The Beauty's Beast

by Eddie Cleveland

  “Well, with the brief pause in this storm that we’re supposed to get, will you be sending out your crew before the next wave of this weather system is supposed to hit?”

  “We are discussing that now, but I can reassure you and your listeners that we will do everything we can to pursue this mission once it is safe for our brave team members to do so.”

  I flick off the switch. They’ve written her off for dead. I can’t help but wonder if she might let them believe it and come out to my place instead of going back to a cheating pile of garbage for an ex-fiancé and her internet ‘friends.’

  The hope builds in my chest, flickering up and warming my heart like the flames in the fireplace are slowly warming this cabin. Hope can be dangerous, but, for the first time since my family was stolen from me, it feels right. I can’t help but wonder if this was all meant to be. If Ashley was supposed to cross my path and give me a new beginning. It’s certainly starting to feel that way.

  I fling open the cupboard doors and take stock of our supplies. To call them limited would be optimistic. I’m going to need to get some more rabbit today if we’re going to make it through the snow that sounds like it has still yet to come. In the meantime, I’d love to figure out something to throw together. Maybe make Ashley breakfast in bed. I scrounge the supplies and start plopping a bunch of spices down on the counter along with some condensed milk and Minute Rice. It’s not ideal, but I can make this work.

  20

  Ashley

  “Rise and shine,” Sawyer’s muffled voice pulls me from my sleep. I pry open my eyes and see streaks of light shining through the cocoon of quilts I’m wrapped inside. It’s so warm and cozy, I don’t think anything could make me want to move.

  “I’ve got breakfast,” he nudges my blanket shell. Ok, so maybe that is enough motivation. My rumbling belly agrees.

  I pop out of the mini blanket fort and smile at Sawyer from under my frizzy hair and flyaways.

  He laughs and leans over me, kissing me softly on the forehead. “Good morning,” he places a couple of bowls of white porridge on the night table and smooths his large hands over my hair. Holding my head on each side, he covers my mouth in a tender kiss. Not like the urgent, desperate kisses from yesterday. Instead, I can feel the slow, sensual warmth pour from him into me, spreading through my body like the heat of the liquor we drank last night.

  Sawyer releases me from his kiss, but rests his forehead against mine. His hands haven’t moved from my face. In this moment, I feel like nothing in the outside world matters. It’s like our past burdens have been lifted and our future is yet to be written. My heart feels lighter, my head clearer, and my life fuller.

  “You’re so beautiful when you wake up, do you know that?” He doesn’t wait for me to think about it, to answer, instead he kisses me quickly and all those mornings that I spent glaring at my imperfections in the mirror float away. I do feel beautiful, every time of day, when I’m with him.

  “I managed to throw together some food,” he pulls away and cracks my illusion of an ethereal world with only us two. The dingy cabin slides back into focus around us, and the snow piles high outside the bedroom window. I realize with a sinking heart that the storm has stopped.

  “Is it over?” I nod at the frosty glass.

  “According to the radio it’s just a break,” his intense brown eyes meet mine. I feel like what we aren’t saying is more important than what we are. I can see him struggling with our impending reality as much as I am. Sooner or later this storm won’t just letup, it’ll be over, and we’ll probably never see each other again.

  I distract myself with breakfast, I’m not ready to think about a life without Sawyer in it yet, but I’m happy to think about eating.

  “What did you make?” I glance into the bowls and realize that I was wrong about the porridge. It looks like rice.

  “Oh, I made you today’s special, rice pudding. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out considering,” he holds his hand out at our surroundings and I nod. It’s amazing that he’s been able to make meals, let alone ones that taste as good as his do out here.

  Sawyer hands me my bowl, grabs his and we dig in.

  The sweetness explodes on my tongue and I devour my bowl like I haven’t eaten in a week. When I swallow the last mouthful, I lick my lips, “Where did you learn to cook? It’s incredible what you can put together. If I was up here alone, I would’ve starved by now.”

