Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  I pressed my hand to the surprisingly soft material, feeling down the fishnet on my abdomen, and turning around to look at myself in the mirror. Everything on the dress was a work of art, from the ice blue leaves on the bust to the arch of flowers on my pelvis. I was trying to figure out how to button up the thin line of pearls on the back when a sound caught me. It sounded like a knock. Assuming it was Nikolai, I shouted for him to come in. Had something gone wrong with the plan?

  When I looked up, Anteros was in the doorway to the closet. I was stunned. He’d knocked? Beast—Anteros—never knocked. Yet before I could really think on it, he pushed his way farther inside.

  Well, not pushed, but it felt like it.

  It felt like with each step he took, the air moved with him. Each time he stepped, I moved back, until I was smack against the shoes, arms splayed behind me. I didn’t think I would ever get used to him. Each moment with Anteros was life or death. What was he going to do now? What horrors had he planned for me this time?

  He had one hand behind his back and I swallowed. That couldn’t be good. What did he have behind there? What instrument of torture had he brought for me this time? My hands gripped the small shelf behind me as I waited for him to show me. Slowly he revealed his hand.

  “You look like an angel.” His voice was hoarse. I blinked, trying to gain control of my faculties as he held out a small diamond necklace shaped like a rose. I gasped. I remembered that rose, remembered how he had torn it from my neck. It was the very same diamond rose necklace I’d worn a month ago, on my first night here. Gingerly, I reached out for it, but then he shook his head. He turned me around, hands moving my hair from my back to my shoulder with slow, gentle care. I shivered at the touch, goose bumps forming.

  He clasped it.

  I waited for him to come back around, but then he began to button the dress. His fingers slid under the fabric, uniting with my skin. My breath hitched, my diaphragm sucking in with each button. I bit my lip, focusing on steadying my breath. When he was finished, his flattened palm pressed against the buttons. From the base of my neck to the dip in my back, he ran his palm down, smoothing it slowly, carefully. Then his hands rested on my hips. I waited for him to grip me, to grab me, to demand of me.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low.

  I swallowed. “What?” I asked, but I wasn’t really sure what I said. My brain was playing catch-up. With a slight increase in pressure he spun me around so I could see into his eyes.

  “To leave. It’s time to go.” I nodded. The corner of his mouth twitched and he let go of my hips. He held out his hand, palm first. My eyes flicked to it, then to his face, uncertain. He raised a brow and I clasped my hand in his, making sure to grab my purse, and together we walked out of my room. I took a glance back at the door, a door he’d knocked on. I shook my head, turning forward.

  Probably a fluke.

  A sleek black car was waiting for us at the curb but, as planned, Nikolai was not the driver. Distantly I wondered what excuse Nikolai had used to get out of it. Anteros stepped down and once again put his hand out for me. Warily, I took it.

  Traffic was ridiculous. Anteros hadn’t told me where we were going—not that I expected him to. I had a little bit of an idea, though. The plan had accounted for a few scenarios. I stared out the window at the standstill traffic. Everyone but me probably wanted to be somewhere. This plan was going to change everything, and I wasn’t sure I wanted things to change.

  I knew just thinking like that meant I needed to get the fuck out of Dodge, but the way he’d held me the previous night had my mind reeling.

  I could feel his stare on me, like the sun at noon. I rubbed my neck, feeling sweaty. My mind flashed to his hands on my back, clasping my buttons.

  “Where is Nikolai?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the growing crowd outside.

  “He always gets one day off a year,” Anteros responded. “This year he requested today.” We came to a stop outside a nice-looking hotel. After the new driver opened the door for Anteros, I waited for the same. When my door finally opened, it wasn’t the driver. Anteros held his hand out for me. I swallowed, taking his hand, and feeling like the tightrope I was walking on was about to snap.

