Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (14 page)

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Authors: MJ Haag

Tags: #fairy tale historical beauty and the beast classics love fantasy witch

BOOK: Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel
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Chapter 8

I stared into the darkness long after I blew
out my candle.

“Benella,” the beast whispered nearby,
startling me. “Would you like to understand how a woman’s energies
become pent?”

“Yes,” I said with frustration. I didn’t see
how he could accurately enlighten me, though, given his lack of
success with Rose.

“It will take time,” he said. “Several days
perhaps. And I cannot tell you, I must show you.”

Ah. So perhaps his lack of success with Rose
wasn’t due to his understanding but his technique. Showing would be
beneficial.

“And I will need to touch you. With no
restrictions.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“No fornication,” I warned.

“No, Benella,” he said with a softly amused
calm.

“You have my permission, then,” I said, very
curious as to what exactly he would do. “But only on the condition
that you will stop whenever I tell you.”

He lay next to me and pulled me close like
he’d done so many times before.

“Agreed. Now, sleep,” he whispered, the
furred tips of his fingers stroking the skin of my arm. It felt so
good, my eyes soon drifted closed.

During the night, I woke to his touch on my
bare stomach. It remained feather light, but insistent. It traced a
pattern skimming the bottom side of my right breast before dipping
and barely brushing the curls between my legs.

I frowned, worried. His erection pressed
into my backside.

“Relax,” he whispered, moving his touch back
to my arm where it caused less concern. Again, he lulled me to
sleep.

In the morning, I woke next to him, my gown
gone. His hands roamed over my stomach and arms. A burst of heat
ignited in my stomach when his fingers brushed over a breast, just
missing the nipple.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” I returned, uncomfortable
and ready to ask him to stop. But he stood without me asking.

His eyes ran the length of me, and my heart
stuttered.

“I’ll leave you to dress,” he said.

With a slight grin on his lips, he walked to
his room and closed the connecting doors.

I lay there for a moment, stunned. He’d
touched me and walked away. His control relieved me. Yet, if that
was an example of how he attempted to build Rose’s energies, no
wonder it didn’t work.

Dressed in trousers and a shirt, I met him
in the hallway.

“Interesting choice of clothes. What do you
have in mind today?”

“I thought we might fish again.”

“Lead on,” he said willingly.

Remembering my comment from the last time we
left the safety of the walls, he offered to toss me over the wall,
which I quickly accepted. My stomach churned in delight as I sailed
through the air. I landed with a light bounce in the vine net. Once
it released me, the beast landed softly by my side.

At the river, I rolled up my pant legs,
dangled my feet in the water, and sat back to think. The beast’s
skills were lacking and the Sisters wouldn’t help me. I didn’t have
many other options to try to help him. Bryn would ask too many
questions if I approached her, and I wasn’t sure if Blye had the
experience.

“You’re very quiet,” he said from beside
me.

“I’m trying to determine our next course,” I
replied distractedly.

Did I dare speak with Rose to find out where
he was lacking? She’d spoken very frankly regarding his efforts
before. But what if asking upset her? Would I then end up as a
beast, too? Not a very pleasant prospect. Speaking to her would be
my last, dire resort.

“What do you mean?”

“To help you last a full night with Rose.
I’d thought perhaps if we could improve your skill at building a
woman’s pent energies, we might succeed the next time, but I’m not
knowledgeable—”

“Improve my skill?” he sputtered
indignantly.

“Well, last night, you didn’t inspire—”

“It was not supposed to.” His exasperation
was obvious.

“Then what was the purpose?”

“Did you fear me touching you this
morning?”

I shook my head. Even naked I hadn’t been
afraid, just uncertain.

“Did you feel anything just before I
left?”

The way he watched me had me wondering if he
knew.

“A bit of warmth in my middle, but nothing
lingering after I dressed for the day.”

He reached over, plucked the pole from my
hands, and set it out of the way. Then, he gently pushed me back so
I lay on the bank. I calmly let him have his way, until he slowly
began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Sir?”

