Beauty and the Beast (Not Quite the Fairy Tale #3) (3 page)

If he’d been traditionally beautiful – another six-foot-one artificially tanned guy with a pot of gel on his hair and a seedy whitened smile, she would have had the opposite reaction. Her dealings with those kinds of men had taught her to give them a wide berth. They were beasts; the real kind.

The name Beast
did
fit him, too, because damn if he wasn’t massive; but save for the one and a half foot he had on her, though, there was very little to differentiate him from anyone, as far as she was concerned.
Yes, his skin was pale. Ok, he didn’t have eyelashes.
Boo-hoo, I’m frightened.

Or not.

What was definitely intimidating about him was his presence; he had a regal way of owning the space around him. His gaze was sharp, intense, and seemed to see straight through flesh. 

Forcing herself to refrain from fidgeting under the scrutiny, she challenged: “And for how long, exactly?”

He seemed to consider this, before replying.

“It depends on your performance, doesn’t it? Let’s say, if you’re good, you’re making up for one grand a night. Make it a great spectacle, I’ll write off two or three. So: for however long it takes. When we’ve ensured that no one else’s brother is going to play with my money, you’re good to go. In the meantime, feel free to pursue your usual activities during the day; as long as they don’t interfere with our arrangement. You will have to live here, too. Do we have a deal?”
“Fine.”

More than fine, in fact. He was letting her off lightly.

She hadn’t thought that she might have been able to be acquitted of Ben’s debt with so little inconvenience. No job she was qualified for would pay anything close to a thousand marks a day – with her clothes on, anyway. Hell, she should ask to stay an extra couple of weeks to pump up the savings account.

Ok, people would assume that she was his whore; whatever. She wouldn’t be, that was the main thing. It might have caused her some problem if his casino had been closer to her home, but the swanky building might as well have been in another universe; no one she knew could ever afford one glass of coke in a place like this.

Well, except Ben, when he’d stolen enough to come out and play, apparently.

Everything else aside, moving in was going to have advantages.

Her lease was coming up in two weeks: she’d been looking for a new place for a while, because the landlord was raising the rent, but turned out, every single homeowner had done the same.

Jereena had been a mess since the beginning of the Anarchy, ten years ago, and for that reason most people had left the cities – they hadn’t been safe for families with children.

However, there were less and less jobs anywhere, especially in the countryside. People were migrating back, which had made the prices shoot straight back up.

So a few weeks with a roof – a very nice, free roof – above her head to comfortably look for a new place was a blessing. Without it, she might have given up and just renewed her lease.

And to be entirely honest, she had to admit – if only to herself – that she was predominantly relieved because no one would dare chase her in the Beast’s mansion.

She wasn’t frightened of her own shadow – not anymore; but a place where she didn’t have to use three locks and two alarm systems sounded like heaven.

“I have a condition,” she said, well aware that she was in no position to negotiate the syrupy-sweet arrangement he’d offered; but hey, he seemed to be a nice guy. There was no harm in trying. “My brother will be in within the next few days.”

Ben and Lucia would try to contact her as soon as they realized she wasn’t turning up for their appointment with the estate agent, but they’d leave it a day, maybe two, before turning up at her place; it wouldn’t be the first or the last time Belle disappeared for a while.

Then, when they saw the empty rooms, they’d guess what she’d done.

“Whatever he offers you must be dismissed. He wouldn’t manage to get it on time anyway; it would be empty promises to get me back,” she lied, and the Beast seemed convinced. Then, she surprised him by requesting: “I’d like him to believe exactly the same thing as your crowd.”

The truth was, she was aware that her actions and her acceptance were enabling Ben’s behavior. Perhaps, if he thought that his "little sister" was paying the price for his stupidity, he might finally get a grip. She lived in hope.

Belle would speak to Lucia to reassure her in a few days; warning her beforehand wasn’t an option, as the girl couldn’t lie to save her life.

“That works for me,” the Beast nodded. “Our little play won’t mean anything if your friends and family go around defending your virtue. The details of our agreement will stay between you and I.”

The Beast offered his hand and she took it, intending to shake it, at first; but it was a very strange hand.

When their skin came into contact, she was startled by the smoothness, the warmth, the strange, electric sensation running through her fingers.
She took it by the wrist and ran her thumb along the large velvety palm, all the way up to the tip of his middle finger, absolutely fascinated. Then, she blushed, seeing how very rude she had been.
Belle mumbled an apology and reluctantly released him.

Chapter Three

the Prince

Ten years ago, Ferren.

“
D
o you really have to go?”

He almost snorted. Yes, he did, because Aiden Archer was obliged to do exactly whatever the hell he wanted and he wanted to go.

It wasn’t her fault: Aurora just didn’t suit him.

He liked his women wild; the kind who gave blowjobs in the bathroom and nicked your wallet while you cleaned up. The kind who didn’t expect any attention, past the occasional mutual orgasm.

Saying that Aurora Stephenson liked attention was the understatement of the century. Boy, that girl was needy.

