Isabella and the Beast (3 page)

It was entirely new, too. She’d never felt something like that before. Never had a dream like that before.

A sound echoed down the dungeon, and Isabella knew that someone was approaching. She quickly smoothed her dress, wiped her forehead and upper lip, and brushed her hair form her eyes.

She became mindful of her own scent. It was subtle, just hinting at her arousal, but surely the beast would be able to smell it. He arrived at her cell and unlocked the door.

“I am sorry if I scared you earlier,” he said in his deep voice. “I did not mean to.”

“It is fine,” Isabella murmured.

“Please,” he said, before pausing and sniffing the air. He stared at her intently for seconds, and Isabella hated feeling like she was under scrutiny.

“Please what?” she demanded, turning her back on the beast.

“Please,” the beast repeated, this time more softly. “Follow me.” He gestured with his claw, but Isabella did not move. “I will not hurt you, but if you don’t follow me, I will make you.”

Isabella gulped and nodded, and followed him down the dungeon. His hulking form seemed to have grown even more massive than before, but she knew that it must be the light from the flickering flames of the torches that lined the walls that flanked them.

His back was broader than any man’s she’d ever seen, and his shoulders were rounded like cannonballs. She found herself wondering what he’d looked like as a man. Was he a big and strong man, too? Was he handsome? What had he done to deserve such a curse?

They came to a giant spiral stone staircase, and Isabella followed him up and around it, step by step. The beast had to duck as they went around. He was too tall, and Isabella’s lip twitched slightly as she watched the ridiculous sight of the gigantic thing before her bent double while climbing.

They climbed for what seemed like an eternity, and the steps grew longer and higher so that, gradually, the beast did not need to hunch anymore.

Isabella was very nearly panting when they finally reached a landing, and her face was flushed, and a sheen of sweat could be seen on her neck. She gasped as she looked around. The room was massive, adorned with wonderful ornate furniture that looked dusty and neglected. Tapestries hung from the walls, but shadows shrouded them.

“This room must have been beautiful once,” she whispered.

“It was. Come.”

Isabella followed the beast through a doorway to another set of stairs, and she sighed as she began to climb. But she was growing tired and dizzy, and stood still, sagging for a moment to catch her breath. She gripped her knees and inhaled deep, heaving breaths of oxygen. Her cheeks were pink and her vision was fuzzy.

Glancing up, she saw the beast turn and look at her, his yellow eyes shining.

He approached her slowly, palms held outward. “Do not be afraid,” he said, before scooping her up into his arms. Isabella squealed, hitting the arms that held her, but her physical protestations did not even make the beast flinch. With what felt like a minimal effort on his part, he carried her up the stairs, step by step, rapidly.

His arms did not tremble with her weight, and as she held them with her hands, she felt the hard muscles beneath his skin, the power they had. She traced a snaking vein that lined the beast’s upper arm. It throbbed with his heartbeat, and with each bobbing step, with each pulse of beast’s heart, she trembled slightly.

They came to another landing, and Isabella saw a massive bed with beautiful curtains, and behind its end a roaring fireplace. “This will be your room,” the beast growled.

“My room?”

“Yes.”

“This is not my room. This is not my home.”

The beast responded by snarling slightly, and Isabella quelled the rising protest inside her. She knew she shouldn’t antagonize this creature, this ex-man with a dark streak of violence lurking inside him.

But the creature had not hurt her yet. The beast needed her. She could push back, and do so hard. His snarl began to morph, began to hitch, and Isabella realized the beast was laughing. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“I admire you. Still, now, you are defiant.”

“You can’t keep me here,” Isabella retorted. She felt distinctly ridiculous. The beast was still carrying her, and she pouted her lips and and crossed her arms. “Put me down.”

“As you wish,” the beast said, before setting her down on a rug on the floor, and laughing some more.

“You can’t keep me here!” Isabella repeated.

“Why not?”

“They’ll come and get me?”

“Who?”

“The people from my town!”

