Chapter Nine
"Stop being silly and sit
down." Beauty tapped her foot impatiently, her little hand pointing
inexorably at Rayven's chair.
He left off of pacing angrily, which
he had started when she refused to let him out of the kitchen. He looked at her in disbelief, not
comprehending her stubborn wish to tend his wounds, all superficial in his
opinion. "I am not being
silly! Now leave me alone!"
Her smile was vaguely threatening as
she gestured for him to come closer.
"Rayven… look at the floor and tell me what you see."
He looked at the red droplets
splattered across the path he'd been attempting to wear in the stones of the
kitchen floor. "Blood." He
answered.
"Very good. Now what does that tell you?" she
batted her eyelashes at him in that same menacing manner.
"Er… someone's bleeding?"
he asked, trying to think of a way out of this.
"Exactly. You.
Now, sit!" she demanded,
stamping her small foot imperiously.
A pause later, he was seated in the
chair grumbling to himself as she checked to see if the water she'd set to
boiling was ready yet. With a tsking
sound of dismay, she added more wood to the fire in the hearth and set about
the room collecting an odd assortment of items; a needle and thread, clean
rags, bandages, a candle, a bowl of cold water, and a bottle of one of his
lesser brandies.
"What one earth-?" he
muttered to himself as she poured two small glasses of the brandy. "What is that for?"
"One for my nerves and one for
your pain." She answered matter-of-factly.
"I'm not in that much
pain." He insisted as she offered him the drink.
"You will be… being sewn is not
all that pleasurable an activity… but unfortunately you need it." She
shoved the glass into his hand and went to check the water again. "You know, my grandmother always told
me that a watched pot never boils… and here I thought it was just a
metaphor."
"Sew? You want to sew
me! Whatever for?" he demanded,
all prepared to leave once again no matter what atrocities she threatened to
wreak upon him.
She looked up at him calmly, her
hand gently pressing on his chest to seat him.
"Your shoulder blade, Rayven.
You've got a nasty bite there and it needs to be cleaned and sewn or else
it'll never heal."
"I'm not a bloody
ragdoll!" he growled.
"Well, you're certainly gaping
like one." She countered, just at the kettle began to whistle at her. "You might as well make this easy on
yourself and cooperate."
Once her back was turned, he gulped
down the strong liquor, grimacing as it burned a path down his throat to settle
warmly in his belly. She returned, a
satisfied smirk on her face as she noticed the emptied glass. "Intelligent choice." Was her only
comment as she took her own glass and eyed it askance.
"Ever had brandy?" he
asked.
"No… but I know that my father
drinks a swallow or two when he has to do something nerve-wracking. I figured I should as well… the way my hands
would probably shake." She shrugged before downing the entire glass. Sputtering and coughing, she nearly fell to
her knees as the spirit sizzled acidly down her tender throat.
"Beauty! Are you all right?" he asked, a hand
reaching out to steady her, his dark-furred hand a stark contrast against the
brilliant red of her hair, which had long since escaped its braid.
"Yes… no one ever thought to
tell me that this stuff burns!" she coughed, taking a few deep
breaths. "Although, the after
effects are certainly worth it." She smiled as the tell-tale heat and
relaxation embraced her. "Very
well, I'm ready now… lean forward and brace yourself." She ordered him.
He did as he was told, fully aware
that there was no arguing with her. A
shooting pain throughout his entire back made him grit his teeth and growl low;
Beauty had poured the remains of the brandy bottle's contents over the wound,
effectively using the alcohol to clean it.
Cool water and a soft cloth followed, rinsing the bite area and cleaning
the blood away so that she could see what she was doing.
"I'm sorry in advance if I hurt
you." She whispered softly in his ear and Rayven briefly forgot the
searing pain in favor of her caressing breath.
Unaware, she held the point of the threaded sewing needle in the
candle's flame to sterilize it, then began stitching as quickly as was
possible, in order to save him pain.
With nothing to do but stare at the
floor or think about that evil little needle stabbing through his already sore
flesh, Rayven berated himself heartily for his savagery. Why on earth was Beauty helping him? He had just torn a wolf pack to bloody
shreds! He was a dangerous and deadly
animal, unworthy of her concern and friendship! The girl should let him bleed to death, or at least run from him
screaming. Bloody hell, he'd all but
kidnapped her from her family, threatened her beloved father, forced her to
tolerate his company.
He truly was more beast than man.
Yet despite these harsh words,
Rayven couldn't help but savor the feel of her free hand splayed lower down on
his spine, her soft skin mingling with the rough, dark fur with no horror or
revulsion. Unbidden, the memory of
their passionate interlude the other night came to him. He had not been kissed in centuries and this
exquisite creature, although obviously an innocent, had sensed his overpowering
need and given him a sweet kiss that had scorched him through and through. His desire had lain mostly dormant since the
spell had been cast, now suddenly he was in the throes of longing for what
could never be his. Rayven knew that he
could shower the child with whatever he could; dresses, jewels, fine foods,
find surroundings, more books than any library in the world… but none of it
would win her heart over. Already, his
crimes against her were many.
