Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1)

by Rachel L. Demeter

  She trembled against him and held tighter to his neck. Heartbeat to heartbeat, Adam gently maneuvered in and out of her slick walls. His hot, torn breaths wafted against her face, beating across her cheeks. The sound of the sputtering candle crescendoed and elevated every sensation.

  She clung to his back, grasping him like a lifeline. With each thrust, her body gripped on to him in an unyielding clasp and forced them back as one. She arched her neck, and his lips came to the throbbing base of her throat. Their heartbeats slammed together, connecting their spirits in a profound and inseparable way. Little tremors escalated to a pounding rush of liquid heat and blistering pleasure.

  Isabelle let everything go. Everything except for Prince Adam Delacroix.

  Exquisite shocks rippled through her, overwhelming every pore, every nerve, and every fiber of her being. She cried out as she rode the spine-tingling climax, shivering and quaking in the security of Adam’s arms.

  Joining in her release, he buried himself deep inside her body and threw his head back with a guttural moan. The mingled sounds of their shared ecstasy slammed together. He held her soundly against his pulsating chest—and Isabelle abandoned herself to a feeling of oneness and true love.

  Always us. Always together.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Winter melted into spring, and along with it, the icicles that had clung to Adam’s heart deftly fell away like shackles. Seasoned by fresh blooms, the morning air felt crisp and cool against his naked cheeks. From the premature flower buds up to the noisy nest of sparrows which was cradled by a tree’s bough, the world whispered of birth and new beginnings.

  Golden rays oozed between the shuddering branches while shafts of light illuminated their dew-covered leaves. A sea of tall grass swayed in the wind’s breath, moving like an ocean tide. Exhaling a long breath, he thought of Lavoncourt’s coastline—the sight of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks in a repetitive, forlorn melody...

  Adam watched as Isabelle rode past the garden’s climbing roses, which reached for the heavens.

  Luminous shafts of orange and red streaked the horizon like colors in an oil painting. Standing on his East Tower balcony, Adam inhaled the cool air as true contentment and happiness flooded his entire being. He’d never thought it possible to feel such hope, to gaze at the world beyond his castle and perceive only beauty. Each evening, he fell asleep to the sweet melody of Isabelle’s voice while she read to him. They’d only known each other for a couple months, yet it felt like an entire lifetime.

  The nights were woven from music and reciprocated stories, of shared dreams and the comfort of each other’s embrace. They’d often make love until morning’s light wriggled through the drapes, and then contently fall asleep in each other’s arms. Isabelle felt so much a part of himself now... It was a wonder he’d ever lived without her.

  Survived, maybe. But not lived.

  Not before her.

  Down below, Isabelle slid off Spirit’s back and gently stroked the mare’s muzzle. Then she shielded her gaze and glanced at the balcony. Adam watched in breathless wonder as a smile brightened her features and reached out to him from the gardens. She waved, her smile growing greater still—and an unspoken conversation floated between them.

  Minutes later, shafts of sunlight shimmered through the windows as Adam headed for his music room. The draperies were thrown open, welcoming the outside world in. The melody of clicking heels resonated somewhere in the castle as a handful of servants tended to the rooms and cleared away a lifetime of dust and cobwebs. Indeed, Isabelle had returned from her last trip to the village with some unexpected inventory.

  Adam lowered his face in an unconscious gesture while a maidservant whizzed by. He saw the way she kept sufficient space between their bodies as they crossed paths... heard the audible gasp that fled her lips and the look of repulsion and disbelief that shadowed her gaze. And when she believed he no longer watched, she made a clumsy sign of the cross and muttered an incoherent prayer. Adam shook his head and exhaled a sigh; her disgust and fear slid off him. Nothing mattered now with Isabelle at his side. Stranger found Adam in the corridor and greeted him with a good-natured bark. They entered his music room, and Adam sat before his pianoforte.

  He felt himself unravel as his scarred hands danced across the ivory keys and filled the room with a soft, hypnotic melody. He quickly spiraled into his music, crafting a decadent piece without conscious thought. It consumed him and took on a life of its own as the notes slowly melted into a wedding requiem.

