by Stone, Wendy
"You bastard," Nathaniel growled, his breathing coming in harsh pants, the bones under his skin moving as the beast sought its way out of its fleshy prison."I'm going to kill you," he snarled, his mouth opening in pain to show the gleaming white incisors lengthening and growing sharper.
"You won't have the chance," his uncle said lightly. "Shoot him, Jeffrey."
Jeffrey stared at the man, and then glanced at the man he had called Master for so many years. His hand shook as he held the pistol, lifting it and aiming it carefully at Nathaniel's chest. "No, Jeffrey, the head, shoot him in the head, you blathering idiot." Jeffrey glanced over at the uncle again, licking his lips nervously before tightening his resolve. The pistol lifted and Melissa, having just freed her ankles from the ropes, screamed. "No!God, Jeffrey, don't kill him!" She started to throw herself at him to stop him, when he turned suddenly, the pistol going off. Melissa watched as everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the bullet speeding from the muzzle of the pistol, thudding into the chest of Nathaniel's uncle. He stared in horror at Jeffrey for a moment, then his body slumped, falling forward on the floor, a small spot of red blossoming upon the white silk covering his chest.
Nathaniel took two deep breaths, fighting back the change that still threatened to take him over. When he was under control, he took the pistol from Jeffrey's shaking hand, turning just in time for a small, warm bundle of female flesh to throw herself into his arms.
"I thought he was going to kill you," she said, her arms going around his neck, dragging his head down to her. "I thought you were going to die," she managed to say before her mouth found his.
He kissed her gently, his hand stroking her hair and then down her back, hugging her close. "I'm fine, my love," he said, lifting his head. His eyes went to Jeffrey who'd tottered over to the sofa, falling onto it and staring at the dead body of the man who'd had such a hold on his life for more years than he wanted to count. "Are you all right, Jeffrey?" Nathaniel asked him. "I've killed your uncle, Master Nathaniel," the servant said, his
hands shaking. "I had no choice, he'd have killed us all." "He was insane, Jeffrey. And you are right, you had no choice, none at all." He put the pistol down on the desk, turning to hold Melissa tighter.
"I'm sorry that you had to be part of this mess, my love," he said, tenderly pushing her hair from her forehead and inspecting the bump left by his uncle's fist. He placed a gentle kiss there and was about to turn again when the sudden explosion of the pistol going off, caused them both toturn.
Jeffrey sat, slumped, against the sofa on the floor, the pistol he'd taken off the desk clutched in his hand. His eyes were glazed, blood running from the hole he'd put in his head.
"Oh, God," Nathaniel breathed, holding Melissa against him as she turned her face from the carnage. "Jeffrey, why?" * * * * Garren turned the page, growling his frustration as he saw that the rest of the pages were blank. It was the end of the story and nowhere in the book had been the recipe for the cure. He sat and stared at the leather-bound cover again, trying to control the rage that had him itching to tear apart the pages.
Instead, he opened the book to the back page, the back of the book where the slit from his claw had found the letter from his mother. Carefully widening it further, he pulled back the thin leather. A flash of yellowed paper greeted his eyes and he pulled the leather just a little more, reaching inside and snagging the paper with the tips of his claws, careful to not rip it.
He spread it open slowly on top of the book, the paper old and brittle. In his mother's handwriting, across the top, he saw the words he'd longed to see. It was the cure. With the book and the paper in hand, he rushed to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open, running down to the kitchen. * * * * Brenna came home from her afternoon of tea and cakes, eager to see Garren. She hadn't wanted to leave him this morning, instead, wanted to bask in his attentions and their love. But he'd been restless and anxious, finally telling her to go, to enjoy herself, for he had work that needed doing. She had left, but her feet had dragged and her mind had often strayed back to Garren throughout the day.
Now she was home. She handed her gloves and cloak to the butler, giving him her bonnet as well. "Where is Master Garren?" she asked him, her eyes shining and a flush of color on her cheeks.
