Owen and the Beast

by Marie Medina

  “All right.” Edmund wanted to throw the exact same comment right back at Lane, but he couldn’t. He didn’t blame Lane for wanting him to be happy, but he didn’t think it was realistic to go out seeking that kind of happiness. He’d only be hurt again.

  Lane stood there a moment before turning and walking away.

  “Good night,” Edmund said pointedly.

  “Yeah, night,” Lane said, his tone grumpy.

  Even as he rolled his eyes, Edmund chuckled. He knew he was lucky to have even one person love him so much. His gaze fell to Owen’s window again. Would a night or two with Owen be enough? Or would it be better to hide his desire?

  Edmund poured more wine, knowing he probably wouldn’t sleep much that night.

  ****

  Owen sat by an open window with a book in his lap and a piece of string dangling from his right hand. The calico kitten at his feet jumped up and down excitedly trying to catch the string. A knock came at the door, and Owen lost his grip on the string. “Come in,” he said, as he laughed at the little kitten getting tangled in its prize.

  Edmund came in holding a large basket in his arms. He closed the door gently and came over to Owen, a slight smile curving his lips as he looked first at the kitten and then at Owen. “I brought you some folklore books. The library here is extensive. I thought you might discover some tales you’ve never heard before.”

  Owen grinned as Edmund set the basket down on the table by the window, then moved the table a bit closer to where Owen sat. He did this effortlessly, his muscles bulging a bit. He wore a loose white shirt again, but the sleeves on this one were much more form fitting, and the shirt was very open at the neck. Owen tried not to stare. Fur or no fur, Edmund was a well-built man, and Owen hadn’t had a lover since… He shook his head to ward off the bad memories. “Thank you so much, Edmund.”

  “You’re welcome. I know you must be bored.” Edmund reached into the basket and drew out some other items, which Owen stared at—a vial of something dark, an etched glass goblet, and a wineskin.

  “What’s that for?” Owen asked.

  Edmund emptied the dark liquid from the vial into the glass goblet and then poured in some wine. “Something to help you heal.” He offered the goblet to Owen. “Some of my blood. You won’t even be able to taste it in the wine.”

  Owen’s mouth fell open, but he had no words to reply to this gesture.

  Edmund’s face fell, and he drew the goblet back a little. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing! I’m just surprised. I’d kind of half-forgotten that you’re a vampire. But it’s such, I don’t know … such an intimate gesture.” He met Edmund’s gaze. “I feel like I’m imposing so much.”

  “Not at all. Even a minor sprain can take weeks to heal. If you drink this, you can be on your way in a day or two.”

  “Oh.” Owen reached for the goblet and took it. “That would be better. Get me out of your hair.”

  Edmund touched his wrist and stopped him from drinking. “That’s not the reason. I’d love to have you stay a long time, but you have your life. Your family, even if it is only one person. I’m trying to help you, not get rid of you.”

  “Thank you,” Owen said. He drank the mixture down in one gulp, the wine going straight to his head. Heat washed over him, and he felt a sort of tingling in his gut.

  “You may get a bit of a high, drinking it so fast,” Edmund said. “My blood is very potent. I only have to drink blood maybe twice a month, while other vampires need to feed all the time.”

  “That must be a great advantage. You drink from Lane?”

  Edmund shook his head. “He’s like family. It’s taboo to drink from family members, unless it’s an emergency or the vampire is still very young. Lane’s like a son to me. Lady Christobel sends bottles from her supply.”

  “Oh. I understand.” Owen folded his hands in his lap. “Lane loves you very much.”

  Edmund smiled at that. “I know.”

  Owen looked at the books in the basket, but he didn’t want Edmund to leave yet. “Tell me more about you. Your life.”

  “There’s not much to tell now. I live here with Lane. I have some friends who come to visit, but I haven’t been to the village in a long time. Maybe two years.”

  “Then tell me about before. Your parents, anything.”

  Edmund hesitated but then pulled another chair close. “I’m not so sure my tale is as interesting as Lane thinks.”