To be entirely fair, Aiden knew he was responsible for his predicament: he had chosen her. When his father had told him it was time to find someone to settle down with, he’d looked at his options and gone straight for the beautiful blonde; it was her or Tatiana. While the latter had perhaps been more suited to him, as far as their respective characters went, he’d already been there and done that – repetitively. And to be entirely frank, she wasn’t worth the trouble; sure, she had those fantastic tits, but as a politician, he had to think of the bigger picture.

Tatiana might very well be hot, but she came with humongous baggage: Carabas. That land was trouble, everyone knew it.

Jereen
a had enough issues right now, so, he’d chosen Aurora and had regretted it every day, since.

Aurora asked who he’d seen at parties, the reason why he’d danced with this woman, spoken to that one; if she’d suspected he’d done a hell of a lot more than
talking
to Flora Crew, the most brazen out of the twelve Eastlean princesses, she would have had a hissy fit.

Tatiana wouldn’t have minded.

“Yes,” he lied. “Dad has just had a report from Daniel de Luz; he summoned me to go over it.”

He hadn’t, but there was no doubt that King Armand would most definitely want to speak with his son, to yet again go over the usual: bla bla, de Luz is a Super Prince, why can’t your battalion do as well, bla bla.

The truth of the matter was, Daniel de Luz was free to excel because the enemy focused on Aiden. The Wilderlings who believed Jereena was theirs hated the Archer family, and everything attached to it, so they followed him relentlessly, blind to everything else happening on the battlefield.

In fact, Aiden regularly spoke to Daniel, to coordinate their positions; they were winning the war thanks to the Wilderlings’ weakness.

However, try and explain that to a King. Kings had a thing about always being right.

Despite all that, Aiden preferred the prospect of hearing the expected remonstrance to the idea of staying with his girlfriend for a lie in; perhaps because he knew that the Eastlean dignitaries were still in the palace, and Flora might have mentioned sucking him dry the next time she saw him.

Aurora was a bore. While she had consented to pursue a physical relationship – her words, certainly not his – she took it like sex was a chore: immobile, soundless, expressionless, save for the occasional wince. She’d ripped all the fun out of fucking and trampled over it.  

“I’ll see you on your next leave, then. Four weeks?”

He shrugged; it would be a whole season, if he could get away with it.

In an ideal world, Aurora would madly fall in love with some poor guy during his absence, and break up with him.

He knew she didn’t love him: her actions betrayed no passion, no real affection. He certainly didn’t feel much towards her, either. However, he wasn’t at liberty to just get out of the mess: he was Prince and heir of the Jereenan throne, and she, the daughter of the Regent of Ferren.  Their separation would strain the relationship between their respective kingdoms.

So, he bid his time.

Jereena.

Flora was sweet. Brown hair, dark eyes, pouty purple lips currently wrapped around his cock. He wished she was an option, but her father was crazy protective, and didn’t let any of the twelve Eastlean princesses date.

Well, that didn’t exactly stop them from fucking, but whatever.

Aiden breathed in between his teeth, clenching his fist when she started pumping him with her hand. Hell, she was seriously good. As soon as the stupid King put her on the menu, he was marrying her.

She removed him from her mouth and said “try not to come on my hair,” before aiming her sweet tongue towards his balls.

He blanked out, everything around him disappeared for an instant.

When his vision returned, he thought he might be hallucinating, because there, in front of him, in his bedroom, was Aurora Stevenson.

She didn’t seem shocked, or in pain; she was just pissed. He couldn’t help a smile; well, she’d be breaking up with him, now. She’d make a scene about it, but he was free.

Aiden knew she had too much pride for ever admitting to what had occurred, so a generic reason would be served to the Regent and his own father.

Results.

“I wished you’d prove me wrong,” Aurora said, sounding almost bored. “But you’re pathetically predictable.”

That was rich, coming from Ms. Lay-Down-And-Take-It.

“I wanted to believe you; you’re so chivalrous, so handsome. A perfect prince charming.”

She somehow managed to make that sound like an insult; Aiden laughed, before grabbing Flora’s silky hair and directing her head back on him. If he had to listen to that, might as well have a distraction.

Flora giggled and took the hint like a champ, sucking him harder than ever. The girl liked an audience? Goddess, she was perfect.

“I won’t be this naïve again. And you will never again entice a woman with that pretty face of yours.”

He caught her smile before she spoke again; a cold, cruel smile, which would be haunting him for years.

“Aiden, I wish that your appearance matches who you truly are inside.”

It didn’t worry him; he recalled smirking as she left, before fucking Flora like there was no tomorrow.

He had been right: there hadn’t been a tomorrow. The next morning, he was a beast.

Now.

Aiden woke with a start, sweating, out of breath; Adler whined next to him, demanding reassurance by bumping his head against his leg. Aiden reached down and scratched the dog curled up next to him.

Fuck. It had been a while – over two years, at least. He’d stopped dreaming of his life as it had been before his change when he’d accepted his new form.

