Chapter 58 #2
But it was the third that chilled my blood.
A lion face unlike any I’d seen in royal menageries, its dark mane fuller and wilder than nature intended, its body bearing scars that spoke of violence survived and violence delivered.
Its tail lashed behind it with barely contained rage, amber eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through the barrier.
These were her beasts. The princes she’d spoken of, cursed into these forms, trapped in what she’d called a hell dimension.
I’d believed her story, or thought I had, but seeing them brought a different kind of understanding.
No wonder the villagers had fled in terror.
No wonder my father wanted her burned as a witch.
These creatures defied natural law by their very existence.
Yet Isabeau approached the barrier without fear, her hands reaching out to press against the shimmering surface.
On the other side, the beasts mirrored her movements.
The largest placed a massive paw against the wall where her palm rested.
The silvery one whined, a sound of such longing it squeezed my heart.
The feral one prowled closer, its huge head lowering to nuzzle the barrier where it separated them.
“I’m close,” Isabeau whispered, her voice somehow audible despite the division between worlds. She pressed her forehead against the wall, closing her eyes. “I’m so close to finding her. To ending this. Hold on a little longer.”
The largest made a sound. Not a growl or roar but something that almost resembled words, but gravelly and inhuman. “We feel you,” it said, its voice rough as stone grinding against stone but unmistakably masculine, educated. “Your magic grows stronger.”
It spoke. I wasn’t the only one surprised. Isabeau gasped, fresh tears falling in her joy. I wondered if that was new for him.
The beast spoke with human intelligence, with articulation no animal could possess.
I felt my understanding of reality shift again, foundations crumbling beneath centuries of certainty.
These weren’t just animals with human minds trapped inside.
They were something else entirely—hybrid beings existing in the liminal space between human and beast.
“The mountain grows,” the silvery one said, its voice softer than the honey-colored bigger one but no less incongruous coming from that muzzle. “But we climb.”
“Destroy the witch,” the darkest growled, its voice deeper, rawer with emotion than the others.
Isabeau nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I will. I swear it. I can’t believe you’re speaking. I can hear you.” Her fingers splayed against the barrier, and on the other side, the beasts pressed closer, as if trying to absorb her very essence through the wall that separated them.
They loved her. The realization hit me like the branch from yesterday. These creatures, these monstrosities that should have been mindless with rage and bloodlust, loved her with a devotion that transcended their cursed forms.
I could feel it radiating from them like heat from a forge, pure and unwavering. Not possession, not the controlling obsession Gaspard had shown, but something deeper. Something honest.
The feral one’s tongue flicked out, licking the barrier where her tears had fallen on the other side.
The silver one whined again, pawing gently at the division between them.
The honey one simply pressed his massive body against the wall, as if willing himself to phase through it by sheer determination.
Then, as one, they noticed me.
Three heads turned in my direction, six eyes of amber shade focusing on where I stood, invisible to Isabeau but apparently visible to them.
The feral one’s lips pulled back in a snarl, exposing teeth designed for tearing flesh.
The silver one’s fur bristled, hackles rising.
The oldest simply stared, his gaze more calculating than aggressive.
They saw me as a rival. A threat. Another man near their mate.
I did the only thing I could think to do. I dipped my chin in acknowledgment, in silent promise. I mean her no harm, I tried to convey without words. I’ll protect her where you cannot.
For a long moment, none of them moved. Then, slowly, the largest nodded back.
A human gesture of understanding from that massive, furred head with horns.
The middle one’s hackles lowered slightly.
Even the aggressive one seemed to relax, though suspicion still radiated from him like heat from a blacksmith’s forge.
They accepted my presence, if not eagerly, then at least without hostility. Because they understood, perhaps better than I did myself about what Isabeau had become to me. And what I was willing to risk to keep her safe.
“I miss you,” Isabeau whispered to them, unaware of the silent exchange happening behind her. “All of you. Hold on for me.”
The gray mist began to thicken around us, the dream-vision fading. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me again was Isabeau’s face pressed against the barrier, the three beasts crowding close on the other side, connected despite the wall between worlds by something stronger than magic.
By love.
I woke with a sharp gasp, the dream-vision of beasts and barriers still vivid behind my eyelids.
Dawn hadn’t yet arrived if my restless sleep wasn’t deceiving me.
The amber gem still provided the only light in our wooden sanctuary.
Isabeau lay half-sprawled across my chest, her body warm and soft against mine, but something was wrong.
Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, tears dampening my shirt where her face pressed against me.
Without thinking, I tightened my arms around her, one hand rising to stroke her hair, the other rubbing slow circles on her back.
What terrors had invaded her dreams? Or was she, like me, visiting places beyond normal understanding?
“Shhh,” I murmured, my voice rough with sleep, fingers tangling in the silk of her hair. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
The words felt inadequate, almost dishonest. How could I promise safety in this forest of nightmares? How could I protect her from the darkness that hunted us both. Gaspard, the dark witch, the shadow-wolves? Yet I continued the gentle motions, soothing her as I might calm a frightened horse.
Sometime during the night, we’d shifted positions.
My back now pressed against the moss-covered floor, Isabeau draped across me like a living blanket.
One of my arms had gone numb beneath her weight, but I wouldn’t have moved it for all the gold in Durand.
Her legs tangled with mine, her head tucked beneath my chin as if she’d sought the steady rhythm of my heartbeat for comfort.
