Beast (The Submissively Ever After Series Book 1) (6 page)

The deep sigh echoed like a gust of wind. "You gave me something I'd longed for, something others never could give—friendship. For that, my friend, I thank you. But bind myself to someone who can never love me back is a damned existence. One filled with pain and loneliness. This is what you ask of me. No, this is what you demand of me. If I were to choose between pain or nothing, every ounce of my being screams for nothing. Yet, for you, I must choose pain. I must choose knowing there is no hope... there will never be hope."

Pain ripped through my chest. The old man’s white shirt shimmered through my tears. I blinked and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. But there was nothing but my own pale skin and those desolate words echoing from my very soul.

Pain. Loneliness. I felt the beast's words as though they were my own, because they
were
my own. I turned my hand and stared at my wrist. I didn't need to see the scar to know it was there. I felt every jagged tear.
I don't love you anymore, Anna. I don't think I ever loved you.

I shook my head, understanding with blinding clarity what the old man had come to ask for. I curled my hands into fists. 

"Protect her. Care for you if you can. But please, I beg of you, see no harm comes to her, even at the expense of yourself. Can you do that? Can you promise these things?" The small thud resounded. This time I felt not pity, I felt no quiet desperation. I lifted my gaze to the darkness as something reached out of the night to caress the old man's shoulder. I felt only an empty sense of longing.

The deep voice was soothing. "Do not weep my old friend. I will care for her. I will protect her where I can. This spell, sealed with blood."

A hiss from the beast was followed in kind by one from the father. A loud slap scattered the silence. Palm against palm. The deal was now complete. I moved forward, needing to see what the shadows behind the old man held. Needing to see the beast for what he truly was.

Dried leaves crunched under my feet. I slowed my steps, focusing on that shifting ebony gloom. He was there, if only I could reach him. If only I could see. My breaths were harsh rasping sounds. I slid my tongue over my arid lips and tried to slow my gasps.

The towering pine seemed to grow bigger, the closer I came. The hunched figure of the old man was now mere yards away. One careful step at a time, I edged closer, moving through the forest. He was there. If I reached out, I could almost touch him. My feet were so cold they were numb. I didn't feel the stick until it was too late, sending a crack like a gunshot through the air around me.

The night shifted.

Blazing golden eyes pierced me where I stood.

The snarl was soft, yet forceful.
I know you're there
. I fought the urge to run.

He shouldn't be able to see me. No one else had seen me.

"I will expect her tomorrow, then." The beast whispered, never taking those fiery eyes from me.

Then he was gone, moving faster than I ever thought something that big could run. The forest floor quaked with heavy footfalls, leaving one thought floating helplessly in my mind.

He saw me.

The sharp cluck of a tongue had me spinning. The vicious grunt headed straight toward me. "You stupid fool."

Something moved out of the gloom. I caught the glint of steel and raised my hand in defense. "No."

He moved past me, heading for the crouched old man. I knew that voice. I knew why he’d come. I'd always known. Mark wrenched Belle's father to his feet. "Tell me his name, old man. Tell me the name of the man I'm to kill."

I stumbled backward. My numb feet slid on the slick leaves. A cruel chuckle reached me.

It's too late. The deal is done
.

I knew in my heart that whatever magic brought me here was the same magic that would bring Belle to the beast’s door. I craned my neck as the two men tussled at the base of the giant pine tree. A sharp hiss, followed by a grunt, had me reeling. Two shadows moved in a slow dance, until one fell.

"No!" The word tore from my lips. The white shirt blurred in the gloom as the old man fell. I glanced up at the hunter, now knowing the truth. "You sonofabitch! You killed him. You fucking killed him!"

The leaves shifted under my feet. I slipped and scrambled for a hold. My fingers sunk into the cold earth, stopping the slide.

"You should've stayed out of this. I warned you. That money is mine and I won't have anyone stand in my way."

"Too late." The whisper drifted out into the night, followed by a sigh.

Too late.

Those words haunted me as I stumbled. The trees crowded in, jostling me from either side. I shoved my way through, sidestepping fallen logs. I ran until my throat burned. One tree looked like the next. Nothing looked familiar. I scampered over a fallen tree. Something snagged my dress as I straddled the mossy log. I hissed at the sting on my leg, sliding my hand down to feel the pointed branch.

I wrenched the skirt until the fabric gave way and stumbled forward. I had to get out of here. I had to find my way back.

Back to where?
A howl ruptured the air, then deepened, turning mournful. I spun and stumbled, thumping the back of my head and yet knowing what triggered that sound. The beast found the broken body of his only friend. I slapped my hand against the bark, holding on, trying my best not to slide, but I stumbled, knocking into a fallen log.

I tried to catch my breath, bending to feel the contour. The sharp protruding branch stuck up from the middle. My breath caught as my fingers prodded the slick moss finding the strand of fabric. A sob slipped from my lips. It was the same log. The same damn log.

I slid to the ground. Icy dampness seeped through the skirt, sinking its stinging teeth into the backs of my thighs. My tears felt warm on my cheek as I shuddered. I drew my knees toward my chest and rocked. I was lost.

Lost.

And bitterly cold.

I
woke with a jolt, my reflexes slow and my mind numb. The forest was gone and I was back in the frigid house. I shifted, feeling the edge of the counter slide underneath, then I hit the hard ground with a thump. A sickening crunch stole my breath. A small lump squirmed in the small of my back. Something sharp bit me, then it stilled.

Rats.

It's a fucking rat.

Get it off me.

Get it off!