  “But it’ll be the truth. Do the locals know a lot about you? Lane said they know your real story.”

  “Yes, they all know I’m a vampire who was cursed.” He sighed. “They aren’t afraid of me. No one treats me badly. Children are sometimes a little afraid, but they’re told not to be. Everyone is kind and polite when I go to the village or visit Lady Christobel and her mate, Gaston. No one refers to me as the Beast of Erimoor Lodge. At least not anyone born here.”

  Owen didn’t understand at all. “Then why do you stay hidden away here?”

  Edmund took a deep breath and held it a long time. “Because they all pity me, and it’s worse than being feared. Yes, it hurts when someone is scared of me, but the pity gets under my skin. It makes me want to run away from others.”

  Owen’s chest tightened. He’d experienced his share of pity when his parents died within weeks of each other from the same fever. “I understand. I mean, I know I can’t completely know how it feels, but I get what you’re saying.” He swallowed, trying to keep his mind from wandering to his own pain. “You said your own beauty left you after this happened?”

  Edmund stared at him a moment. “Yes.” He leaned forward a bit. “Are you all right? Is my blood making you feel strange?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Edmund sat back. “You just look sort of unsettled.”

  Owen took a cleansing breath and tried to smile. “I’ve known pity, too, but that’s another tale for another time.” In a softer voice, he said, “I want to know more about you.”

  Edmund gave a little nod and then clasped his hands together. “Her name was Grace, and she was a human. My fated mate. She was seventeen, and I was twenty. She was an only child, and her parents wished for her to wait until she was eighteen to officially become my mate. We thought of it as an engagement. She was very sweet and incredibly lovely. We never slept together, but we did touch each other. I loved her in a simple, sort of basic way. She was fated to be mine, and she was beautiful and happy to be my mate. What more could I have wanted?” He paused a while, as if remembering, and then he came forward in his chair again. “The curse took me a mere two days before our matehood ceremony. Once I was no longer handsome, she shrank from my touch. Her parents said our children would be monsters. Demon-cursed creatures. They poisoned her against me, even though kind and understanding words from them might’ve helped her give me a chance. I let her go with no protest. She trembled just looking at me. Actually cried out when I tried to touch her as I said good-bye.” He lifted his gaze. “Not to be overly dramatic, but I wanted to die. My mother was also afraid of the demon taint, and she stopped taking blood. She died. My father took his own life once she was gone. He didn’t fear me, but the guilt consumed him.”

  Owen came forward in his chair as much as he could and reached out. Edmund stared at his hand a moment before taking it. “Lane already told me the basics, but hearing you tell it … I want to say how sorry I am. And it’s not pity. Please don’t take it that way. I’m sorry for the pain you went through.” Owen squeezed Edmund’s hand. “Thank you for sharing something so private.”

  “It’s a sad tale. As I said, possibly not worth telling.”

  “It’s a tale of the experience of love and loss and grief and … it’s your business, of course.” His fingers slipped from Edmund’s, and he asked, “Do you know what became of Grace?”

  He nodded. “She married a year later and moved far away. She’s been dead nearly twenty years. She had six children, eleven grandchildren, and nineteen great-gra
ndchildren.”

  “Great-grandchildren?” Owen looked Edmund over. He knew tales of the Beast of Erimoor had been around since before his time, but he hadn’t thought to ask Lane how long ago all of this happened. “I know you’re a vampire, but you don’t seem old enough for that to be possible.”

  Edmund actually laughed. “I turned one hundred this year.” His brows came together. “You really think I seem young? I feel ancient.”

  “Yes. Something about you makes you seem no older than me.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  Edmund scratched his neck. “By the time I was your age, I was hiding in my father’s castle and screaming at the servants to get them to leave me alone. I gave up my father’s dominion to get away from people. I lived in a house out in the woods that had belonged to my mother’s family. The king gave me this place a few decades ago. It’s perfect for me, nice and secluded but with everything I could ever need.”

