swallowed thickly, as much as she wanted his attention, had fought for it for months, she wasn't going to pretend there wasn't something intimidating about it. Being out here, alone with him, with nothing to lose, it was exhilarating.
Erik’s face hardened and he released her, quickly. He made to turn away, but Isabelle wasn't done yet, and she wasn't ready to let him go that easily.
"I don't like it when you disappear. You look like you care and then you pull away."
"You don't know what you're asking from me."
"I'm not asking anything!" She screamed, losing what was left of her patience. "You don't give me answers, you snap, and pull, one minute you look like you care, the next you lock me in a dungeon for days. By the Lord, you brought me here to kill me, my life for your humanity. You are a monster. And I still can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop being in love with you. And every time I think, hope, that you might get over yourself and be honest with me, you throw me away like a toy you're done playing with. I'm not a toy, and I'm not going to come with you until you tell me what you want."
"I've told you. I want you to shut up!" She could hear that he was talking through clenched teeth, she knew she was pushing too far but she didn't care. To die here from his temper, or to die in the castle, it made no difference, not now. "You love me," she told him and watched him tense as he turned to face her.
"I do."
"You can't change that. Not in a night." Isabelle whispered everything inside her screamed in petulant protest. "So, you'll kill the woman you love, but you won't touch her? I'm right here, I don't care if you kill me, I'd die a million times to give you your life back – Lord knows it’s better than living without you -, but one night? You can't give me one night where I can be with you? Touch you? Without you running away."
"I-" he started, but she shook her head.
"For once in your life," she mimicked lightly, her tone soft, like she was nervous he might suddenly flee, "just shut up."
He moved towards her.
"You want me?" His question was quiet, there was a sneer on his lips, "like this?" He looked down.
"I think I was made to."
Her anger, her feeling of betrayal, her loss; it was all gone. Her fear of him leaving also, evaporating like the morning mist, and with a softness born of longing she moved her hand to his face. The look of shock that registered made her smile, a breath escaped her lips. He leant into the soft caress and she sighed, closing her eyes as they threatened to brim with tears.
When she opened them, his gaze was on her and he looked predatory again. A thrill of something that definitely wasn't fear shot through her and he sensed it. Isabelle felt him pull her arm again, lifting it higher and soon she was struggling on tip-toe. This time she didn't fight. Her other hand fell from his face and reached for his arm. He deftly gathered both her wrists into one hand and she gasped in surprise. Stretched out before him, half-dangling she soon lost the cloak that Peter had lent her. It puddled on the floor leaving her in just her silken nightgown.
With his other hand, the beast first pulled her to him, seemingly revelling in the scent of her growing excitement, before lifting her away again. She swung gently before he allowed her to alight momentarily on the grass at her feet. He didn't release her hands. Instead, his claws snapped out and easily tore the straps that held her gown up. It slipped down to just above her breasts, Erik watched it fall hungrily.
Isabelle glanced down, seeing the fabric drift a little further with every gentle movement until with a sigh of satisfaction from Erik, it slipped down from her body and joined the cloak on the ground.
Completely naked now, held tightly in his grip and unable to escape had she wanted to, Isabelle dared not to breathe lest the spell break, and she found herself waking up. She stared deep into the beast’s eyes, willing him to touch her, begging him silently to take her, to own her.
He seemed to understand her plea.
Tentative at first, his hands caressed her naked chest. His attention made her moan and soon she found herself rocking into his movements, pressing herself into his already rough embrace. She felt him loom over her and before she could react she found herself lying back on the grass, the cold hard ground beneath, a contrast to his hot weight above.
If she had been afraid that he wouldn't follow his unspoken promise through this time, she needn't have been. Isabelle immediately felt his arousal pressing hungrily at her. Hard and impossibly big. He was tauntingly close to what she wanted, but not quite there.
Unable to guide or move much with her hands pinned above her head she instead shifted her hips. He felt the insisting demand in her movements and held still. Teasingly. Agonisingly. Her one and only desperate need was so very close to being fulfilled.
The laughter was plain in his eyes and she did the only thing she could think to, arching her back forwards she managed to get her teeth onto the flesh of
his shoulder and bit down. Whether pain or simple surprise caused him to thrust into her she would never know, nor would she ever care. A sharp intake of breath and he was inside.