  Adam’s hands froze in midair. Sweetly tender notes vibrated around him and dissolved into an introspective silence. He fished a trembling hand inside his coat pocket and withdrew one of his family’s great heirlooms—a diamond engagement ring.

  Memories surged through him as he clasped the gem in his palm. Exhaling a rigid breath, he unfurled his fingers and studied the crystal-clear diamond. Morning’s light set the encircling rubies aglow as Adam rotated it between his thumb and forefinger...

  Always together.

  Indeed, Adam knew, with every beat of his heart, that he couldn’t bear ever being separated from his Isabelle.

  Isabelle turned her face to the morning sun, allowing its rays to caress her cheeks like warm fingers. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the roses’ sweet nectar and the scent of fresh dew. Her heart hammered against her ribs as her thoughts trailed to Adam. She’d lived in a sort of dream the past few weeks; Adam had become her lover, her best friend, and greatest confidant. Layer by layer, his stony demeanor had fallen away to reveal the kindhearted, gentle man beneath. In many ways, he was still that boy lying in bed, listening as his home was torn apart, stone by stone...

  Isabelle clasped Spirit’s reins and directed her through the lush gardens, around the castle’s curved facade, and inside the stable. After she returned Spirit to her stall and filled her trough with a bundle of fresh hay, Isabelle found herself standing in front of her papa’s gravesite. Breathlessly she knelt before the cross and pile of stones. Her words were soft, burdened by emotion; the breeze nearly carried them away.

  “I miss you, Papa. I miss you every day...” Blinking back tears, she traced a fingertip over the engraved letters. “I have found happiness, true love... I have found what you and Maman had.” She leaned forward with a strained breath and pressed her lips against the wooden cross. “You shall always have my love, Papa.”

  A half an hour later, Isabelle turned toward the castle and made the journey through the winding courtyard. Isabelle felt a smile spread across her face while each step brought her closer to Adam. She ached for his touch, the gentle brush of his breaths, the deep lull of his voice, the two wonderfully imperfect halves of his face—

  Something shifted in the atmosphere. Each hair on the back of her neck prickled. Silence hung in the air like a bad omen. Even the wind held its breath. Isabelle stopped dead in her tracks while a dark premonition eclipsed her thoughts. Her flight or fight instinct kicked into place. She was being watched... hunted. Overcome with a prickling dread, she gathered her skirts and took off at a fierce sprint.

  The breaths were half-knocked from her lungs as a pair of arms shot out and grabbed the middle of her body. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth and nose, muffling her screams. Then Raphael’s voice was in her ear, filling her gut with hot bile as he dragged her against the side of the castle.

  She gasped in pain and despair while her back slammed against the wall. The rough stones snagged her dress and tore at her skin. Raphael hovered above her, anger unlike she’d ever seen etched into every line of his handsome, aristocratic face.

  “Not so much as a word. Understood? Don’t underestimate me this time, ma chérie. I shall take great pleasure in sending you into the dirt alongside your beloved papa.”

  A faint click pierced the silence. Isabelle felt her legs grow numb and weak as the cool tip of Raphael’s pistol nestled against her skull. Indeed, he held it against her sweat-lined temple none too gently;
the metal scraped her flesh, echoing the warning in his stone-cold gaze.

  “Another word and I’ll blow your pretty brains halfway to hell.”

  How, in God’s teeth, did he find her? Isabelle fought to recover her breathing, to cloak her fear beneath a show of apathy. She locked on to that unwavering stare and lifted her chin several centimeters.

  Could she somehow wrestle the gun from him? Could she use her feminine wiles to turn the tables?

  “Raphael... thank God. I... I feared you’d never find me. I have been hoping against hope that—”

  Isabelle cringed as the nozzle dug a little deeper into her skull. “You’re a terrible little liar, my love. Do you take me for a fucking fool?”

  A tart reply rushed from her lips before she could stop it. Months of anger welled inside her; it crushed her composure beneath an avalanche of unbridled fury and revulsion. “A fool, no. A monster? A coward? Yes. You fight to thwart your father, to not be like him—yet you’re nothing but a precise reflection. And you can’t even see it. It’s ironic, really, and so very pathetic.”

