16. Elle

ELLE

I 've never felt so light and yet so heavy. So at peace and ease and yet consciously aware of what's been done and what cannot be taken back. I'm warm everywhere in my body when the beast pulls away. The feeling of hot, wet release between my legs captures all my attention for a moment and I struggle to catch my breath. My muscles shake, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sensation he poured into me. It is hard to think in this state, but gradually I become aware that he is breathing roughly, as if something's wrong.

Magic instantly surrounds me, soothing the thought out of my mind. He cannot have been unhappy, because I heard the sounds he made as he took me as well. I heard the relief hidden in the feral growls. It was as if he had been caged for many years and had finally been set free.

I will admit, I feel the same. The pulsing pleasure that remains between my legs feels entirely new and I am relieved, though it takes me several moments to figure out why.

The beast has claimed me.

Oddly, my lips are lulled into a contented smile. As if my dreams came true. As if this was all supposed to happen.

Bit by bit the memories are etched into my mind and replayed. He licked the wine from my chin and my chest, nipping at my skin. They were not bites like he gave me on the swing to leave marks but almost as if to explore. I felt his control snap when he began to push into me, and I felt the expectation of my life in the village break away from me at that moment as well. I didn't ever expect to behave so wantonly even in my marriage bed, and I cannot think of a man in the village who would have turned me so desperate and seeking the way the beast has.

His knuckles brush the inside of my thigh and move up through the mess he's made of me, settling one more time at my pussy. My heart races in anticipation, still unable to see and not knowing what happens next. The beast makes an even rougher sound, then hisses as if he has discovered someone else's wrongdoing.

I do not know what it means. My lack of experience and naivety play tricks on me. Doubting what I feel. Denying the pull as some foolish thought.

When he kissed me, I felt that we were both giving in to the magic and the tension between us. There may have been shame in that before but there can't be any now.

A cloth presses gently between my legs, cleaning up some of the mess, and then the beast pulls my dress down. His gentle touch is at odds with how he just was. He takes me by the waist, avoiding the places where his fingers dug into my hips before, and lifts me down from the table. I'm barefooted, and I cannot say where my house slippers are.

I start to ask if he knows where they are or if he wants me to find them and sway instead, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the food and the late hour. I have to brace myself. My eyes begin to close behind the blindfold, which has managed to stay in place while the beast had his way with me. I can still feel him…and something else. Something that pulls me into a deep slumber.

The last thing I am aware of is being carried in a strong pair of arms and a blanket being pulled over me before I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Days go by, and they are nothing like the night I arrived in the castle.

I wake in an empty bed with sunlight streaming through the window. No notes appear on the floor instructing me what to wear. There are underthings in the wardrobe and any dress I wear is cleaned and hung to wear again while I am asleep.

It is pleasant most places in the castle, but I do not see the beast.

I waited for him the first morning, but after breakfast appeared on a tray in my room and I've eaten and explored every inch of the room I know best, I decide to venture out. And what a sight it all is to behold. I am bewitched by the estate.

The castle is large and I move slowly through the hall outside my bedroom, looking at all that I could not see the first night I was here. The blindfold made that impossible, although night would not have been the best time to observe the halls. There is much to see in any castle, I suppose, but this one is carefully decorated without being crowded. I pause before each painting and look at them with the same sense of awe I had in the ballroom.

They're breathtaking. The details and finery. It was once said that he had destroyed every ounce of beauty and the magic cast darkness in every corner. They were lies I was told. For there is nothing but beauty and life in every inch of this place.

When a day comes and goes with no sign of the beast, I find my bed turned down and the candles low in the room. A hot mug of chamomile tea waits on my bedside table. It soothes me into another deep sleep. It is never cold the way it was when I slept in my father's cottage. I do not wake in the night shivering, pulling a thin blanket around me. I have pleasant dreams of being full of delicious food and lulled by the weight of a fine comforter, and I wake with the sun in my window and the fire still crackling in the grate.

