Chapter 10 #2
Finally, we finish the seemingly endless staircase and emerge into a vast, great hall that takes my breath away.
The space soars at least forty feet overhead, supported by massive stone arches that disappear into shadows above.
A colossal wooden table dominates the center—easily twenty feet long and carved from what looks like a single enormous tree trunk, its surface worn smooth by centuries of use.
The wood is so dark it’s almost black, inlaid with intricate metalwork that catches what little light filters down from high windows.
A single place setting waits at the table’s head—a pewter plate polished to mirror brightness, a heavy goblet that might be silver, and what looks like fresh bread still steaming beside winter fruit that shouldn’t exist in this climate. Someone prepared this recently.
The hall feels simultaneously grand and abandoned.
A massive fireplace dominates the far wall; large enough to roast an entire ox, its blackened interior speaks of countless fires over the centuries.
The mantel above is carved with scenes of winged creatures in flight, their stone eyes seeming to watch my every move.
But no fire burns now, leaving the space feeling like a beautiful tomb.
Heavy timber beams stretch across the soaring ceiling like the ribs of some great beast, darkened with age and carved with symbols I can’t decipher. Banners hang between them—once-rich fabrics now faded to ghostly remnants of their former glory.
The real problem is the windows. They’re magnificent—tall Gothic arches that would be stunning with stained glass—but they’re just gaping holes in the stone.
Snow drifts freely through them, accumulating in white drifts across the flagstone floor.
Ice crystals coat the ancient stones, and my breath fogs the air in visible puffs.
It’s like standing inside a beautiful, frozen cathedral.
My teeth chatter in my naked state, and I wrap my free arm across my chest.
“Charming,” I whisper.
The beast turns toward me with something almost like vulnerability in his strange eyes. “First existence was... difficult. Creator-Father was harsh. He would strike me when I failed to meet his expectations. I was not what he had envisioned.”
I study his features—still unnerving but undeniably containing something essentially human beneath the leonine aspects.
“The only peace,” he continues, surprising me with his openness, “came when Creator-Father had a consort. She was gentle and cared for me. She would bring me food and comfort when he was... displeased.”
“Oh,” I breathe, actually feeling sorry for him despite everything.
“Now you are my consort. But I will not be as he was.” The way he says it—like a promise rather than a demand—makes something shift in my chest.
I nod slowly. “I’m beginning to understand.”
Or at least I think I do, until the next words come out of his mouth:
“You fuck me well now,” he adds matter-of-factly.
It takes everything I have not to snort-laugh. Especially at the way his terrifying mouth turns up at the edges in what I think passes for his version of a smile. And staring at him now in all his towering, magnificent weirdness as morning light streams through four massive eastern windows...
Dear God, what happened last night has to have been a fever dream.
Some kind of altitude sickness hallucination. Maybe that cave was full of psychedelic mushrooms, and that’s why hikers don’t return—we all get exposed to toxic fungal gases that make us imagine wild, impossible scenarios involving occasional shrieking orgasms and....
Tree-trunk-sized anatomy?
I press my lips together to stop a hysterical giggle. What else am I supposed to do? Because this is all suddenly feeling like the world’s most elaborate prank show.
But then I’m tugged forward again by the decorative collar around my neck, which makes all laughter die in my throat.
Nope. This is all disturbingly real. And whatever romantic fantasy I might have indulged in last night during a moment of passion-induced insanity—this clearly isn’t that. He’s leading me around by jewelry and chains while I’m freezing and naked.
“Look, about this whole consort arrangement,” I try, as he guides me forward until I’m only a couple of feet from his imposing frame. I’m surprisingly nimble on these new legs and able to keep pace. Moving faster helps fight the bone-deep cold, too. My feet are already ice blocks.
“I think we need to establish some ground rules,” I say quickly. “Starting with clothes? Maybe we could grab that bed comforter if there’s nothing else available?”
He pauses and studies me, the chain relaxed in his massive hands. “What are ground rules?”
I blink. Right. Medieval monster. Different cultural expectations.
Before I can explain, he’s moving again, the decorative links chiming musically against the ancient stone as we continue forward. I hurry to keep up before the collar can tug.