“Really?” The beast walked toward a window and peered out. “I do not see any torches. I do not see any men. I do not see any pitchforks. Nobody is coming for you.”

“You can’t just keep me locked up in here! Are you really going to imprison me until I agree to… you know…”

“I do not know yet,” the beast replied, and then he disappeared back down the steps. Isabella heard the doorway at the bottom of the steps shut and the metallic scratching of the heavy bolt lock sliding into place.

Isabella fell to the floor, crumpling up and hugging her knees. She felt a tear escape her eye, and that was all that was needed.

For the first time that night, she let herself cry.

* * *

It was some time later, when Isabella had wiped her eyes and tried her best to rub the dry sting from them, that she became aware the beast was actually watching her. He was perched in her window, framed against a giant moon that silhouetted him. It almost looked like a halo, she thought vaguely.

“What do you want?” she asked quietly, not bothering to hide the wetness in her voice, not bothering to be afraid anymore. She wondered distantly how he had even got there. Had he scaled the outside wall? Why hadn’t he just come in through the door?

But one thing was for certain: It was perfectly clear to her that the beast was not going to harm her, nor force her. He’d never get his wish that way, and he would live like cursed, sorry wretch forever.

“May I tell you a story out of my past?” the beast asked after a moment. He clasped his claws together in a distinctly human gesture, and placed them before him outstretched as if to say: ‘I will not hurt you; my hands are tied.’

“No.”

“Please, if you would indulge me. It is about a woman who—”

“What?” Isabella interrupted. “Another one of your captives you tried to seduce by force? Don’t you understand? We do not simply give ourselves up like that, and especially not someone like me!”

“Please don’t interrupt me again,” the beast said darkly, and Isabella shrunk a little.

“Why? You won’t hurt me. You need me.”

“There are others I can take.”

“You said it yourself! There is not much time left!”

The beast growled and shook his head. “Let’s try again. The story is about a woman, one who begged and pleaded me to let her go. She promised me she would not tell anyone. What do you think I did? Do you think I let her go?”

“I don’t care,” Isabella said petulantly. “But if it is important, no, you probably didn’t. You probably let her rot in your dungeon.” She spat it at him, but knew that she didn’t really mean it.

“No, that’s not what happened. I let her go, actually.”

“Then why won’t you let me go?” Isabella cried, exasperated. “I promise not to tell anyone as well!”

“Because,” the beast said, and he beckoned her with a claw-tipped finger. “Come, and I’ll show you.”

“I don’t want to come,” she hissed.

“Then I will come to you.”

“Fine.” Isabella watched as the beast dropped down from the window with grace, his padded paws barely making a sound as they made contact with the red and golden rug on the floor.

“Look at this,” he whispered when close to her, and she felt the warmth of his breath wash over her. He pointed to a point on his chest, and then traced his finger downward. Isabella noticed after a moment that where he had traced, there was no hair, no fur.

“A scar?”

“Yes,” the beast said, nodding. “Many years ago, I held a woman captive like I do you now. She begged me to let her go, so I did. Only, she returned with a whole village of angry people. They had torches, pitchforks, and they ransacked the place. They gave me this, and they very nearly killed my nursemaid. I saved her, but in doing so, a violent man dragged his knife across my chest. I was just protecting an old woman.”

“So what?”

“So, the woman I let go, she did not keep her promise.”

“One woman betrayed you. I am not her. We’re not all the same. You have to let me go. Please let me go!” Isabella looked deeply into the beast’s yellow eyes, and saw that the creature’s orbs were wet, as if he was fighting back tears.

“But I trusted her!” the beast replied, his face morphing into a pained expression. “I trusted her. She was a beauty. I told her she would be my guest, and when she declined, I let her go!”

“So your trust is broken, and your heart is cold. Tell me, why is it some witch put this curse on you, anyway? What could you possibly have done to deserve it? Judging by your actions now, how you kidnap me and bring me here, and demand something of me, something… indecent! Maybe it is because
you
are not pure.”

