6. The Prince and the Beast

THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST

I t's a rare day I give up so much control. It's unsettling to say the least. The beast has us barreling with an unstoppable speed through the barren field with only our beauty in mind, and he's loud as fuck. Anger bristles with his recklessness, but I don't dare take over. He's far faster than I could ever be.

There are no shadows to hide in, no place to seek shelter. Only a large open field of dead, dried-up wheat that separates the dirt road and the village. The beast decided to sprint through as fast as he could, not giving a damn about the noise and not caring about my desire to be cautious. Gritting my teeth, I bite down the protest, eager to move as quickly as possible. Late into the night, the village sleeps, and we hunt down our sole desire.

He's fast and the black cloak aids in blending us into the dark night. The mist that surrounds us will give away our identity if we're seen. But the beast doesn't seem to give a single thought to what would transpire if we're seen. I pound my fist against him, gripping onto the fur I've loathed for years, urging the beast to go faster and to seek cover behind the buildings in the market as soon as possible. He snarls his protest, and I resist the urge to fight for control or to make even less of a disturbance.

The animal side of me, driven by primitive need, truly doesn't give a fuck. His desire to reach our beauty is the only thing he can focus on. The image of her, just as she was, is a steady focus for me as well. I'm desperate to get her in our grasp, but we can't risk being discovered. I don't hunger for bloodshed…I only hunger for her beneath me. Wanting and writhing for more.

Anxiousness takes over and my blood rushes in my ears. It's so damn loud I can hardly hear anything else. Adrenaline surges through my veins.

If a single soul sees me and tries to attack, or if they only scream, the beast will kill them without hesitation. He's practically salivating at the idea of conflict.

As my heart rages with every sharp pounding against the hard and unforgiving ground, I second-guess my decision. I gave him full control so he could lead us to my beauty. But now I'm worried that I've relented too much power. He's surrounded by those he considers enemies and he's more than willing to rip their throats out if challenged. One scream will lead to the next and the beast won't resist the temptation. It'll be a massacre until we're forced to retreat. It's a war we can't win and one I'm uninterested in pursuing.

If any conflict occurred, I could try to fight him back and force us to run away from the village, behind the wall and into the enchanted forest, but that would mean leaving her behind. A prick runs down my spine as I grit my teeth, vying for control, as the beast releases a snarl. I may not want a bloodbath, but I'm willing to risk it for my own selfish desire to have her. If I see former foes I want to destroy, my anger will only fuel the beast's rage, giving him more power to disregard my requests. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want revenge as well. I'm not nearly as bloodthirsty as the beast though; it's my only redeeming quality at this point. I only want to kill a select few— those who deserve to be slowly slaughtered by the beast for betrayal of the upmost kind.

Shoving the memories down in the depths of what's left of me, the rage boils inside as we push through the field, ignoring the dim lights of the houses on the far right side of us. They're only candles in the windows. Narrowing our gaze, we push forward with one thought in mind.

My beauty. Mine. Mine to take and mark as I wish.

Now is not the time for my bloodlust. I can't afford to entice the beast with retaliation. I need to focus only on the temptation that's led us to this endeavor. A warmth flows through my blood. My beauty. I concentrate on my plan and on her curves. The flowers in my inner pocket will keep her calm when I place them against her cheeks for her to inhale the intoxicating aroma. She'll dream of the enchanted forest, the magic that lured her to me, and us —our touch and her pleasure.

The beast lets out a low growl of approval at the image I conjure. His thoughts obsess with her as well, biting her neck and claiming her under the moonlight. I despise that I shared my first touch of her soft curves with him, but without his desire for her, I'd never be able to have her. When she wakes after dreaming of us, she may imagine she came back to the castle of her own accord. Who am I to correct her? The beast grins wickedly and chortles. He's in agreement with our plan. When we get her back to the castle we may be in disagreement, but for now, we'll work together to capture our beauty.

Mine to tease and fuck, and his to claim.

It feels as if an eternity of torment has passed, but finally, we break through the field and the beast stalks around the first building. My heart pounds in anticipation and suspense. There's no light inside, but I recognize the structure as the trader's shop from long ago. He takes in a large breath and focuses his eyes across the dirt path to a smaller building and jogs to it, making far too much commotion, then circling it. Thank fuck it's nearly midnight and there's no one in sight. I focus on the structure and take in the smells with the beast. The bakery. Hmmm. Our little beauty is a baker?

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.

"You'll have some time to get to know him." Her response to his placating tone is only a grief-stricken sob. "When you're my age you'll understand, Elle. He'll take care of you."

Some time passes with silence. I wait with bated breath. The beast pushes forward with impatience.

Quiet but steady steps, followed by the creak of a door closing, suggests her father has left her alone in the room. She continues to cry, although now her sobs are nearly silent and interrupted by shaking breaths. After a long moment of silence, I hesitate to look but the urge is too strong and I cave to temptation.

The dimly lit fire casts small shadows across the room. I quickly make out what looks to be a rather small bedroom. A cot in the corner catches my eye. I make out her small form huddled under a blanket. Her body shakes gently with her sobs.

My heart clenches in pain. Doubt plagues my conscience. For the first time in years I feel sympathy and compassion. It's paralyzing. Everything in my being warns me; I need to ease her pain. Her pain is mine, the thought comes from the beast. Surely it's only so she'll be more willing to stay with me. To do as I please. If I make her content then she will be in my debt. Hopefulness and delight replace those unwanted dreadful emotions. Since she's unhappy here, I can take advantage of her situation and use it to keep a hold on her. A wicked grin pulls at my lips as my plan takes form.

We'll wait for her to sleep. The beast nods in agreement.

Then we'll make our move.