Yet… here she was… taking care of
him. Smiling at him and scolding him
gently as he shifted uncomfortably under the pricking pierce of the
needle. Lovingly wrapping the wound in
bandages when she was done and instructing him to keep it clean and dry.
He nodded calmly as she doled out
her directions, entranced by her sky-blue eyes and the innocence glowing
within. This would never be… he
knew. She might befriend him, be his
sole source of comfort as he drew his last breaths in less than a year. But agree to marry him and bear a son of his
blood? Never. The very idea of such a beautiful, pure woman submitting to his
bestial lusts was offensive even to he, who needed it most. The thought of her soft, naked flesh against
this darkly-furred and fierce-looking beast almost made him feel physically
ill.
As meek as a kitten, lost in his own
dark thoughts, Rayven let Beauty lead him back to his chambers, where she told
him to rest before dinner. As she left,
Rayven mentally thrashed himself for watching the seductive sway of her hips as
she left, heading for her own bedroom.
@>-------,------'----------------------
Beauty heaved a sigh as she flopped
with little grace onto her bed, her nerves shot and her strength exhausted from
her encounter. After her attack,
nothing but adrenaline had kept her from collapsing with fear. Now that she was fairly certain that Rayven would
be fine, all she wanted to do was burrow into her sheets and stay there until
dinner. Matty and Shannon approached
cautiously, apparently concerned for her after word had reached them of the
attack.
"Milady?" Matty's voice
called softly. Beauty raised her head
reluctantly from its facedown position in the pillow to look at the
steel-colored cat.
"Hmm?" was her only
indication of hearing their unasked question.
"Are you quite well? We heard about the wolves and all… but what
happened?" Shannon asked, her ivory-plumed tail twitching nervously.
"Yes, I'm fine. My worst injury was having the wind knocked
out of me, that's all. Rayven was far
worse off… nasty bite on his back." Beauty yawned, hoping that would deter
any more questions for now.
"We heard about the master
saving you!" Shannon pounced up on the bed, like a young girl sharing the
latest gossip with her best friend.
"What happened?"
"Well… he killed most of the
wolves and saved me from them." Beauty answered, confused as to why Shannon
was so enthralled. By the look on
Matty's face, so was she.
"How heroic! You know, he would do anything for you if
you only asked."
"Shannon!" Matty hissed
sharply. "Can't you see that the
child is weary? Leave her be… you can
drill her tomorrow."
Shannon looked hurt for a moment as
she hopped down from the mattress, sheepishly hiding behind Matty's tail in
melodramatic shame. Matty fixed her
cohort with an exasperated look before turning her attention back to her
mistress. "Is there anything we can
get you before you drop off, milady?"
"No, thank you. I just want to sleep for an hour or so… if
it's not a bother, could you have a hot bath ready for me before I have to meet
Rayven for dinner?" Beauty added after a moment of thought.
"Indeed, milady… rest
well."
@>-------,------'----------------------
Rayven awoke from his short sleep
with a start, the sound of someone opening his chamber door reaching his
ears. After the battle with those
wolves, Rayven was on-edge and nervous, so he rose from his bed and readied
himself to pounce.
"Milord?" Jacob called
from the short hallway that led from his main chamber to the door. The butler sounded worried, not an uncommon
occurrence in and of itself, but more so than usual.
"Yes, Jacob? What is it?" Rayven growled, irritated
at his inability to calm himself.
"It's almost time for you to
get ready for supper." Jacob eyed the shredded and bloodied remains of
Rayven's shirt, long since banished to the back of his chair. "Shall I fetch a new shirt for you,
milord?"
"Yes. Although it will do little to hide my nature from her."
Rayven sighed, resting his head in his hands, lightly digging his claws into
his scalp as a wretched reminder of his beastly form.
"Sire… is this really the time
to wallow in self-pity? From what I
see, you and Miss Beauty are getting along famously. And after last night, I should think you'd be leaping with
joy."
"No, Jacob, last night should
not have happened. I am a beast and she
is an innocent young girl. I have no
right to pursue her as I do. For a
brief moment… I forgot that I was… am… an animal, not a man." Rayven
growled, spotting the red-stained shirt out of the corner of his eye.
"Look at this!" he roared,
seizing the garment angrily. "Look
what I am capable of doing! I just
killed a pack of forest wolves out of pure instinct! I had no control! Even
after they were fleeing and Beauty was safe, I still went after them!"
"You are not as you
think." Jacob shook his head calmly.
"You a merely a man who looks like a beast."
"Or a beast who walks and talks
like a man." Rayven glared at his faithful butler. "You don't understand, Jacob. I was barely aware of what I was doing. All I knew was that I had to kill, had to
draw blood. Had to… had to…"
"Save the woman you care deeply
about." Jacob finished for him.
