12. The Prince and the Beast

THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST

E lle's body pressed so close to mine is fucking heaven. I've never felt such a stir of desire and pull. Not a damn thing in this world has brought this feeling over me. She is the only thing I can smell, feel, think about. Fuck ! What does this woman do to me? Is it her? Or is it what I've become? My obsession with every small breath of hers is undeniable.

I breathe in the scent of her hair and her skin and the warm heat of her. She's already aroused, her lithe body arching tentatively against mine, and I'm drawn to the scent of her sweetness, too. More than anything else.

I'm almost overwhelmed by the delicacy of her scent and how quickly it has changed in my home. I distinctly remember the scent of her skin outside as I carried her through the enchanted forest. Elle was not as warm in her bed as she could have been, and I wrapped her in my cloak to protect her from the chill of the night, but it seeped in next to her skin.

The night air had been fresh and had the ever-present scent of the magic behind the enchantments. Elle's face and hair had been slightly cold when I arrived back home with her, but she warmed quickly when I brought her to the bedroom. Her scent has warmed and grown more complex from only one night with me. The beast is far too aware, and I urge him away. The only thing more surprising than my obsession with her is how the beast listens now that we both have her in our grasps.

Yet the trappings of her old life linger under that new scent. There is the bakery where she worked, handling sweet things and breathing in air that was warmed with the aroma of rising dough. There is the faint tinge of her fear, not of me but of the man that her father might have given her to.

The beast stirs but does not growl and leap to the forefront, an odd reaction when the memory of her father's words is so vivid in my mind.

These are the beast's senses, not mine, although I do not remember now what it was like to be without his enhancements to my human senses. So many times over the years we have battled for dominance, the beast taking control and making it clear I could not defeat him, or me shoving him aside through only the greatest effort. There have been times when I wished to be free of him, unraveling our separate ways of being so that I knew where he ended and I began.

If Elle didn't smell so sweet, I might be angry at the closeness of the two of us. It wasn't always this way, for it can't have been, but with my nose pressed to her hair I am accepting of the beast's embedded nature within me. I still know his presence as a curse, but I cannot help enjoying the benefit. There is so much purity, yet intense longing, in Elle's scent. The sweet-salt scent of her arousal blends in equal measure with yesterday's breeze in her hair and the bed sheets we slept in and even the way I put my mouth and fingers to her skin and made her come.

I breathe her in again.

Then again.

I realize I'm cautious because I expect the beast to lunge forward, seizing control and having his way with her. He abandons himself to his urges without understanding the human world. He only wants what he wants. I take such deep breaths because the opportunity is rare when I am in full control and not at the mercy of the beast's animal desires. I want to remember this about her every time I am the one at the forefront. Every time I have control over my hands and my body.

Not all of my body, however. There are some things I can't control even when the beast is sated.

And the beast is sated inside me. I inhale Elle again, almost trying to tempt him, but he is restful. He does not try to push me away so he can follow his urges. This is a shocking proposition given how wild he was to claim her and have her. He could barely be controlled in those moments when his blood ran hot and the world turned red. He was considerably more animal when Elle's father spoke of giving her away to another man.

Now, he relishes her closeness and seems sure of it, though there is the idea within him that we should drag her to the baths and wash off all the evidence that Elle was ever somewhere else, sleeping under someone else's roof.

I expect the beast to rise at that thought, too, since he has been with me all these years, fighting for space and dominance, but he does not. That could be because he is satisfied with having her here. We are both satisfied with having her here.

But I am more satisfied, I think.

We have battled so many times that when he does not fight, uneasiness fills me. I try to sense more about him, but it is difficult to separate us with Elle so near. It is as if he has laid his senses over mine and they have melded together.

Again, I wait to see if the beast will try to wrest control from me, but he does not.

Elle's heartbeat slows down, but when I focus, I can tell that it is my own perception of time. It's almost as if it's stretching out so I can dwell on the feeling of her so close to me. We are at a threshold, the two of us. She has found the doorway to the staircase with her hand and hesitates as if staying here with me will get her what she wants.

What do you want, my beauty? I would give her everything for her to stay just like this. Allowing me to have her as I wish, obeying my commands. And giving me peace that I have not had since the curse was laid upon me.

Even with Elle's small frame in my grasp, the beast does not take over. I begin to relax into the idea that he will not, at least for the time being. He will allow my hands the freedom to explore her without the surge of animal lust.

Because of this, the lust I feel is entirely human. It is not altogether different from the way the beast wants and takes. There is an element to it that reminds me of the beast at his most dangerous, but I do not want to dwell on those thoughts when the way Elle said please echoes in the air around us.

My cock grows harder with her body against mine. For a few seconds I consider what it might be like to let the madness take me again.

