Beast (The Submissively Ever After Series Book 1) (3 page)

"I need." The husky voice growled as my dress parted, the cold sensation reached higher. I yanked the hem, drawing the brocade down over my legs, clasping my knees together. I caught the heady scent of musk as an unseen force shoved the satin aside. The icy trail snaked along my lower leg and slipped under my knee. 

"Please, stop." I whimpered.

"I. Need."

The command was filled with hunger, luring me away from the cold and the dark. My dress bunched at mid thigh under a ghostly hand. Through the gloom, I caught movement.

First an arm, then a torso. Seconds later a face; the expression so hard, my heart stuttered with fear. His eyes were dark and imploring, trapping me underneath him. With each second his silver hair turned to gold and fell to frame his face. I fought the need to sweep my fingers through the strands to see if he was real. The pressure of him against me felt a little too real. His shoulders bulged as his arms blocked me in, pushing me against the floor. 

Those intense eyes left mine, lingering on my chest. I pressed my spine hard against the floor as my nipples hardened, chafing inside the smooth satin bodice. My nerves fired, drawing heat between my legs. I clenched my thighs tight, watching his nostrils flare, drawing in my scent with harsh breaths.

"Stop this."
No more. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.
A bulge between his thighs dug into mine, sending shivers along my skin. I was helpless to move as he lifted one hand to slide his palm over my stomach.

The proper accent was now feral and depraved.

"
I need. I need."

His hand was heavy, spanning my ribs, creeping up to cup my breast. I turned my head, tears slipped across the bridge of my nose. I tried to still my breath, but a different need—every bit as primal—forced my chest to rise under the touch of his hand. His grip kneaded my flesh and he squeezed my nipple, drawing a burn from deep inside.

I need. I need.

My tears turned to ice on my cheek, but they seemed to excite him more. His body rocked against mine, thrusting his knee to part my legs. He fumbled with my skirt, wrenching it higher from my legs. My cheeks burned as heat flared between my thighs. His strong grip forced my legs wider. The cold air licked the heat between my thighs, sending shivers along my skin. My attacker shifted and I could breathe once more. He slid lower, stopping at my sex.

I gripped the skirt, shoving it between my thighs, then froze as a growl tore through the air.

Under the thin cotton of my panties, my channel tingled. I waited for the touch of his mouth, hating the way my flesh reacted. One shift of my legs and the elastic of my panties would inch toward the crease of my sex, exposing me. I swallowed hard, fighting that dark desire as movement behind this man drew my gaze.

Something reared in the darkness. My ears buzzed with the pressure of a gathering storm. White wisps of smoke took shape into something that was too big for me to see. But, God I felt it.

The vague outline of a giant dominated the space of the dining room, stilling my attacker. His momentary distraction was all I needed.

I yanked my arms back and rolled, then pulled my knee toward my chest. I drove my heel out, kicking him in the chest. The blow toppled him sideways.

I shoved my good heel against the floor, skidding out from underneath him. A low growl echoed from the floorboards of the room. The deep rumbling raised the hairs on my arms. I scurried backward, desperate to get way, and smashed my ass against a wall. My body pulsed with that growl. Something dangerous reared in the darkness, coming for me.

R
un
! A voice inside me screamed. Mark's unheeded warning became all too clear.
Don't listen to the house, Belle. Don't listen to the goddamn house!

I blinked away my tears and stumbled through the room. The silence shattered as I knocked into chairs. The deafening crash of plates and silverware made my heart clamor. My breast throbbed. The feel of the ghost’s hand still lingered against my stomach. I clenched my fist, ready to strike as I stumbled through the dining room.

Even though running seemed useless.

A ghost attacked me.

How can I fight that?

"Ghosts aren't real," I whispered, scanning the darkness.

Delirium waited behind me, lingering with the faint sound of violins. I shook my head and lunged forward, smashing my foot on something. The intense pain was followed by a blow to my forehead. I slapped my palm against what felt like a doorframe, swearing under my breath. The lingering scent of vinegar tickled my nose. Underneath the mildly acidic smell was a scent of something stale and moldy.

I dug my nails into the doorframe. The brittle wood crumbled. Shards pricked my fingers and I clung to the pain. That was real. That single link to reality was all I needed, for now. My cold cheek warmed under the trail of my tears. I rocked, trying to keep the panic at bay. "I'm okay. I'm fine. I'll get through this. I just gotta wait right here. When the sun comes up, then I'll run. There's a way out of here, there has to be."

I shoved the tears aside with the back of my hand and licked my dry lips. The sound of scratching stopped the motion. I sniffed, jerking my gaze around the darkness, trying to find a bead on the noise.

The
tap, tap, tap
of tiny nails drew closer.
Rats. Jesus, they’re rats.
I curled my toes, blindly feeling the brush of fur, and clamped my mouth closed, stifling the scream. The sharp bite of teeth would be next.

I tiptoed along the wall. I prayed I wouldn't step on a vicious beast. My fingers skimmed something hard, waist high. I jerked my hand away, before steeling my nerve, and tried again. My fingers probed the darkness, touching a hard edge. I ran my fingers along the surface, finding tiny edges of wood grain, and searched for the end. My hip slammed against the corner as the far side dipped away. I whispered a prayer and clawed for a hold, swinging one leg up, followed by the other.

Squeals came from every direction, piercing my skull. They clawed at the counter below me. I scrambled to pull my skirt high, praying the savage bastards couldn't climb, and tucked my feet under my thighs. My lower lip trembled. I trapped the shudder under my teeth. I would not fall apart. Not here, not now. I'd fought for too long and I had too much to live for.

A vein throbbed in the side of my head. I pressed my fingers against the beat and massaged my face. The inside of my wrist itched, commanding my attention.
No. Not now. Not here.

