Page 8 of The Beast & His Beauty

The beast snarls and huffs. He scents her but she’s not here. My body heats with fear of not finding her, but the beast is unconcerned. She is marked and the hunt will be easy if his careful pace and unbothered steps are anything to go by.

With two firmly planted steps toward the village, the beast snarls and growls, baring his fangs. A spike of adrenaline cuts into my body as the fear of being discovered overwhelms me. I push forward, trying to calm the beast. Trying to remind him of our desire for her, but then I realize what he smelled, what he sensed that I couldn’t.

Crawe.

I can’t help the anger that envelops my very being. He was here. With her. What the fuck is he doing with her?

She’s mine!

The beast roars in possessive agreement. Images of the last time I saw him unwillingly flash before my eyes. Anger pulses through my blood. Rage threatens to consume my composure. The beast sees nothing but red. I stare back at the eyes of my former friend, bloodied from my fist pounding into his face. The rancid smell of his fear of death clings to my nostrils. His throat is exposed as he attempts to get out from under me.

No! With my teeth clenched, I shake my head of the memory and force myself to stop this train of thought. The beast must be tamed. Now is not the time for retribution. That’s not what we came for.

Our beauty.

I will the beast to go to her, but his hackles are raised, his primitive anger overwhelming everything else.

My eyes widen and fear spikes through me. Fear of losing her. I can’t afford to push the beast back into hiding without claiming our beauty. Especially not now. Now that I know Crawe has been sniffing around her. I will not lose her! My fists clench at the thought of him touching her. Having his way with her. A snarl rips through my chest and I’ve no idea if it came from the beast or from me.

I urge the beast forward once again, warning him of the potential loss of our beauty. I only need him to find her and then I will force him to surrender to my will. My head shakes as he huffs and snorts. My heart races. I’m not sure if he’s willing to give up his prey for her. Killing Crawe will only give short-lived satisfaction. I’ll still be forced back to the castle. The spell will remain, and the village will still despise and fear me equally. I’ll have my day of retribution, but it will come with time.

Just as the enchantment promised.

I will him to remember her panting desire, the heat of her core, the mark on her shoulder when he bit into her. A low rumble confirms his need to feel her writhing beneath him. I see his desire to claim her, relentlessly pounding into her wet heat from behind with his fangs piercing her skin. Surrendering to his dominance and moaning with desire. I stifle my groan and palm my hardening dick. Fuck, I want her like that as well. Not yet, I remind the beast. First we must get her to the castle.

He scents the air again and ambles toward our beauty’s trail, but I discourage him. Persuading him to walk slowly into the shadows. With a low growl he agrees, and I cautiously let him lead us to her, past the market, through an empty field. For once the two of us are of a single mind. Since this curse bound me to this wretched being, there has never been a moment of harmony until now. A wicked smirk curves my lips up as my hand gentles on the cold brick of the building as we take cautious steps forward.

His heavy steps, made with an uncontained eagerness, are still far too loud for my liking, but we’re hidden in the darkness and the village sleeps unsuspectingly. As we come along a farm with a few horses and sheep, I urge him to go around the carts and make our way to the back. He doesn’t hesitate to ignore my plea.

I don’t have the time to fight with him. I grit my teeth and watch as though I’m not moving along with him. As though we aren’t one being. The beast is quick and as he darts past the fence, the horses startle but remain quiet and alert. They may have heard our presence, but we’re long gone before they have reason to fear us. One disaster averted. My heartbeat calms just slightly.

The beast continues his path unaware or uncaring of the potential demise we just escaped. I’m surprised by his focus and his agile movements. I no longer want the beast to move slowly. We’re in the center of the village, surrounded by homes. Any noise could wake the people. We need to get in and get out as quickly as possible. The adrenaline pumping through me is enough to make a lesser man shake. I thrive with it. Feeling the dangerous rush.

He picks up his speed as he scents the air again. His head bows and our eyes focus on a small cottage with a lit fireplace. We round the house quietly. He’s found our beauty. Quiet sobs halt us in our tracks. As I still with recognition, the beast flinches with what seems like concern. Our beauty is hurt. Every muscle in me tightens and as he scents the air for the pungent smell of blood, but there’s none. My brow furrows with his confusion. I push against him, in desperate need for control.

Crawe was with her and now she’s injured or…harmed in some way.

Twigs snap under the weight of my step as we remove the distance from the woman who’s become our obsession. Another quiet sob and my heartbeat slows as I close in on her.

Thoughts run wild in our mind as we near the dim light of the window.

She could be upset about a number of things. Hell, Crawe may have been at the bakery after she’d left. I’m most likely being irrational, but I cling to that thought. Her sorrow has nothing to do with our enemy, but she must be calmed and lured to sleep. The beast relents his need for dominance. He has no interest in being in control with her in this state. I feel his pressure against me, wanting me to calm her, subdue her. He wants her in a state of arousal and desire. Just as we come up to the old window of the cottage, and I dare to brave a look inside, a man’s voice is heard. The beast’s hackles raise. I steady him to wait and listen.

“Elle, please understand.” Elle. Our beauty has a name. I whisper her name and let the soft sound linger on my lips. My blood heats with satisfaction.

“I can’t, Father!” I close my eyes and tilt my head to hear better. Can’t what? After a moment of nothing but her gasps for air between loud cries, she speaks again.

“Please, tell him you’ve changed your mind!”

“Elle, you know I can’t do that.” His reply is sorrowful.

Her defeated tone nearly whispers, “I can’t marry him.” My eyes widen and my fists clench. I calm myself and the beast, it’s no matter. We’re taking her tonight. She will not marry. She doesn’t belong to anyone but me. The thought barely settles the beast. He paces inside of me. His need is crude: to feel her body against his and remind her of his claim.

As the conversation continues, I keep in mind that it is irrelevant. She will be in my bed by morning. Elle is mine.

“Lord Crawe will make a good husband.” His tone is placating and hopeful. I just barely repress the growl and the growing rage. I remind the beast; we’ll have her tonight. He will not touch her. She is ours.

Elle attempts to speak, but nothing discernible is uttered. All the while, I stay in the darkness outside of the window, waiting for the moment her father leaves her alone.