The Beast Prince

by Marian Perera

  The axehead bit into the dead tree so hard the impact jarred all the way to her spine. Splinters flew with the force of her swings. She was sweating long before she’d reduced the tree to splits, but she felt a little better, and she carried the wood back to the outpost. Marus was nowhere in sight, to her relief, and while she waited for water to boil, she pulled a rusting tin tub into the barracks. Since she expected to live, she’d brought soap and clean clothes this time.

  She carried in the hot water, closed the door and filled the tub. Used as she was to quick cold scrubs, immersing in something from which steam rose seemed likely to cook her, but at least she’d die clean. She lowered herself in, flinching a little.

  The heat stung, but it untangled every knot in her muscles. Kat released a long sigh. This was luxury. She loosened her hair and scooped handfuls of water to pour over her head before she took the slab of lye soap and scrubbed her limbs.

  The door opened and she dropped the soap, crossing her arms before her breasts. Marus stepped in and stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” She drew her legs up, and only then realized what she had said—not just the blunt question but the way she’d snapped at him. What the hell had she been thinking? Shock closed off her throat like a vise.

  His brows went up. “I’ve heard of it. Never actually done it.”

  The calmness made matters worse, because he was right: the outpost was his residence, so of course he didn’t need to knock. “I beg your pardon.”

  “No, no. I mean, I shouldn’t have disturbed you while you’re bathing.” His gaze dropped to her shoulders and then her knees, and although she felt sure he couldn’t see anything more of her, the water turned hotter.

  “Was there something you needed?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes!” Marus said, as if he’d just remembered what it was. “What can I do about this?” He ran a finger down his cheek.

  “Your face?” Why would he want to change anything about that?

  “No, this hair. Some human men have it but some don’t. How do they stop it growing?”

  “They shave.” That earned her a puzzled look, so she explained, trying to ignore the small voice in the back of her mind saying this was crazy. “Make a foam with soap and water, smear it on their faces and scrape off the hair with a razor.”

  “A razor? Does it hurt?”

  “No, you…” She moved a hand to demonstrate against her own face, but dropped her arm in time. A flush stole beneath her skin, and not because of the steaming water. “You scrape the edge of the blade against your skin and it cuts away the hair. As long as it doesn’t break the skin, there’s no pain.”

  “I see. I don’t suppose you brought a razor?”

  Kat wasn’t sure if it was the unreality of her sitting naked in a tub advising a Prince about shaving, or the hopeful way he spoke, but she found herself saying, “Take my knife—it’s sharp enough.” The soap she’d dropped lay next to the tub, so she jerked her chin at it. “That’s all yours, and there’s more hot water over the fire.” At least that would get him out of the room.

  “Thank you,” he said, and gave her another of those smiles which looked so strange because they seemed genuinely pleased. He shut the door, much to her relief. She quickly finished washing her hair and rinsed herself off. Next time she’d bar the damn door.

  If there was a next time; best not to take anything for granted.

  It was odd. A Prince finding her naked should have terrified her with the knowledge of her own vulnerability, and yet she hadn’t felt afraid of Marus. She’d been embarrassed, and never more so than when he’d looked her over, but she’d known that was as far as he would go. Unless you want to.

  Then again, he could have all the lovers he wanted with no effort on his part, and not just because of his power and his looks. She was growing used to his eyes, she realized, but what was more perplexing was that despite his admitted fondness for women, she was the only other person in the outpost.

  No, she wouldn’t read anything into that, because he behaved so oddly on occasion. She toweled herself as if scrubbing his gaze off her, then got dressed and combed her hair. Her skin felt unaccustomedly sleek and sensitive. Her hair would take time to dry, so she dragged the tub out to empty it.

  A sound in the distance caught her attention—the click of pebbles knocking against each other and muted thuds as clods of earth slid away. Someone was hurrying up the path towards the outpost and she went to the gate. Sure enough, it was a runner from the town.

  “Sir.” The girl stopped at the top of the trail, panting, and Kat went quickly to meet her. “Message—for you—from the mayor. And a warning.”

  * * *

  Janice hurried into the infirmary and stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the cool darkness. That was enough time for Dr. McKay to find her.

  “Novak’s gone,” he said.

  The infirmary had sent a runner to tell her Tom Novak had made the three-mile journey in person, apparently to see the girl, and had been distraught. Janice wished they’d detained him, but she sent the runner back out to recall him. She went with Dr. McKay to his study.

  “The good news is the girl’s fever broke,” he said. “She might recover.”

  One thing to be grateful for. “What did Novak say?”

  The furrow between Dr. McKay’s brows looked carved into bone. “He saw her and…turned away. Crying. And not tears of joy and gratitude either.”

  “Damn it. I wanted to spare him the shock of seeing his daughter like that.”

  “You think she’s his daughter? She doesn’t look anything like him.”

  “So?” Several people in the town cared for children who weren’t their blood relations, after those children’s parents had disappeared or died. But at the same time, she wondered how Tom Novak could have adopted a child, given his work and the conditions in the splintertown. It would have made more sense to send a displaced orphan to Solstice Harbor.

