Beast (The Submissively Ever After Series Book 1) (5 page)

The battered woman's muffled pleas went unanswered as she buried her head in the mattress. Her body sagged against the restraints. Her stillness was eerie. I took in every raised, bloodied lash across the backs of her legs, stopping on a raised welt the size of a matchbox above her hip. I leaned closer, focusing on the square outline. I shoved myself off the wall. A hiss escaped when I realized what made that ridge—the outline of a metal buckle.

I swallowed hard and stared at the still woman. Was she dead?

"Be alive. Please be alive."

Love and devotion seeped from the cold madam's eyes as she stared at Mark. Acid filled my mouth, scalding my throat. Love blended with cruelty, twisting inside my heart. My hands shook as I clutched my wrist, feeling the familiar trail left behind by the razor.
Love. I know the pain well.
I stumbled backward, tripping over the long skirt around my feet, as her snarl echoed from the room once more.

"Get a bucket."

I braced against the wall, feeling splinters gouge my skin. The hunter wanted to hurt. He wanted to maim, and staring into those cold unfeeling eyes, I knew he wanted to kill. My stomach clenched. I lunged, just missing the back of the old man's boots as hot bile shot out of my mouth and splashed against the trampled ground.

I held on while my stomach wrenched until there was nothing more. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and glanced back to the whorehouse room. Would that be my fate, too?

I was already beaten.

The scrape of boots jerked my focus from the present, and I sank once more into the past. Belle's father turned from the window. The bottom of his coattail caught in a breeze, slapping against the pane and drawing attention from those inside the room.

The hunter, now completely naked, stalked to the sill. His cock was engorged. The thick shaft wobbled as he stepped. His focus was directed at the old man as he strode toward the window. Mark’s lips slid back over white teeth. The glee in his eyes screamed with satisfaction, but also a challenge. I wiped the last traces of puke off my dress and raced toward the end of the alley, fearing what would come next.

Belle's father looked like a different man than the one I followed into the tavern as he unleashed the horses. The resignation in his eyes choked what little hope remained inside me that somehow, this would turn out different. I followed his lead, climbing onto the wagon and settled into the back. The snap of the reins reminded me a little too much of the strap on bare flesh. I shivered, craving the warmth of this fading sun. I wondered how far the events from the present could stray from the past. Was there another version of this story out there, somewhere? Or did I possess the ability to change anything? Was I doomed to merely repeat the tale or could I bend events to my will? Was the beast the key to all this?

The wind snatched the old man's words before I had a chance to hear them as he turned the horses back onto the road. I balanced my weight, trying my best to counteract the jerk and sway of the carriage as I climbed onto the seat next to him. His focused gaze had a stony look of despair. I knew that look all too well. I'd seen it in my own reflection too many times to count.

"I've lost, Hillary. The sewer rat won't take my money and I'm too damn old to fight." He glanced to the left as we headed back out of town. Something out there called to him through the barrier of trees. "Will you help me, old friend? Will you listen to my tale of woe, one last time? A beast you may be, but in this case, I'd gladly trade one beast for another."

I held onto the wooden seat of the carriage as my world spun. My heart ached for Belle. Naive in love, her fate had been decided for her.
One beast for another.
If it was me, I'd rather die—at least I'd be free. A howl tore through the air, feral and dangerous. I searched for the sound, but there was no recognition in the man's face beside me. No hint he'd heard it at all. I knew then, that hideous howl wasn't in his world... it was in mine.

I waited for the wagon to veer right, back onto the worn track toward the large cottage. Instead, the horses continued, trotting down the larger, worn road, even as the sun dipped low over the horizon. Where were we headed in the dark? The wagon bumped and weaved as the horses trotted, slowing only at a large fork in to road. The old man gripped the reins tight, steering with expert care as we headed left.

My heart beat a little harder, knowing we had mere hours of daylight left and no way to find the trail in the dark. I could do nothing but wait and hope for the best. The frantic pace of my heart never slowed as the landscape changed. We passed small clumps of pine trees. The sight of these summoned a clenched fist inside my chest, as I stared at the expansive trunks reaching for the sky. The small patches of towering trunks became bigger, until one mass flowed into another.

