by Alyse Zaftig
“My girls,” he said.
“Papa, you really shouldn’t be awake. You need to rest.” Aalis was wringing her hands. “Please get better.”
“I’m fine, my dear. You three should sit. I have something to share.”
The three of us carefully arranged our morning gowns and sat.
“I made a bargain that I feel now was unwise.”
“Bargain?” Melisende’s eyes narrowed at our father. “What sort of bargain?”
“I told Cateline part of it. My horse shied during a thunderstorm and threw me. I was taken to the nearest castle. Instead of being warmed up and treated, I was imprisoned in the library.”
“The library? How truly odd.”
“It was the furthest point from the rest of the house.” My father’s eyes closed. “The prince who lived there did not want visitors, it seemed. He said that he’d keep me there since I trespassed where I wasn’t wanted.”
“But you were sick. You are still sick. Why would he punish you?”
“I don’t know. But I made a bargain so that he’d let me get a physician.”
“What was it?” I asked, my voice no louder than his.
“I told him that I needed to get back to my family. He asked about you. I told him about Roul and the earldom. I told him about my three daughters, each as beautiful as the dawn.”
Aalis touched her hairdo while Melisende smiled. “And? Did he want to visit us to see our beauty?”
“No.” My father coughed. The cough was loud and deep. And it scared me badly. I wanted him to tell us what he needed to say so that he could go to sleep.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to marry one of you.”
“Marry!” Melisende sprang to her feet, as vehemently angry as I’d ever seen her. She was too much of a lady most of the time for displays of vulgar emotion, as she told me when she saw me crying.
“Marry someone who imprisoned our sick father?” Aalis shook her head. “He’s not right in the head.”
“That was the condition. I told him where I lived. He said that he would send someone to the house. Either I would need to go or one of my daughters would. We have one night to make a decision.”
“But if you go back, you’ll die,” I said.
My father shrugged. “I’m old and sick, my dears. Really, the only thing you need is husbands, and I’m sure that you can find them on your own. I am not afraid to die.”
“No!” Melisende stomped her foot. “I will not have it. You are not going to die.”
“We don’t really have a choice,” my father sighed.
I said, “I’ll go.”
There was dead silence in the room. It lasted for far too long before Aalis said, “What?”
“You all heard me. I will go.”
“Out of the question,” my father snapped, sounding like his old self and not an invalid. “Absolutely not. You are my youngest daughter. You have your whole life ahead of you. You deserve to fall in love.”
“Father, imprisoning me in a library is my idea of paradise.”
My family members chewed that over for a moment. “True,” Aalis admitted. “I say we let her go.”
I looked at my sisters, who were substantially more cheerful than they had been minutes ago. If it came to choosing between saving my father or me, I knew that they would always choose our father.
“There has to be another way. I can go back.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I will pack tonight and be ready to be fetched tomorrow. You should rest, Father.” I left the room before my father could protest more.
Carriage Ride
Cateline
I had never been more than a day’s journey from my home. The next morning, a very beautiful carriage with a coat of arms that I could not identify came up. My trunks were in the front, and I brought as many books as I could pack, of course. There was a footman in addition to the driver. They put all of my trunks into the carriage. As I looked behind me, I saw my father sitting at his desk, staring at the departing carriage. It was strange to be the one leaving instead of the one who was left. I waved. He raised his hand. I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. I knew that marrying some monstrous beast in a castle wasn’t what he had planned for his youngest. But this was my fate.
I fell asleep in the carriage, despite the incredible jolting. When we reached the mountains, we started to take the bumpy mountain roads.
I was glad that I had brought a bag of apples. At sunset on the first night, we stopped at an inn. The coachman paid for a room for me and a room that the footman and the coachman could share. I had a simple meal that filled me up. I knew that it was my last day outside of his castle. I was strangely numb. It wasn’t real to me that I had promised to sacrifice myself for my father and my sisters. It hadn’t really sunk in yet. Early the next morning, the coachman escorted me out to the carriage. I watched out the window and couldn’t sleep as I got slowly closer to the castle that would be my home and prison.
The French countryside was largely monotonous. I grew tired of looking at fields. I couldn’t read a book in a jolting carriage, because it made me sick. Instead, I spent that day imagining a dream world where the man whom my father had described as a “beast” loved me and gave me all the books I ever wanted. Then we had beautiful children whom he cherished and adored. And he loved me above all others.
It was a pretty lie, a nice dream, and I knew that it wasn’t possible. My imagination kept me occupied for the rest of the day, dreaming about the nice life I could have. Even if my body was imprisoned, he’d never cage or crush my spirit.
It was nearly sunset on the second day when we took a turn off of the major road and went onto a gravel track. I could see that there was a large castle on a foothill. We drew closer to it, although the track was several miles long. My heart was going crazy as we drew closer and closer. My life would be spent on the inside of that castle.