"Master Garren has been in his room all day, miss. A terrible roaring he's been making, scaring the staff and all." His voice grew lower and he leaned close. "He hasn't answered his door either, miss. We were thinking of sending for you, but now that you're home…"
Brenna turned and headed toward the stairs, her feet flying over the slick surface of the risers. She didn't stop nor slow her step until she was at his door.
"Garren?" she called loudly. "Garren, it's Brenna," she knocked loudly on the door, pressing her ear to the stout wood as a low moan came from the other side. "Garren?" she called again, trying the handle. The door opened slowly and she stepped cautiously inside, suddenly terribly afraid of what she would find.
She didn't see him at first, for he'd lowered the heavy drapes and it was dark in the room. But then a noise caught her attention and she hurried forward. "Garren?" she called again as she saw him lying on his side on the floor, his back toward her. She dropped to her knees beside him, reaching out to touch him. "Garren, what is it?" she asked, her other hand coming to her throat.
He growled, rolling to his side to face her, his eyes wild with pain. His lips were twisted into a snarl, his teeth snapping together with brutal force. His arms were wrapped around his body, almost as if he were trying to hold himself together.
"B…Brenna," he managed to grit out between his clenched teeth before his body convulsed, his head going back against the floor, a hideous roar bursting from him.
Brenna stared around the room, rushing to the bed to grab a blanket. She saw a thick tin cup lying on its side on the stand, a tiny trickle of dark liquid coming from the rim. "What have you done, Garren?" she whispered, tearing the blanket from the bed and going back to his side.
He writhed on the floor, his body shaking violently, his eyes tightly closed. His hands were clenched desperately across his stomach. He shivered, his fur matted to his skin, terrible sounds coming from between his lips. He rolled back to his side, his back arching, his mouth pulled tight.
Brenna tried to cover him with the blanket, tears of fear streaking down her face. "Garren, what's wrong? What can I do?" She watched as his mouth opened but no sound came out. His arms flung the blanket off of himself and he shuddered, his entire body shaking. "I…I'll get help, Garren.I…I'll get a doctor," she hurried toward the door.
The sudden lack of noise had her turning back. He was still on the floor, his back to her once more, but he wasn't moving. Not a hint of breathing caused his shoulders to move or a shudder or shiver moved his arms or legs. No sound came from his mouth. A terrible fear seemed to bloom in her, wrapping her heart in utter horror.
"Garren," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. Her steps were hesitant, her hands shaking as she fell to her knees beside him once more, reaching for him. "No," she cried, rolling him to his back, his head lolling limply.
A sob shook her shoulders, tears almost blinding her to the changes that had taken place. The fur was gone, leaving his skin smooth and pale. High cheekbones were brushed by lashes that were incredibly thick. Long black hair fell back from a face of incredible male beauty. His chest was still wide but without the thickness of the beast, his hands, now relaxed and opened, were large, with the slender fingers of an artist. His clothes hung upon his slightly smaller frame, for while still a tall man, he no longer had the bulk of the beast.
But none of that mattered. His chest was still, his eyes closed and unmoving. Brenna threw herself on his chest, her arms gathering him to herself, sobs wracking her slender form. "NO!" she cried. "I love you, Garren, you can't be dead."
She cried as if her heart were breaking, for in truth it was, broken and in shreds, unable to believe that he was gone. Her tears soaked into the
fabric of his shirt. She felt the hand touch her face and shook it away. "No, leave me with him," she cried.
"Brenna?" a male voice said from under her. It was familiar, but without the husky rasp of the beast. "You're going to drown me with those tears, love."
Brenna's head lifted, her eyes going to the warm amber eyes of the man on the floor. She stared at him, shocked. "Y…you aren't dead?" she managed to stutter, sniffling.
"No," he said, shaking his handsome head, his hand touching her cheek."I thought I was," he said, lifting his head to touch his lips to hers gently. "But I couldn't leave you, Brenna. I love you."
"Oh, God, I love you, too, Garren," she cried, tears once more streaking down her cheeks. She helped him rise, pulling him slowly up from the floor, flinching every time he moaned as if it were her pain. "Is this true?Is the beast gone?"
