Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Did he buy these things for me? My mind whirls with questions and thoughts brought on by the unknown until the magic touches me again. This time from the tip of my nose, reminding me of the rose, and then lower to my lips, reminding me of him. It eases me to the point I nearly drop the blanket. Its movement is what brings me back to the present.
Without thinking much of it, I slide my feet into the slippers and sigh at their comfort. They fit me perfectly. Never have I worn such quality and comfort. I’m struck with the realization that everything in here is new.
My throat dries. He chose these for me. How long has he been planning this? The magic seems to drift away at the thought, leaving me alone with a chill that no cover could warm.
I try to remember how I got here, but I’m at a loss. I fell asleep crying over the fact that my father was willing to offer me to Crawe, even against my wishes. Betrayal shoots through me. It seems I’m only capable of being held against my will. It’s only a matter of which beast has possession of me.
THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST
That didn’t go according to plan. I pace outside of our room, listening intently. I wish I knew what she was thinking and how she’s feeling with everything that happened. I watch her small, delicate body move with grace as she explores our room. I finally have some use for the enchanted mirror the sorceress left me. I smirk wickedly; I wonder if she would’ve given it to me had she known this is what I’d be using it for.
I smile as I see her pull out the blue dress. Satisfaction settles deep in me, stirring the beast from his contented slumber. It’s good that she listens to simple commands. My fingers rub against the scruff on my chin. I wonder how well she’ll listen to the rest of my orders. The beast snickers as he sees my training plan for our little beauty. First, I’ll get her settled and then I’ll show her what I want from her.
I stare into the mirror, waiting for her to see the blindfold; I slipped it and the note under the door. I need it. I know the minute she looks at me and sees the hideous beast, she’ll never agree to stay with me.
ELLE
Iknow the peacefulness I feel is likely not my own, but I can’t deny the sensation of warmth and luxury that surrounds me when I pick up the dress. There’s a vague prick at the back of my mind that warns me not to fall into comfort, but it dulls with every passing second. The gown truly seems to have been made for me. The cloth is expensive and well-tailored so that there are no misshapen seams. I know it will feel even more luxurious against my bare skin.
For my skin is still bare.
Every time I register the feeling of being completely exposed, the magic wraps around me again, making the shame of being naked in a place that’s not my home easier to bear.
After all, he gave me a dress. It will all be all right so long as I wear it.
The note didn’t have instructions to put on undergarments, nor are any laid out, so I pick up the blue dress from the bed. Swallowing thickly, I lift it over my head and let the fabric fall in a wave over me.
Covered, I feel no less exposed than before. Having such luxurious fabric directly against my skin makes my nerves sing. My nipples, already sensitive, peak at the slip of the silk. Nervously, I brace my hands on the bed and steady myself even as the magic comes to soothe me again. Will it always do so? I think, because I have lived near the forest so long, that it will. The magic has been a constant presence, though it is faint in the woods, for as long as I can remember. Although this feeling, in this moment, is stronger and nearly like a lullaby—not the nightmare I’ve been taught it gives.
If I stay here, for always, will I feel this peace for the rest of my life?
“Always” is frightening to think of, and the magic doesn’t seem to want me to dwell on it. I find it much easier to concentrate on the slip of the silk over my hips and the way the air moves underneath it. The quality of the dress is as luscious as the house slippers on my feet.
A pricking sensation at the back of my neck warns me that I’m being watched.
But when I whirl around, my hands coming up to cover my breasts even though I’m clothed in the blue dress, there’s no one in the room. The mirror looks back at me impassively.