  Something didn’t make sense.

  Dr. McKay considered that, then shrugged as if to ask what it mattered. “Hell of a thing—bad enough losing your daughter without knowing a Prince pimped her out to his brothers.”

  Janice stared at him. “You told him that?”

  “He asked if she had said anything about Raina Farlander. I told him the only name she’d spoken was Marus, and he asked who that was.” He shifted uneasily. “I should have waited for you, but he seemed so shattered. And desperate for any news.”

  “Doesn’t matter now.” All she had to do was find Novak and calm him down until he told her what was going on. She’d put the town under containment if she had to—

  “Ma’am!” someone called out, and she spun around to see one of the town guards. “Captain Blake sent me.”

  “Novak.” In that moment Janice knew she’d stepped on a stone that had just plunged away in the start of a landslide.

  The guard nodded. “He grabbed a pack horse and ran off. To that outpost.”

  * * *

  It took Marus a little while to grasp the principle of shaving, and he was careful as he moved the knife over his jaw and around his mouth. But once he had finished, it was another accomplishment, and he liked the cool air on his newly exposed skin. He emptied the basin and cleaned Kat’s knife.

  That kind of grooming had never been necessary before. Reverting to earth form and staying dormant for a few hours returned any Prince to his original condition, so changes made in flesh form—whether those were wounds or stubble—disappeared. Hopefully Kat knew nothing about that. It was one reason he’d questioned her after seeing her in the tub; with luck, she’d be too flustered to think about why he had asked how to shave.

  The other reason was that he couldn’t have looked away from her if an army of humans had been pounding at the gates.
If he’d had his power, he would have sunk a pool wide enough for both of them, where he could watch those long sleek limbs gleam with water as she bathed.

  Oh, admit it. He’d do a lot more than watch. He thought of scrubbing her back with handfuls of soft sand, all the way down from the nape of her neck. Combing his fingers through wet hair, soaping every inch of her body and letting her do the same to him.

  The door opened, ending the delightful image but letting in another, because Kat looked crisp and functional in her clean clothes. Long dark hair, glossy after washing, tumbled down over her shoulders.

  “Here’s your knife back.” He held it out.

  Her gaze shifted from him to the blade as if she’d never seen it before, but she crossed the distance between them and took the knife. Her fingers touched his, only for a second, and she drew back as she thudded the knife into its sheath.

  “The girl said your name.” Her voice was flat and wary.

  Marus almost asked, What girl? He remembered just in time. And she’d implicated him in what had happened to her, which was wonderful. No wonder Kat was being like this again—suspicious and frozen at once.

  “Go on,” he said.

  The tendons in her throat stood out. “Was she going to be offered to you like another kind of tribute?”

  “Do you think my brothers and I need to appeal to each other that way?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know about your kind, and you’re keeping something a secret.”

  Marus was on his feet at once. He wished he were taller, because in that form, he only had about a handspan’s height advantage. Then again, he could see she was intimidated. She looked up so she could meet his stare, but she breathed fast, her body taut as if she wanted to run.

  “And you, as a human, have the right to question me?” he said.

  Even to his own ears, his voice seemed to echo up from a place deeper than a tomb. Kat reached sideways to the edge of a table, her fingers closing around it so her knuckles stood out like knots.

  Though her other hand, he noticed, wasn’t too far from the hilt of her knife.

  “As a human, I have a duty.” Her voice shook a little, but every word was clear. “Not just to you, but to other humans, especially those who are vulnerable and need my protection.”

  That could describe me at the moment. Marus ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

  “Kat, let me make this clear,” he said. “I don’t know who this girl is, but if one of my brothers sent her to me in some misguided attempt at tribute I’d tell her to leave. I like my women willing, and I don’t need anyone’s help in that regard, least of all my brothers’.”

  She looked as though she wanted to believe him but didn’t dare take the risk. “How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”

  “Why the hell would I lie? If I wanted a girl, she’d be here. Doesn’t the fact that I was living here alone tell you anything?”

  “Yes, it tells me something damn strange is going on. And why would the girl say your name, if she had nothing to do with you?”

  Marus wondered the same thing. He felt sure Ractane would never have bothered sending human assassins, even to deal with another human; the Princes did their killing themselves.

  “Maybe Ractane told her about his brothers,” he said. “Were you listening to find out if she mentioned Virech and Skage as well? Once and for all, I don’t want her, whoever she is.”

  Kat’s jaw set stubbornly. “How do you know, if you’ve never seen her?”

  “I don’t believe this.” He folded his arms, because his hands itched to grip her shoulders and shake a little sense into her—or better yet, the respect that was his due. “All right, tell me what she looks like. If you can’t take my word for it that I have no interest in this human who I’ve never laid eyes on, describe her and we’ll see if she quakes my earth.”

  She had the nerve to look offended, as though he’d said something very crude. “I’m not going to—”

  “I gave you an order.”

  Much to his relief, that subdued her a little, and she held her hand flat to the level of her shoulder. “She’s about this tall.”