  “I don’t know how to explain what I mean about you. Seeming young, I mean.” Owen bit his lip, not sure why he felt compelled to explain what he’d said.

  “Maybe I like you. That always makes others seem happier and more carefree. Younger even.”

  “Like me?” Owen asked, not sure what to think.

  Something changed in Edmund’s face, as if he was retreating away from Owen. “Yes. As a friend, Owen. Don’t worry.”

  Owen shook his head furiously as Edmund stood up. “No, don’t take it that way, I was only—” He tried to stand up, but the cane slipped out of his grasp, and he toppled as he tried to keep weight off his injured ankle.

  Edmund caught him, and he found himself clutching Edmund’s biceps, his face buried against his hard, solid chest. He felt so warm and strong Owen didn’t want to move away at all.

  “You need to be careful. You’re only starting to heal,” Edmund said, avoiding eye contact. He helped Owen back to the chair and picked the cane up, propping it by the chair.

  Owen grabbed Edmund’s hand. “What you said surprised me. That’s all.” He rubbed Edmund’s fingers between his. “I like you. A lot.”

  Edmund’s expression still held that closed-off look as he said, “My words surprised you? Could it be you have a story to tell as well?”

  “Perhaps another time. My pain is…” He trailed off, not wanting to go on.

  “Fresh?” Edmund asked, his voice very gentle.

  “Yes.”

  Edmund’s eyes finally softened as he brought Owen’s hand to his lips and barely brushed Owen’s knuckles with a kiss. “Will you have dinner with me again?”

  “Yes, please. I’d love to. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings and really hate that I did.”

  Edmund ran his thumb over Owen’s fingers and said very quietly, “There’s no spell to be broken, Owen. What you see is what you get.”

  “I know. I like what I see.”

  Edmund’s eyes warmed a bit now, but then he stood and clasped his hands behind his back, a sort of distant formality seeming to kick in. “Please enjoy the books. I look forward to dinner.” He turned but then glanced back. “And another story.”

  Owen nodded. “Yes. I’ll have one ready. No alterations this time.”

  Edmund left without another word, and Owen cast his glance to the floor as he tried to gather his thoughts. The kitten he’d been playing with was asleep by his bed, as if nothing momentous had just happened in that room.

  Owen smiled despite the flutter of nervous anticipation building in his stomach.

  ****

  Edmund stood outside Owen’s door a moment before hurrying down the hallway. He couldn’t believe he’d actually told Owen he liked him. His heart still raced as he remembered the words slipping out and the reaction he’d seen on Owen’s face. While he didn’t believe Owen was lying about liking him as well, he couldn’t help wondering if Owen was afraid of something physical happening between them. Owen seemed very sensitive and responsive, and now Edmund knew he’d been hurt by someone recently. Was he still so wounded he would clutch at anyone who showed interest? Loneliness often brought people who might never have considered each other together.

  Once Edmund was outside, he took a deep breath of air and went out to the barn. The cats needed to be fed, and he needed time to collect himself. The way he felt right now, one word of encouragement more would have him throwing Owen down on the bed and ravishing him. He grunted at his own thoughts, feeling silly for letting his imagination run wild. Owen was so sweet he would be easy to love, and sleeping with him would likely doom Edmund to more heartache.

  Yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching Owen. He imagined feeding from him and making love to him as he sat on a bench and absentmindedly petted all the cats and kittens that began clamoring for his attention. After a few minutes of daydreaming he realized he’d forgotten to stop in the kitchen and get them some food.

  Edmund gazed down at Jack, the largest and oldest tomcat of the bunch. “What are you all going to do with me, Jack? Hmmm. Daydreaming my life away.”

  “What are you dreaming about?”

  Edmund looked up to see Lane leaning in the doorway. “Impossible things.” He stood up. “The cats need food.”

  Lane extended his hand, dangling a bucket of shredded chicken. “Got you covered.” He laughed. “Shows how much they love you. I’m standing here with fresh meat, and they still flock to you.”

  Edmund took the bucket. “Thanks.”