“Well,” I explain breathlessly, “ground rules are helpful between two people. Especially two people from very different... backgrounds, like us. It’s about personal space and mutual respect. Sometimes I’ll need alone time to process things.”
His magnificent wings rustle, and several enormous black feathers drift to the floor like dark snow. I noticed them scattered throughout the bedroom earlier, too. Normal guys shed hair in the shower; apparently, he molts.
Then he whirls to face me, those incredible wings flaring to their full span, easily thirty feet of glossy black feathers that catch the light like oil on water. The sight is breathtaking and terrifying simultaneously.
He grasps the chain close to my throat, drawing me forward until we’re almost nose to nose.
And he gives me that spine-tingling smile again.
Except now it’s mere inches away.
“There is no per-son-al space. Or a-lone time.” He pronounces the words like foreign concepts he’s testing out.
“You are my consort. Your time belongs to me.” He pulls me closer until my nose nearly touches his cool, leonine features.
Those liquid amber eyes blink in that distinctly feline way as he stares straight into my soul.
“Your space is my space. Your body, my body.”
I nod quickly, heart hammering... and something else I refuse to acknowledge. But nothing gets past that supernatural nose of his.
He pauses, nostrils flaring, then grips me under the arms and lifts me clean off the ground until my—
“Hey!” I shriek, batting at his face as he brings me to eye level for a thorough... inspection of my most intimate areas.
He grins up at me with obvious satisfaction. “My consort is not truly opposed to these arrangements. Your body tells me truths your mouth will not.”
I’m freezing and frustrated, and I can’t believe my traitorous anatomy is betraying me like this. Just because my body happens to remember how incredible last night felt has absolutely nothing to do with how annoyed I am about being collared and led around like—
I kick out with these surprisingly strong new legs, putting real force behind the motion.
But he’s already lowering me gently, setting my feet back on the frigid stone with careful hands.
“Time for that soon,” he says, head tilting in that predatory way. “First, sustenance.”
I’m about to inform him that no, first we finish discussing boundaries and per-son-al space, and then we find me some clothes because not all of us can regulate temperature with a built-in fur coat—
But my stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly. Dammit. When did I last eat?
By that point, he’s already guiding me toward the enormous table.
He gestures down to where a small velvet cushion rests beside the imposing chair at the table’s head. The meal before his seat smells incredible, the freshly prepared meat still steaming. I look around for my place setting.
“On your knees. No food unless you assume the proper consort position.”
My mouth falls open, and I’m sure my eyes blaze as I stare up at his massive form. We’ve been in morning light for about thirty minutes now, and honestly? After the initial shock of his sheer size has started wearing off, I find that he’s not exactly terrifying anymore.
Yes, it’s still somewhat startling to see a human-shaped man with leonine features—that short golden fur covering his face except for those impressively bushy eyebrows.
Those curved black horns are definitely attention-grabbing, and those unnerving cat eyes.
Not to mention the dark feline nose and that fascinating split lip I remember all too well from last night. ..
As if reading my thoughts, he extends that impossibly long tongue and slowly licks those same lips.
I step back, hands on my hips in my best power stance. “Why the hell did you give me functional legs if you’re just going to order me to my knees constantly?”
That wicked mouth curves into a devastating grin. “You kneel only when I command it. I am the one who granted you strong legs, and I could reclaim them. So you bow to me when I decree it appropriate.”
His answer only fuels my irritation.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” I demand, fully pissed now.
I’m not new to people trying to manipulate me.
There’s this myth that everyone’s nice to disabled people, but that’s complete garbage.
I’ve been treated like crap my whole life.
When I’m not being completely overlooked, people assume they can take advantage of me because I look helpless.
In Chicago, I was mugged. The pickpocket took one look and figured I’d be an easy target.
Even my own mother constantly assumes I can’t handle things. Rather than let me figure out solutions, she gets impatient with my pace and just does everything for me.
It’s why I initially liked Drew—he trusted me to be capable. Until he didn’t, anyway.
I focus on the gorgeous monster in front of me.