Her body is just as much a temptation. My hands itch to run over curves hidden by her simple clothing. Jeans and white blouses are not the height of fashion, but the very fact that they are so far from fussy only interests me more. She could be dressed in rags and I'd still find her intriguing. I want her, badly, and what I want, I get. But if I scare her, it might dissuade her from her foolhardy endeavor to have me forgive her father's debts. I need to go about this negotiation delicately. I do not wish to frighten her but if I tip my hand and show her just how much I want her, she'll have too much power.
"One year doesn't even begin to repay the amount I am owed," I growl, attempting to look unimpressed by her offer, though the thought of that much time in close proximity to her has me salivating. "Five years," I counter harshly.
My cock is throbbing, the hard length of it making my pants uncomfortably tight. It urges me to forget negotiating. I want her now. Right here. But I carefully hold on to my patience. Now is not the time to give in to what I want.
She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms. "Two years," she spits out. "That is more than fair."
She is correct. I would take six months but I haven't gotten to where I am because I'm fair or reasonable. I take a step closer and her eyes widen a fraction but she holds her ground as I loom over her. I'm close enough the heat from her body radiates between us, her breath catches in her throat as I inhale her sweet scent. She has no idea how dangerous it is for her to be so close to me.
"Four years," I say, fascinated by the golden striations in her eyes. Pretty. Just like everything else about her.
"Two and a half," she says, her tone quieter as I deliberately invade her space.
She is lucky I do not simply pull her in tight against myself where I want her, every inch of her body against mine. Against every inch of my hard cock. Her defiance only stokes my desire, inciting the urge to show her who is dominant. To show her that resisting me isn't a good idea. I let my leash slip, but only slightly. Growling, I swiftly cup the side of her neck and she freezes, her eyes wide, breathing shallow.
Careful. I almost have what I want. Isa is like a small animal, caught in the grip of a large predator and hoping to not draw attention, to still somehow escape. It is a false hope. There will be no escape. I cup her cheek with my other hand and she flinches slightly, though again, she doesn't try to move away. As if she senses it will only make me chase her. My movements are fast, but even though my beast is rising, flexing against the restraints I have imposed upon it, my touch is gentle. I do not want to hurt her. Far from it.
"Three years," I snarl. "Three measly years, a steal for your father's library and home," I growl, my hands still holding her in a gentle yet inexorable grip. "Yes or no. This is my final offer." I go still inside, waiting for her to agree. She must agree.
She inhales, her gaze still daring me, not cowed. Not at all. My cock throbs with desire. Her defiance just makes me want to make her submit. Submit while I give her pleasure like she's never felt before, until she is drunk on it, until she only wants more.
"Three years," she agrees, even her acquiescence somehow a taunt.
My beast growls inside, wanting to show this soft female that it is not to be trifled with, that its teeth are not simply for show. I tighten my jaw as I fight the urge to bend her over and take her, plow into her until she admits my dominion, until she submits to me as she should. Careful. Not yet. I let go, one finger at a time, each loss of contact like a punch in the gut. I inhale harshly as I take a step back. Her cheeks are flushed a healthy pink, her hair mussed from my handling. She looks like she’s been worked over, as if she just rolled out from a tangled nest of sheets. Soon. Soon.
"Fine," I say, once I regain some semblance of control. "You have two days to wrap up your affairs then you will report to me to begin your service. Every day, every hour, every second of your time will be mine for the next three years." Her face pales as I lay that out. Good. If she agrees, she must know what I expect. "If you renege, either now, or a day before your time with me is up, I will collect on the debts owed to me. Your father will lose the library and his home. Understand?"
She swallows, the clicking of her throat harsh in the silence.
"Isa," her father entreats, his fear of me clear. He is a smart man. "Do not do this! I beg you!"
She turns to hug her father, but her eyes remain on me over his shoulder. "I understand," she says softly, finally looking away and breaking our link. The loss of it sharp. No matter. She will be in my care soon enough.