It wasn’t that bad. He would have gotten used to it sooner, if he hadn’t been so handsome, rich, important and successful before. It was a hard fall, from the top of the world to the very bottom.

There was no use pretending that he didn’t know what had made him think of it now.

Aiden lifted the hand which wasn’t petting Adler – the one Sibelle had caressed the previous day – and stared at it, still dumbfounded over the contact of her skin.

Sibelle had moved in.

He yet again wondered what madness had made him request that she should live under his roof.

Admittedly, it made sense, he needed everyone to believe she was a captive here; but why submit himself to her presence? Looking at her was a violent reminder of all of his imperfections.

Yet, he had given in as soon as she’d passed the threshold, spying from his window as she and his men had come in earlier that afternoon.

When he’d learnt where she lived, downtown, in a crappy area, just a step up from the slums, he’d growled – actually
growled
– and told them to move her in completely, paying to terminate her lease; she was going to stay for a season or two, in any case – there was no sense in wasting her cash on an unnecessary apartment. In a few months, she might be able to save enough to afford a nicer, safer area.

Lightwoods and Clocks had carried her belongings up; no need for a second trip, as there were just two suitcases. Aiden had frowned and asked if she’d convinced them to go against his directives, but Clocks had shaken his head: the apartment was completely empty.

What kind of woman could fit her entire life in two suitcases? There was a story there.

Adler had run all the way down to greet her, and had probably gotten a scratch out of it, before returning to Aiden, head bowed down; the damn dog knew he wasn’t supposed to just go make friends without authorization. He’d expected a remonstrance, but Aiden just shrugged. Whatever. He certainly couldn’t blame him.

Aiden did his best to distract himself from all thoughts of Sibelle Thornton, but they crept back in unconsciously.

Her room was on the other side of the stairway, just a few meters away.

If he was still the nineteen-year-old boy he’d been ten years ago, he could have crossed that gap and let himself in; would have, too. One look at his reflection through his window, and he turned away, ashamed; not only of what he saw, but also of what he recalled.

She was a commoner – a lower-class one, too. He’d seen her kind as a group of sheep bred to serve and entertain him. He
would
have invaded her space, showered her under empty promises and screwed her hard, without ever intending to go back for seconds.

He knew better now.

Aiden slumped back on his bed, never noticing that the mattress didn’t sink quite as deep as it usually did. He didn’t feel the long hair around his face as he drifted off to a restless sleep.

Sometime overnight, as he resolved to embrace who he was now and stop dreaming of out of reach or forgone beauty – would it be his or hers – his golden skin turned back to its ghostly pallor, his muscles engorged, and his dirty blond hair vanished.

Such was the will of the fays, who just loved to take the piss out of those they cursed.

•

One of Belle’s fingernails broke the previous day while she’d been packing; in the morning, she automatically looked down to her hand.

The entire set of nails was back to their usual length, neatly and beautifully manicured.

Normally, she would have panicked. She knew whatever part of her body she hurt was normally healed up pretty quickly, but witnessing her blatant weirdness always hit a nerve, reminding her that her life was a lie. Today, she frowned, expecting a fright that just wasn’t there.

She knew why, too.

It had all started when her eyes had fallen on the Beast. She’d all but sighed in relief, because his appearance told her what she’d hoped for over two decades.

She wasn’t the only weirdo out there.

To distract herself, Belle resolved to explore the house she was supposed to call home for the next hundred days or so; although it wasn’t a house as much as a hotel – or perhaps a brothel.

The ground floor was a bar, open anytime of the day; she greeted the servers with an awkward wave of her hand. They looked at her as though she’d grown a second head, most probably wondering what a girl like her, in a hoodie and a pair of jeans, was doing here.

The clientele was her exact opposite; their persona screamed opulence. Expensive watches, clothes, jewelry, phones, laptops. As a child, she would have made a killing out of their wallets.

On the first floor, the large empty rooms were far from what one would imagine upon hearing “casino,” although she knew the Nest was advertised as such.

There was no obnoxious red carpet, no cheap leather chairs or fruit machines here; everything was stylish. Wooden flooring, a mini indoor garden, beige furnishing and slick tables, presently bare. Each piece of equipment, from the roulette to the blackjack accessories, would be set up just before opening.

She wondered at the elevated platform in the middle of the principal room; it was empty of anything, save for one round table. The walls around it were thick and translucent, clouded over.

Finally, Belle blushed. There was only one purpose she could imagine for such a set up. Shows. As in,
sex
shows.

Damn. This place spelled money and power. What had Ben been thinking?

The second and third floor had her blushing again. Just rooms; guest rooms, much smaller than hers, carrying the sort of utilities most hotels provided, but also a few…
extras
.

She opened the first bedside draw to find a very large tub of lube and a handful of colorful fruit flavored condoms. The one bellow held a dildo, vibrator, some eggs, cock ring, and butt plug, and the last contained rope, chains, silk mask, riding crops – the works. Yes, she could identify all of them. She might be abnormal, but she did have fully functional female bits that needed attention from time to time. As she preferred to play with them by herself, she definitely knew her way around most of those toys.