Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
For such a long time, I have thought of myself as suffering a punishment that was almost as final as death. The villagers who had once sent me away to bargain for their lives feared me and hated me, and it was because they did not see me as the prince.
They saw me as the beast I have seen in the mirror every time I brought myself to look into one. The villagers and I have this in common. We both know what we are looking at.
So perhaps it is a miracle that Elle does not see that. Perhaps it is an act of magic. Perhaps it is a kind of mercy that I never thought was possible. As she walks to me, I am willing to believe it, and it does not matter that I might only let myself believe her because there is almost no time left for anything else.
What does my reflection matter now? If I never look in a mirror again, I can pretend that Elle is right, and I will not have to pretend for very long.
She is almost within reach, her hand inches from mine, a gentle smile on her face, when there is a noise in the stairwell.
I hear this one with all of my senses. I hear the scrape of a boot on the stone stairs, and a thump, as if the person climbing the stairs has lost his balance. I can smell the presence of another human being in the castle. Impossible, my mind cries. I have spent so long keeping them out that it is impossible for another man to be here. And I can feel the change in the air on my skin.
“Elle?” a voice calls.
Elle whips her head toward the sound. “Father?”
The beast leaps from his slumber, seizes control, and lets out a roar of rage that shakes the entire tower. The stones tremble beneath my feet. Everything goes red. My skin turns to fire as he fights for control, and I don’t know how I can possibly hold the beast back.
ELLE
Iam mere steps away from the prince when he changes, morphing from the man I saw when he came to my room to comfort me, and the same man I saw just moments ago, into the beast. I knew it to be true. That he was both. But to see him, his skin shredding to become thick fur and his back arching, his claws and teeth bared. It’s a fright to behold.
“Please,” I manage. “You promised.” I barely get out before the beast is before me.
My heart races but I try to stay calm. It’s not the first time I’ve been in his presence. The swing comes back to me. He must’ve been the beast then.
He is tall and wolflike, his teeth sharp and his eyes gold. His dark brown hair and blue eyes are gone. His muscles are corded and hard, pressing at his clothes, splitting the fabric.
As his gaze turns from me to the stairs, he roars, and my instincts betray me.
I let out a scream of terror, unable to swallow it, so loud it hurts my throat. I have never seen such a creature, and I have certainly never felt such a creature touch me. Those hands would not feel like the prince’s hands. Those hands have claws, like a wolf, and they are razor sharp and deadly. Those teeth are what bit me.
The mark of the beast.
Footsteps climb faster up the stairwell as my heart races.
“Elle!” My father sprints up the stairs, calling out my name, but stops dead at the sight of the beast. He falls backward, hitting the ground hard, his elbow cracking on the stone.
For a moment I feel nothing but panic and a pure, unavoidable fear. No matter how many times I blink, the beast stays a beast. He does not turn back into the prince.
But then I blink once more, and there is a change. I can see the prince at the heart of the beast. I can see the beast whose form he has taken. It is as if I can see them both at once, changing between forms so quickly that I cannot make sense of him.
With a growl, the beast moves to the stairs, and I try to stop him. Grabbing at his fur but it’s no use.
I do not know if the beast can hear me. I do not know if he knows what the prince promised.
“Not my father! Please!” I scream.
My father climbs to his feet and rushes at the beast, who bats him away like he is a child or an insect. He falls back to the ground clutching his head. There is blood, but I cannot take my eyes off the beast for long enough to see to my father’s wound.
“Father don’t! Please!” I hold a hand up to my father. “Please don’t fight him!” I cry out, tears leaking from the corner of my eyes.