Winter's Beast: A Beauty and the Beast Novel

by Twyla Turner

  The guard helps me up from the floor. I silently seethe as we head back to my luxury jail cell. He opens the door for me to enter and begins to close the door. I presume to lock me in and then stand sentry on the other side.

  “So I don’t get a cellphone or computer to pass the time?” I scowl at him as he turns to look at me.

  My mom is going to flip out when she can’t reach me. I don’t know how long Faith will be able to hold her off. The whole damn world will know I’m missing soon if Mrs. Camille Harris has anything to do about it.

  He points to the wall where a flat screen television is mounted. “Watch TV.”

  “I don’t watch a whole lot of TV. I listen to music or read.”

  He blinks a few times and then nods his head before closing the door. I hear the lock click. If I had internet, I’d totally watch a video on how to pick a lock.

  About a half hour later, I hear a knock on the other side of the door. Three soft but rapid knocks.

  “Come in.” At least he knocks instead of just barraging in.

  Skotina opens the door and in his arms is a large stack of books. He walks over to the nightstand next to the bed and puts them down there. He holds up one book to show me the title. The Count of Monte Cristo. He opens it to a random page, showing me that it’s in English, and then he shrugs.

  “These are the best I can do in English.”

  He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old MP3 player. He hands it to me and points to himself.

  “This is mine that you can borrow.”

  “Thanks,” I say grudgingly. I squint up at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  He looks at me thoughtfully for a few moments before reaching inside his jacket. He reveals a pen and pad of paper. He writes something briefly, folds it in half, and then sets it on the nightstand. Without another glance, he turns and leaves the room. Closing and locking the door behind him.

  I reach over and pick up the piece of paper. In perfect print are two words…

  You smiled.

  I scrunch my face as I try to figure out what that means. I haven’t been particularly nice to him since I woke up and if I smiled, it was definitely sarcastic. The only other time I could’ve smiled at him was when I first saw him.

  I rewind back to that day. After bumping into him, I remember looking up and being momentarily surprised by his scarred face. But having been around plenty of kids and adults with disfigurements, I know how to make them feel at ease and like a regular human being. So I remember smiling warmly at him. I also remember him stumbling back when I did.

  “Dammit!” I yell at myself.

  I feel a small piece of my heart warm towards the large man. He stole me in the middle of the night and here I am, not twenty-four hours later, getting warm fuzzies over this dude.

  I roll my eyes up to the heavens and sigh heavily.

  I can’t help it. I have a soft spot for those struggling with their physical appearance. I can’t imagine what that man has gone through if a simple smile from a stranger (a stranger he was stalking, but I digress), means so much to him.

  I turn on the music player and start scrolling through his music. His collection is extensive. Possibly even more than mine and that’s a pretty hard feat since I love absolutely everything.

  Opera and classical music are my first loves, but I’ll sing literally anything. Rock, country, gospel, jazz, blues, R&B, punk, and I even try to rap every now and again. Though I’d rather leave that to the professionals.

  Looking through his music, it appears that he’s got it all. From the most popular to the most obscure. Too bad he doesn’t talk. I bet he’s a wealth of music information.

  I look at all the titles on the stack of books he brought me. Most of them are classics. Some of them I’ve read. Others I hadn’t had the time to get around to. Now, time is all I’ve got.

  I pick up the MP3 player and put the earbuds in. I select some music by genre, I choose classical, and then I open The Count of Monte Cristo to page one.

  It isn’t long before the weight of my current reality hits me square in the chest. My heart pounds. My breath quickens. The words on the pages blur. The room tilts.

  I’m having a panic attack.

  I’m a prisoner. It’s that realization that brings helpless tears to my eyes. This. Whatever this is, is going to be my reality for the next two years, unless I can find a way out of this mess.

  My head suddenly fills with strategies to gain my freedom again. I don’t like to feel helpless, so I suck up my tears and try to use my brain. I’m no damsel in distress. I’m a fighter, dammit!

  Mentally, I start making my list of possible escape plans.

  Escape Plan

  Wait until I’m out of my jail cell and jump out a window.

  No, I’d break my neck.

  Make a shiv out of my toothbrush, stab Skotina in the neck, and then run.

  Nah, I hate blood and inflicting pain on people.

  Seduce Ivan.

  Oh, hell no! I hate that dude. I couldn’t even fake it.

  Teach myself how to pick a lock.

  With what? And Skotina will still be on the other side if I succeed.

  Get the help of one of Ivan’s employees in the club?

  Maybe. Though they’re probably all in Ivan’s pocket.

  Seduce Skotina???

  It kind of disturbs me, how little that final idea bothers me.

  I don’t even know how to seduce someone. I’d only embarrass myself.

  I groan in frustration and pick up the book again. I’m determined to focus on it this time, to clear my head.

  Unfortunately, once the idea formed in my traitorous mind, it’s kinda hard to it get out. I keep reading the same paragraph over and over again. I finally give up. I set the book aside and lie back against the pillows.

  Ugh!

  He’s the key to my freedom. There’s no other way around it.

  Chapter 7

  As the week passed, every time I entered into Winter’s room, I could tell she was going to lose it. It being her mind.