There was pain, he wasn't gentle.
He was huge and insistent, her body yielding reluctantly. The sensation was enough to make her breathing hitch, but he seemed beyond caring, lost to lust. And though that should probably have scared her, it didn’t. Isabelle groaned as his movements became fast.
The pain started to ebb away, shifting to something she had never quite felt before. Something exquisite and addictive. Erik moved rhythmically, his hot breath at her neck, teeth grazing her skin, lost to the feeling. She realised with a start that this was probably his first time too. As he increased the pace, he released her hands and she immediately wrapped them around him, using them to pull her to him harder, deeper, faster.
Had there been pain? She couldn't remember.
Isabelle panted desperately, her teeth still pressed into his shoulder, writhing beneath him as he began to understand what she wanted, what she needed. His claws were against her back, on her breasts, on her neck, seemingly everywhere as he moved inside her. Sharp, meaningless stings and scratches lost in the miasma of sensation which threatened to overwhelm her.
Then against what seemed possible, he pushed harder, filling her more and she bit down once again into his flesh to stop from screaming, her nails at his back. She could feel their passion rising, feel him closing on the end.
He climaxed, his great shoulders shuddering, and she moaned deliriously as he seemed to grow inside her, pulsing heat filled her, and she could scarcely breathe. The crashing wave of his arrival drew out her own and she orgasmed around him, head swimming, as he moaned in a deep rumble.
They lay still, both holding to the ebbing pleasures as they breathed heavily. Isabelle clasped her hands around his back to hold them both still as their panting subsided. She tasted blood in her mouth.
It was more welcome than the feeling of him leaving her.
Chapter Forty
Isabelle woke up reluctantly, the sun was bright and glaring. There was a warm spring breeze on her skin. Memories came back to her in a rush. She half expected to be in the forest still, but sitting upright it became clear very quickly that she wasn’t.
Fuzzy memories came into focus, ones that made her blush. Others were less clear. She remembered being carried back to the castle, remembered Erik taking her in the bed he’d lain her in. The softness of the mattress a rough juxtaposition to the hardness of the forest floor. There hadn’t been talking, she’d been afraid to say anything lest her words send him fleeing. How many times had he taken her? She’d lost count. Her body ached, but she supposed that was bound to happen when you tried to cram a lifetime of pleasure into a night. A night was all she had left.
Bringing herself from her memories she looked around. This room was not one she recognised. She was in a bed, enormous, so big that she couldn’t touch the edges even if she stretched fully. She remembered laying here with Erik and marvelling at the fact that they could both fit, but he was gone now and she was alone in the sea of silk. The entire thing was beautifully carved, there were gentle waves at the bottom and the headboard carved up into the head of a bird.
It was a peacock.
The sheets were impossibly soft and shimmered in the morning sun. As she moved, she realised just how sore she was. She stretched, parts of her that she hadn’t known existed ached painfully. That made her blush deepen.
“You’re awake.” Erik’s voice made her jump and she turned to the balcony, the looming shape through the translucent voiles was both familiar and terrifying. There was a huge fireplace in front of the bed, and a large mirror above that. Tapestries, beautiful and exotic, covered the walls. Somehow dying hadn’t seemed so terrifying last night in the forest, but here in the castle, she found she was terribly afraid.
He’d brought her back to die.
Isabelle began to wish that she had not woken up at all, she tried to disguise her trembling by pulling the covers more tightly around herself.
“Erik-” she began but he interrupted smoothly.
“Get dressed.” He was in the doorway now, indicating a gown laid out on a chair next to the bed. Isabelle brushed her hair from her face and nodded silently, absorbing the horror of her situation. This was what she had promised.
“That dress…”
“I had them move the rest of your clothes up here if that one isn’t to your liking.”
“A little bit of a wasted exercise, don’t you think?” Isabelle said softly as she moved to the edge of the bed and swung her feet to the floor. He was trying to be kind she supposed, a part of her wished he wouldn’t. This Erik, the Erik that had made her body sing, it was one she could imagine loving every day, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to was more than she could bear. Isabelle’s pale skin was marred with scratches and bruises from the excursions of the last twenty-four hours. She wanted nothing more than a hot bath.