Although I do worry about my father and what he thinks. He has no idea where I've gone. And I have no idea what has happened in my absence.

I go a second day without seeing the beast or any sign of him. I do not hear his footsteps following me in the hall. I do not hear him commanding any of the castle's objects to work.

He's nowhere to be found and that makes me anxious. I can't fight the turmoil that brews inside.

I begin to wonder if I misinterpreted the things we did on the dining room table. I find the room itself and look in, but there is nothing to suggest he fucked me atop the table after feeding me from his hand. It is a gorgeous dining room with heavy, expensive furniture, but he is not waiting there for me.

That night the beast seemed different, almost unable to stop touching me, unable to stop kissing me or licking the wine from my body. He seemed driven to have me by something stronger than magic, and I felt the same. He kissed me and fucked me with such ferocity that at times I wondered if he had lost control to the urges of his body, which I would not have minded.

It meant something to me that I cannot place…but I have no idea what it meant to him.

I'm left to my own thoughts, looking at a large painting of a grand battle scene with knights on horseback valiantly charging into the fray. Those whose faces are visible look courageous and determined. Am I like those knights, or is it the beast who is determined?

Perhaps it is both of us.

It cannot have been an accident, however. He took me from my father's house and brought me here, for I cannot have passed through the wall and gotten myself through the forest alone without waking.

Although there were those vines in the trees, wrapping around my ankle and pulling me…

No, I think there would have been evidence of that. Scratches from tree branches and bruised toes, and I have neither. Right? My sanity plays tricks on me.

So he cannot have made a mistake. What happened was not a mistake, I'm sure. I felt his mouth, hot and desperate on mine, and it was not the touch of a man who wanted to be doing something else.

I do not know what went wrong. I do not know what has made him retreat into silence and avoid me. It is not difficult in a castle this size, but why would he want to?

He told me to obey him, and I did so with almost ease and enjoyment, because his kiss made me want more. If I had shown that I was not willing, I think he would have drawn back. I did not feel any hesitation that night, save for a little when I woke up and found myself in a castle far from home. The question of whether it was the magic or his presence that made me feel that way seems almost irrelevant, but as the day stretches on and I do not see him, my thoughts return to the topic again and again.

I nearly debate leaving. Simply walking out of the gate. But fear keeps me from testing that boundary. That and my promise that I would stay. If I were to go back home, Crawe may be waiting for me. They will need answers as to what's happened.

My heart races with endless possibilities of the tragedy that may occur either way. Along with the judgment and penalties for what I've done.

The moment the sadness consumes me and my thoughts travel down that round, the magic pulls me somewhere else in the castle. With trinkets I've only heard of before, I'm suddenly swept away into wonderment.

There is little else to think of. I am relatively free within the castle. It's peaceful and quiet aside from the movements of the objects that dust and mop in the rooms and halls closest to mine. Every morning, the bed I am sleeping in remakes itself with fresh sheets, the fabric hovering over the mattress. The pillows fluff themselves. The comforter smooths itself out and tucks itself in tight as if done by the most experienced housekeeper. In the afternoons, the floor is swept by a broom that dances over the floors. I see this happen in other bedrooms, sheets snapping and flying and tucking themselves into mattresses, each room seeming to prepare for something, though no one arrives.

I do not think anyone else lives here. I do not see servants or housekeepers or footmen. For all the motion in the castle keeping it perfectly clean, it begins to seem quite empty.

I explore the long hallways. Some doors open as I approach, inviting me in to see the trinkets or antiques that lay within. They are dark and dusty, these rooms, but when I walk in and imagine them cleaned and bright, the house springs to life again. Windows open, letting in fresh air and closing themselves before they make the rooms uncomfortably cold. Brooms appear to take the dust from the floors.

Where is the beast? Where has he gone?

