Closing her eyes to him she began by running her fingers down the inside of the very top of her thigh, tracing a pattern to end with her palm covering herself. She slid the hand up, her fingers lightly touching herself and felt him move imperceptibly on the bed. She'd shared this part of herself with nobody before, had never experienced anybody watching. Having Erik here now, added to the experience more than any other person could have. Her entire body felt like it was poised, waiting, electrified. Opening her eyes as her fingers slid through the silken velvet of her arousal she saw him transfixed, gazing hungrily at her, bared before him. His eyes following her fingers exactly.
They were slick from her own excitement; she’d never felt so wet before. Isabelle arched her back subtly and allowed the barest tips of her fingers to enter her. Erik moved again, drawn to her. She skated her fingers across herself and began making slow circular motions. The room was suddenly hot, and she realised the beast had crept closer still, his body above her once more, his eyes fixed on hers as she moaned lightly.
She saw him hesitate, his thick calloused hands over her breasts; she moved insistently, demanding. He touched her lightly at first, his hips getting closer to her as his fingers encased her chest in warmth and his thumbs rubbed deliciously over her firmed nipples. Her free hand found his waist, closer than she had dared to hope and her fingers twisted in the fur. She turned her head to the side, offering her neck and he came closer still, pinning the arm that was still below her waist in a bid to nuzzle at her flesh. She realised suddenly that he was naked too, as his own arousal made itself known, brushing against the back of her hand as she played.
As he shifted to better nuzzle at her neck, his soft fur sending shivers down her spine she realised she had to have him inside her. In the height of passion, moments away from a climax beyond anything she had ever experienced before, she felt the solid mass of him against her hand again and she reached for it. Her fingers closed softly around him, and with a groan of triumph, she pressed it to her waiting wetness.
The beast froze immediately, the barest tip of his aroused flesh touching hers. His eyes flashed with fear and she saw the lust disappear from him.
Erik tore from her, leaping through the open window as Isabelle watched in horror. For a moment she lay panting in disbelief, before grabbing her pillow with both hands and pressing it over her face, muffling the sounds of frustrated anguish that burst from within her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabelle felt different, and she couldn’t at all figure out why. She’d sat up all night hoping that Erik would come back, even though deep down she’d known he wouldn’t. Whatever prompted him to abandon her, whatever logic had pulled him from the haze of their lust, it had seemingly proved more powerful than she. Frustration, anger, disappointment and loneliness raged within her. She felt like a kettle bubbling hotly over a fire, moments from exploding with the building pressure. Dressed, hair flawless, makeup perfect, she looked exactly as she should. She knew that, but walking through the corridors she felt wrong and worried that everybody would know.
How could they?
To her, it felt obvious, irreparable. She had offered herself to Erik and he had refused her. Had she not been enough? Isabelle had never had an issue with her confidence, had never felt undesirable, but Erik had refused her twice now. It made her feel sick with shame. Humiliation burned on her cheeks and she was sure everybody realised merely by looking at her.
She picked her way down the stairs quietly, it was too late for breakfast, but her appetite had vanished entirely. Isabelle didn’t have the patience to busy herself with routine tasks, so she made her way silently to the library, praying that nobody would want to talk to her. Secure in the vast room, filled with fantasy and escape, was the first time she felt like she could breathe since she had left her own room.
Was he here? In the castle?
No, she ruthlessly stopped herself thinking about him and picked up a book from the pile she had left on the table. Walking over to the window where the morning light was flooding in, she picked up a book from the seat and turned it over in her hands. It wasn’t one she had pulled down or read. Opening it to flit through the pages, a rose fell from within and dropped softly to the floor. Swooping it up, she twirled it curiously between her fingers. It was a flawless, beautiful deep crimson, flattened from its hiding place between the pages, but still without blemish. Isabelle ran her fingers down the stem curiously, noting the absence of thorns. Some lost forgotten secret? She placed it next to her and began reading. At least if she focused on the words, on the story in front of her, then she wouldn’t have to battle her own inner monologue.
∞ ∞ ∞
She read until her eyes could barely focus, and the light behind her was dimming. When she returned to the real world, she immediately missed the fantasy. Reality was a painful disappointment. None of the people in her books had to deal with the burning shame of rejection. Picking up the rose from next to her, she tucked it into the pages of the thick tome once more, a beautiful bookmark, and clasped the book to her chest tightly as if it might protect her from everything she was feeling. Leaving the library, she expected to see at least some others, scurrying through the corridor, going about their daily tasks. Instead it was quiet. So quiet in fact that when she heard the insistent whispering coming from around the corner, she couldn’t help but be curious.
Isabelle didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really, but when she heard her name it was impossible not to snoop further. Standing just out of sight of the door to Joseph’s office, she listened intently.
“But where can we send her? Surely nowhere in the city is safe, who can we trust with her?” Mrs Hands voice was quiet, but insistent.
“Anybody with sense will heed our warning. She simply cannot stay here. It’s far too dangerous. We’re so close Charlotte.”
