7. Belle #2
I’m jolted awake after what feels like five seconds, but can’t be since the bright morning sun burns my retinas.
I’m alone on the garden floor, peering out just above the low-lying, perfectly manicured brush.
My horned companion is nowhere in sight, but I search for him.
Perhaps I dreamt the creature up, but then I pick up the rose lying next to me and bring it to my nose as a sort of solace to my memory.
The noise breaks out again, the sound that woke me from my slumber.
I flip to my knees, trying to keep myself hidden as I peer above my cover.
The gagging grows louder, and I follow the unpleasant sound.
Just under a low-hanging tree, near the entrance gates, a man hunches over, using the trunk to support himself as he pukes into the grass.
I don’t move any nearer. I’m already too close.
I’ve only been in his presence once but even watching the obstructed view of his lanky form from the side, holding back his auburn hair as he heaves into a rose bush, there’s no denying who he is—one of the men I’m hiding from—the potential heir of Neverhaven.
I panic, searching for a swift exit, before shifting my weight from one knee to the next as I attempt to crawl away. Everything in Neverhaven hates me, even the measly twigs. I freeze after the ear-piercing snap, trying to convince myself that the loud volume was only in my head.
“Who’s there?” Peter roars. I don’t have to see him to know he’s angry at whoever intruded on his gut cleanse.
He stands, taking wobbly steps toward my hiding spot.
I can’t disappear, so I do the next best thing—crow like a rooster.
I spent a summer at a foster home on a farm outside of the city.
It was one of my more peaceful stays, but dreadfully boring.
I decided to mimic the barn animals for entertainment.
It’s been years since I attempted my self-proclaimed hidden talent.
It’s not as impressive as I remember, but I just pray to any God listening that they have a bird that sounds like the one I just made.
They have raccoons with antlers. Why not chickens that make completely normal chicken sounds?
Peter laughs, his footsteps quickening. “Trago, is that you, you cheeky bastard? The last I saw, you were stumbling after that plump little brunette into the back alley. What are you…” He pulls back a branch, and sunlight pours into my hiding spot.
I watch as the smile melts off his face, replaced with a grimace.
“What are you doing?” He nearly spits the words, his face graying even more while sizing me up.
I should be thankful for his repulsion. Perhaps he’ll leave me alone if I disgust him, even if his precious kingdom is at stake. But something in me sours a bit at his disdain. It’s probably my innate desire to please—something I’ve pretended didn’t exist within me, but is undoubtedly present.
“Can we just act like I didn’t see you, you didn’t see me?” I make myself smaller, hoping to melt into the earth.
He stares down at me, and something flicks to life in his eyes. He rubs his angular chin. “I don’t know. I am supposed to conquer you, and you seem to be perfectly splayed for me. I wouldn’t even need to call the servants to clean up the mess.”
His words don’t surprise me. I hoped he’d be kinder than his father, but despite his beautiful face, it’s clear he’s as wretched as the man who sired him.
My fear turns into a heated rage. I straighten to my knees, pushing myself upward further.
“How pitiful. Can’t get laid on your own, so Daddy must fetch you a tiny little woman that still needs to be strapped into chains for you to even be able to stick your micro-dick inside of her.
” Even on my feet, I must strain my neck to catch his gaze.
He’s startled only for a moment, a mix of intrigue and malice melting together in his emerald eyes. He presses forward, hands behind his back. “I can assure you, my interest in your presence leaves me as flaccid as your ability to wound me with anything but your words.”
I scoff, not backing down. “You just threatened to rape me in the garden. Doesn’t seem that I disinterested you as much as you say.”
He shrugs. “I grow bored. Nothing better to do than set to blaze that fear you so feebly attempt to mask.”
“You seemed awfully busy barfing. What is it? Can’t handle a few drinks?”
“A few are my breakfast. A barrel and some powder up my nostrils leads to the need for a cleanse.”
I throw my hands up, backing away. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, but trust me, you’re not fooling anyone with how pathetic you are.”
The hint of mischief in his eye vanishes, in its place—rage.
Our chests bump. “You enjoy hearing yourself ramble on, do you not? Savor your quick wit while it lasts. I mean what I said. I’m as disinterested in fucking you as I am in a knot in that tree.
Although, I could kill you right here, drain you for your blood as they did to all your ancestors during the Blood Harvest not too long ago.
” A cold desire swims in his eyes. “I bet the power tastes heavenly.” He shakes his head.
“But no, I don’t want the throne. I very much enjoy my freedom.
Rourke, on the other hand?” He laughs. “He’s father’s pet.
” He sighs, trailing a finger down my chin.
I jerk away, but a wiry smile remains on his face.
“His hook isn’t just for decoration. He’ll try his best to keep you whole and fill you with his scaly heir, but I know him.
His bloodlust is too strong. You’ll be shredded to ribbons before you burst. He loves it when his prey puts up a fight. ”
The world shakes around me, his words reverberating in my skull. He means to wound me, to rattle and chill me to my core. It’s working. I fold in on myself, and I hate that I’ve given this prick exactly what he wants.
Something rustles in the bush next to me, and I almost cry from joy once I see the antlered raccoon from the night before.
I didn’t imagine him, and as he stares up at me with black, beady eyes, I can’t help but pretend that he appeared just now for my comfort—something I so desperately need as a replacement for safety.
I scoop him in my arms before sprinting away from Peter.
His laugh echoes from behind me. “That raccoon won’t save you, dear pixie.
Good luck surviving the night!” I look back as I flee, catching him settling himself to the ground, rubbing his temples with a contented smile as the sun warms his fine features.
No one so evil should be gifted with such beauty.
I shake his image out of my head as I throw myself back into the doors of Hollowbrook, my imminent tomb.
I squeeze the raccoon tighter, hoping his companionship keeps me focused and, more than anything, hoping he doesn’t have fucking fleas.