IS HE A BEAST

My father had just sold me off. Bartered my body to erase his debt to

the very devil himself.

A Beast of a man. Literally.

A creature whispered about amongst the villagers, feared by all, and

known to have immense wealth and power that no one could ever

conceivably stand up against.

I knew only a handful had ever seen him, but I heard the rumors of his

appearance.

A beastly visage at three times the size of a man, and his monstrously

huge body covered in fur. His eyes held an unearthly red glow, and his

pawlike hands were tipped with claws. Then there were his fangs, ones that I

wondered if he used to tear into flesh.

I visibly shivered at the image my mind conjured up.

I held in my tears as I clenched my hands tightly into fists. Anger, fear,

and shock waged war in me.

"Don't look at me like that, Belle. I didn't have a choice."

I had to give my father credit... he at least looked heartbroken.

"You always have a choice. How could you just give me away like that?

And to him?" I hissed out the last part.

His shoulders sagged and he dropped his head, exhaling as if it were his

life that was being ruined.

"We would have lost everything. The little land we own, our home, the

livestock..." He looked at me. "We would have been penniless and out in the

streets."

"It would have been better than marrying that... that Beast." I turned

from my father, unable to look at him anymore.

It was no secret in the village that my father had a gambling addiction. He

owed too many people money. He had far too many debts to ever be repaid in

our lifetime.

And it finally caught up with him.

"Gaston wouldn't wait for me to pay him back this time, Belle," my

father pleaded, trying to pull on my heartstrings.

Not this time. There had been too many instances where I'd had to bend

over backward to fix his mistakes, where I had to use the little savings I had

to pay off the debtors who'd come by.

I'd had to work extra at the village seamstress to make a few additional

coins for food because he'd spent all our money gambling. My fingers had

bled because I'd worked and tried so hard.

"We would have lost everything," he whispered pitifully again.

I was done with it all. Because I don't have a choice anymore.

"Instead, I'm losing my freedom."

I turned from him and told myself a proper lady didn't act this way. But

I'd never been so hurt and angry in my life.

"They were going to take everything, and then they were going to kill me,

Belle. Kill me right in the tavern last night with a handful of villagers as

witnesses if I didn't pay up."

I looked at him with what I knew was a horrified expression. The silence

stretched out, neither one of us able to speak after those heavy words were

spoken and hung in the air between us.

"You dug yourself too deep this time." I pinched the bridge of my nose

with my thumb and forefinger and exhaled. I was tired. So tired.

"I'm sorry."

I knew he was, but then again, he was always sorry when the journey was

too hard to take.

"I don't even understand how you were propositioned for something like

this."

"One of his men was at the tavern. He overheard what was happening and

said he'd pay the debt, wipe the slate clean if I agreed to what he wanted in

return." My father had the nerve to glance away, his shame surrounding him.

"I agreed wholeheartedly before I knew what he wanted."

I wasn't embarrassed to admit I thought about running, slipping out in the

night and escaping. But as I looked at my father, knowing they'd kill him

slowly because I wasn't here to once again clean up his mess, any thoughts of

leaving him to the proverbial wolves flew out the door.

"How long do I have?" The words were pushed out through gritted teeth.

When he didn't respond, I looked at him. The discomfort on his face was

tangible. "How long?"

He swallowed and looked at the flames burning in the hearth. "A

fortnight."

The air wheezed out of me and I braced a hand on the table.

A fortnight before I was given to a Beast who would no doubt use me in

every deplorable, animalistic and primal way he saw fit.

His home was a castle, sitting atop a massive mountain, the weather

making it seem frightening and otherworldly.

My new home.

The rain and wind whipped by me so fiercely it stung any bared part of

my skin.

I wrapped my cloak around my body and tilted my head back to look up

at the mansion that stood ominously before me.

A crack of lightning arched across the sky, momentarily flashing in the

background and showcasing the gargoyles sitting devilishly on corbels at

each corner of the castle.

I swallowed the lump of fear lodged in my throat as I tightened my hand

around the strap of my lone satchel. The contents contained the few items of

importance I owned.

A glance over my shoulder showed the carriage was gone, no longer even

a mirage in the foggy, misty distance of the long, winding property.

I'd been picked up at our cottage as soon as the sun had set over the

horizon. The coachman had taken my bag, gestured me into the carriage, and

ever since then I'd been moving in a hazy-like state.

The long, stone-covered, tree-lined approach to the estate was

frighteningly empty, with a gray hue settled over it and the rain pouring down

with unrelenting anger.

With a steady inhale followed by an exhale, I made my way up the stone

steps. One of the bolt-studded doors opened on its own before I got to it, and

my heart doubled in rhythm.

