Chapter Ten
Beauty smiled to herself as she
stretched with a soft whimper of sultry pleasure, the pale sunlight of early
dawn caressing her face through the window.
It had been three weeks since she first came to the castle and already
she was accustomed to the luxury and kindness that Rayven showered her with
regularly; everything from any meal she asked for at dinner to the softest bed
sheets she'd ever felt, to the finest clothes any princess ever had for her to
wear. It was the sweetest, most
affectionate gesture of tenderness that anyone had ever paid her, and yet...
yet she felt as though maybe this outpouring of wealth was due to his guilty
feelings over drawing her to the castle and for the wolf attack.
Rayven had repeatedly apologized for
his brutality that night, bemoaning his animal violence and proclaiming himself
unworthy of her presence, although not in as many words. The poor man was confused, but by what,
Beauty didn't know. She had always felt
a connection with him somehow, even while sitting in her safe home listening to
her father's tale. Rayven was a
tortured soul calling to hers, crying out in anguish for help, for hope, for
the spell to be broken. He thought his
beastly form hideous to look upon, his massive size something to be feared and
reviled. If anyone had ever told Beauty
that she would be even mildly attracted to a man who resembled a beast as Rayven
did, she would've been wildly insulted, but now...
Nothing on earth could've prepared
her for the longing in those green eyes, the silent pleading he couldn't
hide. She'd often read that the eyes
are the windows to the soul... Rayven embodied that sentiment, for his eyes
never failed to reveal his pain and on the few occasions where he appeared to
forget his beastly appearance, those eyes revealed long awaited peace and a
glimpse of happiness. Those eyes could
launch a thousand ships, as the old saying went.
Even beyond that, Beauty found more
and more things that she found tolerable, if not handsome. His voice was sinfully deep and rich, its
rough, growling tones sending shivers up her spine whenever she heard him. He recited poetry with a quiet passion and
dignity that was enhanced by the raspiness of his voice rather than
hindered.
His height and breadth made her feel
small and helpless, a sentiment that she normally would have resented. But in this case, she enjoyed being the fair
maiden protected by the shining knight.
As long as Rayven was at her side with his formidable strength and size,
nothing on earth could possibly threaten her, let alone harm her. Nothing with half a brain would dare to
challenge Rayven's power.
His fur was sleek and although that
of an animal, felt oddly pleasing against her skin the few times she'd touched
him. She couldn't block the memory of
the kiss they'd shared from her mind for more than a few minutes at a time. His lips had felt completely human, not that
she'd had anything to compare them to, but so masculine and firm and gentle all
at once. She could remember the feel of
his hands pulling her closer, as though he couldn't bear for any part of his
body to be separate from hers. It never
occurred to her to be shocked when she realized that she had wanted to be
pressed against his hard muscles just as much... it seemed unusually natural to
want him as any would woman want an ordinary man.
But Rayven was not an ordinary man
by any means she could call necessary.
And the antidote to this curse of his was just as mysterious now as it
had been when Beauty had first arrived.
She had asked several servants, just see if there were anyone who could
tell her and make her job easier. So
far, every one had refused to budge, citing that it was against the rules, so
to speak. In fact the only thing she
hadn't asked was that owl that appeared briefly every now and again. It never spoke, except in the squeaks and
hoots that a normal owl would emit, although it regularly "talked"
with the other servants and once with Rayven.
Beauty was also quick to notice that this owl was much larger than any
other bird of prey she'd ever seen, despite the fact that barn owls were
generally very small. Beauty had the
sneaking suspicion that the owl was more than just a servant to Rayven... but
why on earth did it never speak to her?
"Good morning, mistress."
Shannon greeted her when Beauty rose from the bed at last. The cat was carefully tipping a jug of
steaming water into the tub, while her cohort sat contemplating the gowns
residing in the wardrobe, her tail twitching thoughtfully.
"Morning." Beauty yawned,
stretching her arms above her head before grabbing the white silk robe that
dutifully hung on the bedpost.
"The water's just about ready,
just let it cool a smidgen more. In the
meantime, you can stave off your hunger for breakfast with some fruit and
toast." Matty indicated the small table that had continually appeared and disappeared
as events warranted.
"Great, I'm starved."
Beauty smiled as she tied the robe in place, seizing upon an orange hungrily
and forgoing the paring knife in favor of peeling off the skin with her
nails. Orange in hand, Beauty made her
way over to the large bay window that overlooked the gardens, gazing out over
the sunlit paths of flowers dreamily.
Rayven had mentioned his time limit on the spell only that one time, but
it beat in her head like a ticking clock.
She just had to save him from this fate! But how? She had no
practice in breaking spells with or without guidance. Why on earth had it been left up to her.
Calm
yourself, child... just follow your instincts and your heart. That's all that Rayven needs from you.
That voice in
her head again! It had been whispering
in her ear incessantly ever since she'd arrived, guiding her along without ever
being specific to any degree. However,
it did comfort her whenever she felt homesick or lonely, which happened
surprisingly little. Not to say that
she didn't miss her father and sisters, but she was able to get along without
them, secure in that she was not forsaken.
