11. Elle

ELLE

I know the peacefulness I feel is likely not my own, but I can't deny the sensation of warmth and luxury that surrounds me when I pick up the dress. There's a vague prick at the back of my mind that warns me not to fall into comfort, but it dulls with every passing second. The gown truly seems to have been made for me. The cloth is expensive and well-tailored so that there are no misshapen seams. I know it will feel even more luxurious against my bare skin.

For my skin is still bare.

Every time I register the feeling of being completely exposed, the magic wraps around me again, making the shame of being naked in a place that's not my home easier to bear.

After all, he gave me a dress. It will all be all right so long as I wear it.

The note didn't have instructions to put on undergarments, nor are any laid out, so I pick up the blue dress from the bed. Swallowing thickly, I lift it over my head and let the fabric fall in a wave over me.

Covered, I feel no less exposed than before. Having such luxurious fabric directly against my skin makes my nerves sing. My nipples, already sensitive, peak at the slip of the silk. Nervously, I brace my hands on the bed and steady myself even as the magic comes to soothe me again. Will it always do so? I think, because I have lived near the forest so long, that it will. The magic has been a constant presence, though it is faint in the woods, for as long as I can remember. Although this feeling, in this moment, is stronger and nearly like a lullaby—not the nightmare I've been taught it gives.

If I stay here, for always, will I feel this peace for the rest of my life?

"Always" is frightening to think of, and the magic doesn't seem to want me to dwell on it. I find it much easier to concentrate on the slip of the silk over my hips and the way the air moves underneath it. The quality of the dress is as luscious as the house slippers on my feet.

A pricking sensation at the back of my neck warns me that I'm being watched.

But when I whirl around, my hands coming up to cover my breasts even though I'm clothed in the blue dress, there's no one in the room. The mirror looks back at me impassively.

No one has come in to lay eyes on me. It only felt like the beast was watching. My heart beats faster as new fear is blanketed by a fresh wave of magic. The magic is always at the ready, waiting for me to act or react to the presence of the beast. It is a strange thing to be surrounded and calmed almost every minute, as if the magic knows the danger of the beast and understands that it cannot leave me alone in my mind for even a second.

Dizziness sways me for a moment and I murmur for it to let me breathe. "Please," I beg. This back and forth wars within me. There's a whisper in the back of my mind that it will be all right. If only I do as the beast requests. Again I look to the front of the room, finding no one and feeling as if I may be losing my mind.

As the emptiness of the room sinks in, my eyes drop to the floor by the closed door. It is dark in the room aside from a fire in the grate and moonlight through the window, but I can clearly see the floor.

It is not empty.

There is a folded note waiting for me along with a length of black cloth.

With my heart in my throat, I approach the door on trembling legs and bend to retrieve the cloth and the note. They were left for me by the beast. The magic wants me to think that this is only right. This place belongs to the beast, and he can leave me notes and instructions any time he desires.

I have to close my eyes at the sheer idea of his desires. A wave of pleasure plays tricks on me as I cautiously run my fingers over the gifts.

The black cloth is as silky as my dress although a bit thicker. I test it between my fingers. My fear now is that the magic will need to tend to me so much that I lose the ability to think for myself. I need to maintain control of what I can.

I breathe deeply and, with as little fear as possible, I read the note.

The instructions are as clear as the command to wear the blue dress. Tie the black cloth over your eyes. There is no room to question what the beast has asked of me. He has left me no room to hesitate.

I find a pocket hidden in the folds of the dress and tuck the note inside, thinking it would be better not to leave it lying out. I don't know why. I do not know who else might reside here. I only know that I don't want the beast's orders exposed to anyone else.

With shaking fingers I tie the blindfold over my eyes. As he requested.

The fabric is as soft as my dress, but it doesn't allow an ounce of light in. With the darkness, my heart hammers.. I can see nothing through the blindfold and move back a few steps from the door, careful and hesitant, though I am sure nothing has appeared behind me.

The door opens with an eerie creek and my knees nearly buckle. There it comes again, the wave of magic. I try to resist, internally pleading that I will behave, and with the promise of such, the pull it has on me wanes.