I leave as her father continues to try to convince her not to take this devil's deal. I smile to myself at the phrase. It’s an apt description. I may not quite be the devil, but there’s no denying I have just gotten much more from buying those debts than I ever dreamed I would. Much more indeed. I close the door softly behind myself, still unable to fully catch my breath simply from being in the same vicinity as Isabelle Stone. My cock pulses again as I remember the softness of her skin, her luscious scent, the warmth of her body so close to mine, so painfully close without actually touching where I wanted her to touch me most. Where I wanted her soft hands to caress me.
I groan. I have never had such a strong reaction to a female, especially not when we were both fully clothed and upright. Not even a kiss exchanged. I adjust myself roughly as I step down, my pants tighter than they have a right to be. I've just bought three years of Isabelle's time. Three years of this madness, of my beast bucking at the faulty reins of my control. I consider the reality of that, the possible consequences. I finally have room to be concerned, now that I'm not completely blinded by desire.
Perhaps it is not only she who should be wary of the time to come. Perhaps I should have taken more time to consider this deal.
What have I done?
Chapter 5
Isa
I run my hand gently down the delicate spine of a classic, the leather worn from years of handling. I want to take all of my favorite books with me, but I know I can't. There's only so much space in my suitcase and I don't know what kind of accommodations Prince Adir is going to give me anyway. As I go through the shelf I keep next to my bed, my stomach sinking all over again. Three years. I've signed away three years of my life to a man that looks like he’s given in to his basest urges and I have no idea what he's going to expect from me.
I turn as footsteps echo in the hall. Father stands in the doorway, his face creased with worry, his still thick, white hair stands up in tufts around his head, no doubt from running his hands through it. Something he tends to do while worrying.
"Isa..." he says, stepping into my bedroom. "Don't do this. We'll figure out another way."
"Father, I have to," I say, standing up. "If there was any other way, you’d have already taken it."
He looks away, knowing it’s true.
"And it's only for a short time," I add with a shaky smile. "I'll be back before you know it. Besides, won't it be nice not having someone nagging at you to eat dinner and pick up after yourself?" I tease, trying my best to lighten the mood.
"First of all, I only pretend to dislike your nagging," he says with a slight smile. "Secondly, three years is not a short time," he says, shaking his head. "And thirdly...thirdly, I don't trust that Adir. Not at all." His face closes down, his jaw tense.
I sigh, not knowing how to appease his fear. Not when I don't trust the Singarti any more than Father does. "I‘ll be fine," I reassure him, taking his hand in mine. Making him feel better about this is more important than the truth right now. "And three years will fly by. You'll see."
He shakes his head, squeezing my hand between both of his. "I wish your mother was still with us," he mutters quietly, sounding lost. "She'd know just what to do. She always did. I was always the one stumbling around."
I shake my head, my heart breaking. "No, Father," I deny, forcing tears back as they prick my eyes. "You were wonderful. You are wonderful. I love you so much."
He smiles sadly, cupping the side of
my face. "And you are my heart." He searches my face. "You are so much like her. Taking care of me when it should be the other way around. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a blessing twice."
I put my hand over his. "Nonsense. She did what she did because she loved you. Just as I do."
He sighs, nodding. "You are my heart," he murmurs again. "And what will happen to your mother's garden while you are away? You know how she loved the flowers. Just as you know I have a black thumb."
I chuckle. It's true, unfortunately. He can somehow manage to kill even the hardiest of plants. "I will leave instructions for you."
"It won't matter. They will miss you just as I will," he says glumly.
"Oh, Father." I pull him into a hug, noticing how frail he’s become. Or perhaps I am just larger now, he’s no longer the invincible giant of my childhood, but just a man. A man unfairly dealt the heavy blow of losing his wife and now his daughter. But only for three years. "I will come back," I whisper, a promise to him, a promise to myself. I will come back.
He nods against my shoulder, his breath shaky as he pulls back. " I do not want you to go at all."