Beauty sighed, swinging her dangling
leg back and forth restlessly. She felt
guilty for not missing her family to the point of hysteria... but more than
that, the feelings she experienced around Rayven were frighteningly
strong. The pity and compassion she'd
felt for him at first had escalated and grown and matured... to what she didn't
know. Whenever he was nearby, she
couldn't resist touching him; stroking his cheek or holding his massive hand in
hers, brushing a lock of his mane away from his brow or rubbing his back
gently. The kiss they had shared on her
first night had not been repeated, although Beauty now found herself day-dreaming
of the silken pressure of his gentle lips against hers.
She'd never fantasized about any man
before, other than the handsome, virile men from famous paintings or from her
beloved romance stories. Any men she
had known in reality treated her like the almost-sister of years past. No one in
her small village, least of all the men, saw her as anything more than the
scrawny eight-year-old with carrot-colored braids who ran everywhere and
constantly had to be reminded to be a lady.
Only her sisters realized that a grown woman had replaced the brightly
smiling girl.
However, perhaps she was still that
girl. Her feelings for Rayven were
frightening and alluring all at once.
Whenever he was near, she found herself longing to go forward, to feel
him in her arms, to feel his power all around her, to find out if the passion
of his kiss extended beyond. But the
force that held her back was near impossible to pass, her own innocence and
inexperience served to keep her at a distance, protecting her virtue without
truly wanting to.
"Your water is ready,
milady." Shannon called from the tub, startling Beauty from her thoughts.
Matty, ever the observant one,
noticed Beauty's mild disconcertion and padded over on velvet feet, her tail
lazily curling at the end.
"Daydreaming, milady?"
"You could call it that."
Beauty replied as she slipped her robe and her nightgown to the floor and
stepped into the large in-floor tub.
The water was perfumed, as it always was, but this morning it was a
different scent. Any other day, the
water smelled of roses and baby's breath... today it was a stronger fragrance;
jasmine, gladiolas, gardenias, all exotic flowers. The fragrances wafted over Beauty, mellowing her senses and
making her sigh as she immersed herself in the hot water. A languor that she normally associated only
with her mysterious, erotic dreams settled over her as she laid back in the
tub, her eyes drifting shut. She felt
Matty place a bath pillow under her head and heard the near-silent footsteps of
her handmaidens as they crept from the room.
Strange... any other time, they had
lingered nearby offering to wash her hair or pour more scented formula into the
water. Why had they left so
suddenly? Were they mad at her? Angry that she had not yet figured out how
to break the spell? No, that wasn't their
nature to hold a silent grudge... but what was going on?
@>-------,------'----------------------
"Master?" Shannon's soft
voice woke Rayven from his less-than-peaceful slumber.
He growled, turning over in his
massive bed of mahogany. Four little feet
hopped up onto the side of the bed and pounced over his side to knead
insistently at his arm. A plumed tail
feathered over his nose.
"Wake up, master. Beauty's already up and taking her bath...
you should be bathing as well." Shannon reminded him with a hard tail
whack to his brow.
"I'm up. I'm up." he sat
up groggily, blowing at the white hair clinging to his darkly furred face. "I still don't think this is going to
work, Jacob."
"It's worth a try, milord. And even if it doesn't work completely, at
least you'll be acknowledging your feelings for the child. You've been skulking in the shadows after
her for long enough. Better for you to
confess how you feel than for her to wonder at your behavior or your
motives." Jacob called from the next room where he prepared his master's
clothes.
"I suppose." Rayven
allowed as he pulled on a loose-fitting shirt of white linen, frowning at the
dark fur evident through the cloth's thin surface. "Make sure that no one disturbs me while I bathe in the
river, Jacob. I don't think I need to
remind you of that."
"Not at all, sir. I doubt anyone will be in the gardens
today... far too hot out." Jacob shrugged, his brow furrowing in a most
un-canine-like manner at the harsh sun beating through the window.
"That's as I like it. I shall be back within an hour." Rayven
nodded sagely before heading quickly for the far end of the gardens where an
outlet of the forest's mighty river flowed.
A pool had conveniently formed near a arbor of weeping willows, it's
waist-deep water providing a perfect setting for a beast's bath.
Rayven took a deep breath, sniffing
the air carefully for the scent of anything nearby. Nothing but the usual array of birds, a small herd of deer beyond
the garden's borders, and the strong scent of the scores of flowers that
abounded within. Satisfied that he was
alone, he pulled his shirt over his head and hung it on a nearby bush. His belt followed swiftly and finally his
black breeches. Embarrassed even by his
own perusal, he quickly slid from his perch on a rock into the cool waters,
sighing at the contrast in environments.
The air around him was heavy with heat, almost stiflingly thick with the
lack of summer breezes... but the water was cool and crisp, soothing his still
sore shoulder blade and caressing him where he had ached for such touches most.