I strain to listen, but the hinges are well maintained and don't creak.

Soft footsteps enter and begin to circle me.

Inwardly, I struggle not to panic. Please don't hurt me, I beg silently. Please. The memory of the swing comes back. The feel of him. The bite. All of it surrounds me and to my surprise, I also plead with the magic, please let it be the beast .

The footsteps stop behind me, and it is quiet for so long that my heart begins to slow down, and I start to think that whoever is in my room may have already left. Not my room . This room , I correct myself.

I try to distract myself by picturing the fine furnishings of the room I woke in. They were beautiful enough to take my breath away, but now in the dark, my memory of them is indistinct.

I try harder to remember, but it's as difficult.

Just as I lift my hand from my skirts, thinking to remove the mask, there is a movement behind me.

I freeze.

There is no word from him. I want to beg him aloud not to hurt me, but I cannot make my throat form the words. It's far too dry and tight.

The floor creaks.

I take a step forward and find myself at the dresser. With nothing else to anchor me I can't stop myself from gripping the edge. My knees feel too weak to hold me.

"Please." My voice is barely a whisper. "Let me go."

"No." The answer comes from directly behind me and chills travel down my shoulders. He's so close that the warmth of his breath on my neck causes a stir of both fear and desire. Goosebumps erupt down my spine and my whole body trembles within the soft silk of the dress. The beast is firm in denying me my freedom.

I stay as still as could be as the floor creaks beneath me with the shift of his weight and steps.

Then there are hands, strong and broad, on my waist. My heart pounds with how close those hands are to my skin. My dress may be well made but it is only fabric, and the heat of his hands seep through almost as if I'm naked.

The hands feel large, but human. I swallow again. "Beast?"

"Yes," he answers. It's him. I know it's him. But this…this is different. Human hands mean he is not entirely a beast. If he was, there would be claws tearing through the fabric of my dress.

"Move," he orders. The heat of his command brushes the goosebumps at my nape.

I take one step forward, easily responding to his authority. The magic around me makes it easy to obey him. A very small part of my mind tries to fear it, but the magic is as palpable as his hands on my waist. It helps me to obey. I tell myself it is keeping me safe. But isn't the magic what brought me here?

I have no choice but to walk blindly, trusting him to guide me safely. My heart thuds in anticipation of what might happen when I stop. I sense that we are passing through the doorway of the room and out into the hallway. I listen as hard as I can to each sound, trying to discern what I can about this place I'm now being held captive in.

I cannot tell much, other than that we are in a hallway. I do not have a way to tell how long it might go on. The floorboards are even underneath my feet. It's comfortable to walk in the house slippers, which provide a subtle cushion under my feet and allow me to keep my balance.

With my vision obscured, my awareness of my body is heightened with every step I take. I try to learn more about the beast's castle, but my attention is captured again and again by the heat of his hands and the cool slide of silk on my skin. The distraction and the mix of emotions make it impossible to know where we're going.

I do not know where he is taking me. I have not had time to understand this place, and my breath comes faster as we move farther and farther away from the bedroom.

I tentatively raise a hand in front of me so I will not run into a wall or anything else. Blindfolded, I haven't been able to see how the beast's home outside that room is decorated. Is there art on the walls? Statues on stands?

Is it destroyed from his anger and rage like the lore has sworn for as long as I can remember?

He does not make me put my hand back down, though his hands flex at my waist. The softest sound emits from the back of his throat. A shiver moves through me as it meets my ears. It is not a threatening growl. I think it may be a thoughtful noise, but I cannot be sure.

The magic continues to surround me as we move, steadying my breath and taking the fear from my thoughts. Despite the magic, my mind still questions.

Where are we going within this castle?

Why do his hands feel so human when I know he is the beast?

What will he do with me?

Heat flushes over my body as I recall the possessive way he touched me last. He wrung feelings and sensations from my body that overwhelmed the parts of me that had remained innocent. Is the memory so vivid because it just happened, or because of the magic? Does the magic want me to think of him?

What is real and what is fantasy are often intertwined in one's mind. At this moment, I cannot tell the difference.