I knew where he was headed.

He was coming to the house where I was trapped.

I forgot about the dipping sun as we broke through the edge of the forest. The warm rays couldn't breech the canopy above, casting us into deep shadows as we headed into the woods.

I couldn't see the forest floor, let alone make out any path. The horses plodded now, easing over fallen branches and wide dips. Their snorts echoed through the forest. Each draw of breath held my focus. I tucked the long skirt in tighter, feeling the chill settle into my bones.

Belle's father didn't seem to notice the sudden drop in temperature. The neighs and nickers grew louder. One mare reared, pawing the ground with her hoof before making one small step closer. The back of my throat ached. I let out the trapped breath, feeling the cold air rush in to leave me lightheaded. My eyes burned from the icy air as I searched the ever-darkening woods. The horses sensed something dangerous, something I couldn't.

"Easy now. Easy, girl."

I flinched at his words. The old man hadn’t spoken to his dead wife since we left the tavern. A hopeless resignation seemed to permeate him, as though some crippling disease of the heart had taken hold. A sharp snap somewhere in the darkness sent a flurry of wings surging skyward and my heart thundered in time. Every sound triggered a warning that burned through my veins like wildfire.

My gaze chased the snap of a twig, or the chirp of a bird, scanning the dark woods. I searched the forest for some reason we were here. There was no house I could see, nor light to mark the way. The horses whinnied and stamped the ground. I could feel a gaze like ice on the back of my neck. Something watched us as the old man climbed down from the wagon and tethered the reins to nearest tree.

My nails dug into the seat. I tried to force my legs to work, but the stubborn lumps of flesh refused to budge. I could feel him out there, waiting for me, watching me.

The old man turned and headed deeper into the woods. If I didn't move now I'd lose sight of him, then I’d be stranded. I stared down at my hand and turned my left arm. The scar was more than a reminder. It was a warning.
Don't lose again. Don't fail.
Not this time, for if I failed again, I feared I'd never find my way out of these haunted woods—or the past.

I stood on shaking legs and eased down from the wagon, fighting the need to run. The horses shivered as I passed and the poor creature’s eyes went wide. Their soft neighs sounded pained. I took that as a warning. I lost sight of Belle's father as he side-stepped the massive pines, then moved into view further off in the distance than I expected.

The damn dress was hard to run in. I knew there were sticks and stones all around me, but if I stepped on any, I never felt a thing. I hurried, climbing over the fallen branches to gain the ground I lost.

He moved through the trees with ease, as though this trek was familiar. His stride was constant, his footing sure. I followed, moving closer as the night descended on the forest floor. All around me, the trees thickened, crowding one another. There were no markings to guide my way. I glanced up. There weren’t even stars in the night sky to use as a compass. My teeth chattered. I hugged my stomach and hurried. If I became lost in here, I'd never survive.

We weaved through the dense overgrowth, squeezing through openings barely big enough for me to fit through, let alone Belle's father. One low branch caught me off guard as I ducked underneath another in front, hitting me square in the chest. I stumbled backward, raking my fingers down the rough trunk, searching for a hold, and lost sight of him. My pulse sped, the vein on the side of my head kicked, thudding with a beat I couldn't control.

He was just here
. I swiveled, unable to determine which way I’d been heading, or which way I'd come. Trees. That's all I could see. Trees and darkness, waiting for me. I should've stayed with the horses. I should've listened to my gut. I sagged against the branch. The ruptured bark snagged my hair. I yanked my head forward, breaking the strands, and caught the sound of a voice, whispering.

And then another, sounding like a growl. Was it a wolf? A bear? I searched the shadows. Finding a bead on the sound, I crept forward. The old man’s soft tone grew louder. He was here, talking to someone. But who could be in the middle of a forest, with no sign of a house in sight? 

"If I mean anything at all to you, please hear me out." The beseeching voice begged. I edged closer, finding myself staring at the biggest trunk I'd ever seen.