“What do you mean?” He asked, and Isabelle averted her eyes. She was stupid. It didn’t matter what he did with her clothes. Perhaps he’d moved them up for the bride he would take when he was human again. The curse would be broken before the day was out, and she would not see the sunset.
Isabelle wondered briefly whether she would get to see what he looked like as a human before she died.
“I won’t need them for much longer.”
“You plan to walk around the castle naked?” His face contorted into something of a confused frown, and Isabelle grimaced.
“I don’t plan on doing much walking at all.”
“What?” He stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head, his mane ruffled, and the sunlight picked out the highlights in his fur. His entire demeanour changed with her misunderstanding. He made to move forward, but then seemed hesitant to touch her. Instead he sort of hovered awkwardly next to the bed.“No, I’m not…you’re not going to die.”
“But-” Isabelle tried to ignore the anticipation that flooded her, before the reality sunk in “you can’t spare me and condemn everybody here to eternity like this. It’s too much to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Erik shrugged and turned, he loped towards the mirror at the end of the bed.
“It does matter. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to ruin everybody’s lives either. I want you to have your life. Your humanity. I agreed, and I’m not going to let you ruin everything just to save me.”
“It’s out of your hands Isabelle.”
“No, it isn’t. I won’t let you spare me, for them, I’ll do it myself.” She proclaimed,
“Isabelle, for the curse to be broken, you had to be a virgin. You can no longer break the curse.”
His statement took a few moments to engulf her.
Isabelle realised a lot of things very quickly.
That was why the servants had been so desperate to keep her away from Erik. It was why they had been so worried about her and other men. It explained every single time he’d pushed her away, the fervent insistence with which he had deprived her; denied himself. It was why Erik had been so devastatingly cold towards her.
They had never feared her a witch, had not thought her disgusting, or their relationship unnatural. They had needed her to remain untouched and watching her and Erik play their dangerous game, to stand on the knifes edge of hope, knowing at any moment it could be snatched from them? No wonder they had tried to keep them apart, to make her fear Erik.
Her wantonness had ruined them, it had cursed Erik to spend eternity as a beast, and his servants and people to remain trapped in a timeless bubble.
“I-” She stammered, the full realisation making her cold.
“Don’t. I knew what I was doing. I had a choice to make. I couldn’t make the sacrifice; it was my failing and not yours. I’ve condemned them, not you. I thought I was better than my parents, that when the time came, I could be better. I tried to be selfless, but I
was wrong. I am their son. And because of it, we will remain here. Like this. But it is not your fault, the blame lies with me. I gave in. Now please, get dressed.”
“I can’t go out there!” Isabelle looked at the door, wide-eyed and terrified. These people already hated her, now this added to their reasons. She would be torn apart. Imprisoned in a castle where everybody blamed her for their curse. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me live here? You could have locked me in the village. Never met me…” Isabelle was speaking quickly now, desperately trying to find some fix for what they had done.
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Did my father know?” She asked suddenly.
“What?” Erik’s brow furrowed, “no. I didn’t intend to kill you when I made the bargain with your father.”
“How-?”
“I thought you would be different. He told me you would be different!” Erik insisted, angry now. “I didn’t imagine when he brought you, that you would be a virgin. He told me of you, of your reputation. He made it sound like you….”
“You brought me here to be your lover?” Isabelle dropped heavily onto the bed. “That was why you prepared a room, got me dresses. I was to be your mistress, not your servant. I must have been a terrible disappointment.”
“Quite the opposite, I knew that you were pure, I could smell it the moment you arrived. You were all that we had been waiting for. All I had to do was make sure that nobody touched you, that you remained pure until your birthday. You made it so damn hard.”
“And what if I’d not arrived here a virgin? How exactly would you have persuaded me to be your mistress?” Her eyes were playfully challenging, the truth was overwhelming, but she could see what it was doing to Erik. She wanted to curb his anger before this turned into an argument.
“I would have used my charm and good looks to seduce you of course.” There was a relaxed friskiness in his expression that made her heart ache. This was it, this is what she would get forever, no more cold, reserved beast.
She wasn’t going to die.
The Beast Queen Page 23
