She couldn’t tell if she’d offended him or not. He was, by his own admission, not any man. He was The Beast. The very Beast who had frightened her so terribly that she’d inflicted physical damage upon him, leaving a red, healing wound on his chest, right across his heart.
But—
“What’s wrong, my darling?” the Beast asked.
She loved that he could sense her emotions shifting, the questions building inside of her, without her having to say a word. Even her own family couldn’t do that with her.
“I had the oddest thought,” she said. “I can’t say, it’s too embarrassing.”
Now the Beast smiled, showcasing his impressive fangs. “Let’s trade confessions, then. We’ll be even, and you won’t feel embarrassed about whatever you were thinking anymore.”
Belle smiled brightly at the idea. Even the fact that the Beast seemed so intent on getting to know the true woman she was, beyond her face and body—well, it meant a lot. Most of her suitors only cared to court her for her dowry, back when she was rich. After her Papa lost everything, the men who came knocking only cared about her appearance. They wanted to see if she lived up to her given name.
No one, save the Beast, had ever offered to share confessions before. Or required that they learn more about each other before he rewarded her with an orgasm. No one had ever given her an orgasm before, period.
What sort of Beast was this man?
What sort of man was a Beast?
“I want to be marked by you, Sir,” she admitted. “I’m afraid of the pain, but…I think it will help me know what’s real. Almost like how you pinch yourself to be sure you’re not dreaming… If I could see the marks on my body then I’d know I wasn’t going insane. That I’m truly here, with you.”
The Beast smiled, but she was growing accustomed to his fangs, and didn’t flinch.
“That’s my confession,” she added. “May I hear yours?”
“I confess that I know you’re unhappy about being held captive here in my castle, with me. And while—for reasons I can’t divulge—I can’t grant you your freedom early, what I can do is make your stay more enjoyable. I would like to do something that will make you happy…as long as you don’t request your freedom.”
Belle threw her arms around his thick, muscular waist in a moment of pure excitement, then quickly withdrew, unsure if such displays of affection were appropriate.
“Thank you, Beast. That’s so very kind.”
“And I haven’t forgotten what you’ve confessed to me, either,” he added. “I’d be more than delighted to honor your request to be marked.”
Butterflies flitted through her belly at the thought, but she just smiled. There was no need to fear, because the Beast would keep her safe—even from himself.
“The lady needs a gown,” he said to some spot on the ceiling. Could he see the fairies?
Before she could wonder more about it, she found herself dressed in a shimmering blue gown with chiffon and lace. Tiny satin slippers appeared on her feet.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, touching the material in awe. The stitching was so fine, it was nearly unnoticeable. “It’s beautiful.”
“Then it suits you,” he said. “Come, let’s leave the dungeon and your punishment behind for the day. Tell me what you desire, and I’ll give you whatever you wish.”
As long as I don’t wish to leave…
But she tamped down the thought and smiled up at her captor brightly.
“I love to read. If you have any books lying about, I’d be most grateful for an opportunity to read them. It will help the hours go by when we’re not, um…together.”
She whispered the last word, since being together with him was not as simple as that. Being with the Beast meant lessons in humility, passion, and pain. Belle could never be bored when the Beast was near.
They climbed the steep staircase out of the dungeon, and Belle gasped in delight at the sight of the great room. It was filled with roses, everywhere. The scarlet blooms filled the hall with their glorious scent, and with the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows, the interior of the castle was transformed into a magical paradise.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Then it suits you, as well,” he said, smiling down at her. “I never cut roses before you arrived. I was afraid to kill them before their time. But now, it seems that the roses truly come alive only when they are in your presence.”
Belle blushed at the heady praise, and lowered her eyes.
“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand in his. His hand seemed to swallow hers whole. “Allow me to show you the library.”