The Beast & His Beauty Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Virgin Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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No one has come in to lay eyes on me. It only felt like the beast was watching. My heart beats faster as new fear is blanketed by a fresh wave of magic. The magic is always at the ready, waiting for me to act or react to the presence of the beast. It is a strange thing to be surrounded and calmed almost every minute, as if the magic knows the danger of the beast and understands that it cannot leave me alone in my mind for even a second.

Dizziness sways me for a moment and I murmur for it to let me breathe. “Please,” I beg. This back and forth wars within me. There’s a whisper in the back of my mind that it will be all right. If only I do as the beast requests. Again I look to the front of the room, finding no one and feeling as if I may be losing my mind.

As the emptiness of the room sinks in, my eyes drop to the floor by the closed door. It is dark in the room aside from a fire in the grate and moonlight through the window, but I can clearly see the floor.

It is not empty.

There is a folded note waiting for me along with a length of black cloth.

With my heart in my throat, I approach the door on trembling legs and bend to retrieve the cloth and the note. They were left for me by the beast. The magic wants me to think that this is only right. This place belongs to the beast, and he can leave me notes and instructions any time he desires.

I have to close my eyes at the sheer idea of his desires. A wave of pleasure plays tricks on me as I cautiously run my fingers over the gifts.

The black cloth is as silky as my dress although a bit thicker. I test it between my fingers. My fear now is that the magic will need to tend to me so much that I lose the ability to think for myself. I need to maintain control of what I can.

I breathe deeply and, with as little fear as possible, I read the note.

The instructions are as clear as the command to wear the blue dress. Tie the black cloth over your eyes. There is no room to question what the beast has asked of me. He has left me no room to hesitate.

I find a pocket hidden in the folds of the dress and tuck the note inside, thinking it would be better not to leave it lying out. I don’t know why. I do not know who else might reside here. I only know that I don’t want the beast’s orders exposed to anyone else.

With shaking fingers I tie the blindfold over my eyes. As he requested.

The fabric is as soft as my dress, but it doesn’t allow an ounce of light in. With the darkness, my heart hammers.. I can see nothing through the blindfold and move back a few steps from the door, careful and hesitant, though I am sure nothing has appeared behind me.

The door opens with an eerie creek and my knees nearly buckle. There it comes again, the wave of magic. I try to resist, internally pleading that I will behave, and with the promise of such, the pull it has on me wanes.

I strain to listen, but the hinges are well maintained and don’t creak.

Soft footsteps enter and begin to circle me.

Inwardly, I struggle not to panic. Please don’t hurt me, I beg silently. Please. The memory of the swing comes back. The feel of him. The bite. All of it surrounds me and to my surprise, I also plead with the magic, please let it be the beast.

The footsteps stop behind me, and it is quiet for so long that my heart begins to slow down, and I start to think that whoever is in my room may have already left. Not my room. This room, I correct myself.

I try to distract myself by picturing the fine furnishings of the room I woke in. They were beautiful enough to take my breath away, but now in the dark, my memory of them is indistinct.

I try harder to remember, but it’s as difficult.

Just as I lift my hand from my skirts, thinking to remove the mask, there is a movement behind me.

I freeze.

There is no word from him. I want to beg him aloud not to hurt me, but I cannot make my throat form the words. It’s far too dry and tight.

The floor creaks.

I take a step forward and find myself at the dresser. With nothing else to anchor me I can’t stop myself from gripping the edge. My knees feel too weak to hold me.


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