My heart breaks as I look into his beseeching eyes, even as I know I cannot let Prince Adir take Father's library, his home. As I search for something else to say, any words that will give him some kind of comfort, there's a knock at the door. We look at each other for a moment.
"I will go see who it is," I murmur, stepping back. "And send them away."
I walk out to the front door, my mind almost fully occupied with everything I still have to accomplish before I leave. I need to make certain all the bills are paid, that Father knows how to do so now that I will not be here. I need to write instructions for how to take care of the garden, find someone who can come clean once a month and a million other things I still have to get through. My thoughts come to a screeching halt as I open the door.
"Hello, Isa."
I blink at Gideon. Nope, he's still here. He's posed, as usual, but this is a little over the top even for him. He has his forearm braced on the door frame, his chest puffed out in another slightly too tight t-shirt, his hips thrust forward in an attempt to draw attention to the tight crotch of his synthetic leather pants. Gideon is the definition of way too much. He smiles, confident that I must want him in all his glory. Ughh. I just threw up a little in my mouth.
"What do you want, Gideon?" I ask, resigned to having to deal with him on top of everything else. Can't I catch a break?
"Well, I'm here to speak with you," he says, stepping forward, crowding me back so he can come inside. "I hear you and your father have fallen on hard times." Without waiting for a response, he wanders down the hall that leads to the library.
I hurry to catch up as he enters the large, open room filled with shelves upon shelves of books. Even now, after seeing it every day, I still have to take a moment to appreciate its beauty. Yes, it's old. Yes, it needs repairs, but the patina of age somehow only makes it more beautiful to me. Like a lost treasure, a time capsule for me to explore. I turn, just in time to catch Gideon's lip curling as he takes in the place I hold so dear. My heart hardens.
"I don't know what you've heard, but we're fine," I say firmly. "Now, I'm sorry but we're very busy—"
"Nonsense," he interrupts. "I know very well how much debt you are in." He turns to look at me, his eyes bold as they rake down my length.
I fight the urge to cover myself even though I'm fully clothed. Funny. I didn't have that urge at all when Prince Adir looked at me. In fact, I only wanted him to look more, despite my reasonable side trying to smack me across the head.
I try again to reason with Gideon, "Again, I don't know what you've heard—"
"You're in luck, Isa," he says, interrupting me a second time, frowning as he pulls out a book and rifles through it carelessly. I take it from him before he can jamb it back into place just as carelessly. The spines are much too delicate for that kind of rough handling. "You get to be mine." He turns to me with a smirk. "My father can help preserve...this," he says, grimacing as he waves at the rows upon rows of rare books like they’re some unimportant curiosity rather than the physical embodiment of our history, of knowledge, of worlds to explore. Some people just don't have any imagination.
He walks past a delicate lamp, his hip hitting the small table it's perched on, sending it tumbling. I dive for it and just barely catch the lamp before it smashes on the floor. I set it back in its place, glaring at Gideon's oblivious back as he continues to wander through the space without a care for any of the carefully preserved contents. Like a dumb bull in a china shop. Though that may be insulting the poor bull. I wince as his gesturing arm hits a pile of books, sending them flying off the table to skitter across the floor. He gives them a dismissive glance. That's it. My irritation is fast growing into real anger. I move over to the books, crouching down to start picking them up, trying to control my emotions so I don't do something completely foolhardy.
On reflex, I drop them again as Gideon lifts me back into a standing position, pulling me up tight against his body with a smirk still firmly on his face. I'd like to slap it off, but I manage to stop myself from committing actual physical violence. Barely. The fact that his family has more power and money is what really stays my hand. We don't need more trouble. We have more than enough already, thanks.
"Aren't you glad you know someone as generous as me?" he murmurs, preening as his hand slides down to cup my butt.
Nope. I have my limits. I push at him and step back, almost violently breaking his hold.