I do not think he has left the castle, but if he has, I do not think I can go after him. He has forbidden me from leaving. I think stepping away from the castle grounds would be obvious disobedience, and I would not be able to get a message to my father, nor convince the beast to send one.

Have I imagined the beast?

For a little while, I wonder if I've made all this up in my mind. It could be that I wanted to escape Crawe so badly that I've fallen into a dream and can't be woken. Maybe I'm lying in my bed at my father's cottage right now, my father leaning over me, worriedly trying to wake me.

But then that cannot be. Just as the scar from the beast's bite mark still lingers on my shoulder, the bruises he pressed into my hips also linger. I check for them each morning in the mirror and while they are beginning to fade away, I can still see them. I can feel the echoes of the friction between us and the heat of him inside me.

In the afternoons I look at more paintings or curl up in a chair by a fireplace, relishing the peace. This life is one I've never felt before. Sleeping with ease and worrying for nothing…apart from my father. It was not often in the village that I was able to take time for myself after reaching womanhood. My father needed all the money I could earn, which was not much but it kept us from starving.

In the castle, I have no fear of starving. My breakfast appears each morning in my room, and lunch appears wherever I happen to be in the castle, usually on a convenient table with a chair and a window to look out of. The same goes for dinner. Everything I am served is as fine as the food the beast fed me, but it does not have quite the same appeal as when I was able to suck it off his fingers.

On the third day I find the kitchen.

It is late afternoon, and the light is golden in the spacious kitchen equipped to feed ballrooms full of people. The light falls on sturdy countertops, gleaming copper pots, and rows of polished knives and ladles and serving forks.

It comes to life as I enter, the tea kettle jumping on the stove. As I wander nearer to a pair of wide sinks, they turn on, spilling clear water below. I rinse my hands in the water, finding it pleasantly cool. On the window ledge, a small, lush herb garden grows, the plants fragrant. When I reach to touch the carved wood of the box, a watering can floats from its hook, fills itself with water at the sink, and sprinkles water over the herbs.

It entertains me, the magic does. I'm entranced by it and all it does.

On one shelf, I find a row of cookbooks. Some are heavy and ornate, while others are smaller and worn. I choose one of the ones that looks loved and open the leather cover. The pages have illustrations here and there and finally the cookbook falls open to a recipe for a fruit tart.

I place my finger on the page, thinking to read through the list of ingredients, but at my touch cabinets open with a bang , startling me. I drop the cookbook to the countertop and whirl to discover what's happening.

Various cabinets open and items fly out. A bowl spins to a stop on the huge island at the center of the kitchen. An icebox opens and fruits soar out, arranging themselves next to the bowl. Sugar and butter float from somewhere nearby. My heart races as I realize what's happening. I turn back to the cookbook and stare at the list of ingredients.

Before long the kitchen has gathered everything necessary to make the fruit tart. I watch in astonishment as dough is prepared and rolled out and settled into a circular tin. The filling mixes itself together with plenty of sugar, the white grains coating the fruit. I think of Ara at the bakery, her hands red and sore from the work she begins before sunrise and of how much time this would save her.

Would this magic work outside of the castle? How far can the magic go? I do not know, and I watch, entranced, as the oven glows brighter and the prepared tart floats inside.

I've heard of witches…perhaps an essence remains. I do not know, but my mind wanders as the kitchen utensils move around me.

The light begins to fade as the sun sets, glowing orange through the window. It finishes sinking into the horizon as the tart pops from the oven and floats to a rack to cool. Candles burn to life in sconces on the walls, illuminating the kitchen with comforting light.

That is when I hear footsteps in the hall.

They pause outside the door, then enter, but I keep my eyes on the window as they move across the room. I think the beast is moving behind a wall that leads to a large pantry.

My breath quickens and I stay perfectly still. I haven't got my blindfold with me. I wait for a command, finding myself hoping that it is him. Realizing just how lonely I've been without him.