  I can see the glimmer of pride flash in his eyes, Sawyer places our bowls back on the little table and looks out the window like he’s looking into another time.

  “My parents taught me, mostly.” He answers. “They owned a restaurant, Il Lupi, or The Wolf in English.”

  “What language is that?” I tilt my head and scan Sawyer’s features, I’ve never detected any hint of an accent in his voice.

  “Italian,” he doesn’t blink, still staring outside.

  “Why was it named that?” Thunder rolls over his face and his beard twitches as he struggles to find his words.

  “Because the restaurant wasn’t just my parents’- my brother and I pretty much grew up in that place. We celebrated our victories there, I had my first heartbreak there, it was the backdrop of our lives. Dad said that without the family, the restaurant was nothing, that we were what breathed the life into that place. He called it Il Lupi because our family was tight, like a wolf pack, we stuck together.” Sawyer frowns and swallows hard, flicking his eyes back to me.

  “That’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Why did you leave then?” The words fall from my tongue before I have a chance to think them over. Obviously, if he wanted to tell me what happened, he would’ve by now. I look down at the patchwork on the quilt, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s ok. They’re dead,” his voice is flat and hard. “My family was taken from me and the restaurant was destroyed. I realized that my wolf pack was ripped from me. That I became a lone wolf, I guess. The city is no place for a lone wolf.” He frowns at his clenched fists like they betray him. Anger and grief battle for control of his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” I lay my hand on top of his.

  “Me too,” he looks up at me. Sawyer stands up and grabs the empty bowls from beside the bed, “Ok, well, speaking of food, I’m going to take advantage of this break in the snow and try to hunt for some more rabbit,” he says it too loudly, like he’s trying to overpower his memories by yelling at them.

  “Can I come with you?”

  He stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder at me, “Come with me?” He wonders out loud.

  “Please? I can help you, or at least keep you company,” I realize my motivation is greedy, I know he won’t be lonely out there without me. He’s a lone wolf, but I’m not. I can’t stand the idea of being here all day without him.

  “What about your floppy-eared bunny and all that? You aren’t going to have a ‘Bambi’s mother’ moment out in the woods when I kill our supper, are you?”

  “No, I already ate the stew you made, I know where it came from. I’m good. I might even be able to help,” I offer.

  “I don’t know about that,” he smiles, “sure, fill your boots. If you want to come, I’d love the company.” He walks over to the kitchenette and puts the bowls in the sink as I spring out of bed like he just told me it’s Christmas morning. The truth is, I feel more excited than I have for any December twenty-fifth. Not because we’re hunting rabbits, but because he just told me what I’ve been longing to hear. He wants me around him. He doesn’t want to be alone. He said he’d love the company.

  Maybe when this is all over there is hope for us after all. Maybe he’ll come back to the city with me and enjoy my company for good.

  21

  Ashley

  “Was that a rabbit?” I almost topple over into the snow as I twist around to catch the tail end of a squirrel bounding over to a tree.

  “No.” Sawyer holds his jaw tight and keeps trudging forward.

  “Isn�
��t it weird we haven’t seen any yet? We’ve been out here a while.” I look up at the sky as if I’d have any clue what time of day it is by looking at the sun. Instead of guessing the hour, I just get bright spots in my vision that won’t blink away.

  “No, it’s not weird. The snowshoe hare molts and grows white fur for the winter, so they’re damned near impossible to see. Even brown rabbits are smart enough to hide under brush and around the base of trees. They know how to survive better than we do.” He keeps his voice hushed as he looks around the forest.

  “Well, better than I do. You seem to be doing just fine,” I smile.

  “You adapt to your surroundings. I didn’t start out my first year as a natural woodsman. It takes patience, a lot of it.” He admits.

  “It sounds boring,” I shrug. “Don’t you ever get tired of how long it takes to do everything? I mean, don’t you miss having a microwave or just ordering take-out food?” I try to imagine what his life must be like. Preparing food and keeping things working must take up nearly all of his time. A few days ago, that would’ve sounded like the seventh circle of hell. Right now it still doesn’t sound appealing, but not like the torture I thought it would be.