His hands flex at my waist once again. His touch confirms that these are the hands that touched me. Thick fingers that pressed inside me, searching until they found a barrier that hasn't yet been broken. A wide thumb rubbed my clit. He stroked my folds and tested how slick I was between my legs.

In my haze of fear and heady, forbidden desire, I heard what he said.

Take it.

Those hands also soothed the small of my back and stilled underneath my body. They are hands with the full capability to hurt me, I have no doubt, but he used them to pleasure me.

And to use me for his own pleasure, although he did not break through the last boundary of my body.

Is that what we are walking toward now? Is that what he has planned for me? Is there some other space more fitting for the beast to take my innocence than the bed? The bed where he already put me on my hands and knees, growled, nipped, and kissed me until I was consumed with the need I had for him?

I can't guess how this will go. The stories of my childhood swirl through my head. The beast and the prince blend together. The tale is both true and false, more innocent than it seemed and more dangerous, and I do not know how my story will end.

My breath becomes shallow, but this time the magic does not soothe me. It stokes the fire of my emotions, making the memories of his touch even stronger. They're matched to the heat of those hands on my hips, guiding and commanding me just as he did in bed. I am clothed, for now, but under the influence of the magic, my desire for him grows. It would be better if he was simply touching my skin instead of the fabric.

Is it the magic that plays these tricks? Or is it simply the dreams I've manifested for myself?

The confusion I feel between what I know to be right and the base urges of my body tightens, making it difficult to breathe.

My outstretched hand meets something made from wood. The curves underneath my fingertips make me think it is a door frame. It's more intricate than any door frame I might have seen in my former life. My father did not have the money to spare on decorating his home. Not when we were struggling to eat after my mother passed.

I know it is only an object, but the way the curves feel in contrast to the beast's hands make my breath catch and I stop.

The beast's front hits my back. Instantly, I'm hot all over.

His chest is broad and strong, like his hands. I expect that he will pull himself away from me to put distance between us again, but he shifts slightly and presses himself closer. His hands tug gently at my waist. There's more physical heat from his chest, and it seems to surround me at the same time the magic does.

I need him. I need him to be inside me. There is no reason for him to wait to have what he wants, and I know he wants my innocence because I feel his attraction, too. His heart beats steadily against my back as I arch, making contact at more places. Every breath I take is warmer than the one before. How could I want such a thing? This time, the thought is a mere whisper, and I know that is not because of the magic itself. It is because the feel of his body is overwhelmingly tempting.

Every instinct in me craves to have me turn around and put my face in his neck. To inhale his scent. What would he do if I left a trail of kisses up his neck? Would his flesh respond to me the way I'm responding to him? I do not have the bravery to attempt it, but something in me wonders if I need bravery at all. Turning around would be disobedient, as he has only told me to walk and hasn't commanded me to face him, but the heat between us is a sure sign that he wouldn't reject me.

If I tilted my hips just so, I could press my body over his cock. I do not, but not because I fear what he might do.

I fear the magnitude of this wanting and what it may turn me into. Would I still be myself if I succumbed to the passion I feel for him? It cannot be a passion that I would be allowed in any other circumstance. I could never feel such passion for Lord Crawe. I cannot bring myself to tolerate the man, much less want him, and yet here with the beast, my body is alive with the forbidden possibilities he offers.

For the first time since we left the room, I do not care about the blindfold. It does not prevent me from feeling his body touching mine, and I can sense his strength and feel it without being able to see. It does not prevent me from wanting him and from feeling a slick heat between my legs. It does not prevent me from wishing to stay here and take no more steps until I have had more of him.

Again, my mind whispers the question that came to me after he left my bed.

How could I want such a thing?

I do not know. I only know that I want it, though I could not say what it is exactly I am so feverish for. My mind offers many possibilities, and each one is as forbidden as the last. They are things no innocent woman would dream of asking for or having, and certainly not from her captor, from the beast.

"Please," I whisper, my voice heady as my plea slips from between my lips.

I do not know what it is that I am asking the beast for. I can only hope he gives it to me.