Arthur
Reshina took a week to recover.
The Beast urged me to her door every night of our transition, and I’d wake to Piffle’s teacart squeaking down the corridor each morning. I never went inside her room. Just nodded to the Changlingfae and left.
She didn’t leave that week, finally accepting that if she was going to do anything other than collapse, she needed to regain her strength and actually rest.
Anyone else on the brink of death from that bite would have taken a month to recover. But not her.
Not Reshina.
I stood at the entrance of the western corridor, contemplating the days since she’d bled onto my land. As I peered into the dark abyss, a cool breeze brushed my cheeks and the stench of unkempt bodies hit my nose, watering my eyes. I’d been down there twice before.
Once to save Reshina from a sure death.
The other…
The Other.
It was a sure way to die unless a Goddess arrived to save you.
But I could not call what Ishtak did to me a rescue. A curse, maybe. An affliction, most definitely, and the truth of it had been revealed recently. The teeth marks from a Beast remained on Reshina’s skin, and therefore, so did I.
She had taken my book. I was sure of it.
I contemplated whether I was irritated at the theft or that she hadn’t said a word about it. No snide remarks about my notes in the margins. No questions as to why I’d taken such a liking to poems of love and loss.
Instead, she’d spoken nothing more than simple pleasantries in passing.
Good morning, Arthur. I am well, Arthur. Goodnight, Arthur.
It’s all she’d given me and it was all the pleasant remarks I could stand. Worse than silence, I took each one as a hit—a slap to the insignificance I was to her.
But perhaps it was for the best. The longer she saw me as nothing more than a happenstance she’d make her way out of, the more likely she’d kill me one day and take us both out of this curse.
The clack of her thinly heeled shoes echoed in the hall behind me, and I turned instantly, my heart racing at the sight of the Goddess draped in another of Piffle’s creations.
She wore a tailored black men’s jacket, taken in at the waist with a point to the shoulders.
Fabric had been added, trailing down her back to the floor while a thin black floral lace made up her skirts in many layers.
A long slit split across her left leg, all the way up her thigh.
I swallowed my initial desire, one I was sure she would deny me. “I see Piff is raiding my closet to clothe you now.”
Her approach was swift and confident, an eerie power radiating wherever she roamed that sunk into my belly and pulled like a string to her side. I quickly met her across the hall, careful not to touch what the Beast screamed was mine.
“Something you hadn’t worn in years, he told me.” She placed her hands firmly on her hips. “Piffle figured you wouldn’t miss it.”
“How could I, seeing it on you instead?”
Refusing my bait, she lifted her chin. “He mentioned you had something to show me.”
“I’ve barely seen you in a week. Will you tell me how you’re feeling?”
Her eyes met the floor briefly. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeated. “You’re fine.”
Her chin lifted even higher in an impressive attempt to look down at me, though I towered above her. “What is it you wanted to show me?”
I looked her over, deliberately taking my time.
She radiated otherworldly beauty. Anyone with working eyes could see that.
But it was the underlying soul of the woman I wanted to get to.
To see. To hear. To taste again. I’d known her past for many years of my life, but I wanted to know her now as the Goddess dragged into the Underworld, scheming her plans of escape.
“Dine with me,” I said, taking another step towards her.
Her head fell back to keep my gaze. “I’m not hungry.”
“You are,” I laughed. “I hear your stomach churning. I smell your blood working to keep you alert. Your short clipped answers tell me even more so—”
“You cannot possibly hear my stomach or sense my blood. My answers are short because you are wasting my time.”
I shook my head. “The Beast can sense these things. Dine with me.”
Her eyes shot past me, darting to the western corridor.
“Please,” I added, shifting in front of it.
Her hesitation meant the answer was no. But before she could speak, I gave her what she wanted. “After we have eaten, then I will take you.”
“Take me?”
“To the library,” I clarified.
A deep breath shifted her chest, her jaw sliding across her teeth, and I knew I had her. “One meal.”
The corners of my mouth lifted slightly, but I did not vocalize an agreement.
I led the way through the northern corridors.
The sound of her shoes clicking on the stone kept my heart racing.
They granted her another three inches at least, but not quite enough for her chin to reach my shoulders.
Why she insisted on wearing them instead of the more practical shoes Piffle had offered, I understood.
Her sleek black heels exuded power.
She made her way through the Underrealm—through life—on little more than air and a sharp heel that announced her arrival wherever she graced herself to be. She’d trekked through feet of snow in those shoes to find her way to my mother’s grave and Goddessdamn me if she didn’t look good in them.
I knew what Piffle was up to as well with this garb he’d given her to wear.
The little man was clever—too clever to not mean to entice me.
The Beast was a possessive creature and that jacket, adjusted to fit her, still smelled like me.
She smelled like me—my sheets, my bedroom—and I was in a rapidly declining mood to be a gentleman.
In fact, I was tired of fighting to present myself as such to her. Arthur, Duke of Riche, knew how a gentleman should behave in and out of the bedroom, but I recognized him less and less since growing into my role as a Beast. Since growing into my role as her captor.
