“Isabelle,” he cooed in a singsong voice, which prickled the hair on the back of her neck.
She started running, the light in the distance urging her on as the world narrowed around her. She gripped her skirt in her hands, crying out when a branch scratched against her face, though she continued onward.
Suddenly, the light was gone, snuffed out like a candle, and she paused, unsure whether to turn around or continue. Hadhedone it? Was she running straight into his arms? She could hardly think, hardly breathe, turning and moving back in the direction she’d come.
Where was she going? She could go into town, find Henri or Pierre, or someone else to help her. Was she going into town? No, she was going deeper into the woods, straining to hear anything beyond her feet thumping against the ground with each step.
Silence.
There was no beast barreling along behind her, no growl echoing through the night, just the sound of her own heaving breaths.
Where was he?
Branches slashed at her like clawed hands, and she tasted iron as blood trickled down her cheek, pooling in the corner of her lips. Her chest burned with exertion, and she slowed to a stop, electric energy racing through her veins.
Isabelle leaned against the trunk of a large tree, trying to catch her breath, trying to see anything in the dim forest.
Had it been another trick of her mind? What was she doing running around like a mad woman? If anyone caught her out here, she’d be the laughingstock of town with her dirty feet and torn dress, the slash across her cheek. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted blood, still warm as it trickled from the wound on her face.
As her breathing slowed, she pressed her palms to the tree trunk, grounding herself against the rough bark.
She was a fool, letting her imagination get away from her like that. Was Jean-Phillipe even real? She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool morning air, the scent of fresh grass and early spring flowers filling her nose.
There was a flutter of wings and a gust of air, and when she opened her eyes, her pulse quickened.
No, no, it wasn’t real. It had to be a dream.
A beast towered over her, like the one who stalked her slumber, his milky eyes burning right through her chest. He looked exactly as she remembered—light blue skin, a fanged maw, two large horns glinting menacingly in the low light. His hair was dark, wild, and black vines circled his arms, some sort of strange tattoo that accentuated his muscles. His wings were unfurled, plush feathers as dark as the moonless sky with oval-shaped eyes on the tips, black slit-like pupils with red irises.
“Well? Were you looking for me?” he asked, cocking his head, the smile on his face sending a tremor through her.
“Yes,” she said, surprising herself, though she knew it was the truth.
One more time. One more time, and she could forget about this man haunting her dreams, go back to her devotions. She could agree to being courted by Henri or Pierre, live a perfectly adequate life even if she wasn’t truly happy.
Just one more time.
“What would your goddess think of you? Giving yourself to me like this?”
Between the morning chill and the icy fear twisting through her, Isabelle trembled, swallowing hard but unable to find an answer.
The monster took a step forward, placing a clawed hand on the trunk and looking down at her like she was a mere rabbit quivering in the wake of a wolf. He cupped her cheek with his other hand, brushing his thumb against her lips and sending a jolt of arousal to her core.
Goddess, why did she want this? Why did she wanthim?
His touch was like fire, spreading through her body and filling her with need.
“You hurt yourself,” he noted, swiping a finger through the sticky blood on her cheek.
She didn’t respond, her arms frozen at her sides, her mouth utterly devoid of moisture.
The beast brought his finger to his lips, parting them and tasting her blood. His eyes rolled as if it were the most heavenly thing, a low moan rumbling in his chest.
“Everything about you tastes so sweet, my dear. Why is that?”
Isabelle had no answer, just swept her gaze over his body, realizing he was unclothed. Jet black feathers covered his shoulders, melting seamlessly into the sky blue of his broad chest. She trailed her eyes down, over bulging arm muscles and a lithe little waist, a firm stomach, and an enormous cock standing at attention.
A cock which had choked her in her dreams.
