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)
I’m a shattered mess, but he does not seem to care. He kisses me deeply, making soft sounds into the kiss of the likes I have not heard from him since the night I found myself in his bed. A deep primal need that’s as intoxicating as the magic that surrounds the castle.
I don’t even try to understand while he kisses me, his fingers stroking the side of my face and down my neck. It is no use when I have no wits about myself. I can feel his desire for me, and he must feel my desire for him, but I do not know if I can offer him that right now. I’m exhausted from crying for so long, and I am also exhausted by the relief I feel at having the beast here with me.
I know that sounds like it cannot be true, but I could almost fall asleep if he weren’t kissing me like this. I would not have minded if he wanted to lie down on the pillows with me and sleep for a long time. He may need it as much as I do, after all that has happened and now that he allows me to see him.
Because in addition to seeing him with my own eyes, I am touching him, and my hands confirm what I feel. I cannot imagine that the beast’s body is an illusion. It feels too real under my hands, and when I peek out from under my lashes to make sure the warm skin and the muscle and bone underneath my fingertips match what I see with my eyes, they are always correct. I have no reason to disbelieve them.
His eyes are the same…but at this moment he has the body of a man. Strong sharp features and a rugged yet charming look. He is both. How was that never shared in the lore? It is as if he can shift from one to the other. My heart beats wildly and the same feeling from the first night returns. A deep need to touch him and to be bound to him. As if our love was fated. As if nothing else matters.
I feel almost breathless from how tenderly he kisses me, and how deeply.
It makes me dizzy to be kissed like this. The beast pulls away and looks into my eyes with curiosity. I put my hands to his face and feel his carved cheekbones. He flinches as if my touch pains him. I pull away, not wanting to stop him from loving me.
“I did not mean to hurt you.”
“No? Does it not disturb you to see me like this?” he questions and then adds, “Knowing what I am?”
“No,” I tell him honestly in a whisper, then lean in and offer him a gentle kiss. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, then opens them again, watching my face. “My prince.”
With my words, the magic is broken, snapping right before my eyes.
He jerks away, getting from his feet and taking a step back from the bed. His sudden withdrawal shocks me, and I put a hand to my chest.
“Don’t call me that,” he orders, his voice sharp.
With my heart racing and my mind not understanding, I blink at the change in tone. He has ordered me to do many things, but this is the first time I have heard him speak to me in such pained anger.
“Is there something else I should call you?”
He narrows his eyes. “Call me what I am.”
“You are a prince.”
I’m only stating what is true. For most of my life, I believed the stories the villagers said about the beast. That he was a beast who was once a man but was cursed by a witch and turned into a creature like the world had never seen before. A dangerous creature who would kill anyone who tried to get a glimpse of him. And yet, here he is before me.
Those are just stories, as I have learned. The man before me is not a creature unlike any I have ever seen. The stories said that he was most like a wolf, but far too large to be defeated. That, too, was just a story. The man standing in the middle of my room, his hands at his sides and his face flushed from his anger, is a man.
Flesh like mine.
I have seen many men before, but I have never seen one as handsome as the prince.
The prince stares at me, his eyes sharp and his shoulders rising and falling as he breathes. Anger rises in him and though the magic in the castle tries, it cannot soothe the tension between us now.
“I’m not a prince,” he growls, then strides across the room to the mirror. He jerks it on a sharp angle, the heavy weight of it nothing to him. “Look.”