When his knot finally subsided enough for him to withdraw, he did so carefully, mindful of my tenderness. Then, without warning, he leapt from the bed like a giant dog and charged toward the door, leaving it hanging open in his wake. The abrupt departure should have felt like rejection, but as I lay there, catching my breath and feeling his essence trickling between my thighs, all I could focus on was the open door.
He hadn’t locked me in. Hadn’t chained me. Hadn’t made me his prisoner.
Papa’s words from my dream echoed in my mind. The deadly nightshade, beautiful but poisonous—unless you knew which parts could heal. Gaspard, handsome and respected, but cruel and murderous beneath his charming facade. And now Beast, terrifying in appearance but showing more humanity than the man who’d kept me captive.
Neither were what they appeared to be on the surface. And I was beginning to understand which one truly had poison in his soul.
I moved slowly at first, gathering the green dress from its tangle at my feet and pulling it over my head. The fabric stuck to my skin, wet in places where sweat or Beast’s fluids had soaked through, but there was a strange comfort in its familiar weight. My thighs ached, but the ache brought only a flush of pride instead of fear.
I stood and let my gaze scan the ruins of my new prison from the ember’s light. The fire was brighter now, casting everything in a gentler glow. Beast must’ve placed another log on before joining me in the bed. How thoughtful, I smiled.
The dust motes danced, the ancient tapestries seemed less oppressive, and for the first time, I felt the possibility of safety. Not absolute. Never that, not with Gaspard stalking the world outside and the forest full of unknown threats, but safe for this one small night.
Papa’s voice nagged gently at my memory, the scraps of our conversation in the dream vivid as any waking moment.“Trust the questions your mind asks.”
fourteen
Isabeau
I’d faced death twice in the past day. First in the drowning cage and next in the jaws of Beast. Yet it was the simple task of exploring an abandoned castle that now set my heart racing.
The borrowed green dress lay in tatters on the bedroom floor, a casualty of Beast’s hunger. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. After rummaging through the dusty armoire, I found a simple sleeping gown of faded blue cotton, soft with age and loose enough to slip away from claws or teeth if necessary. Thethought brought heat to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the dying embers in the hearth.
It made me note the subtle pain between my legs from our encounter last night. I could feel it as I moved my body. The pain almost a happy one that brought joy, and the rest of me did not hurt besides the bruising still healing from Gaspard.
The reminder mixed with the morning air and bit at my exposed skin, raising gooseflesh along my arms and neck. I grabbed a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my shoulders like a noblewoman’s shawl. The fabric smelled of dust and forgotten dreams, but it held warmth, and warmth was more precious than cleanliness in this ancient tomb of stone.
“Right,” I whispered to myself, finding strange comfort in breaking the silence with my own voice. “Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding.”
The corridor outside my room stretched in both directions, a throat of stone and shadow swallowing what little light filtered through cracked windows. I chose the path I hadn’t taken last night, the one leading toward the grand staircase.
Each step against the cold stone sent shivers up through my bare feet, reminding me that I was woefully unprepared for life as a castle-dwelling fugitive. No shoes, no proper clothes, no idea what lurked in the shadows beyond the next turn.
Papa would have loved this place. The thought came unbidden, squeezing my heart with grief so fresh it stole my breath. He would have spent hours examining the architectural wonders, the plumbing system that still functioned after years of abandonment, the clever way light was directed through strategically placed windows. Instead, he hung suspended in that grotesque garden of blood-drinking roses, his life force feeding their unnatural bloom.
I pushed the image away, forcing my feet to continue their exploration. The staircase loomed ahead, its once-grandsweep now marred by crumbling edges and missing balusters. I descended carefully, testing each step before committing my weight. The great hall looked different in daylight. Less imposing, perhaps, but somehow more tragic. Dust motes danced in sunbeams that pierced through gaps in the ceiling, illuminating the remnants of grandeur beneath layers of neglect.
A low rumble echoed through the hall, reverberating off stone walls like distant thunder. Not the castle settling, but something alive. Something large.
Beast.
My hand instinctively went to the base of my throat where his teeth had broken skin just hours before, marking me as his. The wound was tender but not painful, a marker that I belonged to him now in some primal way I didn’t fully understand. The knowledge should have terrified me, yet I felt only a strange calm as I followed the sound toward what appeared to be a sitting room off the main hall.
The massive doorway framed a scene both bizarre and oddly domestic. Beast crouched before an enormous fireplace, his powerful jaws clamped around a thick tree branch. As I watched, frozen in the threshold, he twisted his head with a savage jerk. The wood splintered between his teeth with a crack that echoed through the cavernous room. He spat out the broken pieces, adding them to a growing pile of makeshift firewood at his feet, echoing their fall in the large space.
The sitting room must once have been magnificent. Even with dust-covered furniture and tattered wall hangings, I could see hints of its former glory. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls from the high ceiling, their facets dulled by time but still catching what light filtered through tall windows. Furniture draped in ghostly sheets formed a semicircle around the hearth, like silent spectators waiting for the evening’s entertainment to begin.
My imagination stripped away the years of neglect, reconstructing what once had been. Polished wood gleaming in firelight. Rich fabrics in jewel tones adorning windows and furniture. Silver candelabras casting warm light over faces animated with conversation and laughter. A family, perhaps the one from the portrait, gathered in comfortable luxury, unaware that their world would one day crumble around them.
The vision faded, leaving only decay and a beast growling at firewood. My heart ached for what had been lost, for the life that had once filled these walls, for whatever tragedy had transformed this place from home to mausoleum.
And, strangely, for him. This creature who had claimed me so completely, who now broke branches with his teeth to build me a fire. Had he once been part of that family? Had he walked these halls on two human legs instead of four massive paws?
A floorboard creaked beneath my weight, betraying my presence. Beast’s head snapped up, amber eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath. Another branch hung from his jaws, half-splintered and forgotten as he registered my appearance.
For a heartbeat, we simply stared at one another, predator and prey, except I no longer knew which was which. Then he dropped the branch and rose to his full height, towering above the scattered pile of broken wood like some ancient forest deity surveyed his offerings.
His snout dipped toward a high-backed chair positioned near the hearth, the gesture unmistakable in its command.Sit.