By the time we stopped in front of it, my heart was beating as fast as a rabbit’s. I wanted to turn back and run home, but I couldn’t. The footman opened the carriage door and gave me a hand out of the carriage. I held up my skirt as I looked at the castle.
It was just enormous. The stone was dark, and there weren’t many candles lit around the castle. A little frisson of fear made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had chosen this. I reminded myself that I had to be here.
“You’re here. You took long enough.”
I turned to see the largest man I’d ever seen. I understood in that moment why my father had called him a beast. His hair was long and unruly, going past his collar. He was the polar opposite of Earl Roul, who was a dandy and a wastrel. The man in front of me looked like he had never touched strong liquor in his life. The style of his coat was one that had been popular twenty years before, although it was clearly of good quality.
“You’re dismissed.” He waved a hand.
Wedding
Cateline
I jumped a little bit. I’d just arrived, and he was already putting me in the library? I took a step away from him, but his hand came to clamp down on my wrist almost hard enough to hurt.
“Not you. They are.” He nodded at the coachman and footman. “There’s a priest waiting in there for us.”
I swallowed really hard. There was a lump in my throat. Tears threatened to surface. I had chosen to marry this man, this beast. Dragging me into the castle, I gasped when I got inside of the enormous foyer with high ceilings. It looked beautiful, although everything was black inside. I realized that my soon-to-be husband was wearing all black. He pulled me into a small room, a chapel with stained glass windows. Inside was a priest and two attendants.
“You’re ready, Your Highness?”
My eyes widened as I watched the beast incline his head. Had my father mentioned that he was a prince?
“And you, miss?”
“Yes.”
I realized that the prince hadn’t let go of my wrist. The priest began the ri
tes, the ceremony that would tie me to this man forever. I didn’t even know his name.
“Do you, Prince Marceau du Bois, take the Honorable Cateline to wife, to honor, love, and cherish, this day and for the rest of your life, for richer and poorer?”
“I do.”
“Do you, the Honorable Cateline, take Prince Marceau de Bois to husband, to honor, love, and cherish, this day and for the rest of your life, for richer and poorer?”
I hesitated for a half second. If I agreed, I could never go home. “I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
An enormous hand was on my cheek. His face was getting very close to me. I felt like a field mouse who was being eaten by a hawk, but his hand kept me in place, and his other hand went to my waist. He drew me closer as his mouth touched mine.
I’d never been kissed before. I felt fire race through my body. I felt incredibly warm and was feeling something melt inside of me, a strange feeling rising between my legs.
I could hear the priest clear his throat. Too soon, the fiery kiss was over. When he stepped back from me. I saw him smile for the first time. That smile did something strange to my heart. I thought that I felt it skip a beat.
His heavy, hot hand was still on my waist. He turned to the priest and bowed. “Thank you for your services, Père Miquelon. I will be sure to send my steward with an appropriate donation within the next week.”
“A true pleasure,” the priest said. He bowed to us and motioned for his attendants, who had been the only witnesses to our wedding, to follow him. Then I was alone in the chapel with my new husband.
“Come with me,” he said. Tugging me next to him, he took me to the kitchen. My stomach rumbled when I smelled chicken cooking. When we were nearly inside, he paused.
“I’m sorry, I’m used to being quite informal in my home. Would you prefer for our servants to bring us dinner in the formal dining room? They would need to set up.”
“I’m so hungry that I don’t care where I eat.” I was touched by how considerate he was. He pulled me into the kitchen.
“So, you’re the new princess, eh?” The cook didn’t seem too impressed or to really care that I was going to live here.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. He’s been alone for too long, cooped up in this dreary castle.”
I looked at the prince. I was very startled by the informality from his servants.
“I inherited the household servants from my parents. Believe me, they’ve known me since I was knee-high.” There was that smile again. He had dimples. I felt my knees get a little weak. His hand was still pressing me to his side. I felt very, very warm, and I didn’t understand why, since it was chilly outside. Even though we were in the kitchen, I shouldn’t have been sweating.
The cook gave us cassoulet and we ate it quickly and quietly. Eating with one hand, he never let go of my waist. I wondered if my new husband intended to stay connected to me for the rest of our lives.
I was so hungry that the stew was gone in minutes. His bowl was clean, too. There was a reflection of the roaring kitchen fire in his eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Let’s have our wedding night.”
My face flushed.
“Good night,” he said politely before sweeping me out of the kitchen. He swept me off my feet as he sprinted up the marble staircase. I closed my eyes and hid my face in his shoulder. I was a little acrophobic, and the sight of the marble stairs behind him, where we could fall, scared me a lot.
I would like to have blamed my pounding heart on the stairs, but I was terrified of the wedding night. I knew what happened in a marriage bed.
First Time
Marceau
When I got to the top of the stairs, I put her down on my down-filled mattress. Her eyes were wide and terrified.
“Are you a virgin?”
She didn’t seem to know what to say. Her face colored.
“I am.” She backed away from me on the bed.