I didn't know what I expected to find, but it wasn't the older woman who

stood right inside the entryway, her black-and-white livery outfit pressed and

formed around her curvy body.

Her gray and white hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and the smile she

gave me was warm and friendly.

No, she certainly wasn't what I expected to find.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome." She clapped her hands and pressed them

to her ample bosom as she looked me up and down. "Aren't you quite the

sight? The Master of the estate chose well."

I wasn't sure what she meant by that. We'd never seen each other, so how

did he "choose well"?

"Thank you?" I hadn't meant to phrase that like a question. I stepped

inside, and a second later the heavy door closed behind me with a resounding

echo.

I jumped, startled as I whirled around to see a candlestick-thin man in the

same livery attire looking at me with a warm smile.

He was younger, his dark blond hair slicked back, and when he welcomed

me, I could hear a thick accent, one from a distant land.

"I am Madame." The older woman gestured to herself then pointed to the

man behind me. "This is Pierre. He handles any and all housekeeping around

the house." She clapped her hands again and gestured me farther inside. "But

we have lots of time to go into more of that. You must be weary and

famished from your travel."

Pierre took my bag before I knew what he was doing, startling me once

again. And then I was being ushered through the grand foyer. I'd never seen

so much wealth and opulence.

I followed her up the wide staircase, the carpeting beneath my feet plush,

making my steps soundless.

She kept chatting away and explaining all the different artifacts hanging

on the walls and the vases on podiums. But my mind was blank, my body just

following the motions and orders.

I wasn't absorbing anything, and I wondered if I was in shock, but the

numbness was welcome.

Finally, when we got to one of the rooms at the end of the elaborately

long hallway, she pushed the door open and I stepped inside, shock once

again encompassing me.

The room was exquisite, with a large four-poster bed pressed against one

wall, a grand fireplace across from it, a vanity with trinkets and knickknacks

sitting on the marble top, and silk adorning the windows.

The color scheme was a light blue-and-gray ensemble that seemed to

make the room appear gentler and not at all like my new prison. And after my

shock slowly started to wane, I felt completely out of place.

"The wardrobe is over here," Madame said and pointed to the elaborate,

carved armoire. She pulled it open to show the interior contents, with gowns

and dresses of gorgeous colors and expensive material.

I found myself reaching out and running my fingers along a particularly

beautiful gown with flower embroidery in perfect detail.

"Master has picked out each piece. He has impeccable taste and knew just

the things to get you so they would accentuate your natural beauty."

I glanced at Madame and felt my throat tighten. I didn't know what to

think about the Beast hand-selecting anything, especially gowns as delicate

and exquisite as the ones that were now mine.

"The lavatories are through that door."

I was thankful she changed the subject as she pointed to a door in the

corner.

"Dinner will be ready at half past six. Master has requested your

attendance." The way she said that last part had me bristling, as if I wasn't to

even think of disobeying. Not that I would. I'd willingly come here, knew my

role, and wouldn't change my mind.

My father may have put me in horrible positions over and over again

throughout my life, but he was the only family I had left, and throwing him to

the wolves to save my own skin wasn't in my nature.

"Master has also selected your dinner attire." She gestured to the bed,

where a large white box tied with a red satin ribbon sat atop the lush mattress.

I'd been so stunned by everything that I hadn't noticed it at first.

With one more smile she left me alone, closing the door behind her.

For a second I was frozen in place, my knees threatening to buckle, but I

closed my eyes and breathed out slowly.

I was now legally bound to the man-the Beast-they called Master.

Forms had been signed before I'd been picked up to be taken to my new

home. My father had apologized repeatedly, but I'd been in too much of a fog

to pay attention to him or what he said.

How could I pay attention to anything but being legally bound to my new

husband-his will something I had to bend to, submit to?

I only allowed ten minutes of alone time to compose myself. I wanted to

cry, scream, break something, and just get the frustration out, but I knew

none of that would help me right now.

And refusing wasn't an option, not when my father's life was at stake.

This all seemed like a dream, with the expensive things, the lavish

attendance, and the waitstaff serving me hand and foot. But I wasn't a fool in

knowing what this reality really was about.

I'd read the paperwork before I signed it.

This wasn't just the Beast needing a wife. He wanted heirs.

I tightened my hands around the skirting of the dress the Beast had picked

out for me to wear for dinner tonight.

It was a soft blue with a yellow satin ribbon tied under the bust. The

sleeves were dainty and capped, and my neck, shoulders, and most of my

arms were exposed.

I was dressed but somehow felt bare.

I was about to step out of the room and go downstairs when Madame

arrived and instantly eyed me. She tsked as she came to stop before me and

lifted a lock of my long brown hair.

"This won't do. Master wants your hair up and out of the way."

Out of the way for what, exactly?