∞ ∞ ∞
“But if we just watch her more closely, attend her better?”
“How? Can you spare her a guard every moment? Last night-” He snapped, and Isabelle flinched, she’d never heard him raise his voice to his wife before. Humiliation flooded her; they knew. But how?
“We don’t know what happened Joe…”
“We know enough. He was seen leaving her damn window. At that hour, if she stays then-” Joseph stopped mid-sentence, Isabelle had stepped into the doorway to hear them better, they had been so frantic with their conversation that they hadn’t noticed at first. But the moment Joseph Hands saw the familiar figure, standing there, his eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, but almost as soon as he did, Isabelle dropped the book she had been holding, picked up her skirts and tore off at a run.
Joseph Hands scooped up the book and picked up the rose from where it had fallen out. Its tumble had caused a few of the petals to fall off, they lay on the floor forgotten.
“What’s that?” Charlotte asked,
“Just a rose.” He turned it over in his fingers.
“And why do you suppose she’s coveting that?” She asked, tone clipped.
“I have no idea.” He sighed, dropping down into the wooden chair opposite his desk.
“She’ll be off to the Master now I expect.” Charlotte clucked, peering around the door and up the corridor.
“What do you expect me to do my dear?” He sighed, “charge off and intercept her at the stairs?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and Charlotte shook her head, moving behind him and rubbing his shoulders.
“Now, now,” she soothed, rubbing his back and neck tenderly, “it will all be over soon. One way or another.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Isabelle ran so fast her lungs burned, she didn’t think of anything. She couldn’t. They were going to send her away. How could they? She didn’t hesitate on the stairs to the top floor, she didn’t hesitate at his door, she flew into his room without knocking, without even pausing to wonder if he was there. Somehow, she knew he would be.
“You’re sending me away?” Sh
e all but screamed, Erik tore around, eyes fixed on her, the most harrowed expression on his face. “How could you?”
“I-” the lack of surprise on his face was as good as a confession, and Isabelle deflated. It felt like somebody had punched her in the gut, all her anger evaporated in the face of his resignation. He had known, of course, he had known. Had he ordered it? She’d pushed him too far. The overwhelming, crushing understanding that this was her own fault threatened to break her entirely. It took her a moment to recoup, he hadn’t finished his sentence, why would he?
“Were you even going to tell me, or were you just going to ship me off and never see me again?”
“Isabelle.” He didn’t step towards her, he didn’t move, Isabelle shook her head. She didn’t want to fumble around and hear his excuses, she felt more betrayed than she ever had. It was too late to realise what she had been feeling because the sheer pain pulsing through her then couldn’t be confused for anything but heartache. Night’s spent in her room, tirelessly trying to convince herself, logically, that she wasn’t in love with Erik, undone in a single moment. Isabelle spent so much time feeling like everybody around her was an idiot, yet she had been foolish enough to miss the most important detail about this entire situation.
She felt like her world was crumbling apart and it was all she could do to remain standing.
“Don’t. Just don’t. Why are you doing this? Why even bring me here in the first place?” Her emotions raged and changed within sentences. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t send her away like she was nothing. “I’m sorry about last night, I’m sorry about everything. Just please, don’t send me away!” Her eyes were filled with tears and he turned from her, “I never meant to offend you. Erik. All I can think about is you. Every moment. I’m going crazy with how much I need you. Talking, just seeing you, anything.” She was blinking rapidly during the confession. All Isabelle wanted to do was make him understand, make him see how she felt. But he had turned away from her, “don’t ignore me!” She shrieked finally.
“You think I don’t feel it?” He snarled, and Isabelle stumbled back from the speed at which he rounded on her, “ever since you came here, I’ve thought of nothing else. I can smell you, everywhere I turn. You’re everywhere. Inside. Outside. Your scent is haunting me. Driving me crazy. Every time you speak to somebody, I want to rip their throats out. When you’re not around I’m so fraught that I cannot rest, I cannot concentrate. I killed those reporters because they were coming back here to talk to you. You were all they talked about, not me, you. The beautiful young woman in the mysterious castle. They wondered if you were married, they were going to come back. Isabelle, I can’t control myself.” His own confession made her eyes widen, but he didn’t give her time to speak. “I have work, responsibilities, people to watch over, and I can’t concentrate on them because whenever I’m away from the castle all I want to do is be near you. And when I’m near you, all I want to do is touch you. Own you. I want to lock you away in the dungeons and be the only person allowed to look at you. I want to hurt you; make you pay for how completely entranced you have me. When I sleep, I dream about pinning you down…that night…”
“Then why don’t you?” Isabelle cried desperately. His admission should have terrified her, should have made her want to run, instead, it infuriated her. “I don’t care what you do to me, just do something!” She was deranged, she heard the words coming from her own mouth and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had lost her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t know, she just couldn’t find a single part of her that cared.
“Listen to yourself!” He barked surpassing her volume, throwing his paws up dramatically, “you don’t know what you’re saying. What you’re asking. There are so many things you don’t understand. Things about me. “
“So just tell me!”