As he ducked under the surface,
soaking his heavy mane and sending droplets of water leaping like tiny dolphins
in all direction, Rayven missed the scent of gardenias in the air. True, even if he had caught the seductive
fragrance, he would not have paid them much mind. Like roses, hibiscus, violets, cherry blossoms, and almost any
other flowers, gardenias grew profusely in the garden. But the delicate flowers of precious white
were less common even here and didn't grow anywhere near the pool... but on the
other side of the castle.
Beauty hid behind the rhododendron,
her curious eyes peeking through the thick foliage to see Rayven waist-deep in
the stream, using his huge paws to scoop water over his broad shoulders. She watched with rapt fascination as he
stretched his arms over his head, the bright sunlight glinting off of his wet
fur. The hair that blanketed his entire
body was shorter, like that on his face and did little to hide the power
contained in his well-defined muscles.
His biceps were as large around as her thigh and certainly far
stronger. Beauty was mesmerized a she
admired the play of light along his back, the hills and valleys and shadows
that made up his entire body. Her mind
just barely registered that his wound from the wolf fight had healed with
almost preternatural speed.
With mild surprise, she found that
she could no longer think of him as a beast.
True, he looked like an animal, and a dangerous predator at that, but
those ferocious fangs and claws were ruled by more that bestial instinct. Rayven was a man in every respect, despite
the fur that covered him almost entirely and the sharp teeth.
Not a beast... a man. Not just any man either, but one that was
hurting, one that was suffering a pain greater than any she could imagine. He believed he would never have a woman to
love, to love him in return. He was
surrounded by wealth and a multitude of servants enough to make a Persian shah
envious... but he was alone.
Beauty pressed her hand to her
chest, not at all alarmed by the rapid thunder of her heart beneath her
fingertips. As she continued to watch
Rayven bathe, scrubbing himself clean with soap and rinsing repeatedly in the
water, she realized what the strange feelings that had plagued her almost since
first coming to the castle had been.
Desire... like that her precious
books hinted at, that her sisters alluded to but little more. She wanted this man who looked like a
monster to take her; to lay her upon his bed and ravish her willing body. She ached to feel his lips upon her flesh,
not only her mouth, but other more-secret places as well. Her fingers trembled with the urge to stroke
his chest and back, devoid of the heavy velvet clothes that usually separated
them, to run through the blackness of his mane as he suckled from her like a
babe.
Her eyes closed instinctively as she
imagine what such mysteries might be like.
How would his rough fur feel against her soft, naked skin? What would his teeth feel like if they
grazed her breasts or belly? Would it
hurt when he finally slid his hard sex inside of her virgin sheath? What would his meltingly tender voice sound
like in the throes of passion?
A million questions were asked and
answered in her head as she silently backed away from the reality. Rayven had finished his bath and was rinsing
the final suds of soap from his shoulders and mane. Soon he would return to shore and the sight of him in his nude
form would undoubtedly be far more for Beauty to resist than she cared to test
herself with.
On soundless footsteps, she fled
back to the castle, caring not that in the heat sweat was trickling down her
neck and between her breasts under the neckline of her dress, soaking the
garment. As far as she was concerned,
it was not the weather that had caused her flushed cheeks and panting breath...
it was the furred man who was guilty of nothing more than bathing in a stream
on his own property.
@>-------,------'----------------------
Rayven paused as he used a towel to
dry the fur on his chest and arms.
There was a scent in the air, mixed with the heady aroma of the many
flowers... something more intense despite to competition from nature's
oil-paintings. He took a deep breath,
savoring the fragrance. It was heavy
even in its diluted state, sensual and erotic.
Allowing himself the luxury of a daydream, Rayven breathed in the scent
again, for once not caring that within the confines of his breeches, his eager
manhood was hardening quickly in response to the seductive perfume on the air.
Woman, that's what the scent was,
aroused woman. As a youth, he had
noticed that same fragrance in his spirited lovers, that deeply moving aroma
that never failed to entice him completely.
But why on earth was that intoxicant in the air now, where it could only
be detected by his enhanced animal senses?
Beauty... she was the only woman on
the grounds. Had she been at the pool
earlier perhaps? Drawn by the cooler
morning to the soothing sounds of the stream?
No, surely not... he would have noticed the scent when he'd first
arrived. Ye gods! Had she been about while he had bathed? Had she seen his horrid body in this unkind,
unforgiving sunlight?
Rayven pulled on his shirt quickly
and headed back towards the castle, praying desperately that she had not seen
him in such a state. He knew only too
well that his body, although more humanly proportioned than his face, was
frighteningly large and still as darkly furred as the rest of him. If she had seen him, he had little doubt
that she would ensconce herself within her room forever, terrified of him.
Please,
God, no... he pleaded anxiously as he took the stairs to his chambers three
at a time. Not now, not today of all days.
I can't take her rejection tonight... I need her to approach me without
fear. What I am to tell her may well
frighten her off in and of itself... for her to remember what my grotesque body
looks like will certainly send her running.
I beg of
you... let her accept me.