  “No, I don’t miss it. Sometimes it’s hard work, but sometimes I sit and read all day. Or I go fishing. Or I paint. The work is harder, but there’s less of it than when you live in the city and you spend ten hours of your day either getting ready for work or punching a clock. Besides, I spend most of my days in nature, growing or hunting for the organic food you spend a fortune to get at the grocery store. I don’t need to spend my time coming up with woodworking projects for a hobby, my whole life is a Pinterest project.” He scoffs.

  “You know about Pinterest?” My mouth drops open. I don’t know why, but I expected Sawyer to be too removed from modern life to know about girly internet pages.

  “I choose to live in the woods, Ashley. I wasn’t born there. I still know about things going on in the real world, if you want to call it that.” He looks at me and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.

  “Oh.” Of course, he knows about websites. He’s not completely shut off from society. I mean, when he saved me he was heading into town.

  “Do you think we’ll find a rabbit soon?” I bring my focus back to the reason we’re marching knee-deep in an endless sea of white.

  “Not if you keep talking, chatty Cathy,” he smirks.

  “What’s a chatty Cathy? Is that a show or something? Or just an expression?” I peer up at him and he sighs.

  “I don’t know, I think it was a doll that never shut up and scared away rabbits,” he twists his lips downward and looks around the glistening forest.

  The silence is eerie. I can’t hear anything except for our breathing. It’s a far cry from the endless buzzing of the city. The roar of the traffic. The chatter of friends. The constant dinging of people’s cell phones. “When you’re hunting rabbits, you have to be like Elmer Fudd, remember him?” He ignores my blank stare, “You have to be vewy, vewy quiet.”

  I can’t help but laugh at the bad impression. “How old are you again? Chatty Cathy? Elmer Fudd? That’s before my time there, old man,” I giggle.

  “I’m not old, I’m wise,” he smiles. I feel like I just took a sip of hot cocoa topped with marshmallows, all warmed up from my forehead to my toes.

  Sawyer looks at the sky and the smile slips from his lips, “The storm is going to roll in really soon,” he looks back over the trail we’ve left in the snow, then back to the sky. “This old man is wise enough to know that we’re not going to make it back to the cabin before this gets bad.”

  “What do you mean?” I bend my head back and stare at the snow tumbling down from the sky. “We have to get back,” I try to push down the panic rising in my chest. Did he save me just so I could freeze anyway?

  “No, we need to build a shelter,” he answers firmly and shrugs free from his hiking bag, placing it at his feet.

  A shelter? “Like, do you mean an Igloo?” I’ve seen pictures of them, but never seen one in real life.

  “Not really,” Sawyer pulls a small spade out of his bag and yanks on the handle, extending it out. “You see that huge drift there?” He points the retractable shovel at a thick mound of snow.

  “Yeah,” I nod.

  “We’re going to hunker down inside that. I’m going to make a snow cave, it’s easier than an igloo, trust me.” He walks over to the snow bank and begins to carve out his plan while I stand and watch the sky darken and the flakes intensify.

  Trust him. That’s what he said. It’s funny how, in reality, he’s still a stranger. I don’t know that much about him, really. If we’d met under different circumstances, we wouldn’t have given each other the time of day. And yet, I do trust him. I trust his judgement and I trust his character. Now, if I could only learn to trust my own heart as much as I do him, maybe I could figure out a way to keep him in my life.

  22

  Sawyer

  The shelter surrounds us, keeping us out of the elements. However, our hunt was a total bust. There’s got to be a way to forget this hunger gnawing in my gut.

  “Come here,” my voice is raspy as I pull her into me tight. I kiss her slowly, but deliberately, allowing my fingers to trail down the side of her neck as my kisses stray across her jawline and further still, to her collarbone. She shivers in my arms, so I shield her from the wind by turning my back against the breeze swirling around us.