She said it so matter-of-factly that I was too stunned to speak and just

stood there as she expertly tied my hair into a chignon at the crown of my

head. With a few more fusses to my dress, and after she applied another

generous swipe of red lipstick to my lips, she ushered me out of the room.

I felt as if I were in a fog as we descended the long, ornate staircase and I

was led into the grand dining room.

The table sat in the center of the room, long and lavishly dressed with

candelabras lit, crystal and porcelain dishware, and large, dome-covered

silver platters hiding the food underneath.

There were bowls of fresh fruit, cut cheeses, freshly baked rolls, squares

of butter on tiny gold-leaf plates, and wine goblets sat at the place settings.

The fireplace mantel was grand, double my size in height and width, a

fire intimately crackling and throwing light and shadow throughout the entire

room. The crystal chandelier that hung above the table cast prisms of

rainbows across the room.

This certainly hadn't been what I envisioned of the Beast's home. I'd

pictured dank and dark living quarters, mold-infested walls, and steel-barred

cells I'd call home.

I hadn't expected such... beauty.

Maybe the rumors I'd heard of my new husband were false? Maybe he

wasn't some ugly, horrid Beast that I'd have to sleep with. Maybe he was a

gorgeous prince with flowing golden locks and gentle blue eyes who wanted

us to get to know each other before we consummated the marriage.

"Master will be here momentarily. Per his request, dinner and wine are

already set and waiting. Staff have been sent away for the evening."

My throat once again tightened at the prospect of being alone with him,

my anxiety filling every recess of my body.

I knew the moment Madame had left, when everyone was cleared out of

the castle. Because I felt an instant, sudden hollowness surrounding me to the

point it was almost crushing.

I was used to being alone, what with my father and his provocations that

left me at the house. But at least I'd been around creature comforts, things

that made me happy, that didn't make me feel terrified to even breathe.

I'd never been somewhere that was so big or grand or lavish.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard the first sounds come through the

large expanse of the room. At first I wasn't sure what it was, and I turned to

face the entrance of the room.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart started fluttering harder, and I gathered the fall of my dress,

tightening my fingers until they ached.

The sound grew closer, and I realized what it was.

Footsteps.

He was coming for me.

I held my breath and took a step back just as the Beast finally made his

appearance.

That one step back wasn't enough for what I was looking at, for how the

very instinctual part of me said to escape.

I found myself stumbling back as the Beast-the monster and my new

husband-stepped into the dining hall. The rumors of him had been true.

He was utterly terrifying.

Easily three times the size of a human man, with shoulders terrifyingly

broad, and a barreled chest that blocked out everything behind him.

His massive biceps and forearms were hairy, but even that couldn't hide

the power in them. And his face... completely inhuman.

He had a wide forehead, pitch-black eyes, and a nose that reminded me of

a primal animal. And his legs-God, they appeared to be like a feline, or

even of the canine variety, bent oddly and tipped with massive paws.

His hair was dark and fell to his shoulders, only broken up by the huge,

arcing horns that curved back and away from his forehead.

And his mouth was full and wide, his teeth sharp, and the lower ones like

daggers. My heart thundered as I stared at them which looked more like tusks

than teeth, protruding up so that when he closed his mouth, they were still

frighteningly visible.

He wore clothing fit for a noble, but it couldn't hide how animalistic and

utterly primal he was.

Nothing could mask how entirely terrifying he was.

He took a step forward, and another one, and I swore I felt the floor

vibrate from the force. His legs and feet reminded me of the illustrations from

fairy tales about the werewolves that prowled the dark, danger-filled forests,

walking on their hind legs. Paws... God, he had black, claw-tipped paws.

His focus was already trained on me. He looked like the very devil

himself.

I made sure to keep the table between us, although I knew it was foolish.

This was just cloth and wood, glass and steel. It wouldn't keep a creature like

him away from something he wanted, even if right now I felt like this piece

of furniture could hold back a demon such as himself.

He didn't speak and neither did I, my tongue in knots as I watched him

come farther into the room, his nails scraping against the wooden floor,

seeming deafening in the closed quarters.

He stopped behind the chair at the end of the table, lifting those huge,

pawlike hands and curling them around the top. His nails were so long and

sharp. Like daggers.

"You are afraid," his voice rumbled out, and I felt it in every part of my

body. "I can smell the sweet sweat on you, hear your breathing pick up."

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

"No harm shall come to you. That is not why you are here."

Oh, I knew why I was here. I didn't think he would hurt me, but

sometimes death wasn't always the worst fate.

He cocked his head to the side slightly as if examining me, as if I were

the one so unusual he was having a hard time grasping that he was in my

presence.