“Shh. I want to prove a point and mean you
no harm.”

I wrinkled my nose, which made him smile,
but he didn’t stop. With my bindings exposed, he traced his fingers
over my stomach again.

“So the warmth was here?”

My heart gave an odd flip again as I
nodded.

“What exactly caused it?”

I blushed scarlet and quickly sat up.

“I’d rather not discuss this. I think my
approach was misguided. Even if I had the knowledge, I don’t think
I could impart it without...well, doing this." I waved a hand at my
flushed face. “Have you ever considered visiting the Sisters?
Perhaps they would be willing to—”

He barked out a laugh. “An intriguing idea.
But you’re here now and can tell me what exactly I did wrong.” He
tugged on my shirt, encouraging me to lie back down.

I cleared my throat and attempted to ignore
my heated face.

“I wouldn’t say there was a wrong action.
Nothing disturbed me or frightened me. Neither did anything inspire
me,” I said, using his words.

“I see. Please consider giving me another
chance,” he said softly, his fingers once again trailing my
stomach.

“Honestly, I don’t see how that will help.
You have had fifty years of trying,” I said softly and without
censure.

“But if you’re willing to tell me the
effects of what I am trying, I can adjust my technique. Improve
perhaps?”

Something about the look in his eyes made me
nervous.

“And you will stop when I say?”

“Of course,” he assured me.

I hesitantly nodded my agreement, and his
grin widened.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded, then softly
added, “please.”

In the obscurity behind my eyelids, I waited
for something, unsure what to expect. What he gave was the same
touch on my stomach as before. A slow swirl of his fingers over my
skin. A circle that slowly expanded, until it almost touched the
underside of my breast.

It grew warmer outside.

On the next pass, his fingers teased the
edge of my bindings. My nipple tingled, and I found it difficult to
breathe normally. His fingers left my skin. When I heard him sit
up, I blinked in confusion. He reappeared above me a moment later,
holding the pole.

“You have a fish on the line,” he said,
handing it to me.

A fish? I took a calming breath. My skin
tingled from his touch. As I pulled the line in, I saw my error. He
had lulled me and was slowly building a tension within me. His
declaration for a few days now made sense. He would take his time
pulling me further and further into a world I did not yet
understand until...fornication. Of course. The beast. I
scowled.

I strung the fish onto the line of another
shorter pole and stuck the pole into the bank so the fish trailed
in the water. My hands drifted to the buttons. His hands reached
around me, closing over mine.

“Not yet,” his rough voice tickled my
ear.

“I would like to stop now.” I moved his
hands away and buttoned quickly.

He bowed his head at me and said nothing,
staying close.

I caught another fish, and ready to leave
his quiet, watchful presence, I declared our time outdoors
complete.

* * * *

After crossing the wall and walking through
the fields and hills, we came to the border of trees on the east
side of the manor. Just at their edge, I caught movement. I stopped
walking and watched the nymphs, unwilling to disturb a playful
moment.

“I’m glad he forgave her,” I commented as
the nymphs chased each other.

“Forgave her?” the beast asked quietly.

“The first day I read to you and you dallied
with her, he refused to talk to her afterward.”

The beast’s brow furrowed as he watched them
as well.

“She looks well,” I added softly, studying
him instead of the nymphs.

“Yes. Quite,” he said and turned away.

When I looked at the nymphs, she was again
on her knees in front of her companion, his wooden penis in her
mouth. I wondered how exactly that worked for trees. Then I
wondered if the baker would like the taste of her sap.

“Must you study them?” the beast said with
impatience, already a distance from me.

I hurried to catch up with him.

* * * *

A soft touch on my thigh woke me in the
night. My skin felt hot and sensitive, uncomfortable, and my heart
thundered in my chest.

I sat up abruptly, again naked.

“Stop.”

His hand fell away as I turned to look at
him. He lay beside me, watching me closely. I had the absurd urge
to roll toward him and wrap my arms around him.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Touching you.”

