Bastien (11 page)

Angelique gasps, not only to see me do this, but to see me do it while watching her. “Jean doesn’t... he doesn’t...”

I roll my eyes at her feeble attempts to explain. “He doesn’t make you come. Yes, I gathered. Close the door, child and get in here.”

The door shuts and there is darkness again. I hear the hiss of fabric as she disrobes and then she is before me in nothing but a soft blouse, staring at me. I bite back another laugh at her eagerness, spread my knees and let her crawl into my lap. Her woman’s juices have already soaked her and she slides so easily onto me my eyes roll back in my head.

She is shivering, holding on to my shoulders, waiting. For fucking what? “Move,” I growl grabbing her arse and lifting her up and down over me. Faster, harder. Until she is moaning so loud I’m afraid someone will hear. I shove to my feet and press her against the wall, covering her mouth as I drive into her. She turns hot and pliant in my arms, lost to what I do to her, left completely to my mercy.

She ought to know I have none. When she starts screaming against my hand, I hate her for coming so soon. Her climax forces one from me, but just as I am about to spill inside her, the furry bastard roars inside my head and I pull out at the last second. Even without the feel of her squeezing my seed out of me, it’s the best orgasm I’ve had in centuries.

I fuck her twice more before I send her out with instructions to use the servants’ staircase and return in a month. The evidence of my pleasure I leave for the Beast to savor when he rises.

In approximately three minutes.

Chapter Twenty

She comes to me twice more, stealing in by the dark of night, always only on the peak of the full moon. I have one night to anticipate and another to savor, and then a month to wait until she shows her face again. I teach her to like things I like, knowing that she will never again be satisfied with her own cold marriage bed. I teach her to crave me more than air, condition her body so that every time she looks at my castle through her window, it weeps for me to fuck it. I am a very efficient tutor.

The Beast is furious. Despite his attempts to thwart her, Angelique keeps getting through his countermeasures and finding my cock by the light of the full moon. He likes to lie to himself, play the righteous one, but we both know better. If he really wanted Angelique to stay away, she wouldn’t get past the drive. No, he wants her here as much as I do. It’s the only way he can ever feel a woman’s heat.

The night grows late and Angelique still hasn’t shown herself. I begin to get restless, pacing back and forth between the hearth and the balcony. Where is she? I watch the moon travel across the sky, counting minutes, then hours. I snap my chains, hating them more than I ever have now that they’re keeping me from seeking out what I want.

If I want Angelique, I should damn well be able to go after her if she won’t come to me. To hell with the Lafarge bastard! I owe him nothing. He is a pretentious prig whose only amusement is the misery of others. If he ever showed himself on a full moon night I would wipe that smug little lip twitch from his face so fast he’d spend the next two hours looking for his teeth all over the floor. What sort of man doesn’t even have the sense to bring his wife to orgasm?

From what Angelique told me between gasps, the fool doesn’t even try. He comes to his wife’s bed each night to rut over her for the sole purpose of begetting an heir. No wonder she seeks her pleasure elsewhere.

As dawn approaches, I begin to worry she will not come. My reasons are purely selfish. If Lafarge discovered his wife is cuckolding him, she will most definitely not show herself here anymore and then I’ll be left to my own devices yet again.

Finally I hear footsteps on the staircase. She opens the door and removes her hat in the anteroom, smiles at me as she comes to the door. But she doesn’t cross the threshold. “Hello, Bastien,” she says. My chains will only let me within two steps of that doorway and she knows it.

“Tease,” I accuse. I cannot abide women who lead men around by their cocks and don’t even have the courtesy to finish them. “Come say that to my face.” I’m already hard for her, as well she can see, since I shrugged out of the Beast’s clothes the moment I awoke in anticipation of her arrival. And it’s damned cold in here with the balcony open.

“Not tonight,” she says. “And not any other night.”

I laugh. “We’ll see.”

“I’m pregnant, Bastien. Jean’s seed finally took.”

And just like that, my pride and joy turns flaccid. I stare at her belly, trying to see if I can make out any hint of a bulge. “So the bastard finally gets his heir,” I mutter. “Have you told him yet?”