Beauty jabbed at his chest with her finger, and felt the hard muscle beneath the fur. A moment of silence passed between them, before the beast finally sighed.

“You are right. I was cursed because I was not a good man. I did not treasure love and kindness and friendship. I certainly did not practice it. Drink was my friend and my lover, and the women—”

“I don’t want to know.”

“The women were… disposable. They came and went, and I can’t remember a single name or face.”

“That sounds sad to me. Why would I possibly agree to carry the child of a creature like you? You’re rotten on the
inside,
no matter what you look like on the outside!”

The beast snarled, startling Isabella, and she gasped and leaned away from him. He looked into her eyes, and she saw in the narrow shining bulbs, beneath the layer of anger and ferocity, a tearful glisten of sorrow and despair.

“You must be hungry,” he said after a moment. “Follow me. Let’s go and eat.

“Why should I?” Isabella demanded, feeling her resolve to be defiant bolstered by what she had seen in the beast’s eyes.

“You don’t have to, but I am offering you food and drink. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay. Fine. I’m not hungry, but I’ll eat anyway.”

* * *

“What would you do if you were me?” Isabella asked, sipping on a glass of wine. A grand feast had been prepared for them. “And is that woman who spoke to me first, is she your slave?”

“No,” the beast replied. “She is not. She was my nursemaid. She stays with me out of choice, out of loyalty. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“So what would you do?”

“Without her?”

“No,” Isabella corrected, smiling for the first time since she’d seen the beast. “If you were me.”

“I would… I would probably do what you are doing.”

“What’s that?”

“Protecting yourself.”

“That’s right,” Isabella sad, nodding her head. “I’m protecting myself. So when will you let me go?”

“In the morning,” he sighed.

“You’ve decided to then?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I cannot force you, anyway, and it seems clear to me you have no intention of helping me.”

“No,” Isabella murmured, and she reminded of her dream, how easily the beast had pinned her down and had ferociously had his way with her, how he had rocked her whole body up and down and how she had felt pain, and something else… something not entirely bad.

“No,” she repeated quietly. “I don’t have any intention of helping you. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. I’ll let you go, just like I did that beauty, and then I’ll prepare myself for an angry mob with weapons and fire.”

“I told you! I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I find it hard to believe you.”

“Why? Because some other woman betrayed you?”

“Yes,” the beast began, but then his voice trailed away and Isabella looked angrily at him. She watched him as his eyebrows furrowed, and as he seemed lost in some distant contemplation.

Eventually he lifted his head and looked at her. “You’re right,” he admitted. “You’re right. Okay, I will choose to trust you.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I suppose I do,” the beast said with a sigh. He put his napkin on the table and buried his face in his hands, another of those human actions that caught Isabella off guard.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah. I believe you. It doesn’t really matter, anyway. There is no more time. You were my last chance.” Isabella heard an increased sadness in the beast’s voice, and she raised an eyebrow at him, wondering.

“How many chances have you had before?”

“What?”

“How many others like me have there been?”

“Only one.”

“What?” Isabella gasped, looking quizzically at the beast. “Who? The one who betrayed you?”

“Yes.”

“There’s been nobody else?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Just, I didn’t expect that.”

“Do you believe every story you hear?”

“This curse?” Isabella murmured.

“Yes? What about it?”

“When is your time limit? You said before you had little time.”

“Tonight,” the beast said heavily. “Tonight is the last night. When the sun rises tomorrow, I will be frozen like this forever.”

“I see,” she said quietly, nodding her head. Isabella was suddenly quite confused. The beast wasn’t a scary presence anymore, and sitting down and eating with him, even if he did use his hands… paws, made him seem suddenly all the more human. There were also those little movements, those actions, those gestures, and all of them signifying pain and anguish.

The poor, tortured thing! She felt a pang of… of sympathy for the creature.

No, she thought. It was a trap, a ploy! Why should she help the creature anyway? Why should she carry his baby? Why should she help him break the curse? After all, he was the one that earned it!