A moan tickled the back of my throat as I rolled away, twisting to brush the vermin from my dress. I slapped the skirt and tried to push myself off the floor. I was so cold and my legs refused to work, aching from sitting in one place for so long. The cold of the forest seemed to haunt me. I tried to think, but my thoughts were disjointed, except for one—another few hours like that and I'd have never woken.

I forced myself to move, gripping the counter, and using it as a lever to work my way through the other side of the kitchen, then back up to the wall. My fingers trembled, sliding against the blistered paint, searching for a doorway. If I couldn't get warm soon, I didn't think I'd make sunrise. The inside of my mouth was hard and dry. I worked up what little saliva I could and tried to swallow. My stomach churned, aching with an intensity that sent cramps tearing through my abdomen. The thought of food made me gag, but water, what I wouldn't give for a sip. Something warm to wrap myself in and stave away the cold.

The chattering of my teeth drowned out even the thudding of my heart. I dragged my hand across the wall, skirting the protruding lip of a doorway, then felt nothing. I shuffled my bare feet across the opening, sucking in the stale air.

I stepped through into the room. My fingers trembled as I strained to reach a wall. For a moment, I teetered on the edge of a vast empty space, until my hand brushed a wall on the other side of the door. I dragged my frozen feet, until I realized this wasn't a room, but a hallway. I stretched to the right, skimming the walls on one side, before moving across to the other.

If I could find something to wrap myself in and get warm enough to sleep, maybe I might find a way out of this. At first light, I'd run and take my chances with the hounds. There had to be a way out of here. A road. A landmark. Something. The dream returned to me. Belle's father had found a way through in the dark. Surely, in the light, I had a better hope than staying here.

Even if I could hide for another day, the chances of finding food and water in this derelict house seemed minimal. With each day I'd become weaker—I glanced toward the ceiling—while that bastard hunted me down. I stepped to the side and pressed against the wall, taking half a step more than I had previously. Relief swept over me when I touched the icy door handle.

The damn thing rattled as I turned the handle, feeling the resistance, then the lock slid back. The squeal of the hinges tore through the hallway. I froze, the door open only a crack. The stench hit me—bloated and diseased. I dropped to my knee. My hand, still gripping the handle, rocked the door back and forwards, back and forwards.

I forced myself not to gag and slapped my arm over my nose. The door closed with a thud, leaving the stench to linger in the hallway. There was something rotting inside that room and it wasn't rats.

I slid along the floor until I hit the wall on the other side. I didn't trust myself to stand. The cold had consumed my legs and bore into my thighs like some sick disease. My entire body shook. I had to move. I had to do something. I knew that. My brain screamed to get the fuck out of here. But I stared into the blackness. Into this fucking nightmare, knowing what was in that room, and yet, I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t dare think of them.

"Don’t lose your shit. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m getting out of here. I’m getting out."

The words stuck in my throat like a wad of dry bread. I forced myself to breathe. To take that smell into my lungs, along with the dust and the filth, and trembled under the icy bite. The smell of death was so strong it wiped everything else from my mind.

My legs wobbled when I stood. I couldn’t turn around, so I kept on moving forward, toward the unknown and away from that room of stank decay. The wall kept me upright. Using it like a crutch, I worked my way back along the hallway, leaving the death room behind. I forced myself to focus on each step, until I touched the beveled edges of a doorway. I pressed my palms against the wall and looked back along the hallway. How many women had this sick fuck bought back to this house? How many women like me?
No one’s waiting for you, are they Belle?
His question wormed its way through my thoughts.

I had been the perfect candidate. Alone, with no one to cause a fuss if I never made it out of here. My gaze slid back to that room. No one had been waiting for me. But had any waited for them?

I lifted my left hand to hold it over my nose and mouth. If this room held the same horrors I’d have no choice but to go inside. I slid my fingers down the wood, touching the handle.

Please. Please. Please.

The lever sank under the pressure. The door opened, just enough to let the trapped air inside escape. I held my breath, not wanting to know what was inside, but knowing I couldn’t stand out here forever.

I splayed my fingers, taking the first tiny breath. The trapped stale air filled my lungs. I close my mouth and sniffed. There was no sickening stench of death. Nothing but dust. I opened the door wider and took a step inside, leaving the door open in case I needed to escape.

There were no sounds inside this room. No
tap, tap, tap
of tiny nails, nor the whisper of some demented spirit. I reached out, ready to stop when I hit the other side of the room. Step after step, I moved deeper, fighting the urge to move faster. My fingers buckled. My knuckles grazed rock. I stopped at the cold wall. Probing the sharp edges of what seemed to be stones, set with mortar, into a waist-high square. I dropped, finding a hollow in the center. My hands didn’t reach the other side until I leaned in. Something soft covered the bottom. I rubbed my fingers together, bringing my hand close to my nose.

The faint smell of charcoal lingered. I sniffed again while my chest tightened, speeding my heart. A fireplace. I fought the need to jump for joy. All I needed now was wood. I forced myself to stand, gripping the stone. The wall moved under my hand, one small rock dropped out and hit the floor with a
thunk.

Jesus, a rock. I knelt, feeling in the dark and skirted over the stone. The rough edges bit into the soft skin of my palm as I clenched my hand. I slammed the mass against my chest, fighting back tears. It was a weapon. Something I could use. Something I could kill with.

That thought rocked me.
Kill.
Could I kill another, even if it meant my own survival? I shoved the though aside. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe....

I shoved off the floor. If I could find something to burn and something to use as a lighter I’d have a fire. Only small. Just enough to keep me warm. My thoughts returned to the dead rat in the kitchen. Food. If I was hungry enough. I swallowed a retch. I wasn’t that fucking hungry—not yet, anyway.