  Raphael’s left hand squeezed her throat in a lightning-quick movement. His fingers constricted, clasping her vocal cords, causing the remaining breaths to smother inside her lungs.

  “Say that again, chérie.” Isabelle couldn’t have spoken even if she wanted to; she felt herself choking, growing faint and slipping into a black void. His manicured nails dug into her flesh and drew blood; she felt it beading down her pulsating throat. Raphael muttered something under his breath, appeased for the moment, and then loosened his hold. “That’s what I thought. I see your silver tongue has lost some of its bite. Now you’d best obey me.”

  He released her in a harsh movement. Coughs erupted from Isabelle’s throat. She clasped her vocal cords, massaging the tender flesh, panting for precious air. Blood stained the tips of her fingers and smeared across her undulating throat. She felt like she was drowning. Raphael took a calculated step back, crossed his brawny arms, and observed her with a disturbing intensity. His silent contemplation frightened her far more than his outburst.

  “Are you quite finished?” he asked in a cold, nonchalant tone while her coughs subsided.

  “What do you want from me, Raphael? What?” She knew she shouldn’t yell, not with Raphael’s gun pointed in her direction—yet she couldn’t control the frustration she felt. The tears slipped down her flushed cheeks, and she cursed herself for such weakness. “When we first met, I trusted you, I cared for you. I even believed myself in love with you! Now I can see what a naive, stupid girl I was. I shall never forgive myself for being so blind.”

  The distant sound of barking rushed toward them. Panic seized Isabelle in an iron grasp. Stranger must have heard her cries.

  What if Adam comes with him—unarmed and unaware? Or one of the new servants? Isabelle squeezed both eyes shut as the thunderous sound of Stranger’s barking reverberated off the stone walls and closed in on their location.

  Raphael cursed under his breath; Isabelle’s eyes shot open. Stranger lurked a meter away, his thin back curved into a menacing arch. His lips pulled back to show an impressive set of teeth. Isabelle’s thoughts drifted to the evening she and Papa had stumbled upon the castle and implored Adam for refuge...

  Her eyes fell shut while mounting horror flooded her mind and soul.

  Run from here, my dear friend, she silently called out to the creature. Then Adam’s words from a month ago echoed in her mind: He’s protective of his master. A loyal beast. And a good friend.

  The sound of a gunshot impaled the air; Stranger’s barking fell silent. She slowly opened her eyes, her heart and nerves in tatters. Non... Stranger’s crumpled body lay a meter away, an unholy sea of red spreading below his molted gray fur. Isabelle felt lightheaded, woozy... like she was suffocating all over again. She leaned against the stone wall for support as she seemed to cave inward. Indeed, she was collapsing in on herself.

  “I shall make this simple for you. Come with me now, submit to my will without a fight, without the melodrama, and you and your beloved monster shall remain unharmed.” He stepped forward, his voice sinking to a diabolical whisper that sent tremors down her spine. “Make any more fuss, and Adam shall suffer the same fate as his wretched mongrel.” His boot slammed against Stranger’s motionless body, making his intentions clear. Isabelle cringed at the vulgar gesture, anger and hatred twisting inside her. “Am I quite clear?” Raphael snatched her wrist and reeled her forward. She cried out as his nails sank into her skin and drew blood.

  “Without so much as a farewell? At—at the very least let me say good-bye! I—”

  His grip tightening, he scoffed and shook his blond head in visible disbelief. “Unbelievable. You really think me daft, don’t you?”

  Minutes later, Raphael threw Isabelle in the back of his carriage and locked her inside with the turn of a small brass key. She shoved the burgundy curtain aside, watching as the forest swallowed up her prince’s castle and her home receded into the horizon.

  Adam knew something was amiss when Isabelle didn’t show for lunch. He felt it inside his gut, within the core of his body. Brooding at the large, circular dining table, he shoved a full plate of roasted chicken and fresh vegetables aside, which the new cook had prepared only an hour before, and stormed through the castle.

  He checked all her usual spots—the nook in the library, the gardens, her bedchamber, and her father’s resting place.

  Something’s happened to her.

  Panic seized Adam.

