14. The Prince and the Beast

THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST

I watch from the shadows as Elle lifts her chin then unwinds the blindfold from her hand. The moonlight lends her an ethereal beauty. She looks to be made from shadow and moonlight, the blindfold dark on her fair skin. Like this was all meant to happen in time and the moon became what it is just to exist for this moment.

She takes a tentative step away from the wall and lifts the blindfold to her eyes, wrapping it carefully around her head and knotting it in the back, her fingers nimble and her movements precise so that she does not tangle her hair in the knot. Elle slides her fingertips over the fabric, settling it into place. Her position near the window allows me to see every breath she takes. Shallow but not fearful. The scent of her is rich with nervousness for a few moments until the magic wraps around her again, quelling her fears.

I know she enjoyed seeing the ballroom. I heard her breath catch several times over as she discovered the moldings, the painted ceiling, and the glinting gold details that are everywhere in this room designed to awe and impress guests that come to the castle.

She loves the finer things. The art especially. It's curious how she responded to the will of the castle and the magic that holds power over nearly everything. Bringing to life her desires. I've never seen it work for anyone else. It's only ever bowed to my desires. And now…hers.

Elle is the first guest in a long time to appreciate the beauty of my ballroom. She stands tall and brave with her shoulders back and her chin lifted. I would not know by her posture that she was blindfolded at all, she carries herself so proudly.

Her posture falters slightly as she breathes deep, her shoulders begin to round, but she straightens again. The faint scent of dinner pulls me from my thoughts.

She will not go hungry when she is within these walls. She will not go without pleasure or warmth. I can provide for her what no one else can. Luxury and protection. Surely that will be enough.

I approach her slowly, keeping my footsteps even and confident. The beast still slumbers inside me. It is only a matter of time before he wakes, reasserting his dominance, but for now I am in command as I cross the ballroom floor to Elle. Her breathing quickens as I get closer, but she controls herself, though she cannot stop her trembling completely. If I was not making an effort I might be trembling as well. That is how strong the pull between us is. That is how strong my desire for her is.

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.

"I do not wish to hurt anyone," I admit and the heaviness of it hits me unexpectedly. It is difficult to lay myself bare this way, although I am hidden from her by the blindfold. "I only crave you. It may pass, but I…" The words catch in my throat. "I crave you to the point of madness. So you will remain inside the castle walls."

Elle takes a shuddering breath. The beast notices this even from his resting state. Is it him who drives me to madness for Elle, or is it me? I have fought him for so long, but looking at her like this, obedient and compliant and hungry for me, makes me question whether I was fighting the cursed beast or my own impulses.

"No one has ever said such a thing to me before," she replies softly. I can hear her heart pounding in her chest. I think I may hear it even if I did not have the beast within me, for that is how much I crave her.

It is not enough only to hear the sound. It defies reason that no one has wanted Elle this much before, but then it is impossible for anyone else to need her as I do.

Unable to stop myself, I grip her hand tighter, as if unwilling to let her go.

Elle startles slightly at the touch, but after a beat she holds my hand back. Her heart is pounding harder than I realized. I can feel the life coursing through her, and the heat and warmth she possesses.

Elle feels so very human under my touch. So very alive and untouched by the wickedness of any curse. The way her heart beats is only for me, and I am entranced by it. I had expected more fear from her when she heard what I am offering, but it is small compared to her desire.

Her other hand lifts from mine as if to touch me, hesitantly moving toward my face.

I make a sharp tsk sound, drawing the hand that held hers back and warning her away.

Elle's hand falls to the table. Her hand curls around the edge once again. She worries at her bottom lip with her teeth, thinking.

"Is this…" Elle begins tentatively. "Is all of this an act of the magic?"

"I do not know." When I was first living with the beast inside me, struggling to regain control over my life, hoping that I might be able to leave the castle and live among people again, I had convinced myself that every raw urge was the fault of the magic and the curse alone. Now, having tasted Elle and felt the sweet clench of her pleasure, I cannot be sure. She is the first and only who has caused such madness.

Elle opens her mouth as if to speak but hesitates. I can see the smallest movements of her tongue in her mouth, rising to touch her teeth, and I want to hold her chin in my hand and keep her still so I can continue to watch until the sun rises.

And perhaps until the sun sets again.

Perhaps if Elle was here with me always, it would not matter how many days had passed. Until I saw her on that swing and knew her to be mine, the passing of time was slow and painful, as the beast dictated so much of my life and would not allow me to return to anything that could be considered normal. I saw the years stretch before me, empty and devoid of affection or even conversation.

"What is it you're thinking?" I question in her silence.

She takes a small breath, her heart slowing slightly underneath my palm.

"I am drawn to you as well," Elle admits in a soft voice. I could already feel the desire emanating from her, but it is a unique pleasure to hear her say something that should be utterly forbidden. She should not be drawn to me, rather repulsed, and yet…it may be because she has not seen me. She must agree. And then she will learn to live with the beast as I have. "If you allow me to send my father a note that I am well and perhaps a package of food?—"

"No."

Her face falls.

"No one can know you are here," I continue. This is of the utmost importance. The news cannot spread in town that Elle is in my castle and intending to stay. I cannot have what happened before. She is my secret. And so she must remain hidden.

"I would not…I do not need to disclose my location," she says quickly, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest. "Only that I am well and cared for."

Her voice shakes with the last bit and my mind reels with a compromise. If only to get her to agree.

Her intentions when it comes to her father are pure and more than the man deserves. Elle's father had her sleeping in a room that chilled her at night and did not value her enough to keep her away from men like Crawe. And yet she does not want him to worry after her. She wants her father to be fed, too. We're seated at a table covered in the finest delicacies my kitchens could prepare, and Elle is still thinking of her father.

"I will consider your request if you obey me and agree."

Elle exhales unsteadily. More heat fills the magic around her and between the two of us. The beast stretches inside me, beginning to wake. The scent in the air is undeniably one of lust, and my need for her grows until I feel it cannot be contained, much like the beast. If he wants something enough, he will come to the forefront and take control. I know he wants Elle enough, and can sense, without understanding the complexity of our situation, what having her will do for him.

For both of us.

I breathe through the nearly overwhelming urge to pin her and lick her and have her. To remind her that she is already claimed. Mine. She is mine. Possessiveness surges through me.

Elle leans forward, pressing her body closer to me.

Another sharp wave of lust steals my breath. It is not mine alone, but Elle's, too. My mind fills with questions. Is it the power of the magic? Is it the forbidden?

Or is it something else?