  Hand in his, we walked inside, bypassed check-in, and went to the elevator. He scanned his key and we ascended. I examined the edges of his profile, the perfect arch of his nose, the cut of his jaw. He looked at me and I sucked in my breath. The weight of his stare bore into me, but then doors opened and I was saved by the distraction. I walked in first, needing air, hoping to escape into the furor of the party. It was…empty.

  “Where’s the party?” I asked, spinning around.

  “This is the party, Frankie,” he said, humor in his voice.

  I spun around the empty hotel room. “Did the cool kids not call you back?”

  Anteros lifted his eyebrow in a cool smirk at my quip. “I am the cool kid.” I rolled my eyes at that, looking around the suite. It was nice, but of course it was. That wasn’t surprising. Everything about it was weird, though. It was decidedly intimate. Rose petals were on the floor and bed, champagne was cooling on the table.

  Weird wasn’t good. Intimate wasn’t good. Something was off, and when something was off, I generally paid the price.

  He came up to me and caressed the side of my face. “I’d like to know what you’re thinking.” That you’ve been bodysnatched?

  “No.” I pulled away slightly from his embrace. “You wouldn’t.” He frowned but didn’t press. With his free hand, he reached for mine.

  “Come with me, Frankie.” I took his hand, feet crushing the black rose petals beneath my Manolo Blahniks as we went out to the patio. Outside there was more champagne, a spread of food like chocolate-covered cherries and strawberries, and some kind of hot beverage, but that wasn’t the amazing part.

  “Wow.” The word left my lips on a gasp. We had a perfect view of Times Square. The Ball was right in front of us, and below us the street was so packed you couldn’t see anything save round heads and foam hats. Music was playing loudly, and there promised to be a live performance soon.

  I gripped the balcony, leaning over the edge, trying to soak it all in.

  “This is on your list, yes?” he asked.

  I tore my gaze away from the revelry, looking at Anteros. “My list?”

  “You have a bucket list of places and things to do. One of them is being in Times Square for New Year’s.” Anteros looked down at the people, shaking his head. “You don’t want to be down there. This is better.”

  “How do you know about that?” I folded my arms, but not because of the snow starting to fall. An instant later I tore them to my sides, realizing how he could know that. “Did you see my bedroom?” I asked. I waited, gaze hot on Anteros, waiting for him to give me anything, tell me any of his true intentions—a tick, a shrug, something. He simply stared at me, steely bluegreen gaze hard as always.

  “I Put A Spell On You” by Annie Lennox played in the suite from some speakers I couldn’t see. It was low, soulful music with a beat I could feel inside my body. I shifted uncomfortably, looking away from him and back to the people below.

  I felt him more than heard him. His arms wrapped around my body, pulling me close and moving us to the beat. I tried so hard to focus on the people below, on the twinkling lights, on the way the snow falling distorted the neon lights. I strained to focus on the famous musicians playing below and not the song playing in our own little bubble.

  “I can take you anywhere, Frankie,” he whispered in my ear then spun me around. “I can take you to Iceland or Egypt.” I blinked, his knuckles trailing down my cheek. “I’ll take you to every city on every goddamn continent. Just be mine.” He pulled my arms around his neck.

  Eyebrows pulled in, lips pursed, concern dripped from my pores. How had he gotten inside of me? How had he found that special part of me I kept hidden? How?

  He pressed his lips to the hollow of my throat. With his mouth at m
y neck, I could see over the top of his head, see my reflection in the glass doors, but it was too dark to really make anything out. It was just a big shadow, a combination of him and me.

  Anteros scooped me up, leading me away from the food we hadn’t eaten, the champagne we hadn’t drunk, and all the people below.

  “We’ll miss the ball dropping.” I leaned my head against his chest, watching the world get smaller.

  “You can catch it again next year,” he growled, slamming the glass shut. I expected him to throw me on the bed as he’d done so many times before, but instead he gently set me down. I leaned against the glass, watching cautiously as he slowly undid his tie. This was brand new territory for us.

  “Do you know what I want from you, Frankie?” He threw his tie to the floor. I followed it, noting how it snaked and curved, the gray satin catching the lights from outside. “Frankie.” I snapped my head back to his.

