The Beast & His Beauty Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Virgin Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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“You are the prince,” she says.

I turn away from her with a sound of disgust. “Do not look at me.”

“I swear it!” Elle takes another step forward but stops when I give her a sharp look over my shoulder. “I do not see a beast! I only see you.”

I look back down at my body. It is the body of a beast. It is not the body of the prince I was before I was cursed. I can hardly remember what I looked like. “You do not need to flatter me. I know I am a beast. And even if you deny that, I am still a beast for what I have done.”

“I saw you as a beast,” Elle says softly, her eyes determined. “I saw the beast that is in you, but in this moment…you are not him. You are the prince.”

“The magic⁠—”

“It is not the magic. I can see clearly. I feel you. I’ve touched your skin and kissed you. You have blue eyes and dark brown hair that falls to your shoulders. It is wavy but does not curl into ringlets. I can see you.”

My stomach clenches. Elle is describing the man I once was, but that is impossible. I look into the mirror, bracing myself to see that I have changed.

I have not. The beast stares back at me. He has gold eyes and the face of a beast. There is no mistaking it, and certainly no confusing it for the man I used to be.

And Elle cannot know what I looked like before I was cursed. I tore all the portraits of me that existed in the castle to shreds years ago. Not a single one remains. They were too painful to look at, and when the beast was in control, he responded to that pain by doing whatever he could to destroy them. The canvases were no match for his claws.

I turn away from the mirror and meet Elle’s eyes. If she is lying to me, it does not show on her face. She simply watches me as if her fear of me earlier was a mistake, and now she understands why I could not accept what she said.

I swallow, my throat dry. “How do you know what I once looked like?”

Elle’s brow furrows. “I do not know what you mean.”

“You have just described the man I was before the curse. That is not what I look like now. You are not seeing clearly.”

She looks at me again, blinking as if to clear her vision, then waits a few more seconds.

Elle shakes her head. “I was not describing the way you used to look. I was describing the way you look now. The way you look at this moment, standing here in front of me. As you are now.”

I search for the beast inside of me. He is at peace, still, resting, but not gone. He is never going to be gone. I glance out the window at the night sky. The moon hangs heavy and bright. It’s nearly the full moon. The days passed quickly after the new moon, and especially after the attack. At its sight, I feel the pull, both to the beast and to Elle. The magic is strong when the moon is full.

“What did the spell say?” Elle asks and as I return my sight to her, she is focused on the rose that is almost no more. “If you could tell me⁠—”

If I told her, there would still be nothing she could do. That is not the nature of the spell. Suddenly the loneliness of the hours I have spent in the tower, watching the rose petals and making foolish wishes, as if they could change what is to come wraps around me. I feel every moment I have spent apart from Elle and how much of a waste it was, and I cannot control what I want from her. I do not care if it makes me weak.

“Please,” I say, my voice rough. “Kiss me.”

Elle moves toward me, her eyes soft and her hands already lifting to touch me. I am entranced all over again by how she comes to me without fear. This is a woman who has every right to fear me. She has seen me at my most dangerous, and still she followed me here to tell me that I do not look like a beast. Elle came here to tell me that she sees the prince I once was.

That is not possible. It can never be possible, but in her eyes, I can see that she believes it. For that, I thank the magic.

Perhaps it does not matter what I look like. It has mattered to me a great deal since I lost the person I was before the curse. I knew the witch would not be kind, as she was too drunk on her own power when I came to her. She was able to hold the lives of all the villagers over my head, and there was no reason for her to show mercy, and she did not.


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