She takes a shuddering breath, adjusting her body minutely. Such a small change, but Elle feels entirely new against me. It must be the beast's senses that allow me to see her movements with such clarity. It was the smallest shift of her shoulders and her hips, the most subtle repositioning, and yet it has also changed how the blood runs through her veins and how she fills her lungs with air.

I want to breathe with her. I want our two bodies to be connected by more than possession. I want them to be connected in every possible way.

"Please," Elle whispers again. Her hands remain at her sides, forearms over where I am holding her hips. It is far too much to bear without letting the beast claim her, but again, he does not.

Why is this happening? Is it because I want her in the same way the beast does? Am I cursed to want her so ferally, so dangerously, for all time? If that is the outcome of the curse, then it has done its job. If it has made me and the beast one and the same, there may be no way to divide the two of us.

I know there is no imminent danger that she will escape. The magic soothes her enough that she is more curious than frightened. Still, I'm torn between the old ways of wooing a woman with gifts and gentle words and the beast's way of claiming her. It is true that I stole her from her bed and brought her, sleeping, to the castle. It is true that she asked me to let her go and I refused. It is true that there is little pretty words will do when she knows she is not free to leave.

But there must be some balance. The more I breathe her scent, the more clearly I understand that the beast's urges are more similar to my own than I want to admit. I wanted to think I was fighting a monster, an animal, for control of my body, and that still remains true.

There are parts of me that are more beast than man.

And yet I will never know how I might have responded to Elle without this curse. Would the man I was before have walked through the enchanted forest and waited outside her window to carry her away? Would he have sought out the bakery where she sold goods and offered her a position in the castle or even suggested marriage?

There is no sense in thinking how things might have gone, because the curse is within me and has been for so long that I despair of ever getting it out.

But I do think of it. I do think of all the many ways I might have found her and wooed her and perhaps even spirited her away. And what I find when I let my mind linger on them is a very similar ending to this one.

It may be that I was always the sort of man who would take a woman this way.

I push that thought out of my mind. With the beast under control, I'm too eager to soak in Elle's presence at this moment, which has grown longer in spite of how time ticks endlessly on. Every year has seemed like a century since I was cursed, and for the first time since that day, I do not mind the way this pause in the hallway seems to stretch out.

I want to slide one hand from her hip to the front of her body, but I force myself to wait until I'm sure I am steady and the beast is quiet before I inch my hand forward to the front of her hip. She is delicate here, too, and sensitive. She gasps, her gorgeous lips part, but she does not object.

An unsolicited groan escapes me, and I do not know if it came from the beast or me as my cock hardens, wanting and needing more of her. Of those sweet gasps.

I allow myself another inch, my fingertips meeting the softness of her belly over the hard line of her hips. Elle takes shallow breaths, her pulse racing underneath her skin. I can hear her heart beating as well, as loudly as if it were in my own body. I can hear her dress moving over her body as my hand changes the way the fabric hangs. I can even hear the way her feet meet the floor, not quite steady, but not quite unsteady either.

I do not trust myself to speak. I have determined that Elle must see the castle and agree to stay before she can see me, and to speak aloud would expose more of me than she is possibly ready to witness. I cannot risk going against my plan, though I want to murmur words into her ear. I want to give her an answer to her plea.

I move my hand another few inches until my entire palm is against her belly. The muscles flutter as she breathes, waiting.

As I am waiting.

Though I do not know what I am waiting for. I am no longer waiting for the beast to lay his claim to Elle. I am waiting to know my own mind, but there is little to know when the urges of my body are so strong.

I crave her madly. It is in an animal way. I want to take her to the floor and push her dress up around her waist and have her quench both our thirsts, the beast and mine. I want to be buried inside her. I want to give her as much pleasure as her body can handle and help her to the ground.

If I stand here another moment, that is the course I will take and nothing will be able to stop me once I've started.

Before Elle can move again, I pull back, creating space between us, and lift her into my arms. It is an entirely different experience from carrying her while she was sleeping.

Elle's hands lift as though to remove the blindfold. I gather her tighter in my arms in a silent command to stop.

Breathing fast, Elle freezes then lowers her hands.

What would I see if she had gone against my implicit orders and removed the blindfold? How would her eyes look? Would they be filled with fear or would they be dark with the desire I can scent all over her skin?

I think it would be desire, and it pulls me to her almost unbearably.

I do not lower my mouth to hers or walk her back toward the bedroom. I do not put her on the floor to have her here. I master my own body first, ignoring the surging need in my cock, and move through the threshold.

The tips of Elle's slippered toes brush against the doorframe as we go, and then we are descending, Elle still and pliant in my arms. She does not fight me and does not seem to have any mind to. That could be her desire, or it could be the magic, or it could be both. I make no judgment. It is not the time to make a judgment. It is only time to move before the beast takes control again.

She stays that way, her scent filling my every breath, as I carry her downstairs to execute my plan without deviation.