Page 20 of The Beast & His Beauty

I take her by the hand the way I learned long ago, appropriate for escorting a lady across the floor. Her hand curls neatly into mine, though it is clear that Elle was not born into royalty. That does not matter to me. What matters to me is the heat between our palms and the brush of our fingers together. The soft silkiness of her skin affects me even more now that I have stood apart from her for several minutes. Every twitch of her fingers sends small shock waves through my being.

I need to bend my mouth to her neck to inhale her scent, but I sense that she would turn, putting her body against mine the way she did in the hall, and I might be lost to that sensation until the sun rose.

The beast stirs slightly, as if scenting the opportunity to claim her again, but he does not pursue it.

Elle walks when I put the slightest pressure on her hand, this time moving to my side instead of in front of me. She guides her footsteps so that her body is closer than it might have been, and we go out of the ballroom together.

My dining room is down a stretch of hallway. Elle’s footsteps are soft but not tentative as she moves, her slippers almost silent on the floor. Every breath I take is sweetened by her scent. I have to summon as much control as I can not to push her against the wall and guide my hand between her legs. I think, from the way Elle’s heart pounds and the rhythm of her breath, that she would melt underneath my touch.

Not yet. I will feed her first. Once I’ve satisfied her, surely, my offer will not be denied. Regardless of who I am. The fears scream in the back of my head, and I nearly cry out for silence. The crazed thoughts leave as quickly as they came as the magic surrounds us. Thankfully, Elle does not see my snarl. She is protected from every sordid thought I have.

The dining room I escort Elle to is a private one, though the table can seat twelve. Serving dishes cover the surface. Elle inhales the aroma of the food and lets out a small sound of anticipation. That sweet sound makes my cock twitch and yet again, I restrain myself. I guide her to the seat that will be at my right hand and take my own seat at the head of the table.

With a wave of my hand the covers of the dishes rise and float back into the kitchen through a door that holds itself open for them. Elle sits up straight, her hands in her lap, and I move my chair so I can more easily reach her.

Then it is time to keep my promise.

I pinch the finest morsel of meat, a slow roast of beef, between my fingers. “Open your mouth,” I tell her.

She does.

The table is laden with a spread that would rival a royal dinner, including roasted potatoes and seasoned vegetables grown in the garden, and I feed Elle small pieces of them, her tongue sliding over my fingers. She chews and swallows and opens her mouth obediently for more. The magic allows for everything thought, every wish to come true, and so when water fills the pitcher and pours itself into her glass, I offer it to her. A smirk plays at my lips as she thanks me. As if I knew. As if I’m her hero.

Time passes easily and I watch her intently. With every bite she takes, my eyes flick from the scar on her neck to her lush lips. I’m obsessed with her satisfaction. Before long, the plate of sweets, chocolate desserts and pastries, and fruits rattles slightly and I move onto it.

I’m feeding her a piece of sweetened fruit when she closes her lips around my fingers and moans.

It is all I can do not to curse aloud. My cock strains in the front of my breeches. Elle’s chest heaves as if the fruit has reminded her of more forbidden things she wants, and her arousal lingers in the air along with the food.

I draw my fingers out of her mouth slowly.

“Your kitchen has sent the best tonight,” Elle remarks faintly, one hand curled around the edge of the table. She sits upright again, but she does not have her breathing under control. The tension is thick between us.

It’s so thick that I cannot keep the words I wish to say inside. I cannot wait for the next opportunity to write a note. I keep my control over the beast steady, though it does not seem I will be able to divide my efforts for long if Elle takes this much pleasure in the rest of her food. Her lips glisten with the juices from the fruit, and I want to devour her. From her lips down her neck, lower and lower until I can feast between her legs.

“I will care for you if you care for me,” I say, keeping my voice low to disguise the lust I feel. It is too blunt a proposal, but it’s all I can do to contain myself. I know she will understand that I am offering her something of value. She has fed on a fine meal. She has rested in the most comfortable bed. She has seen the grandeur of the ballroom and knows by now that the rest of the castle contains similar riches.

Elle brings her bottom lip in, her teeth catching it for just a moment, and I am bowled over by a feeling of selfishness. It is selfish, the offer I am making her. No amount of food or beds or riches will equal what I am getting. I fight the inner critique of my selfishness down. We are already on this path. She will be mine and only mine. Always to stay within the castle walls and to forever submit to me.

Elle swallows thickly and asks, “For how long?”

For always, I bite down the response and offer instead a truth more palpable. “For as long as I wish.” That is even more blunt than the first, but equally true. There is little point in disguising the true nature of the terms from her. If she is to accept this willingly, she must know what she is agreeing to.

Elle hesitates, her mouth turning down. “My father…”

“Will mourn your loss, as fathers do.” I am matter-of-fact, for there is nothing else to be. Fathers lose their children. That is what happens to all of them. “He will live and be unharmed.”

Elle could not be more beautiful in the firelight. Even as she straightens, a frown mars her beauty for only a moment before she seems to come up with a negotiation.

“What if I wish to leave?” she asks, her voice not much louder than the crackle of the fire in the grate.

This is the part of the bargain that she will not like. I would keep it from her if I could, but I cannot.

“Then I cannot promise your father would remain unharmed.”

She bites into her lip with more force, her breath quickening, and sits back in her chair, increasing the distance between us. Her fear is obvious in the air, and this time the magic cannot entirely subdue it. I would not have expected her to care so deeply about her father, who would have given her to Crawe, but perhaps I should have.

I lay my hand over hers where it is curled around the edge of the table. Elle flexes her hand, turning it upright so our palms are together.