  She went through the books I brought her in record time. She listened to my music so much, I had to bring her the charger. She paced. I even caught her watching an episode of an American crime drama, dubbed over in French. She’d said that she only wanted to hear another voice aside from her own.

  She tried to talk to me the short amount of time I would allow myself inside the room. To bring her food or more books. I, obviously, am not much for conversation. She tempted me, though.

  In all the years I have never spoken, I have never wanted to talk to anyone as much as I want to talk to Winter. I want to stay in her room and ask her questions about her life. To tell her about mine. To tell her my real name is Yury and to hear her say it through those lush lips of hers. I want to tell her how beautiful she is while I stroke inside of her.

  Yeah, my need to make love to her is never far from my need to talk to her. Her intelligence and plump body tempt me daily.

  It’s only been five days.

  And seeing as how she’s not in public, I often enter the room to find her in several different states of dress. Most of them did not cover much.

  Tank tops and tiny shorts. Sans bra. Her nipples were always hard. Always! As she would walk, her lush, heavy breasts would bounce. The flimsy cloth caressing the hardened peaks. I always imagine sucking on them through the material.

  Tiny dresses that were no more than a long shirt, fashion decided to deem a dress. They barely covered the tops of her smooth, pale meaty thighs. And they always seemed to ride a little higher in the back to accommodate her gloriously round backside. Her ass nearly made me weep.

  There were times when she would flop down into a chair in the room or on the bed. The dress would flutter up just enough to briefly reveal a beautiful ass cheek peeking out from under a pair of lacy underwear.

  She is not the only one about to go crazy. I’m about to lose it myself.

 
; I was hard more than I was not. When another guard took my spot at night, so that I could work out and then shower, I would imagine she was with me and take care of my needs. But it never lasted. My hand, coupled with my fantasy wasn’t enough. I needed her. The real thing.

  This is why I came and went as quickly as my feet would allow me. Unable to keep her company to help her from going insane.

  If I spent more time with her, I fear that my willpower would falter. And Ivan wants her for himself. Even more than when he’d first laid eyes on her. Her defiance and contempt seemed to turn him on more. Everything, especially women, came easily to Ivan. I believe for the first time in his life… Winter presented a challenge.

  Every night, he asked her to join him for dinner. Every night, she declined. Even though she was dying for company and conversation.

  He liked her strong-willed personality, but I could tell that it was starting to grate on his nerves. He even tried to starve her out of her room a couple nights. Only sending a little bread and water for her to eat. I hated it but said nothing. Neither did Winter. She ate what she got without complaint, even if it was not enough.

  A few days ago, Ivan had given me the list of songs he wanted Winter to sing. Some were opera. Others jazz or blues. All very seductive.

  Winter had looked at the list. She did not respond. She did not practice. Nothing. Not one melody came from her pretty lips, even once.

  Ivan had asked me if she was practicing the songs or preparing to perform in any way. All I could do was shake my head.

  He’d thrown a crystal decanter filled with bourbon in response.

  Ivan has reached his breaking point tonight. It’s Friday. He needs her to be on board by now. If she is still refusing to rehearse and defying him when he asks her to join him for dinner, what will she do when she needs to perform tonight? He’d already promised his members a special treat.

  “Skotina, bring her down anyway. She’ll eat with me, even if I have to force it down her pale throat!” Ivan explodes after I tell him she wished to stay in her room for dinner with a simple shake of my head.

  I nod.

  It’s going to be a battle, and I have a feeling that Winter is going to be on the losing end tonight. Ivan is no one to toy with. And she has played long enough.

  At least in his mind.

  I turn and head upstairs.