  He said he wanted me. “Yes. I do.”

  Anteros stepped to me and spun me around. “I don’t think you do, mio cuore.” What test was this? What did he want? As I mentally went through everything that had happened that day, his fingers grasped the fabric of my dress.

  “Love.” He ripped my dress open, the beautiful pearl buttons flying in every direction.

  There was nothing beautiful or sweet about the way he kissed me. It was painful and broken and totally mind-bending. Through his lips I felt him, really felt him—Anteros—finally. It was demanding, torturous, cruelly awful, and I craved every minute of it. He controlled me with his lips.

  Anteros growled and I could feel the reverberations all the way down to my toes. He took my bottom lip, sucking at first before biting, biting hard enough to draw blood. I cried out at the pain but went back for more, hungry.

  He turned me back around, pushing me against the glass. His lips sucked and bit along my neck. One hand snaked through the back of my torn dress, grasping my breast in a brutal and agonizing way. His other hand pulled up the material, seeking flesh. He was hard as steel against my ass and I knew he would enter me soon.

  “Fuuuuck,” he cursed and my mouth fell open, slack-jawed. Together we paused for a brief, tiny second as we felt each other. Then he moved inside me, deep, so punishingly slow and meticulous. He moved in a rhythm that was so attuned to my body.

  Against the glass my mind bifurcated between past and present, between the very beginning and this moment, a moment of such exquisite, awful, terrifying passion it had nearly split me in two and now, pleasure.

  Pleasure so divine I was sure it finally had.

  Outside, colors blurred together as in a melting watercolor. I thought maybe the neon lights were trying to tell me something—the demanding bright clock denoting the impending New Year, the bright eager faces of the revelers counting down the time—but pleasure dazzled my brain, obscured my mind.

  He slammed me harder against the glass. One of his hands was on my hip, gripping me, the other up against the glass, and I clung to that arm as he fucked me. I clung to him as I came. The world was giving way beneath me and he was the only anchor I had.

  “Look at me.” Anteros grasped my jaw, twisting my neck so I could see into his eyes. “Look at me when you come, mio cuore.” Our eyes locked just as it hit me and I lost myself in his fervent, demanding depths.

  It came over me slowly, like a rapidly mutating virus or parasite of pleasure. It started in my throbbing core, slowly spreading outward, tendrils of pleasure in my limbs and arms. Slowly my thighs tingled and numbed. My arms jellied. My jaw buzzed with pleasure.

  It was like melted caramel in my body, or hot, liquidy butter.

  But even that wasn’t just right, wasn’t delicious or addictive enough, because the farther it spread inside me, the more it changed me. There was a moment I realized I would do anything, be anything, so long as I could just feel this way. Beneath the melted sweetness was heroin, seeping into my veins, drugging me. Then it froze, the heroin turning to ice within me.

  With a sharp crack, the ice shattered. I arched off the glass, into his chest as billions of heroin fragments shot through my veins. When it was over, I was panting and my core throbbed for him, pulsating.

  What was left was a raw, aching need, like a junkie without a fix.

  He pushed hair out of my face and murmured something I couldn’t quite understand, it sounded Italian. I blinked, looking away from him and out the foggy and sweaty glass. When I pressed my head against it I could see the ball had just dropped. The confetti was falling.

  This was what I’d been afraid of, what I’d been holding off. He’d made me orgasm before, I’d felt the spasms in my core—there was nothing I could do about that—but nothing was like this.

  I’d never come for him.

  I’d never completely let my mind go.

  Since the very beginning, he’d had me looking over the edge. Every time he touched me my feet were pushed closer toward the cliff. I’d nearly fallen, even dangled off the precipice, but now I wasn’t just falling, I was catapulting straight toward the jagged rocks.

  My body was weeping pleasure. My mind was fracturing.

  I would never be the same again. I knew that when I was put back together again, parts of me would include him.