"Any man in your position would fly into a rage like that when
faced with the death of a loved one.
You should be grateful for your stronger frame, sire. As a man, the both of you would've been
killed… this form allowed you to save her."
"Perhaps." Rayven
allowed. "But if not for me,
Beauty would not have even been out there in the first place."
"How so, milord? You did what you could by ordering the
guards to keep her out of the woods.
The wolves never came so close to the grounds before." Jacob
pointed out.
"If I hadn't been so insistent
on her coming here, she would never have left her own little cottage. Indirectly, I am responsible for her
hardships." Rayven dejectedly replaced the shirt on the chair, staring at
his claws against the rust-colored blood.
"Sire, if you hadn't brought
her here in the first place… we all would've lost hope soon. If you don't mind me saying, milord… I
believe that she's what Bylana never expected; a young maiden who seems to care
not about your appearance. Beauty could
love you, milord, if you'd only let her." Jacob said, bringing Rayven a
clean shirt. "For all of our
sakes, milord, you must learn to accept what she offers you; love and
hope."
"Love and hope…" Rayven
echoed softly to himself as he slipped the shirt on, the memory of her sweet
laughter ringing through his head merrily.
"I don't know, Jacob… I would rather die than bring any harm to
her, physical or otherwise."
"I understand, milord… but you
can't live in fear of hurting her.
You'll never get anywhere like that." Jacob sighed. "You'd better hurry, milord… she's
waiting for you in the dining hall."
"Thank you, Jacob." Rayven
nodded, fastening the last tie on his shirt quickly, an act that had taken a
century to learn, what with his sharp claws and all.
"Have a good evening,
sire." Jacob added as Rayven left the room.
Rayven tried not to look like he was
hurrying as he rushed down the long corridors and stairways that led him to the
dining room. He fancied that the rosy
glow of the fire reaching into the dark corridor was like the light at the end
of the tunnel, leading him to Beauty.
Indeed, as Jacob had said, the girl had renewed both love and hope
within Rayven's long-silent heart. She
was a bright bit of sunshine to his murky shadows filled with mist.
"Good evening, Rayven."
She greeted him with a smile that made his heart swell with admiration. "How is your shoulder doing? Any pain?"
"Some." He admitted, his
mind far away from the slight twinge in his back.
Matty and Shannon had taken great
care in dressing her this night. The
moss-green dress of the night prior had been modest despite the slight
décolletage. This dress was of a pale,
cobalt blue and had a more daring cut than the other, for it was of the
off-the-shoulder design and the sleeves were tight and clung to her like a
second skin. The skirt was full, but
the bodice was form fitting as well, hugging her breasts to a definite advantage
in his eyes.
He swallowed past the lump in his
throat and tore his eyes away from her long enough to sit at the table with
her. She gave him a curious look,
apparently unaware of his less than pure thoughts regarding her, and joined the
table, sitting next to him, rather than across from him. Rayven's servants came up immediately,
enthusiastically filling the two settings placed.
"Forcing me to eat as
well? Stitching me like a rug wasn't
enough for you?" Rayven asked with a brief smile, staring at the
overflowing plate nervously.
"You'll need your strength to
heal. I didn't see you eat much last
night or today, so I decided to make sure you take care of yourself." She
shrugged, the movement causing her breasts to rise momentarily.
"I eat, milady… I merely prefer
not to do so in front of you. My eating
habits are not the most polite, shall we say?" he resisted with little
hope of succeeding.
"I told you the other night… I
have no call to complain about table manners." She pointed her fork at him
as if she were scolding a small child.
"Now, you'd better clean your plate, mister."
"I feel sorry for any future
children of yours." He commented before thinking, every servant within
earshot turning to look at him with mild insult.
Beauty didn't notice the sudden,
split-second stillness, but laughed at Rayven's observation. "You and me both."
Dinner proceeded without much
eventfulness other than Rayven's half-hearted attempts to stave off Beauty's
well-meant concern. She pushed any
protests aside and insisted on serving him herself. She didn't even heed his slight difficulties in using the
flatware and treated him as though he were a good friend in her home for
supper.
Or
as she would treat a beloved husband… Rayven thought with sudden
melancholy. More than ever now, he
thought himself truly unworthy of his lovely captive's love. She may fuss over him and regard him as a
good friend… but a lover? Never.
They parted that evening, Beauty
once again giving Rayven a painfully sweet kiss on his cheek, causing Rayven's
throat to constrict in an attempt to keep from either roaring or breaking into
tears. He loved her… there was no
question about that. He loved her more
than life itself… and, in the end he decided to give just that. He could not hold her prisoner anymore,
although he was certain that she was the only one who could deliver him from
his dreadful curse.
With heavy steps, he retreated to
his chambers.
The wounded beast slinks back to his
wretched lair, where no mate save maybe Juliet awaits his return. Oh Beauty… the only true comfort tonight
would be yours. Your beast is wounded
both body and heart… both you could heal, if only you knew.