He looked calm, but even the pants he wore
couldn’t hide his massive erection. Unknowingly, I’d started a
dangerous game with his control. If he could not control himself, I
would be the one broken and bleeding like the nymph.

“When I suggested it might be your approach,
I didn’t understand. Now, I have a better idea what continuing with
this means for me. And it frightens me. I do not want to end up
like the wood nymph. I do not want to be used and forgotten. Though
you might not treat me as a whore, you would treat me as a body
with no head attached. Have you given thought to how the pursuit of
your game will make me feel?” I spoke softly, hoping to reason with
him without angering him.

He leaned in.

“I hurt you once. I will not hurt you again.
I swear.”

“I’m glad we agree. Please leave.”

He snorted.

“I think not,” he said.

He reached forward, his fingers skimming my
thigh again, first the outside, then the inside. He was just inches
from where they met in the middle, his touch causing a slow burn. I
desperately wanted to pull him closer, and that yearning scared
me.

I scooted from the bed, grabbed a pillow,
and dashed across the room. He stood but too slow. I quickly
slipped into his room and locked the door. Then just as quickly, I
locked the door coming from the hall.

He tried both calmly at first. When he
understood that I’d locked him out, he pounded on the adjoining
doors.

Raiding his wardrobe, I covered myself with
one of his shirts then sat on his bed.

The pounding turned to rage. He didn’t yell
at me, only growled and slashed at the other side of the wood
panels.

The urge to appeal to him, to calm him, held
me fiercely. I hated hearing him so upset. Yet, I knew if I opened
those doors, he would try to continue with what he had started. So,
I remained on the bed, holding my pillow to my chest as I watched
for a hint of the rising sun while listening as he tried to tear
his way through. The doors held all night, repairing themselves
before he could completely breach them.

With the sun, his racket quieted. I sat on
his mattress, tired and wondering what to do. After several
minutes, I eased from the bed and tiptoed to the doors leading to
my room. I leaned my ear to the panel but heard nothing. I tried
the handle. It turned, and I cautiously opened the door.

The other side of the wood panel was a
patchwork of deep and numerous gouges. It was clear that very
little material had separated me from the beast. As I stared, tiny
wood fibers moved to mend themselves. If not for the magic of this
place, he would have easily ripped his way through the wood. His
temper was a frightening thing.

My room was littered with broken furniture
and shredded dresses. I felt completely relieved that I’d put on
one of his shirts. Nothing in my room remained for me to wear.

My stomach rumbled. Risking running into him
and his anger, I tiptoed to the door that led to the hall and eased
it open.

He paced in the hallway on all fours, an
angry black swirling mist at his feet. Any semblance of the man
he’d been during the night was gone. His head whipped toward
me.

Before I could move, the mist enveloped me.
Sightless, I groped for the door. Instead of the door, I touched
fur.

I turned and tried to run, but he caught me
up into his arms and started walking with me. I didn’t try to
struggle.

“You’re still angry,” I said nervously.

“Very,” he growled.

“What do you intend to do?”

“Feed you.”

He set me down on the lounge in the library.
The mists receded from me while he continued to remain hidden. A
food-laden tray sat on the low table.

“Eat,” he ordered.

I nibbled at some food as I watched the mist
pace back and forth with him. He moved to the shelves, and the rasp
of a book sliding from its place made me curious.

“Eat,” he said again.

I quickly took another bite of a tartlet
while trying to determine his mood. Obviously angry, but driven,
too. He had a goal in mind, but what? Light burst from the
fireplace as flames suddenly appeared. He growled, and I finished
the tartlet in two more bites.

“Drink,” he said in a slightly calmer
voice.

The cold spring water had barely touched my
tongue when a book landed on the cushion next to me.

“Read,” he said softly. It was less of a
command and more of a plea.

The sudden shift in his mood made me
suspicious. He moved behind me and lightly tugged on my braid to
undo my hasty work. My eyes drifted to the book. The Medicinal
Properties of Flora in the North.

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