The old man's white cotton shirt peeked from underneath his jacket and was like a beacon in the dark. I narrowed in on his voice as I tried in vain to find the top of the tree in front of me. The trunk spanned the size of three men standing side by side. The thinnest branches were more than twice the breadth of my arm, shooting over his head.

A snarl in response to the old man drew me from my search for the top of tree. I couldn't make out the words, only the tone. The skin on my arms puckered. That sound captured my breath. Feral. Dangerous. My feet felt like stone. I forced myself forward, one slow agonizing step at a time until the deep growl turned into something I could understand. This beast remained out of focus. The night seemed to be its ally, hugging the massive outline, keeping whatever the creature was out of sight.

"How long have we known each other?" the old man asked. His tone held a tinge of despair.

"You're not making sense, boy. Why are you here?"

The clipped tone was followed by a growl. The deep snarl vibrated inside me. I held onto a branch, craning my neck. Fear prevented me from moving any closer. The shadows cloaked the beast. For that, I was thankful.

"Please, humor me. The mere fact you still call me a boy should remind you."

"Fine, I'll humor you. Since you were a fresh-faced, pimply brat who got himself lost in this forest and knocked on the wrong door," the animal spat.

A deep-throated chuckle followed. I blinked and stared until my eyes watered, unable to believe my ears. "A brat, eh? I suppose I was, at that point. And in all my years have I ever asked anything from you?"

"No. You have not."

"Today, I'm asking for more than an old friend should. I'm asking for sacrifice, commitment, and for you to place another needs above your own. For I fear, if you cannot, not only is my life at stake, but also the life of my daughter."

The growl tore from the shrubs like rolling thunder. I gripped the branch to keep myself from falling forward.

The one word demand was simple. "Who?"

I fought to control myself and stop from screaming out her name as the old man answered. "My youngest, Belle."

The sharp intake of breath sounded like a gust of wind. The soft rumble grew deeper, like the closing in of a thunderstorm. I pressed my body against the trunk, wrapping my arms around my stomach, trying my best to stave off the chill.

"All my life I have wished for someone to love me. I have listened to the stories of your daughters, laughing, crying as though they were family of my own. But I want you to answer me this, before I make up my mind. Could she love me? Could she set me free?"

My ears buzzed with the strain of listening for the answer. Then finally, in a shudder, the old man answered. "No. Her heart belongs to another. But it’s a false love, for she doesn't see his true face. He's a cruel, sadistic man. He truly is a beast."

"You have wealth. You have family. I have only ever wanted someone to love me, someone to see beyond what I am. If I do this, if I marry out of loyalty and not love, I’ll never have that chance."

"I know, which is why my heart is heavy. All the gold I have, all the jewels I have, are pointless. My fortune is my daughters. I beg of you, take Belle from this tyrant, and treat her well. I hope one day, she might grow to love you."

"When do you need an answer?"

The old man's answer was so faint I held my breath to hear. "I'll wait."

A growl tore through the underbrush, followed by a shuffling of leaves and the loud snap of a branch. I tracked the beast's movement. Pine trees groaned, bowing outward as he passed. I splayed my hand against the butt of the tree beside me and pushed, testing the give in the roots. I may as well have tried bending stone. The sheer strength it would take to make even the tree shake was astounding, but to make it bend? Jesus, how big was he?

That sound. Jesus, that sound. Every nerve in my body was screaming, Run! Hide! The thought of something that powerful filled me with fear. But underneath the fear there was also something else—something I didn't want to acknowledge. I stared at my trembling hands. My lungs burned with each breath of frigid air. I rubbed my arms, creating warmth from what little friction I could manage.

I was sure hours slipped by until the soft boom echoed through the brush. The ground shook under my feet. I pressed my palm against the bark. The tremor grew as the thunder came closer, moving in like a deadly storm, ready to wipe the old man's existence away with one word.
No
.

I gripped the tree until the barrage faded. The harsh heavy sounds of his breaths marked his presence. "Do you understand what you ask of me, boy?"

The old man was slow to answer, as though he weighed each word carefully. "Yes, but, as her father, I must ask. No, I must beg you."