Chapter 13 Isabeau #2
He entered me with a single, powerful thrust that forced the air from my lungs in a sharp gasp.
Despite last night’s claiming in the forest and the bath that had soothed my tender flesh, I was still unaccustomed to his size.
Pain bloomed, bright and immediate, but different from before.
My body remembered him now, remembered how to accommodate his impossible girth.
Beast stilled above me, his eyes studying my face with an intelligence that belied his animal form. Waiting. Giving me time.
How long had he been trapped like this? How long since he’d touched another with anything approaching gentleness? The thought made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with his weight pressing down on me.
“It’s alright,” I whispered, reaching up to touch the side of his face. My fingers sank into the soft fur of his cheek, and his eyes—God, those eyes—closed briefly at the contact. “I can bear it.”
Something shifted in his gaze when he looked at me again. Something that might have been gratitude or relief or both. He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust careful and measured. The pain receded with each passing moment, replaced by a strange fullness that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
As my body adjusted, relaxing around his intrusion, I found myself wanting more. Needing more. My hips rose to meet his, encouraging a faster pace.
“Please,” I breathed, the word barely audible.
Beast didn’t need more invitation. A shudder passed through his massive frame, and his eyes rolled back slightly as he abandoned the restraint he’d been showing.
His hips drove forward with new purpose, watching how his large member spread my delicate folds, enjoying powerful thrusts that shook the ancient bed frame and sent tremors through my entire body.
Sounds escaped my throat that I’d never heard myself make before.
Not with Gaspard’s assaults, not even during Beast’s first claiming in the forest. These were sounds of pleasure, pure and undeniable, torn from some primal place I hadn’t known existed within me.
Each thrust struck something deep inside that sent lightning racing through my veins, building a pressure that demanded release.
My toes began to curl, my back arching as that delicious tension coiled tighter, higher.
Beast’s movements grew more frantic, less coordinated, his breath coming in hot pants against my neck.
Then I felt it, the swelling at the base of his member, stretching me further as his knot formed, locking us together.
His snout found the front of my shoulder this time, teeth breaking skin with exquisite precision. Not enough to truly damage, just enough to mark. To claim.
The sharp pain of the bite was overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure that exploded through me at the same moment, my inner walls clenching rhythmically around his knot as my release crashed over me in waves.
Beast’s seed flooded me, hot and copious, each pulse bringing a fresh wave of sensation. I cried out, my fingers finding his ears and tangling in the fur there without conscious thought. His body went rigid above me, caught in the grip of his own climax.
When the intensity began to fade, I kept stroking his ears, running my fingers through the soft fur.
Beast grew still, his massive form relaxing against me, but his eyes watched my hands with a hunger that had nothing to do with mating.
I understood then, with perfect clarity, how long he had been alone.
How long since anyone had touched him with kindness rather than ran in fear.
He nudged my hand when I paused, urging me to continue the simple caress.
My heart broke a little at the gesture, even as warmth bloomed in my chest. This creature, so feared by my village that they sacrificed human lives to appease him, craved the most basic form of affection.
When his knot finally subsided enough for him to withdraw, he did so carefully, mindful of my tenderness.
Then, without warning, he leapt from the bed like a giant dog and charged toward the door, leaving it hanging open in his wake.
The abrupt departure should have felt like rejection, but as I lay there, catching my breath and feeling his essence trickling between my thighs, all I could focus on was the open door.
He hadn’t locked me in. Hadn’t chained me. Hadn’t made me his prisoner.
Papa’s words from my dream echoed in my mind.
The deadly nightshade, beautiful but poisonous—unless you knew which parts could heal.
Gaspard, handsome and respected, but cruel and murderous beneath his charming facade.
And now Beast, terrifying in appearance but showing more humanity than the man who’d kept me captive.
Neither were what they appeared to be on the surface. And I was beginning to understand which one truly had poison in his soul.
I moved slowly at first, gathering the green dress from its tangle at my feet and pulling it over my head.
The fabric stuck to my skin, wet in places where sweat or Beast’s fluids had soaked through, but there was a strange comfort in its familiar weight.
My thighs ached, but the ache brought only a flush of pride instead of fear.
I stood and let my gaze scan the ruins of my new prison from the ember’s light. The fire was brighter now, casting everything in a gentler glow. Beast must’ve placed another log on before joining me in the bed. How thoughtful, I smiled.
The dust motes danced, the ancient tapestries seemed less oppressive, and for the first time, I felt the possibility of safety. Not absolute. Never that, not with Gaspard stalking the world outside and the forest full of unknown threats, but safe for this one small night.
Papa’s voice nagged gently at my memory, the scraps of our conversation in the dream vivid as any waking moment. “Trust the questions your mind asks.”