I ran my hand over my face. A virgin. I was a beast, not some delicate man who could see to her needs. What should I do?
“We don’t have to have a wedding night,” I told her, even though I was as hard as the stone of my castle’s walls. I’d leave her in my bed and sleep elsewhere.
“That’s kind of you,” she said, blinking. Her shoulders relaxed a lot. I knew I’d made the right decision.
“Good night, then.” I needed to go somewhere private so that I could think of her softness and her angelic face while I touched myself.
She shocked me as she reached for me. Her hand traveled up my thigh, following the inner seam of my pants. I couldn’t breathe as her face slowly got closer to mine. She twisted her face a little bit so that our noses didn’t bump before her mouth landed on mine.
Her lips were as soft as pillows. I’d never tasted candy as sweet as her mouth. Her tongue pushed inside of my own as if she were claiming me.
I put my hands on her hips and dragged her all the way into my lap. Her hand moved to touch me more fully. I couldn’t stop my hips from thrusting into her small hand. I fumbled with my pants, making sure that everything was lined up.
“More,” I growled in her ear.
She gave it to me. Up, down, up and down in a rhythm that made all the muscles in my body tense. When I knew that I was about to shoot, I pulled her hand away.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?” The little minx was smiling a little. She knew the power that she had over me.
I pulled her so that she was on her back, her thighs on either side of me. I lifted the hem of her dress until it revealed her luscious thighs and soft stomach, and I ripped through her underwear until I could see everything.
“Mine,” I snarled, not sure if she understood and not caring. She was mine now.
I parted her thighs easily before dipping into the core of her femininity, a soft, wet spring of pleasure. I loved feeling her hips buck as I used my tongue on her most sensitive areas, my fingers entering her and hitting her pleasure center.
“Ahh!” she screamed as she fell over the edge the first time. The second time, she nearly bucked me off the bed. I almost got a concussion from the force of her orgasm.
“I want you inside of me,” she panted breathlessly after the second one. “Please.”
I pushed two fingers a little more deeply inside of her wetness. “I am inside of you.”
She glared at me. “Now.”
I didn’t know how she managed it, but suddenly she had pulled away from my fingers and was twisting her body so that I was on the bottom. She was gripping me with one hand, the precome on my tip smearing on her opening.
“Now.”
With that word, she sank on top of me, and I saw stars. My hands went completely of their own volition to the curve of her hips. She sank until every bit of me was sheathed inside of her. I couldn’t remember ever feeling better, warmer, or happier than that very second.
Then she began to move, and it was even better. She rocked her body in a slow, rolling motion that made me want to shoot. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold on as she rode me. Her breasts moved with her and a smile as old as time was on her mouth. Her eyes were shining when she leaned down to kiss me on the lips.
Then her head was on my chest as she made the most of the new position, grinding her clit against my pubic bone as she took me again and again.
I could feel her muscles twitching around me. She threw her head back as she shouted her pleasure to the sky.
That’s all it took. One moment I was enjoying her weight and sweet smell on top of me. The next moment, I was pouring myself into her, filling her up with everything that I had. The second that I was done, I pulled her down, wrapping her in my arms.
“That was indescribable,” I said to her soft hair.
“Best sex that anyone has ever had,” she said, and I could hear her smile in her voice. With my body still joined with hers, I fell asleep, her
naked skin touching mine.
I awoke at moonrise. My new bride, the bride I’d made my own, was sleeping. I touched the smooth curve of her back. Her skin was so soft, reminding me of a rose petal.
I realized with horror that my canines were lengthening. The moon was full tonight. I hadn’t even thought of it, the first night in years that I hadn’t remembered. The curse meant that I would turn into a monster, a werebear.
I stumbled out of the bed, afraid that I’d wake her. I didn’t want her to see the monster who lived inside me, the primitive beast who wanted to bite her so that everyone who saw her would know that she belonged to us and only us.
I went out of the door and down the hidden passage. In a secret room, there was a potion that would knock me out for the rest of the night. When I’d first been cursed, my mother had wept and my father had gone hunting for a cure for two months. He eventually came back with a wizard who told me how to make a potion that would send the beast to sleep. I made large batches every few months and kept them in my secret room.
I drank my potion hastily, even though it tasted more bitter than usual and smelled a little worse, and curled up in the bed that I had there, my form already mostly bear. I didn’t know what Cateline would think when she woke up in an empty bed, but I could not stay with her. I was a monster, a monster out of nightmares.
Sore
Cateline
When I woke up, I felt soreness between my legs. I was facing the wall. I threw off the covers and saw that there were some drops of blood on the sheet. Even though it had been my first time, I knew that I wanted it again and again. I hurt a little bit, but the pleasure more than made up for it.
I couldn’t believe how bold I’d been with him. It was something about being married that changed things. I smiled as I reached for Marceau to go for another round.
He wasn’t there.
I rubbed my eyes, but the sheets were cold. My husband, the one who had taken my virginity last night, was gone.