I glanced over my shoulder as we approached the dining hall, looking her up and down again.
I could feast. I could feast on her, but I’d have to play my part as long as I could.
Regardless of how much I wanted to tear into her, she wasn’t a woman to possess.
She was a woman to worship. And I would.
Goddessdamn me, I would until that blade struck my chest.
“Impressive,” she murmured, following me into the dining hall.
The corridor opened into another archway detailed in chiseled stone—no door, just a welcoming round room with a long table at its center meant to host dozens of guests.
I pulled a chair for her. “Please.” I gestured to the cushion. “Sit.”
She did as I asked without a word, instead surveying the table laden with meats and breads and root vegetables swimming in garlic and butter.
Piffle had been more than happy to prepare this meal.
He’d managed to bring twigs of evergreen woven with red ripened berries from the surface, thankfully omitting the dark roses that grew along my mother’s grave.
“I see Piffle has been hard at work,” she chided, meaning it as an insult to me.
“He has,” I agreed, taking my own seat next to her at the head of the table.
“And what have you done to help prepare this meal? Piffle works harder than any servant I’ve ever employed.” She reached for the plate of venison, spearing a few perfectly sliced strips, still red in the center.
“Chocolat étouffant?” I held the saucière in one hand, offering the glaze to pour over her meat.
Her dark eyes narrowed and her mouth turned down.
I grinned, all teeth. “I’ve perfected the recipe over the years. The key is the low heat after you’ve added the chocolate. Also, you mustn’t allow it to simmer for too long. The chocolate will become bitter and ruin the richness with the red wine.”
She took the decadent sauce from my hand, pouring a heavy drizzle over her plate. “You’ve read Cursed Goddess of the Veil,” she said, just loud enough to hear.
I took my own helping of meat, disregarding anything else. “At least once.”
“Tell me then,” she said, cutting into her venison. “What else have you learned about me besides my love of chocolate?”
I shrugged. “I am well aware it will take time wearing you down. But I believe you’ll get sick enough of this place to kill me to leave it.”
She huffed in irritation, taking her first bite. I stilled, waiting for her reaction. It was true. I had spent years perfecting chocolat étouffant, curious about the preferences of the Ravenfae Goddess.
As she chewed, her eyes darted to her plate then back to me. Once she swallowed, she began cutting another bite. “It’s perfection, Arthur.”
It wasn’t the elation I’d expected. My reaction was far too raw for that.
At her praise freely given, I gripped my fork and knife tightly, the whites of my knuckles exposed as I shoved the Beast aside, forcing myself to take a bite and chew slowly. Without even a thank you, I nodded, keeping an eye on her as she continued to eat the meal I ordered Piffle to cook.
The recipe took an immense amount of patience to perfect, and as she cut into another piece of the meat, swirling it around in the decadent sauce, I finally set my own utensils down, fighting with the Beast again.
HUNGER.
“Stop it,” I whispered under my breath, clearing my throat and taking a long gulp of wine.
Her eyes darted to me, but she remained silent, finishing her first helping before spearing more with her fork. “Have you spoken to Ishtak as I requested?”
“No. I haven’t been able to speak to her.”
“But you’ll continue to try.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded in agreement anyway, lies sitting on my tongue.
“And you’ll retrieve me when you do get the chance to speak to her.”
Again, not a question, but a command from a Goddess.
My mouth tilted upward. “Yes.”
“Good. We’re done here. Thank you for the meal, Arthur.”
“You’ve barely eaten.”
“I decide that. Now if you could direct me to the li—”
I leaned around the corner of the table, feral with the idea that she was trying to leave my presence. I grabbed a leg of her chair to pull her nearer to me.
In a flash, her long luxurious leg slipped out of the slit in her lace skirts, pressed hard into the stone floor, halting my progress.
“I’m close enough,” she chided, rising to her feet when I let go.
“I decide that.” I stood, unceremoniously picking up my chair and slamming it down next to hers before grabbing my plate and tossing it in front of me. “Sit down, Goddess.”
“I’m not accustomed to being ordered around by a man.”
“I’m not accustomed to using this much effort to reign in the Beast, so unless you’d like to have this conversation with him, sit down and eat.”
“You’re threatening me with the Beast?”
“It’s not a threat.”
Her eyes followed mine to where black claws quickly grew from my fingers, digging into the table.
She sat calmly, choosing peace for both of our sakes. Picking up her fork again, she stabbed at a roasted carrot, popping it into her mouth.
I took a deep inhale, feeling the Beast’s claws retreat back into my hands. Fully human again, I picked up my utensils and continued eating, adding, “You’ll dine with me every evening until you decide to end this the right way.”
“I—”
“If you refuse,” I continued, ignoring what I was sure would be a protest, “I will come to retrieve you. And I will not come as a man.”
“Such a gracious host.”
“You’ll find no grace here, Goddess.” I made sure to brush my arm with hers, reaching for another helping. “Only darkness and death.”