Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
With my attention back on him, my questions about the duster don’t seem important anymore. Being able to see the man—the beast—who’s keeping me here is much more urgent.
“Can I see you?” I ask.
“No.” His answer comes much more quickly and definitively this time.
I don’t know where the courage comes from. Perhaps my disappointment, perhaps my hope, although my father used to tell me the two are related. “Why not?”
There is another short silence that gives me goosebumps. There is energy between us, even separated as we are by the expanse of the ballroom floor. I listen hard for any hint of a growl or the beast readying himself to leap out of the shadows, but none come.
“Questions I do not wish to answer will be given silence. Is that understood?”
I blink away the shock of his answer. I cannot deny that there is sadness in his tone, although it is hidden by the regal command. That sadness is what makes me want to ask more questions. If the story about the prince who traded himself for the safety of the village is true, has he come to regret it? Or was that not what happened at all? What lies have I been told?
“Answer me,” he commands.
“Yes.” I breathe, accepting his terms.
Facing him makes my heart pound, so I turn and walk about the room, feeling as though it’s alive. When I walk toward the feather duster it leaps up and begins sweeping again. When I move toward one of the windows, one of its lower panes opens and a fresh breeze blows in to cool my face. The moment I think I have had enough of the wind in my face, the window closes. Refreshed by the cool air, I turn to face the shadow where the beast is nearly hidden. His eyes shine in the moonlight, disappearing whenever he blinks.
“Is there anyone else here?” I ask cautiously. Though I do not speak loudly or shout, I can sense that the ballroom is carrying my voice to him so I will be easily heard.
“No.”
My heart twists. “You’re all alone?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the beast?” I know he is. There can be no mistaking it.
But the beast does not answer. The silence goes on long enough that I know it is purposeful. He is choosing not to answer this question.
My heart squeezes in my chest and I can’t deny the fear that lingers. “Are you who I was with…before?” I dare to ask.
“Yes.” His answer is breathy, quickly soothing the bout of fear.
I’m careful with my string of thoughts and questions. Eager for answers. Eager for more. “Do the people…the townsmen…when they refer to a beast here at the castle, is it you they speak of?”
“Yes.”
If this beast was living here, he may not be what the townspeople said. He would not answer when I asked him if he was the beast. The people in the village refer to him that way, but…
Is he not a beast? Surely he must be. He is the one who bit me and marked me and brought me here in the night. There is no one else he could be.
“Put the blindfold back on.”
I am so deep in thought that his voice startles me. I edge toward the wall, seeking any safety I can find, and press my back against it. The fear and desire and anticipation are only soothed a little by the magic. “Why?” I dare to question.
He moves in the shadows. “I want to feed you.”
THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST
Iwatch 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.