“My past. My life now. And this!” He held his hands in front of his face, “it’s unnatural. You wanting me like this is….” Erik dropped his hands and shook his head,
“You are not made of your transgressions, they don’t define you; you’re listening to Joseph, letting him twist everything. This,” she indicated to his body “isn’t a monstrosity. It’s you. It’s who you are. They’ve made you ashamed-”
“I should be ashamed. I don’t want to protect you, Isabelle, I don’t want to lavish attention on you, I don’t want to love you. If you knew half of what I dreamed about…” His expression was hard, his hands clenched into fists as large as her head.
“Well, I won’t be!” She challenged. “I won’t be made to feel like a freak because I want you. There is nothing natural about this place. Nothing natural about you. I’m done pretending to care, forcing shame upon myself. I do want you. I’m in love with you.” She confessed, her anger trailing off at the last sentence.
She watched him carefully, dark eyes fixed on him. She watched his eyes widen, she watched his posture stiffen and Isabelle could have cried because she saw the renewed resolution in his eyes before he spoke.
She had bared her soul, and he didn’t feel the same. She swayed a little on her feet and sat down on the end of the broken bed lest she collapse.
“I am sorry Isabelle.” He said, and he sounded every bit as human as she did when she rejected the men who wanted her. She had delivered this speech more than once, as soon as they got to a point that she was no longer comfortable passing. They could get so far, flirtation, teasing, but as soon as they wanted more? She’d rebuke them, she thought kindly, but she understood now that there was no kind way of breaking somebody's heart. “This cannot ever be. I was blinded by lust, but that’s all it ever was for me.”
“You feel something for me,” she reasoned quietly, “I know you do.” How could he not? Last night had proven it, hadn’t it? The things he had just said. He was feeling what she was feeling. Was he truly so afraid of what people would say? What they would think?
Isabelle felt like her whole world was sinking. After a while he turned away again, looking out of the window and to the mountains. He wanted to run away, to disengage from this entire situation. “So, you’re sending me away?” There was more silence. “If you don’t want me, why do I have to stay here, can’t I just go home?” She asked, voice breaking.
“I’m sorry.” He said again. “No.” His tone was emotionless,
“Why?” Isabelle stood up, angry again, “you don’t want me. You’ve made it very clear that you have no feelings for me, why can’t I just go? I won’t tell anybody about you, this place, please? Let me go home.” He was outright ignoring her now, Isabelle grabbed a long-forgotten vase from the floor and hurled it at the wall, it shattered to dust next to him, brittle and unfeeling.
Just like the monster standing in front of her.
It became clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, so Isabelle turned and absconded from the room, blinded by tears she just about made it down the stairs before collapsing onto the bottom one. Bringing her knees close to her body she buried her face in her skirts and sobbed until her chest ached and her eyes were sore.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isabelle wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, on that bottom step. She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm, she hadn’t heard anybody coming. Looking up through bleary eyes she saw the gentle face of Margaret looking down at her. Isabelle didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to explain. It didn’t matter anyway; it was only a matter of time now and she would be banished from the castle. She let Maggie help her stand and they walked together to her room, Isabelle was grateful for the silence. It stretched for days; the pain was unlike anything she had ever known. Nothing she could do would ease it. Sleeping just had her waking up nauseous, remembering reality with a sickening dread. Isabelle had never believed it was possible to feel this hopeless, to feel entirely removed from herself.
Maggie brought her books, food, gossip, but nothing broke through her fog of misery.
She wanted to die, not because she wanted to, but beca
use then at least she wouldn’t have to think about him anymore. It had gotten to the point where she hoped that he would send her away because living here in his castle, knowing that he was here too, was almost too much to bear.
Every day she hoped that he would come, see her, tell her it was all a mistake.
He didn’t.
He wouldn’t.
She was entirely alone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Is she ever going to come out of her room?” Charlotte wondered as she loaded up a tray in the kitchen, “it’s been a week.”
“Why is she so upset anyway?” Margaret asked quietly, Charlotte scowled at the girl who quickly dropped her head and went back to preparing the dinner for everybody else. Thomas wasn’t as easily cowed.
“Come on, you can’t expect us not to wonder.” He reasoned. Charlotte pursed her lips sourly.
“She overheard Mr Hands and I talking about sending her to live in the city.”
“What?”
“When?”
“Why?
The interrogation came thick and fast from Margaret and Thomas, who when they realised they were speaking over each other, both fell quiet with shy smiles. They were valid questions, ones that the other servants would have too, and Charlotte, although she had her back to them, sighed heavily.
“Things are getting difficult. The Master and Mr Hands were thinking it might be easier if she was away from the castle for a while. But he’s disappeared.”
“Mr Hands?”
“No Maggie.” Charlotte turned, “the Master, silly girl. Where would Mr Hands go?”
“So, the Master is gone, Isabelle is distraught in her room and we’re supposed to...?”
“Keep her alive. We make sure she eats, and wait until we have further instructions.”
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