She didn’t wake, but her crying slowly subsided, replaced by deeper, steadier breathing.
Dreams of the beasts, I guessed. Her mates, trapped behind that shimmering barrier in a dimension of endless torment.
I’d seen them now. Seen their love for her, their desperation to return to her side.
Seen their grudging acceptance of my presence in her life.
The knowledge twisted in my chest. A blade of ice between my ribs.
I’d fallen for her. There was no point denying it now.
Not to myself, not in the quiet darkness of our shelter.
I’d fallen for her courage, her determination, her unwillingness to break despite everything life had thrown at her.
I’d fallen for the way she spoke to trees and commanded unicorns, the way she’d saved me from the river without hesitation after I’d imprisoned her.
I’d fallen for her amber eyes and the intelligence that burned behind them.
But she wasn’t mine to love. Would never be mine.
She belonged to those beasts. The cursed princes who’d claimed her first, whose mark still pulsed on her shoulder.
Even if we succeeded, even if we killed the witch and broke the curse, she would return to them.
Or they would go with her to Eldagh, beyond my reach.
Beyond the boundaries of the kingdom I was sworn to serve.
Eldagh belonged to us, but it was the very last city of our kingdom, bordering dark waters and dangerous seas. Criminals weren’t the only problems in Eldagh. Pirates sailed the Never Sea. Would her beasts be enough to save her there?
What a joke. The second son, the spare prince, pining for a witch who was already mated to not one but three cursed royals. If it weren’t so painfully real, I might have laughed at the absurdity.
She shifted against me, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep.
The movement pressed her hips more firmly against mine, and I bit back a groan as my body responded instantly to the contact.
Gods, I was only human. A man of flesh and blood, not stone.
And she was so soft, so warm, her curves fitting against me as if designed for that purpose.
My breathing quickened as blood rushed south, hardening me despite my best efforts at control. I should move her. Shift her gently to the side, put distance between us before she woke and found me in this embarrassing state. It would be the honorable thing to do.
But before I could act, she shifted again, this time with more purpose.
Her hips rolled slightly, creating a friction that sent sparks up my spine.
Was she still asleep? Or waking? Her breathing had changed, grown shallower.
The hand that had been resting innocently on my chest now curled, fingers gripping my shirt.
“Isabeau,” I whispered, my voice strained. “You should—”
She moved again, more deliberately this time, her body settling so that my hardness pressed exactly between her thighs. Even through our clothing, the sensation was exquisite torture. I couldn’t help the small sound that escaped me, halfway between a groan and a plea.
I forced myself to lie completely still. Every muscle in my body tensed with the effort not to move, not to respond to the invitation her body seemed to be offering. Was this deliberate? Or was she caught in a dream of her beasts, imagining one of them beneath her instead of me?
The thought should have doused my desire like ice water. Instead, it only intensified the ache. I was no better than Gaspard, desiring what belonged to others. Wanting to claim what wasn’t mine to possess.
No. That was wrong. I was nothing like that monster. I wouldn’t take. Wouldn’t force. If Isabeau wanted this…wanted me, it would be her choice, freely made and clearly stated. Until then, I would endure this sweet agony without complaint.
Her eyes fluttered open, catching the amber light. For a moment, she seemed disoriented, confused by her position. Then awareness dawned, and with it, a flush that crept up her neck to stain her cheeks. She felt me. Felt my desire pressing against her most intimate place. Yet she didn’t pull away.
“Alain,” she breathed, my name a question on her lips.
Those lips. Oh sweet divine, those lips.
Full and soft and slightly parted. I’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my life.
I could almost taste her, almost feel the way she would yield beneath me, open to me.
My hands tightened reflexively on her back, and she made a small sound in response.
Not protest, but something dangerously close to encouragement.
She shifted again, a subtle movement that could have been accidental but felt far too deliberate. The pressure increased between us, and this time I couldn’t suppress the groan that built in my throat.
“We shouldn’t,” I managed, the words strangled.
“Why?” she asked, her eyes never leaving mine. “Because I am mated?”
She knew. Had she seen me in the dream-vision as the beasts had? Or was she simply that perceptive, reading the knowledge in my eyes?
“Yes,” I admitted. “And because you deserve better than a stolen moment in a magical tree while hunters track us through a cursed forest.”
A small smile touched her lips. “What if I want that stolen moment?”
Her honesty disarmed me completely. I’d expected denial, deflection, or embarrassment. Not this direct acknowledgment of desire. My hands trembled against her back as I fought for control.
“What about your beasts?” I asked, the question wrenched from somewhere deep inside me. “Your mates?”
She didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch from the truth between us.
“They know I’m not just theirs,” she said softly. “We’re bound, yes, but they felt you too.”
Her words hung in the air between us, freighted with meaning I was afraid to interpret. Then she moved again, more deliberately this time, rolling her hips in a way that left no doubt about her intentions. My control slipped another notch, hands sliding down to her waist of their own volition.
“Isabeau,” I whispered, her name both warning and prayer.
Outside our sanctuary, the forest waited. Gaspard hunted us. A witch plotted our destruction. Three beasts climbed an endless mountain in a hell dimension. Morning would come, and with it all the dangers we’d temporarily escaped.
But here, in this moment, with Isabeau warm and willing above me, none of that seemed to matter.