Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
The gate slams open, causing some of the men on the other side to jump back in shock. They take a moment to gasp, but then they recover and charge at me, their weapons held high and flashing in the light of the torches.
For a single second, they must think they have the advantage. There are more of them, and I am only one beast. They do not understand the depth of his rage, or mine.
The beast obliterates them, tearing their flesh and barely responding to an ounce of their attack. They are nothing compared to what he is. What he’s capable of. I taste nothing but blood. I hear nothing but screams. The pain of a sword is nothing. The agony of a club to the head is nothing. They are nothing but dead.
One by one, he sinks claws and teeth into their flesh, ripping and tearing until the men begin to fall. He bites, snapping his jaw to cut through flesh until he meets bone. Blood spills hotly over his face and hands. It smells like copper in the cold air, mixing with the scent of the iron gate, and soon the blood is all there is.
There is nothing but pure primal need when we lunge for them. Suddenly there does not seem to be any distance between us.
The men go down one by one. One of the torches swipes at me, close enough to singe my skin, but I hardly feel the heat. That is not the kind of wound that will force me to stop. I don’t pause for an instant.
I tear out the throat of another man. I use my claws and the stick and my teeth again and again and again, watching only long enough to see that the men don’t get back up.
Then, suddenly, it is only me and Crawe. A gasp is heard to my right and I turn to face the sight of a coward.
Lord Crawe looks at me with disgust and anger and disbelief. There is also fear in his eyes, though he would never admit it. I bare my teeth at him, and he lifts his sword high, gritting his teeth. He thinks he will get the chance to come at me with it and pin me down and shove it through my chest, but he won’t.
When he takes his first step, I leap at him, snarling and growling and ready to end this battle once and for all.
By the time our bodies meet, Crawe has a knife in one hand and his sword held in the other. I sink my teeth into his forearm, and he drops the knife.
Crawe leaps back a few feet to gain space, wiping at his mouth and wincing. He gets both hands on the hilt of his sword. We circle each other for a few steps, but the beast’s vision is red with anger and he has no time for this man’s game.
He attacks with teeth again, and then we are there, tearing at every piece of him we can reach. When Crawe falls with a pitiful scream, the beast is still not satisfied.
Mine. Mine. She is mine.
Blood spreads in a pool around Crawe’s body as his throat is clawed away. The beast lets out a triumphant roar. He has won. He has killed all the men who thought they could scale the wall and kill him like a mere animal. No light sparks in any of their eyes. They are all finished, the battle is over, and the yard is silent.
The air is even colder than it was. It smells of snow. I inhale hard, my breath visible in the air in front of me, and my blood is still hot. In the silence I can hear the wind in the forest and echoes of that long-ago fight that happened almost in this very spot.
But as I catch my breath, the realization hits that I don’t feel victorious.
I don’t feel like I won. I don’t even feel like I gained anything, though the beast disagrees. I know that I have done this to protect Elle and to protect myself, but as I look at the bodies, another emotion sinks in.
It is shame.
It is a grievous sadness. I stand in the yard, surrounded by dead bodies, and I don’t feel powerful. I don’t feel like the blood that was spilled tonight has made things any better. They will come for her again. They won’t stop until I’m dead.
For a moment, I miss the world that I once had when I was the prince and not the beast.
The thing that brings me the most sadness is that Elle would have loved that world. She would have been safe. My home used to be filled with dinners, dancing, conversations, and laugher. It was never this silent and angry. It was never this burden, always with the knowledge that someone else may come to kill me.