“No. I wanted to tell you first. So you would know it’s not yours.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” I retort. There wasn’t a single time I have spilled inside her. Her mouth doesn’t count. The child is Lafarge’s and most likely took root even before Angelique came to me that first night.

“Obviously I can’t keep seeing you.”

“Obviously,” I repeat dryly, indicating my loins, “I no longer want you to.” She couldn’t have come up with a more effective way to make herself undesirable.

She smiles a little sadly. “I will... miss you,” she says. Already she has that serene, content look on her face, like some fucking Virgin Mary. I’ve seen it in the eyes of every woman expecting her first child and thanked God every time that I wouldn’t have to look at that expression every day for the next nine months or more because the whelp wasn’t mine. No doubt she is thinking she has found her calling, her purpose is complete now that she’s contributed to the perpetuation of the Lafarge species.

She’ll learn otherwise soon enough. An heir always necessitates a spare or two. She’ll spend her best years squeezing out Jean’s brats until the progeny she has spawned becomes her only appeal. I smile and it feels cruel. “More than you think,” I tell her. “Night after night, when you hear your brat screaming from the nursery, when your husband mounts you again for more and leaves you cold and alone in the dark. You will think of me and wish you were in my arms again.”

It’s unavoidable. She will come to regret taking Lafarge’s name but by then it’ll be too late.

I know all too well that I will see Angelique again. She will come crawling back, begging me to resume our relations, bemoaning her life and expecting me to take pity on her.

And I know it will happen sooner rather than later.

“I expect you’re right,” she says, the epitome of peace and tranquility. “But when morning dawns again, I will have children to take solace in. You will always have only you.”

The chains snap taut and my arms strain to break them. Of course, they will not budge and the stupid bitch doesn’t even blink an eye, perfectly safe just two steps away across the threshold. Two steps too far for me to reach across. God, how I want to get my hands on her.

Wring her neck and wipe that saintly smile off her face.

I only manage to bloody my wrists in the shackles and the pain is nothing, but that I feel it at all while she stands there watching as if it amuses her makes me livid. “
Get out!
” I roar, so loud I am sure the servants have heard and will be arriving shortly to knock me out.

There’s no need. Already the sun is beginning to rise and with it the righteous bastard whom I can hear laughing in my head. As I begin to break apart, I feel Angelique’s hand on my face, hear her voice say, “Good-bye, Bastien.”

Then she is gone, and so am I.

Chapter Twenty-one

The Beast spends his day in the garden. The last blooms of the season are at their peak. Soon they will need to be cut for the winter and he won’t see another rose until next year. He stops at each and every rose bush and takes in their fragrance to keep him through the cold, snowy months. They are remarkably beautiful.

His favorite is the deep crimson, which almost looks black. It grows just outside the library and every time he reads there, he opens all of the windows to let in their scent. There isn’t another shade like it. Their scent is different, more potent, and quite unique to his sensitive nose.

They also have the sharpest thorns, almost hooked to thwart anyone who would wish to pluck them.

The Beast caresses the delicate petals, soft as velvet to his paw. Beauty never knew a more pleasing form.

The day is cool, but he doesn’t mind. He lays in the sunshine, basking in its warmth, however feeble, and feels something akin to contentment. Tonight is the last night of the full moon. One more night in the prison of Bastien’s twisted mind, and then he will be free for the next twenty six days. His human counterpart is so furious that, even now, the Beast can feel him.

It makes him smile. Suits him right to be cast aside like a soiled handkerchief. How many women has he left in just this way over the years? It doesn’t matter that he never promised them anything beyond a moment’s pleasure. The hurt was always there in their eyes and the Beast remembers it well. It’s the whole reason Bastien is cursed to begin with.

But thoughts of the Faery princess always sour his mood. He doesn’t want her memory spoiling this day.

“The fairs are in Fauve again, Master,” Jacques says. “Shall I send the maids?”

The Beast groans. “And have them empty my coffers on frills and ribbons again?”

Jacques chuckles. “One never knows what they might find.”