"Isa," he says, a warning in his voice as his eyes narrow. "I only have so much patience. If you want to save your library—"
"We don’t need your help," I spit, taking another step back. For the first time, there’s real fear as I look at him. Is he just a nuisance? Or something potentially more? "And I’m not your property, your...toy. I'm not yours to control under the guise of a favor." I take a deep breath. "My father's debts have been forgiven. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to finish getting ready as I am going to live with Prince Adir."
That gets through to Gideon. I have to say, I get a certain satisfaction at the shock on his face as I utter the Singarti’s name. A name even higher up on both the social and economic ladder than his family's. Maybe it'll finally make him leave me the hell alone.
"Prince Adir?" he repeats, shaking his head. "Why would you ever agree to such a deal?" he demands, stepping forward. "Why would you go to live with that...that...beast!"
"He’s not a beast," I say somewhat weakly, remembering the Singarti’s appearance and demeanor, and my own use of the same description.
Gideon's jaw tightens. "His reputation is known to everyone. He uses women, throws them away after he's done, after he's slaked his appetite. Do you want to be one of those women?"
I swallow. I didn’t know of Adir’s reputation. But then I remember the heat in his eyes, the confidence in his grip as he held me. Yes. I can see women being drawn to him. There’s something very compelling in how all encompassing his desire seems, in how close the primitive side of him is to the surface. I shiver just thinking about it.
"And you are chaste?" I ask archly. "You only treat women with respect and dignity? You are an example of the ideal gentleman?" I know he isn't. He's run through more than a few floors of girls at school. He knows it too.
Gideon’s face reddens, his nostrils flaring. "You cannot go to live with Prince Adir. I forbid it!" he bites out, taking a step towards me.
"I don’t care what you want or don’t want," I retort. "It’s not your concern. And you can't forbid me from doing anything."
"Not my concern?" he repeats incredulously. "You are mine!"
"I am my own," I say quietly. "And I've never led you to believe otherwise."
He shakes his head disbelievingly. "You are not your own. Not if you’re selling yourself to Prince Adir," he says, his face ugly, his voice disgusted.
"I am selling myself to no
one," I say, even though a vague voice in the back of my head immediately questions that statement. "I’m simply working off our debt."
He laughs harshly, slowly turning like he can’t digest what I've just said, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. Gideon finally looks back down to make eye contact. "You don’t realize how exactly he intends for you to work off that debt," he says, his hands fisted at his sides. "Are you so innocent that you can't see your appeal? Don’t you realize why someone like him would want someone who looks like you?"
Pretty is a dime a dozen. I don't even know why he's so hell bent on having me, let alone someone like Prince Adir who probably has women throwing themselves at him. Though I guess I did the same, in a fashion.
"I’m not your concern," I repeat slowly. "And this is our private property. You need to leave."
He glares, taking another step forward. For a moment, I worry about what he might do without a crowd of students looking on. Or Ruby and Elle at my back. But I've forgotten that I'm not alone.
"You heard her," my father's quiet voice says from the doorway. "Take your leave."
He’s standing straight and tall, his face set in stern lines. He doesn't look frail at all in the moment. He looks ready to take care of business.
Gideon glances over at him with a snarl.
I pause, holding my breath, wondering if he's going to actually become violent, but then he strides past my father, his shoulders stiff with rage. Oddly, my fear is sharper and more sickening at Gideon's rage than Adir's. I was never really afraid Adir would hurt me. I flinch as the walls tremble from the force Gideon uses as he slams the front door behind himself.
Letting out a tired sigh, all my bravado leaves me. No matter how I look at it, my situation is bleak indeed. While Gideon is dangerous in his own right, he and his family don’t hold a candle to the power and wealth of a Prince of the Singarti. Nor does Gideon stand up to the dark sensuality Prince Adir exudes. He's like a pale shadow, an imitation of the real thing. Where Gideon always seems to be most conscious of himself and his own body, I felt the intensity of Adir's regard, like all of his attention was fully focused on me.
Beast_A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance Page 3