I fought the need to touch the mangled tendons and trace the raised jagged edges of the scar along the inside of my arm.

I’m a fighter.

I’ve fought before and I’ll fight now.

This time, losing isn’t an option.

Once the sun came up I'd run. Dogs or no dogs, I'd take my chances in the wild. I glanced toward the doorway. Anywhere, as long as it wasn't in this house.

"But we don't know anything about him, Belle. Please, I beg you, reconsider his proposal."

The muffled voice reached me from somewhere in the room. I knew that voice. My memory was sharper now. Nala’s whispers drifted to me, dragging the memory of her stopping the car beside me and calling out. "
Hey, you want a ride?"

I knew the dangers of hitchhiking. But I was sensible. I was observant and she looked so kind. They’d been two smiling people in an old green clunker, cheerful.

How was I to know I’d end up here?

Nala’s voice echoed in this room, just like the man’s voice in the dining room. My fingers clenched around my wrist. My thumb jerked, involuntary tracing the scar. The raised edges held me here in this room, in this house. They were a tether to my mind. A tether spun too thin.
Not again. Please, not again.

"But, I love him, Father."

I closed my eyes at the sound of her words. Ghosts filled the corridors and the rooms of this house. I felt their energy sucking the life from me, demanded to be heard.
Love.
I knew what that felt like. Not the cheating bastard I'd left behind. Connor had been just one in a long line of men to keep the hollow ache inside my heart at bay. Even now as I listened to the voices echo, I backed away from the one voice (or man) I tried to forget.

Gaige's brooding eyes came to me, so beautiful, even though his words were cruel. He was the only one I’d ever really loved. The only one who dug underneath the cold exterior of my fragile existence. The only one who could make me soar one minute, then tear me down in the next.
I don't love you anymore, Anna. I don't think I ever loved you.
I tried to love again after Gaige, but I couldn’t. Connor and I were doomed from the start.

Love.
I'd known it once. I touched the raised ridge down the inside of my arm and remembered I never wanted to know it again. "What do you want from me?"

My question hung in the air, and yet, I feared the answer.

"We know nothing of this man. Please child. Those in the town speak of this hunter. They—"

"They, what? Speak now. Let me hear what idle gossips have to say about the man I intend to marry."

I sucked the cold air into my lungs. The shock wrenched me from these strange voices. Secrets oozed from its walls to smother me. I gripped my knees and rocked, squeezing myself tighter against the cupboard. "Just leave me alone. I just want to be left the fuck alone," I muttered.

The rats gnawed on something underneath the bench. Hissing filled the bleak space around me. One of the filthy beasts gave a sharp squeal followed by a gut-wrenching crescendo of cries from the rest. I could hear them down there, attacking their own, tearing at one another in their ravenous need for food.

My stomach burned, hardening with pangs of hunger. I rubbed my wrist, letting my tears fall, and through the blurred darkness, pale, insubstantial wisps of fog resolved into ghostly figures, filling the room in front of me.

"Speak your truth and be done with it. I have someone waiting for me."

The far away sound of Nala’s voice turned crisp, as though the frequency of this old house had been tuned to the metaphysical. I sniffed and wiped my cheeks as the center of the room lightened to grey, growing brighter with each second. The light clung to the outline of a man. As the glimmer grew, his features sharpened. His hunched posture and defeated expression made him look older. The sadness in his eyes called to me. His tone held a desperation that made my chest ache. The white shirt he wore ballooned from his arms as he reached for the young woman at his side. She shifted, stepping out of reach, so that his fingers skimmed her shoulder, then fell to his side.

"Speak, Father. I'm waiting."

There was something about that commanding, proper voice. I took in the off-white gown she wore. Her dark hair was piled in a bun on top of her head. A few tight curls had fought free to skim the top of her shoulders, softening her face. In my mind, this face watched me as she wound down her car window, asking me if I needed a lift. I’d thought she was pretty then. But here, in this ghost memory, Nala was strikingly beautiful.

She was a little young perhaps, filled with the glow of innocence. But there was no softening the fierce look in her eye. She glared. "He's waiting for me."

"Just a little time is all I'm asking for, child. You can grant your old father that at least, can't you?" The pain in the ghostly older gentleman’s words matched the sheen in his eye. "Give me this and I'll give you my blessing. Time is all I'm asking for, Belle."

Belle?

Her name was Nala. Confusion crowded my mind. I couldn’t seem to fit these pieces together. They’d told me their names were Mark and Nala. Were they lying? I looked around, remembering the position I was in. Abduction, lying, they went hand in hand, didn't they?
Belle
. Mark tried to tell me a story about her, something about her father and a beast.
Belle was different. She was a quiet, slip of a girl. Content with dancing, singing, and being the apple of her father's eye.

I stared at the image in front of me and the quiet desperation in the old man's eye. There didn't seem to be any contentment there. All I saw was love and loss.

"A week is all you get, Father. Then I'm marrying the hunter, with or without your blessing."

Through the haze, I watched as Belle whirled and strode away. The old man let her go, then stumbled to the table and slumped into a chair.

"I've lost her." Those bleak words were married with a shake of his head. "There's nothing I can do. I've lost her."

The tremble of his shoulders turned to shudders. I pinned my lip with my teeth, fighting the need to comfort him. Those tortured sounds filled the room. I traced the line on my wrist, searching for the sharp ridges, the deeper edge where the razor had cut deep. The reminder of the troubles I’d survived was all that kept me from falling apart.

The old man straightened, dragging my attention back to the center of the room. He reached into his pocket, dragging a thin swath of handkerchief free and dabbed his cheeks before blowing his nose. The harsh trumpeting sound carried, ticking the fine hairs on my arms.