  “Too little for me.” He reached out and took her wrist, ignoring the way she stiffened. “This is better.” He moved her hand to the level of her head.

  She jerked free of his grip. “She—she has brown hair.”

  “I prefer black. Especially when it’s long.”

  Something like heat lightning flickered through her eyes, and he guessed she’d realized exactly what was going on. The uncertainty that had made her voice tremor was gone.

  “I don’t remember the color of her eyes,” she said flatly, as if trying to close him out.

  “If they were dark and tilted up at the corners, they would be lovely.”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  “I am.” He moved closer to her. “Because if you want to know what I find damn near irresistible, you need to look in a mirror.”

  She stared at him as if transfixed, and he lowered his head. Her rapid breath was warm, her lips warmer when he covered them with his mouth.

  He’d wanted to kiss her for a long time, even though he’d only known her a few days. In a life he no longer felt sure of and a world where he didn’t belong on either side, this was a sweetness that made him long for more. Her mouth was soft under his, her lips slightly parted, and he closed his eyes so nothing would distract him from her.

  She smelled of clean linen and soap and rainwater stored within stone. More than anything else he wanted to pull her into his arms, but he knew if he tried it, she would either struggle, which would be bad, or give in, which would be worse. Instead he didn’t touch her anywhere other than his mouth on hers—and then deeper, as he coaxed her lips apart, murmuring a wordless sound of pleasure when her mouth opened under his.

  He tilted his head, tasting her, finding her tongue with his. A hot dark need pulsed through his body. Slow gentleness fought a pent-up hunger so great it verged on violence, the need to possess and dominate that was his earth side, but he heard her whimper low in her throat, as if the muffled sound was all she could make. His senses were filled with her and yet far from sated as he forced himself to break the kiss.

  She was as breathless as he felt, gasping. Her eyes were wide and hazy, dark pools he could have drowned in.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Why what?”

  She sucked in a breath. “…why did you stop?”

  Marus’s arms went around her, pulling her against him. He kissed her hard, his fingers sinking into her hair to hold her steady for him, and that time she responded, her tongue moving slowly against his. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers splaying over his shoulders—he felt that as if his clothes didn’t exist—before she locked her arms around his neck.

  He’d never wanted anyone so much, and being the only human who’d ever stood up to him made her all the more desirable. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her ear, the throbbing pulse in her throat, and she trembled as she leaned into him.

  “Marus,” she whispered.

  She had never said his name like that before. It sent a jolt through him, tight and hardening in his groin, and he pushed her against the nearest table, moving to lift her onto it so she could wrap her legs around him.

  “Marus, wait.” That stopped him, and he paused, trying to draw back a little, his body needing the exact opposite. Kat passed the tip of her tongue over her lips.

  “If I please you,” she said, speaking quickly as if trying to get it out before he touched her again, “will you give us your protection?”

  Marus felt as though he’d plunged into a well—a long drop with chilled water at the end. He let go of her, blood roaring in his ears, still so aroused he couldn’t think straight.

&nbs
p; He could still feel a great deal, though.

  “It’s not that I don’t find you, uh, attractive.” Kat slid off the table and drew her hands over her jerkin as if trying to smooth out creases. “But I—I have a duty to my people.”

  A thousand retorts whirled through Marus’s mind, like whether her duty mattered so much she was willing to whore herself. But he didn’t feel angry now; he was as cold and as hollow as the well he’d just fallen into.

  As if you could expect anything different from a human, his cynical side whispered. As if they want anything more from a Prince than his power.

  “Get out,” he said, without looking at her. There was a moment of hesitation, and then her footsteps made their way to the door. It closed softly behind her.

  * * *

  The hall seemed vast and quiet once she had gone.

  The rough urgent need slowly faded, leaving Marus blank: what was he supposed to do now? He didn’t want to face her again, not after he’d been taken in by her physical response, but he couldn’t avoid her as long as he stayed in the outpost.

  Leave, then.

  He turned that possibility over as he would have examined a striped pebble. Why not? The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Kat had brought two ponies and a cart; he could load that up with food and drive off. She’d return to the town to tell them he’d gone, and everyone would breathe a sigh of relief, while he found some place that was mercifully deserted. There were a lot of ruins.

  And afterwards?

  He’d worry about that later. For now, prepare for the journey. First he repacked his extra clothes, ignoring the small voice saying it wouldn’t matter how often he changed those; he’d still have the same powerless flesh form beneath.

  The door opened. Marus ignored it as he bundled up his clothes, but when it closed again, he glanced in that direction to see what Kat wanted. She never simply waited there; she either spoke to him or she worked. He refused to think what it would be like to be alone again.

  Instead of Kat, a man stood before the closed door.

  Marus turned, remembering to do so without any outward sign of fear, as smooth and unhurried as if he had expected a visitor. The man’s face was a mask of dust clinging thickly. He seemed to have no weapons, but that was small relief. Marus was tall, like all the Princes—he’d once thought their mother had murdered anything small she’d had the indignity of birthing before that runt could flee her valley—but this man overtopped him, and the bare arms were logs of solid muscle.