  Round 1…

  ~~~

  I pace the room like a caged tigress. The walls of the room feel like they’re gonna close in on me. I hate being in confined spaces. At first, it was fine because the room is pretty big. But after five days, I want to scream and rip my hair out.

  I know I could simply cooperate and Ivan would let me have more freedom. But it sticks in my craw that he feels like he has dominion over me. That he saw me one day, decided that he wanted me, and then just took me like some inanimate object.

  It’s infuriating.

  A knock sounds at the door. I know it’s Skotina. His knock is always three times, light and quick. Always.

  “Come in,” I practically growl at the closed door.

  He walks in, and like always this past week, he tries hard not to stare at my unbound breasts or bare legs.

  I know I had thought about seducing him, but I gave up on that plan hours after it popped up unbidden in my head. I’m nowhere near sexually confident enough to pull something like that off. Or so I thought.

  I didn’t feel it was necessary to wear a bra if I was going to be cooped up in the one room all damn day. So I didn’t. It also didn’t make sense to get dressed up all fancy or in anything particularly restricting. So I chose the most comfortable clothing in the closet. That consisted of silk tanks, linen shorts or pants, and short little dresses in the same materials.

  That next day, after I’d scrapped the idea of seducing him, I’d put on a tank and shorts with no bra. When he’d walked in, I thought his eyeballs were going to bug out of his head. He’d swallowed and grunted before setting down my lunch and walking back out as quickly as he could.

  I realized then that I didn’t have to seduce him. I merely needed to dress comfortably, and it would be his downfall.

  In the end, he kept his distance from me, though. Making sure that he was never around me for longer than a few minutes. It’s hard to seduce someone when they’re not there to be seduced.

  I wonder if one of Ivan’s rules is that his henchman doesn’t touch me.

  Skotina grunts, bringing me out of my daydreaming and jerks his head towards the open doorway. “Let’s go.”

  Shit! This can’t be good.

  Usually, when he gets back from telling his boss that I won’t be joining him for dinner, he brings me back a tray of food. Not this time.

  “Hold on,” I say as I hold up a finger.

  I walk into the closet and put a bra on underneath the shift dress I’m wearing. I walk back out, and I swear I see Skotina breathe a sigh of relief at my now secured breasts. There was no way in hell I was going to flaunt my loose breasts to Ivan the Awful.

  Yeah, I nicknamed him that.

  I follow him downstairs, and he leads me into the dining room. Skotina automatically goes over to the chair adjacent to Ivan and pulls it out for me.

  I barely make eye contact with Ivan as I sit.

  “Good evening, Winter. It’s so lovely to finally see you after all these days.” Ivan’s voice is filled with sarcasm.

  I don’t respond.

  Ivan waves over a woman that I assume is a maid. She places a plate filled with delicious looking food in front of me. My mouth, of course, is watering. I remain still out of spite.

  “Eat.”

  “No.”

  “I SAID EAT!!!” Ivan screams at the same time that he slams his fist down on the table. Dishes rattle precariously.

  I nearly have an out of body experience, I jump so high.

  I reach for my fork without another word. I know that the food is probably wonderful, but I taste none of it as I shovel it in my mouth obediently. It could be sawdust for all I care.

  Having been coddled by other adults all my life, either because they felt bad because I was different. The oddball. Or it was because they wanted to use my talent. So naturally, I was used to getting my way.

  Ivan is different. He is six degrees off of mob boss status. He gets away with murder without so many of the underground ties.

  I forgot who I was dealing with. He could make me disappear without batting an eye. That realization makes the fork tremble as it reaches my mouth.

  “I hope you’ve prepared for tonight. Remember… Don’t test me.”

  Okay, so maybe I am a little crazy because I still have no intentions of singing.

  Instead of killing Faith or me and dumping our bodies somewhere. I’m hoping he’ll tire of me and drop me off at home. I know Faith is beside herself with worry. I can’t even imagine what my mother is feeling. I distanced myself from her and her judgmental ways a while ago. She was not pleased with my relationship with the ex. But we, of course, still love each other, so I know she’s a wreck since she hasn’t been able to reach me for six days.

  I know there are other people who are probably worried about me too. I have several mentors I keep in close contact with. Hopefully, they won’t give up on looking for me. Though, how they’ll find me is another story. Hell, they may not even know I’m officially missing since Faith can’t sound the alarm.

  Fantastic.

  I’m going to rot here.

  When my plate is clean, I put down my fork. The room is quiet for a moment before a knock at the doorway draws all of our attention.

  “Mr. Petrov, the team is here.” A distinguished older gentleman acting as butler informed the room.

  “Thank you. Send them upstairs.” Ivan nods.

  Ivan stares at me for a while before speaking to Skotina who hasn’t moved from behind me the whole time.

  “Skotina, sit down and eat. I’ll take Winter back to her room to meet the team.” Ivan instruc
ts him.

  The guard seems to hesitate. I think he’s so used to being tied to my side that he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight. But as always, he eventually follows his boss’ instructions.

  Ivan takes my hand, and I reluctantly get up to follow him. To be honest, I don’t want to be out of Skotina’s sight either. His presence comforts me for some reason.

  As I follow Ivan, my insides quake with trepidation. God only knows what “team” he’s talking about. Maybe they’re people he hired to torture me. Or the cleanup crew who was hired to clean up the mess when Ivan blows my brains out. My heart pounds as we reach my room and he opens the door.

  Inside are three people. A white man, who looks like he might be gay. A white woman, who seems edgy and cool. And a black woman, who looks effortless and gorgeous. As I always do, I look at her mahogany skin with envy. I’ve gotten better over the years, but it still hits me every now and again.

  Funny how insecurities work that way. You think you’ve mastered them. And then someone comes along and shatters your carefully built wall of self-esteem in mere seconds.

  “Winter, this is your beauty team. I can’t trust you to get ready yourself, so I hired them.” Ivan grumbles. “This is Basile. He’ll be doing your makeup. Estelle will be working on your hair. And Chloe will pick your clothing.”

  A relieved breath swooshes through my lips. I’m free to live another day.

  “You three, I want ethereal and seductive,” Ivan says to them in perfect French. I knew some of the language and was able to decipher a little of what he said.

  “Oui, monsieur.”

  Ivan turns quickly and strides from the room. Apparently, I’m in good hands.

  The three of them usher me into the bathroom and turn on the shower and then bustle out, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

  And so it begins… Round 2.

  Chapter 8

  I finish my dinner as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself. Especially since Ivan is sitting with me drinking some vodka straight up and watching me closely.