The movement of his head inclining had his thick hair moving over his

shoulder. I could see his slightly pointed ears, watching as they twitched,

which caused my heart to beat wildly.

"Woman," he growled. "I can hear your heart racing. I told you there was

nothing to fear from me." He slowly slid his hands off the back of the chair,

his nails scraping the wood ominously before he started walking around the

table and closer to me.

This in turn had me moving to the other side, our steps parallel; the only

thing stopping him from getting to me was the slab of wood that suddenly

seemed wholly inadequate.

He gripped the back of the chair at the head of the table, situated right in

front of the fireplace, pulled it out, and sat his heavy form in it.

He dwarfed that massive thronelike structure, leaning back so the wood

creaked from his substantial weight. The firelight caught the sharp points of

his horns as they arched up and backward.

"Sit," he growled.

His voice sounded so monstrous, all guttural and harsh, that a small sound

left me and I stumbled back so quickly I nearly lost my footing and had to

reach out and grip the edge of the table to steady myself.

But I obeyed. I sat down across from him and realized how grossly I'd

underestimated the size of the table.

At first I thought the table had seemed grand and long, enough distance

separating us so that when we sat, I could still feel like I had control and

safety.

But as I sat down on one end and he on the other, I realized how close we

really were. So close I smelled the wolf, the primal scent that clung to him.

To occupy myself, or perhaps as a distraction from the situation, I

glanced down at the large silver platter situated at the place setting in front of

me.

I could hear the Beast lifting his dome, metal banging against metal so

loudly I actually glanced up.

He tossed the lid aside like some kind of heathen who couldn't be

bothered with formalities, then glanced down at the entire roasted chicken

before him. He lifted his gaze to mine as if he felt me watching him, and his

lower tusks became more prominent as he bared his teeth.

Was that supposed to be a semblance of a smile?

At the startled sound that left me, he scolded and gestured a large paw

toward me, presumably to open my lid, too.

Maybe he wanted my approval at dinner, which seemed unbelievable, but

I did what he said.

I raised my fingers, trying to stop the shaking in them, and gripped the

top, lifting it and instantly inundated with the scent of rosemary and butter,

roasted herbs and onion. I set the lid on the table, seeing another whole

chicken before me.

At least five potatoes had been cut up amidst carrots and celery and

placed around the meat.

This was more food than I'd ever seen in a sitting. And certainly nothing

that I could ever finish on my own.

"Is it to your liking?" he growled out.

I looked up at him, slowly dragging my tongue along my bottom lip

before pulling the flesh between my teeth. I didn't miss how he glanced down

to watch the act. He slammed his hands down on the table, his expression

showing frustration as his head lowered, his gaze still watching my mouth.

His nails dug into the wood, creating gouges that sounded so loud I

pressed my back to the chair, trying to make myself as small as possible as a

fearful noise left me.

His growls grew louder, and as if he caught himself, he pulled his nails

out of the wood and cleared his throat. For a second he didn't move, didn't

make a sound, and kept his focus off of me.

"Eat," he finally said and ran his paw over his face and fangs. His chest

was rising and falling as he looked down at his platter, his beastly, bushy

eyebrows pulling down low as he stared at his food.

He didn't wait for me to obey before he tore into his own food.

I felt my eyes widen and my mouth go slack, and I couldn't stop watching

as he devoured his food. And that was exactly what I was witnessing.

There was nothing formal or delicate, noble or human, in the way he ate.

His paws and claws were swift as he picked up the chicken and tore at the

meat with his sharp teeth, growling and snarling as if he were ravenous.

Meat was flying everywhere as he shoved it in his mouth, then he

attacked the vegetables, potatoes, and pieces of carrots and onion scattered

around the tabletop, covering his face and all of his fur.

I concealed my mouth with a hand and kept watching him, but when he

glanced up and saw my undoubtedly horrified look, he froze. After looking

down at the platter, then at my untouched one, then back into my eyes, I felt a

strange sort of amusement spring to life in me.

"I, ugh," he said in that strange, deeply distorted voice of his. He ran the

back of his paw over his mouth and reached for his wine goblet, guzzling it

so fiercely the ruby-red liquid dribbled down his hairy chin and chest.

I burst out laughing then, unable to stop the humor I found in this very

unconventional situation.

"I'm sorry," I finally said and wiped the tears from my eyes. "I've just

never seen anyone be so ravenous-" My words stilled when he suddenly

stood, looked at me ferociously, then stormed off.

I sat there alone, feeling all kinds of shame that I'd clearly humiliated and

offended him. The instinctual part of me pushed forward, and I was about to

stand and go to him, when I heard a crash and ear-splitting growl that seemed

to shake the entire castle.

So I stayed right where I was because I really didn't want to approach the

Beast when I was the one who'd just pissed him off