It is darker on that end of the kitchen, and my heart races. I want to turn and search for his eyes in the shadows, but I do not. The last rays of the sun fade, and nervousness sets in. I have come to the kitchen without permission. The beast did not forbid me from coming here, but he did not permit it, either. There have been no notes on the bedroom floor telling me where to go or what to wear, but that does not mean he has no thoughts about it. And now I have had the house prepare a tart from his stores.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice soft but seeming loud in the kitchen after days of quiet. "I didn't know?—"

"Do not be," the beast answers before I can finish my apology. "It pleases me that you make yourself comfortable."

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I move to the counter, and the tart slides off the rack and settles itself in the space next to it. It's a perfect fruit tart. When I hover my hand above it, I find it has cooled enough to cut. A knife presents itself as soon as I have the thought and cuts the tart into even pieces. Two small plates float from the cupboard and arrange themselves on the counter as well, and dessert forks follow them, along with a small serving fork, which plates a slice of tart on each of the plates.

"Would you like some?" I ask, my heart thundering. The beast's presence in the kitchen is heady and makes me wish he was closer, yet I know I cannot approach him. I can almost smell the masculine scent of him, and it fills my mind with more questions. I press my lips shut and do not ask them.

There is a pause as he considers. "Do not attempt to look when I'm behind you," he commands.

I nod, already imagining that would be a request, and fix my eyes firmly on the window. His footsteps draw nearer and my heart beats even harder. One of the plates slides off the counter, and I finally lower my eyes to the plates and pick up my fork and take a bite.

Heat takes over my body and the closer he gets, the higher the temperature. My body begs for me to bow to him, to plead with him for a kiss or for his touch. But I stay calm and wait. Merely taking the smallest bite of the tart.

The tart is a perfect balance of the sweetness of fruit and sugar, but as I swallow, my chest aches.

Is this my destiny? To be alone with the magic and the beast forever? I did not think that was what he meant that night in the dining room, and now I think it must be.

Silver clinks on china behind me. I take another bite, trying to keep my breathing steady. It is hard to swallow, and maybe that's what make me brave enough to speak.

"Will you come during the day?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel but still soft and hopeful. "If I promise I will not look?"

There is silence, and my heart sinks. If this is one of the questions he does not want to answer…

"Are you lonely?" comes his deep voice.

"Yes," I admit, the pang in my chest even stronger.

He inhales. "Not as lonely as I."

I do not know how to answer him without asking more questions. I think if I were to press, then he would stay silent, and if he stays silent and refuses to speak to me at all, the silence might be worse than wandering alone through the halls.

His plate clicks on the counter. I do not look at it but set my own plate down. A single glance tells me that the beast's plate is empty. Mine is still almost full.

"Let me show you the library," he says.

The beast guides me through the halls with a light touch on the small of my back, but this time he does not blindfold me. I keep my eyes forward, resisting the urge to lean into his touch and turn toward him, seeing his face at last.

A set of double doors opens before us and the beast guides me into the largest library I have ever seen. It must be as tall as the castle itself and is no less grand than the ballroom. Paintings cover the ceiling with gold glinting in the candlelight. Heavy shelves hold hundreds and hundreds of books. Only someone with unimaginable wealth would be able to afford this many books and a room such as this to keep them in.

I do not even know what the cost would be or if the village combined could afford such luxury.

"May I…" My voice shakes, forcing me to start again. "May I come here often?"

"You may roam all you wish apart from the highest floor of the tower."

I have not gone there yet. There is much in the castle to explore, and the tower did not call to me. If I felt anything, it was a quiet suggestion to stay away.

"What is there?" I ask, my eyes tracing the spines of the books on the nearest shelf.

"None of your concern."

I hold my breath, waiting to see if he will continue, or if he will touch me, or hold me, or perhaps even kiss me, but after a silence thick with tension, his footsteps retreat toward the door and fade away, making it feel even more quiet.

When I finally brave a glance behind me, the beast has gone.