Bride of the Beast

Chapter One

Tomorrow was the big day.

If a day was just a number in a long succession of numbers that added up to one whole life, this day would most likely land in the middle of his. Or perhaps even closer to the beginning than the end. But he didn’t think of days like that. Like a normal person would.

Because every day until today was just something he’d endured. Like one long and painful stretch of darkness.

And he had endured it. That horrid prequel to what would become his existence. His future. His redemption.

His heart.

Rolan of Vegoth stared at the stone floor of the bathing room as cleansing water washed over his body. It was customary for grooms to be bathed by the Waters of Esheron the night before their wedding. It was part of the official ceremony and required an Ancient to be present for recording.

But Rolan wasn’t a typical groom, and he was alone in the bathing room.

Truthfully, he was surprised they allowed him inside at all. Surprised he was to be given a bride like the others. He’d expected the revered waters to burn his skin even. But they felt like any other water. Except hot enough to make it seem like they could steam the ugliness from him.

Wishful thinking perhaps, but he’d give anything to approach his bride at the altar tomorrow as a different man.

Rolan closed his eyes, letting the water run over his face.

It was a strange feeling to equally long for a bride with all his heart and to wish this was another of the Empress’s cruel jokes. Every day since the declaration that he was to be married within the next moon, he’d spent not believing it was true. Waiting for the evil female to pull the strings on his most secret wish: an end to his bitter loneliness.

Except days would pass and she would continue preparations while he remained locked away in the dungeon he called home, only bringing him out to be measured and fitted for his groom’s clothes.

All part of the ruse, he’d thought.

The Empress Tallah was a cruel heart and she worked hard to convince him of hope before crushing it. She was prone to fostering a pinpoint of light in the darkness until he believed it was there, right there, within his reach. Only to close her fist around it before he could ever experience it.

Then she’d laugh.

It was her very favorite game.

They’d played it since childhood.

And it had no end. He knew.

But now here he was, the night before the wedding, washing in the waters that were supposed to bring him and his new bride blessings. The Empress couldn’t cancel the ceremony now without angering the Ancients.

This was truly happening.

Rolan slumped against the rock where water flowed, letting a long breath push from his lungs.

Somewhere in the village was a female preparing herself to be his bride. Did she know who she was being given to? Did she already fear him? Was she begging the Empress for mercy.

He pictured a faceless female crying at the Empress’s feet, pleading not to be given to The Beast. The Animal. The Savage. The Monster.

All names he had heard more than he’d heard his own.

The click-clack of metal slippers approached slowly, and Rolan’s gut knotted into familiar dread. The sound slowed even more, the nearer it came, and he refused to open his eyes until the last possible second.

When the sound of the Empress’s footsteps stopped, Rolan lifted his head to see her.

She wore her headpiece, a metal helmet, intricately hammered with a scrolling design across the forehead. On the sides, thick wire was twisted and mangled into the shape of two horns. They stood out a forearm’s length from each side of her head and snaked upward toward the heavens. Chainmail covered her from temples to shoulders, and flowed into her studded leather gown that ended at the floor, leaving only her porcelain face visible.

Ruby lips twisted into a mockery of a smile and she spoke.

“Good.” Her purring voice made chills pop along his skin. He wished he could close his eyes and shut her out completely. “You wash for blessings. Just like you were taught. Very good, #savage.”

Her eyes roved his naked body from the top of his head to his feet, hesitating over his manhood in a way that had him wanting to turn away from her.

Instead, he straightened his shoulders and stood as tall as he could.

It was never a good idea to cower before the Empress. Even if you were as low and reviled as he.

“Tomorrow you will be free, my savage. I have no more use for you. Does it make you happy?” she wondered. “To be free of me at last?”

Rolan remained quiet. He knew whatever answer he gave would only spur her on.

“It matters not,” she continued, “Your bride is well suited for you, and the Ancients have required I give her to you so you might mate and produce more… monsters.”

Rolan frowned, unable to let this piece of information leave him unaffected.

Two pieces, actually.

First, his mate was suited for him.

Did that mean she was ugly, as he was? Did she have flaws like he had? Like the hair that covered his face and neck and body like a thin rug. Did she resemble a walking beast too?

His heart pounded in his chest.

Another like him? A female? Could it be?

He had pictured her beautiful and smooth like the rest of the Barbarian people. Like his mother was. Like his father.

Like the Empress and the Ancients.

But if she was like him…

He could hold his head high as he walked down the aisle toward her. He could let his quarreling insides rest. Let the knot of worry behind his sternum loosen.

Because she wouldn’t fear him. Wouldn’t gasp when she looked on him in the light. And on their wedding night, when he confirmed their vows, she wouldn’t cry and cringe as he’d been fearing for all these weeks.

His bride. How scared she must be. Was she worried about his reaction as he’d worried about hers?

A fierce feeling of protection came over him.

“Does she know who she is to be given to?” he asked.

The Empress’s gaze zeroed in on the emotion behind his throat, watching his bobbing swallow. Mistake. He’d made a mistake. But it was done.

A slithering smile climbed her face. “It’s customary for pairs to remain a secret until the ceremony, savage.”

So it was likely his bride thought she was to wed a normal man. A normal man, when she was not normal.

Rolan’s chest burned inside, hotter than the waters that bathed him. Somewhere, his bride was feeling all the same torrential emotions he felt. Doubt and fear and a thread of excitement. Dread and anger and a hint of wonder. The idea that they shared these things without ever having met made him feel stronger than he’d felt in all his history. Because tomorrow, the truth would be revealed.

He wasn’t normal. Neither was she.

And he would show her that it was okay. That she had nothing to be afraid of. That he would make her a good groom, and together, they would never have to be lonely again.

For the first time ever, he felt like his existence had meaning. Purpose. Tomorrow he would become a groom to his bride. And he meant to be the best for her. Til death forced them apart.