"Yes, my beloved. The beast is dead and now you must deal with the man." He pulled her down so that she fell across his lap, laughing at the shocked look upon her face. "And…" he said as she cuddled against him, "you will marry me so that I might claim you properly."
A slow smile spread across her beautiful face making her blue eyes seem to glow. "Are you asking me or telling me, Garren?"
He growled, though it was a human sound, bending his head to find her lips with his own. He claimed her with that kiss, groaning at the intimate contact of his human flesh, soft and warm, meeting hers. He tasted her, smelled the perfume of her skin, and heard her soft sighs, all with the senses of a man.
When he finally lifted his head, her eyes were soft, lambent with the pleasure he'd given her. Her hand slipped from his cheek and into his hair, playing with the soft tresses that fell across his chest. "I'll marry you," she whispered.
Garren's head bent as if to kiss her again stopped only by her fingers against his lips. "On one condition," she said, smiling shyly. He cocked his head, staring down at her, his eyes narrowing.
"Condition? Very well, what is it?" "We don't wait for the wedding night," she said, her cheeks
blooming with color. Brenna squealed when he sat up suddenly, lifting her easily against his chest and standing up. He twirled her around, laughing when she scolded him. Going to the door of his room, he kicked it shut before striding to the big bed. Laying her gently upon the mattress, he followed her down, his fingers going to the front buttons of her dress. His lips sought hers, his mouth opening over hers, his tongue laying claim to the soft inner reaches of her mouth.
He kissed her cheeks, tasting the salty tears that had tracked down her face, and his mouth brushed over her eyes, feeling the feathery tingle of her lashes against his lips. His hands spread open her dress, groaning at the sight of her breasts, bound by the red silk chemise she wore and the strictures of her corset.
She helped him with the laces, as eager as he to feel him against her bare skin, their fingers tangling, making him laugh. "My claws would be a good thing right now," he whispered, tasting the line of her neck under her ear.
"I'd rather these hands to your beastly paws," she answered, pressing his palms against her breasts over the pretty silk. She gasped as he found her hardened nipples, rolling the pebbled buds with his long fingers.
She tore open the shirt he wore, her hands moving over the smoothness of his skin, sprinkled with dark hairs. Brenna kneaded the hard muscles with the pads of her fingers, hearing his moan even as he yanked the small straps of her chemise off her shoulders, pulling the fabric down over her breasts. Garren's lips found one taut tip, his mouth opening around the sweet pink flesh and suckling it into heat.
He played with that tip, rolling it on his tongue, sucking upon it then using his teeth to nibble, all the while hearing her breathless pleas that drove his passions. His hand found the edge of her skirts, pulling them up so that they bunched around her waist, reaching down and yanking open the ribbon that held her pantalets closed. His palm slid down over soft skin, his fingers slipping into even softer heat, finding her wet and ready for him.
Brenna groaned, her hips arching upward as his finger slid over her clit. "Please, Garren," she pleaded. "Don't stop."
"Never, my love," he moaned. He fumbled with his pants, managing to get out of them without moving his hand from her sleek, wet flesh. His cock was rock hard, the tip slick with his own passions. He groaned as he felt her hand wrap around it, stroking it as she had the night before. He jerked against her palm, wanting nothing more than to oblige her and keep his promise, to never stop loving her, to hold her and keep her with him forever.
Garren's hand, his fingers sensitive to every nuance of her, pleasured her woman's flesh with intimate strokes, feeling the proof of her virginity like a hidden veil keeping him from her. His mouth moved from her breasts to her stomach, his hand slipping out of the pantalets to pull them from her soft body, exposing smooth pale skin and light curls to his eyes. He pushed her legs apart, smoothing his palms up the inside of her thighs, holding her open to his eyes and his fingers.