  I can forget about my hunger by feeding my starvation with a taste of her.

  As my fingers trail over the edge of her pants, I pull on the hem, slowly inching it up toward her plump, round ass. “No wait, we can’t do this here! It’s too cold,” she weakly protests.

  “Not to worry,” I continue tugging the hem away from her body, “I’ll warm you up. Besides, there’s no way I’m waiting until we’re back at the cabin to feel you. I need to feel your body against mine, here. Now.” I yank her pants the rest of the way down and draw a thin, invisible line up the inside of her clenched thighs, pushing my fingers between them to her soaking wet center. I smile as her juices coat my fingertips, proof that she’s just as turned on as I am right now.

  I sink my fingers in my mouth, eager to lick her nectar from them. My mouth is thirsty for her sweet juices.

  I wrap my hand around the back of her head, drawing her into my lips. I pull her bottom lips in with my teeth and give it a little tug making her gasp with desire. Ashley abruptly pulls away, holding my gaze with her blue eyes and makes quick work of removing her coat and peeling off her shirt, up over her head, in a single tug.

  She stands as tall as she can manage in our secluded snow fort. I can see the heat of her breath cling to the air in a cloud of passion as she breathes quick and shallow. She shimmies out of her pants, wiggling her hips as she teases me. It takes all of the restraint I have to stop myself from ripping the fabric clean from her body.

  A long shiver licks her spine as she stands in front of me naked. She’s a vision. I quickly throw my parka on the floor of our snow cave and unbutton my shirt impatiently, cursing every stupid buttonhole. My pants are a pool of denim on the snow floor not even seconds later.

  I wrap my arm around the small of her back and pull her toward me, leaning in and leaving a trail of kisses over her stomach down to the heat of her tight pussy that my mouth waters for. Her natural perfume is making me crazy, and I jab my finger between her wet lips and hold them open, staring at her clit as I lick my lips with anticipation.

  Diving my face between her thighs, she giggles as my beard tickles the soft skin between her legs. However, her giggles quickly transform into moans as my tongue swirls from side to side, devouring her sweet juices. I wrap my hands around her round ass and hold her steady as I thrash my tongue over her clit.

  Her moans grow louder as she rocks forward by pushing herself up on her tippy-toes like she’s torn between trying to escape my tongue and chasing her pleasure. Sucking her clit in past my lips, I flicke
r my tongue over her sensitive nub relentlessly until her hands are twisting in my hair and her cries of passion fill my ears.

  Ashley slumps down over me, holding herself up by propping her hands on my shoulders. She’s panting in my ear as I feel the trembles of little after-shocks run through her smooth skin.

  I’ve taken all the time I can stand. I need to feel her walls clench against me. I need to feel her milk me dry, like her pussy was designed to empty me of every last drop of my seed. To quiver against me as I fill it deeper and harder than she’s ever had before.

  Twisting her around, I wrap my arms around her and press my rigid cock up against her bare ass. I let her feel the weight of my girth against her crack. Grinding my hips forward I tease her with what I could take.

  “I can’t wait to fuck your tight little pussy again. I want to feel you cum on my cock.” I push her shoulders, lowering her so that her hands and knees are on her fur coat. I know she’s cold, but I’m about to make good on my word to warm her up. The frosty nip of the cold on her extremities won’t even register when I’m done with her.

  I hold my wide hand between her shoulder blades, kneeling behind her, and gently but firmly push her head down to the floor. Watching her soft, pale ass swaying has me transfixed.

  No woman should be this sexy, it’s a crime against men’s restraint. I know I’m throwing mine to the wayside as I admire the rosy flesh exposed inside her lips. Pearly beads of desire have formed in her entrance, enticing me, exciting me. I can’t resist. Seconds later, I’m grabbing hold of my cock and teasingly sliding it up and down, just inside her pussy. I slip the head of my cock from her tight asshole to her clit, smearing her juices over my shaft with my hand as I jerk myself a couple of times.