The Beast held her against the carpet, running his tongue over the sensitive bite mark, lapping up the two tiny drops of scarlet blood as she shuddered through an aftershock of her orgasm.
Finally, he pulled her naked body into his arms, and cradled her against his massive chest.
She looked down at her thigh, at the pale white skin marked now with his fangs, and smiled. “The mark of the Beast,” she murmured.
“Does it feel real, now, Belle?” he asked tenderly.
“It does. Thank you, Sir.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” The Beast nuzzled his head against hers, and their lips met for the first time since she came to his hidden castle.
Everything she had feared was for naught. His mouth on hers was heaven on earth, and everything she desired in that moment. She could faintly taste her own blood on his lips, and her arousal as well. Their tongues danced together, but his sharp teeth never scratched her. Belle had been kissed before—that time with the baker’s apprentice in the hay loft—but that had been nothing compared to this.
She could kiss the Beast forever and be happy, wrapped in his huge, strong arms, so warm, so safe in his embrace.
Belle had been marked by the Beast. Now she was ravenous for more—for whatever the Beast wanted to do with her, to take from her, to give to her.
She was ready.
8: The Horse and Carriage
Some time had passed, when Belle lay in her suite on the cool, white linen sheets. She was still not quite sleepy despite her hot bath, and ran her fingers over the Beast’s mark on her inner thigh. Light purple bruises had blossomed at first around the bite like an old sailor’s faded tattoo, but the mark was healed now, leaving behind the pale red mesh of new skin.
She found herself hoping it would leave a permanent scar, one that would forever remind her of her time with the Beast. Two tiny, perfectly circular dots scarring her pale skin. Yes, that was what she wanted. It would be beautiful, like the Beast himself.
Beautiful. Was that how she now perceived the Beast? How had such an enormous perception shift occurred in so short a time?
Belle rose and stood in front of the armoire. She didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. Perhaps if she could put on a dressing robe, she could go out and find the Beast. She found herself looking forward to their long conversations by the fire. He was a very intelligent man (Beast) and he seemed to be genuinely interested in her decidedly ordinary life.
Certainly, she had no stories about fairies or castles or secret princes imprisoned therein, as the Beast must, but still he listened to her tales of her childhood with her Papa, and she also enjoyed retelling some of her favorite stories from the books in his library.
Well, her library. The Beast had insisted it was now hers. A lovely gold plaque even adorned the library door, one that said, simply, “Beauty’s Library.” It made her smile whenever she looked upon it. Especially the fact that he named it for the pet name he had given her, one she was hardly deserving of… and yet, he seemed to believe she was.
“Fairies, may I have a dressing robe to cover my nightgown, please? And slippers.”
The requested items appeared draped over the bed, and Belle dressed quickly.
The corridor was empty, the long, red rug spreading out before her like a river. Where was the Beast? What did he do, late at night, when she wasn’t with him?
Part of her feared he might be out hunting. She’d seen him enter the castle with fresh blood on his mouth. Not recently, no, but it had happened. The thought of him hunting and killing with the same fangs that so lovingly marked her made her a bit ill.
Best not to think on it. It wasn’t as if she could change the Beast into something less beastly.
“Sir?” she said aloud, hoping he would hear. No answer.
She crept down the dark corridor and descended the stairway to the main hall. The place was deserted.
“Beast, where are you?” she called again. No reply.
The front door lay just a few meters away, the only thing standing between her and freedom. She’d promised the Beast she wouldn’t try to escape, and with all of the wolves prowling the forest, she knew she wouldn’t make it far if she tried. Not without a horse and carriage to protect her.
But there wouldn’t be much harm in merely taking in some fresh night air, right? She could just open the door and look at the stars for a while until she got sleepy enough to return to bed.
With that plan in mind, Belle touched the door, and pulled. It didn’t open.
Locked in. Of course. She was, after all, the Beast’s prisoner. As much as he tried to make her comfortable and at home, if she couldn’t leave when she wished, she was only a well-pampered captive. Not a guest.