He harrumphs. “Send the driver with them. They are to purchase necessities only. I don’t want to have to eat gingerbread for an entire month again because it tasted so good they couldn’t resist.”

“I shall tell them to take pity on their Master’s stomach. They meant well, you know.”

He sighs. “They always do.”

“Cook has prepared lunch. Will you take it here, or in the dining room?”

“The library.” There’s a thought. He rises to his paws and meets his butler’s gaze. “Tell the driver to bring back more books. Tell the maids the same. They can spend as much coin as they wish, but only on books.”

Jacques rolls his eyes. “You have a magnificent library, Master, and your love of knowledge is commendable.”

He scowls. “I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

Jacques spreads his arms in exasperation. “But we have nowhere to put the books anymore!”

The Beast considers this. He pads over to the library window and peers inside. The shelves are filled to bursting and there are stacks of volumes of all shapes and sizes on each table and all over the floor. He backs away and looks up. There is a sitting room above the library which never gets used. Whoever placed it there was an idiot. “Tear out the ceiling,” he tells Jacques.

“Build up the book cases. Cover all the walls with them, even between the windows.” He nods, satisfied with this solution.

Jacques sighs in defeat. “Yes, Master.”

And because his staff is fast but not nearly as strong as he is, the Beast spends the rest of the day hauling furniture and stones out of the library. The lot of the household is so busy with the new project no one notices the sun dip low.

“Master,” Aimee finally says with deep unease. “The sun.”

The Beast nods gravely and throws the stone in his paws outside. He is just passing through the entry hall, on his way to his chambers when he hears a carriage approaching. Frowning, he meets eyes with Jacques, but the butler can only shrug. Company is never expected here. It could only be Jean or Angelique, and it would be too early for her. The Beast is still a beast.

“I can resolve the matter, if you wish,” Jacques offers.

The Beast is nodding when the carriage stops and the screaming begins. “What the devil...?”

And a devil it is. The door bursts open and a disheveled Angelique falls in where Jean shoved her. He looks mad, his eyes too bright, his face flushed in anger. He has a pistol in his hand and is breathing hard. Angelique is sobbing and when she pushes herself up to her knees, the Beast can see bruises darkening her face.

His hackles rise. He can already feel the sun setting, the magic which will kill him so Bastien can rise starts to sting. He snarls at Jean as more servants come running to see the commotion. Jacques herds them all back, mindful of the weapon.

“You cheating
whore!
” Jean screams. “Did you think I wouldn’t know!” His words run on each other until the Beast can barely understand what he’s yelling. Angelique cowers, shielding her belly and the growing child within.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Beast demands.

“
Shut up!
” Jean screams at him. “You shut up! This is all your fault, you and that bastard you turn into. Let him loose!” He levels the gun. “I want him to see this.”

Angelique screams, diving for the Beast. He roars and charges Jean when the gun goes off, freezing all of them in place. The Beast looks down uncomprehending at the limp form on the floor next to his paw. She is still, there is no heartbeat in her, and blood is pooling thick and dark across the cold stone.

He is still staring when the curse takes him over. For once, he welcomes it, flees from the horrid sight and retreats, letting Bastien rise to the fore until he’s...

... until I am on my hands and knees in Angelique’s blood. I touch her neck, searching desperately for a pulse. There isn’t one.

“You see,” Jean says, “you see how generous I am. She’s all yours now.”

Shock burns away beneath an explosion of fury in my chest. I hear my own roar and before I have made a conscious decision, I am knocking Lafarge to the ground and my hands are around his throat. He clutches at my wrists in a feeble attempt to dislodge me. He cannot. The Beast gives me his strength, wanting the bastard to die as much as I do. Lafarge’s eyes bulge and his tongue sticks out as he turns blue and purple.

I feel hands on me. It takes a lot of them to pry me away from Lafarge and I am fighting them with everything I have to get back and finish the deed. “
It was yours!
” I scream as they drag me away and I know he can still hear me. The entire castle can. “
The child was yours!
”

A blow to the head knocks me out cold.

Chapter Twenty-two