  “Nothing’s impossible, Edmund. I know you can’t stand hearing someone say things happen for a reason, but maybe they do. Some things anyway.”

  “Someone hurt him,” Edmund said as he emptied the contents of the bucket into the small bowls scattered around.

  “Hurt him? You mean Owen?”

  “Yes. He’s sensitive about his looks and was surprised when I said I liked him. He kept apologizing like, oh, I don’t know, like his confidence is shot. He’s hurting, and I’m being kind to him. We’re both wounded, maybe both just as lonely.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but don’t make excuses. All right?”

  Edmund straightened and walked past Lane. “Please don’t. We’re having dinner again, and I’m open to whatever he wants.”

  Lane rushed around to cut Edmund off and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  “What in blazes are you thanking me for?” Edmund asked, more to make a point than anything, as he already knew the answer.

  Lane looked up at him, beaming with joy. “I love you so much, and I want you to be happy. How many times do I have to say it?”

  Edmund cradled Lane’s head and kissed his forehead before pulling himself out of the enthusiastic hug. “There’s nothing wrong with trying to avoid pain.”

  “I know.” Lane skipped along beside him as they headed for the kitchen. “I’m actually pretty excited about the festival now. Maybe I will meet someone special.”

  “I hope so,” Edmund said. “I love having you here, but you need your own life.”

  “I already have one, with you. If someone else comes along, I’ll work her in.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Lane poked him in the ribs and took the bucket from him. “Oh, go on. No use planning for something that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “My point exactly.”

  Lane laughed, but then his expression sobered. “Sorry I was testy last night.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

  “Whatever’s fine.” Edmund went over and took a look in the larder. “I told him about Grace.”

  “Oh.”

  Edmund turned back to Lane. “Oh? That’s all you can say?”

  “I don’t know. I knew you’d end up telling him. Is that why he told you what happened to him?”

  “He hasn’t really told me. I guessed, and he confirmed that he had been hurt. I don’t know anything else.”

  Lane nodded. “I’ll make something nice. Don’t worry.
” He went into the pantry and began rummaging around.

  Don’t worry? Edmund shook his head. Easy for you to say.

  ****

  Owen flexed his ankle as he sat waiting for Edmund to return with Lane. He and Edmund had gotten so caught up talking during dinner that Owen hadn’t had a chance to tell his story. Edmund had gone to invite Lane to join them, and Owen wasn’t sure if Edmund was simply trying to include Lane or attempting to keep Owen at arm’s length now the meal was over. They definitely had a connection, and Edmund had kissed his hand earlier. Was Edmund just scared? He’d obviously been hurt more than once, and the story about Grace and all that had happened after Edmund was cursed had tugged at Owen’s heart all day. He couldn’t blame Edmund for protecting himself.

  Checking to make sure he couldn’t hear footsteps, Owen stood up and put some weight on his foot. It hardly hurt at all now, and he seemed to have full movement again. Edmund had given him more blood at dinner, and it seemed to have completed the healing process. Owen knew he could probably leave tomorrow or the next day.

  But he didn’t want to.

  Owen sat back down before he could be caught trying to stand without assistance. Whispers carried through the open door, and he sat back and folded his hands. He smiled at Lane when they came into the room.

  “I understand you’re hungry for an audience,” Lane said, grabbing a chair from the table and setting it down close to where Owen sat.

  Edmund repositioned the chair he’d sat in earlier that day and took a seat, catching Owen’s gaze briefly.

  “I do need to keep in practice. It is my livelihood, after all.” Owen wondered if Edmund had said this was Owen’s idea. He didn’t mind, as Lane might’ve refused to come if he thought Edmund was trying to avoid being alone with Owen too long. Again, Owen wondered if Edmund was scared or maybe nervous. That flattered him, a bit, but he didn’t want it to be that way. He wanted to feel Edmund’s touch again, even if it was only something simple. But with his ankle on the mend, he didn’t have much time. “Tonight, I think I’ll talk about ‘The Panther Prince’. It’s very popular.”