  I checked the clock. The blue glare read four in the morning. I had an hour left, an hour before I had to meet Gabby. Swinging my naked legs over the bed, tiptoes grazing the soft carpet, I stared out at the city. People had left and in their wake was trash, colorful, confetti-covered trash.

  Leaning back in bed, I studied my beast. Anteros.

  I could feel him inside of me; beyond the physical, he was inside of my soul. I knew it would be like that forever.

  I walked over to where his pants were and wriggled into his pocket to find the square, metallic device. The bright, blue glow of the phone lit up my face. It had been a month since I’d held a phone, had access to the outside world.

  I breathed and then dialed. “Yeah. You were right, it was the second one. We’re at some hotel in Times Square on the top floor.” I hung up, deleted the call log, and put the phone back. I opened the nightstand and picked up the Bible. I looked inside, swallowed, and then turned back to Anteros, still sleeping soundly.

  The Bible held an item, an integral part of the plan—the official princess plan. I was to use it, get out, and run. They would be waiting for me now that I’d called them and confirmed, and so far everything had gone according to plan. Everything, that is, except one thing. I shouldn’t have let Anteros into my soul.

  That didn’t change a thing, though.

  At least, it didn’t change my plan.

  The unofficial Frankie plan.

  There was a part of me that wasn’t done yet, a part that had been waiting for this since day one. I closed the Bible, gingerly placed it back in the nightstand, and then shut the drawer slowly so it didn’t make a sound.

  I climbed back on the bed and crawled across the bed slowly, like a cat, until I was on top of him. He woke instantly. Anteros was like that; it didn’t take much to wake him. I was sure he was always half awake. He studied me a moment, suspicion in his eyes, then his face settled into content.

  “Can we play a game?” I purred.

  “What kind of game?” Anteros grinned, brow raised. I smiled, doing my best attempt at demure. I was still the innocent girl he’d taken.

  “The fun kind…” I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.

  He gently touched my chin. “Frankie…” I looked into his eyes as he pulled my chin up. They were soft, like the ocean at sunrise. In that moment, I wanted to frown, wanted to scream, wanted to push him away and run out the door.

  I still wasn’t prepared for this.

  I wasn’t prepared for when the Beast sheathed his claws and invited me into his lair. I wished so badly I could replace the part of me he’d stolen, the part he now owned. He’d taken it without consent, and I could feel it inside him as my own flesh. There was a part of me now that clung
to him and begged for him. It howled inside me, needing to be near him always, aching when he was gone, furious when I chose to leave him.

  But I couldn’t mend or patch myself. He had taken the irreplaceable. That part of me was lost forever, stuck beating inside of him so I had to feel the painful thrums inside my chest.

  So I was going to take something from him.

  I leaned in and kissed him. “On your back,” I whispered against his lips. His eyes narrowed momentarily and for a second I feared he saw right through me, but then he lay down. I took a stuttering breath and climbed on top of him. Reaching down for my purse, I pulled out the first item. He immediately gripped the wrist that held it. I went still, waiting for his response. If Anteros looked any closer into my purse, he would see what I had planned.

  He relaxed and asked, “Rope?” with a raised brow.

  It wasn’t really rope. I didn’t have access to rope, and if I’d asked Nikolai to get me rope, then he would have been suspicious, would have wondered if I was deviating from the official plan. It was just a long, tough piece of cloth from one of my wrap outfits.

  It was the best I could do, and I prayed it would hold.

  I explained to him what it was and said, “Let me be on top for a while, please Boss.” I leaned in until I was just beneath his chin, close enough to practically feel the stubble. I purred the name all his peons called him. At it, his grip relaxed even more, though his cock got harder.

  I tied each knot, making sure they were tight. I’d spent hours the past few days studying knots in the library, making sure there was no way to slip out of them, trying not to get caught. These weren’t the kind of things you tie a present with, folks.

  “Can you move?” I asked after squeezing the last knot.

  “I think I’m well fastened,” he murmured, rattling the headboard.