  He raced through the winding halls, his body shaking all over, that uneasy sensation rising with every step. He crossed paths with a servant, who was carrying a bundle of fresh linens, and grasped her thin forearm. She released a pitiful cry—which was more from the sight of his naked face than his grip on her arm—and jackknifed against the wall. She cried out again while the linens tumbled from her hands. The sharp scents of soap and starch filled his nostrils and made him feel queasy. As if fighting off a sudden chill, she grasped her servant’s garb and fisted the material between quivering fingertips.

  Ignorant chit. She behaved like she’d seen a monster.

  Adam scoffed and tore an unsteady hand through his hairline. “Have you seen her? Isabelle—when is the last time you saw her?” The girl shrank farther against the wall, if that was even possible, then knelt and haphazardly collected the strewn linens. Adam noticed the way her hands trembled—and he despised her for it. “Speak up, daft child! Tell me all you know or I shall make you suffer for such insolence.”

  The girl stared at him from her spot on the ground, a bright flush quickly spreading across her sallow cheeks. “Forgive me, master!” She stumbled onto her feet, though she kept her face halfway hidden behind the tower of freshly washed linens. “I—I saw her just this morning.”

  “In the garden. Yes, I know this,” he mumbled, waving her words away. “Have you seen her since?”

  “Oui. In the courtyard, if I’m not mistaken. I—”

  Adam fled before she could finish the sentence. He backtracked to Bernard’s grave, then searched the entire premises while calling out Isabelle’s name like some reverent prayer. The choked sound of his voice rode the crisp breeze and echoed despairingly off the stone walls. He rounded the castle, growing strangely disoriented, breathless, and drenched with sweat. His hands trembled like those of an addict as he battled to shove the fierce thoughts from his mind.

  Perhaps she has simply left me. Maybe her affection was nothing more than a ruse. A farce. He knew such thoughts were far from logical, yet it took only a glance in a mirror for them to surface again.

  Adam was so distracted that he overlooked the great bundle of fur on the ground. Instead, he felt it. He glanced down at the blood-soaked fur and the crimson ring that surrounded Stranger’s motionless body.

  “Non. Stranger...”

  Barely breathing, Adam dropped to his knees and gently stroked a trembling hand over the dog’s lean back. His heart
plummeted while a new grief seeped into his veins. Hardly thinking, he bowed forward and laid his cheek across Stranger’s coarse body. He felt as a warm rush of blood stained the disfigured side of his face. Shaking fingers continued to run across the dog’s motionless back in repetitive strokes.

  “My friend... I’m so sorry... I—” Emotion constricted the words. Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed his lips against Stranger’s molted coat. “Be at peace,” he whispered, staggering onto his feet and running his palm over Stranger’s side one last time.

  Adam cursed under his breath, the expletive forming a cloud on the air. Meters away, fresh tracks from a carriage were embedded in the dirt.

  Mon Dieu, she’s been taken. Vicomte Dumont has found her.

  He knew it with every beat of his heart.

  Hours later, Adam stood before a gaping hole in the earth. His mind and heart overflowed with thoughts of Isabelle, and that despair he’d known for so long returned full circle.

  Sébastien’s betrayal—yes, he knew Sébastien was to blame for this—cut through his soul with the sharp edge of a blade. I should have never trusted him. I should have never believed in his friendship, his apparent loyalty... Adam twisted his fingers in Stranger’s wiry coat as his eyes squeezed shut. He swept his palm up and down the dog’s motionless back... affectionately stroked his fingers over each rib like striking the strings of a harp. Stranger had been a constant companion, a much-needed light within a world of darkness and solitude. Because of Sébastien, he’d lost Stranger—and possibly Isabelle as well.

  Never.

  Adam’s sorrow quickly warped. It mutilated into a throbbing anger and a hunger for vengeance. Sébastien would pay for his role in this disaster, even if he was forced to rip the world apart to hunt him down.

  Adam gently lowered Stranger into the hole, mere meters away from Bernard’s resting spot, and swiped the mound of dirt over the dog’s bloodied fur. He reflected on the night Isabelle had stumbled upon his doorstep, on how his humanity had resurrected when he’d buried her father under the black ash tree... and on everything they’d endured since. No prayers were muttered. No requiems passed his lips. Alas, he’d abandoned his faith long ago.