He could smell the scent of her arousal strong in his nostrils and bent his head, wanting to taste of her sweet cleft, his tongue sweeping over her wet channel, lapping at the taut bud of her clit. Her hands were in his hair, holding him to her as if afraid he would stop what he was doing. Tiny cries of pleasure came from between her lips, his name a long sigh as her hips danced under his caresses, pressing against his mouth.
Her soft thighs came up around his ears as her cries grew more shrill, her pleasure beginning to peak, to send her soaring into the dark morass of sexual bliss that seemed just beyond her fingertips.
Garren pulled away, feeling her hands holding onto him, her eyes opening wide in consternation until he rose above her, his fingers sliding through her wetness. Then she felt something bigger, thicker than his fingers probing at her wet flesh, finding the barricade that kept him from her. His eyes met hers. With a single thrust, he pushed through that tiny veil, her nails digging into his arms, a soft hiss of pain coming from between her lips.
"I am so sorry, love," he whispered huskily, trying to hold his own virginal body still, to give her a chance to get used to the way he felt inside of her. But it was difficult, for the hot, wet flesh held him, clung to him, left him feeling as if he were finally coming home. His hips jerked, and he moaned, her sleek flesh caressing his cock tightly. His lips found hers and he moved against her slowly, his big body shaking. "Is this all right?" he moaned, holding her tightly to him.
Brenna nodded, feeling the pain diminish with every stroke he made inside her. Tiny tingles of pleasure were returning, growing in her depths, her hips moving against his. He lifted his head, his eyes staring down into her face, meeting her own.
Everything he felt was there for her to see, every stroke of his body drew them both closer to the pleasurable completion they'd both dreamed of. He whispered to her of his love, telling her how wonderful she felt, how beautiful she was, how very much he wanted to be with her like this every day for the rest of their lives. He watched her face, seeing the glow in her pleasure-dazed eyes, the way her lips parted, panting for breaths, the flush that graced her slender cheeks. He saw the first wave of bliss flood through her, feeling her sex clamp down upon his cock, the muscles stroking over him.
With a roar, he let it come, pulsing hot seed deep inside of her, hearing her cry out his name, clutching him to her.
His head dropped to the pillow by her ear, his breath a throaty gasp as he fought to calm his heart.His body felt liquid, relaxed on top of hers and he was barely able to hold his weight off of her. With a sigh, he grabbed her waist, pulling her over on top of him, still inside of her.
Her hands stroked his chest, as she spread small kisses against him. He heard her sigh and felt her relax on top of him, her skirt covering them like a blanket.
"I don't know how this happened," she whispered. "But I am so very happy it did." "You did it, Brenna." She lifted her head, her once beautifully coiffed hair now mussed by
his hands. "I did what?" she asked, confu
sed. "It was the book you brought to read to me. That book was written by someone on orders by my parents. They wanted me to know how I came to be cursed, and how to get rid of the curse. If you hadn't found the book, Brenna, pet, I would still be a beast and would probably be looking for a suitable husband for you." He smiled as she glared at him, stroking gentle fingers over her cheek.
"But how are you the beast? How did you find the cure? How…" she shushed as his fingers pressed against her lips.
"Quiet and I'll tell you," he said, smiling. He told her a quickly condensed version of the tale, stroking her as he did. "My mother drank Jeffrey's brew and it changed her for those few short moments of my conception, and that change along with my father being the beast passed the curse to me. I found the recipe for the cure in the back of the book and drank it before you got home." "It is forever? You won't have to drink that brew again?" "No, the curse is gone, your love kept me alive through it." He grinned, his hips moving slowly under hers, his cock growing harder where it was still lodged inside of her."Now all we have to do is work on our own happily ever after, my pet."
Her eyes glowed as she felt him put his hands on her waist, pushing her so she rode astride him. "It will be, Garren," she purred. "I promise."
About the Author
Wendy Stone only recently began her writing career. A small town girl with a Master's degree from the School of Hard Knocks, Wendy started writing as a way to combat boredom and keep from gaining dress sizes after an accident to her back kept her from working. No one was more surprised than she when people actually enjoyed what she wrote.