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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“Elle,” I call out and bang my fist against the door. “Answer me!”

She clears her throat while sniffling. “Why? When I have seen you for what you are?”

“For your comfort,” I answer as calmly as I can.

There is a pause so long I think she has chosen to ignore me and my blood boils. The control I had over her is seemingly gone and I do not want to discover what that means for us.

Finally, she answers. “I do not wish it.”

“Do it now,” I thunder, losing what little control I had over my temper. My voice echoes in the hall and the castle seems to fall silent around me. That cannot be anything but an illusion brought on by the volume of my own voice after many hours of silence.

Elle sucks in a small gasp. “Will you harm me if I do not?”

I want to slam my fist into the door to release some of the frustration that burns within me, but I clench both my hands at my sides, breathing deeply. I can hear Elle’s breathing on the other side of the door with the beast’s senses. She inhales quickly, still crying but no doubt shocked by how this has come to an argument through a closed door.

“Will you harm me if I do not?”

The emotion at my chest feels so tight that after a few deep breaths, it becomes hard to continue. My corded muscles ache from holding myself back for so long.

“Why do you wish to torture me?” I ask her lowly through the door.

Elle lets out a sound that may be a laugh or it may only be another sob. “It is I who is tortured. My mind is playing tricks on me. I wish to see you so that I may not lose what sanity I believe remains.”

I know she is on the edge. I know she has been consumed by sadness and is at a loss for herself. But there is something else within the magic and within her voice that both pains me and makes me hopeful.

“I do not wish for you to have to look upon me.” My voice sounds strained, even to myself. I do not want to show her this weakness, but I do not know what else to do. I do not know what else to say. I feel broken down by watching her cry in that damned mirror for this long. I feel broken down by all these years of being cursed. “Please. For the moment, put on the blindfold and spare yourself.”

I pause to allow Elle to consider my request. I can hear her sitting up in bed, the covers rustling as she does.

“I want to see you,” she says, her voice soft but determined. “Will you let me see you?”

A deep sigh leaves me. I’m no longer willing to spend time discussing this with her. I need to be in the room with Elle, where I can speak to her. Where I can try to explain and hear what she is thinking. I cannot do either of those things if I am only watching her grieve through the mirror.

I open the door and take a few steps into her room. Shamed and enraptured by the hell of the curse and my image. Elle is sitting up in bed, just as I thought she would be. Her eyes and cheeks are red, and her cheeks are streaked with tears. At some point it seems as though she braided her hair, but it is coming loose from the braid, and there is no ribbon to tie it off at the end. It is a mess, and she is beautiful.

Her eyes move over me as she takes me in. I know what she sees. It is the same thing I always see when I look in the mirror and the very thing I never wanted her to witness.

Elle’s eyes trail down my body, then rise slowly back to my face. She is distraught, that is true, but her distress does not deepen when she looks at me.

That is strange. The beast makes a questioning sound inside of me. He does not know what it means when someone looks at him this way, as if he is not a beast.

I’m waiting for Elle’s eyes to widen and for fear to consume her, but it doesn’t.

Instead, the look on her face becomes soft and pleasing, as if she wants nothing more than to be at my side.

I should hesitate and approach cautiously, but it has been too long to force myself to do that. I cross her room in a few strides, sit beside her on the bed, and take Elle in my arms.

Her warmth is everything. She allows me to hold her, to comfort her. Her scent and soft curves are a soothing balm. For a moment there is peace within me if for no other reason than she allows me in her presence.


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