Chapter 11 Beast
Eleven
Beast
I’m going to tear a hole in the marble floor if I don’t stop pacing.
“Sire,” Gideon says from where he’s standing against the wall. “You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You keep checking yourself.”
“I want to look good.”
“You look fine. Very… princely… for a Beast.”
I bare my fangs at him. “Not helping.”
“What do you want me to say? That you look handsome? You’re seven feet of muscle, fur and fangs. But she loves you anyway, so clearly she has terrible taste. Not gonna change.”
I know he’s just teasing me to try to help me relax, but still, I want to strangle the bastard.
“I’m going to fire you,” I growl.
“You can’t; I’m the best man.”
Asshole’s right.
I check my reflection again in one of the ballroom mirrors.
My formal attire fits me well enough. It’s a deep blue velvet suit, tailored for my Beast form, with silver embroidery.
Elegant. As regal as one can manage to look when they’re sporting claws and a muzzle.
A Beast in fancy clothes. But Belle chose me.
As I am. That thought steadies my rapid-beating heart.
“She’s going to marry you, my lord,” Gideon says, something soft in his voice now. “After you being an ass for most of your adult life. After the curse. After you threatened her father… everything. She’s choosing you.”
“I know.”
He smoothes my cravat and looks me dead in the eye. “Don’t fuck it up.”
The corner of my mouth lifts in amusement. “I won’t.”
“Good.” He straightens as music starts playing outside. “That’s our cue.”
My heart’s hammering as we walk to the front of the ballroom.
The space is packed with nobility I haven’t seen in ages, townspeople and villagers who’ve come to witness their prince’s return.
And our staff, our family, who are beaming with pride.
All of them watching as I take my place under a flower arch.
The doors at the far end remain closed, and I have to resist the urge to pounce. She’s going to walk through those doors. She will come to me.
The music swells, the doors finally open, and there she is.
Belle. My Belle. In a dress that makes her look like she stepped out of a dream.
Ivory silk that hugs every perfect curve of her body, with white flowers in her dark hair, and her gorgeous face radiant as she walks toward me on her father’s arm.
I forget how to fucking breathe.
She’s beautiful. Always. But right now, walking toward me to become my wife, my mate’s fucking everything.
Our eyes meet, and she smiles. That smile that’s just for me. The one that says she’s forever mine, and she loves me just the way I am.
The walk down the aisle takes forever and no time at all. Then her father is placing her hand in mine.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi, sweetheart.” My voice has lowered to a gravelly growl. “You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re very handsome.”
“I’m a Beast in a fancy suit.”
She giggles. “You’re my handsome Beast in a fancy suit.” She squeezes my hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The officiant clears his throat, and I guess we’re supposed to be paying attention to him.
Right. The ceremony. The words. People.
I try to focus, but it’s hard when Belle is right there, smiling up at me, her scent filling my lungs, the bond between us singing with happiness.
“Do you, Pierre Alexandre Beaumont, take this omega as your wife, your mate, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, for as long as you both shall live??”
“I do.” The words come from deep in my chest. “Forever.”
“And do you, Isabelle Marie…”
“I do,” she interrupts, not letting him finish. “Yes. Absolutely. Forever.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and I can’t help but grin.
That’s my Belle. Wild. Impatient. Fucking perfect.
“Then, by the power vested in me by the kingdom, I declare you bonded, mated, and married alpha and omega. You may…”
I don’t wait. I pull my wife into my arms and kiss her like I’ve been dying to do since she started walking down that aisle. Since I left our bed this morning. Since my lips last touched hers. Deep, wet, hard, fucking claiming… completely inappropriate for the occasion.
The crowd cheers, but I barely hear them. All I hear is Belle’s soft moan. All I feel is her lush body against mine.
Mine.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“My wife,” I say, testing the word. Loving the way it sounds. “Mine.”
“Yours,” she agrees, her eyes bright. “My husband.”
“Forever.”
“Forever.”
The reception is pure fucking torture. I have to share Belle with our guests when all I want to do is carry her upstairs and get our wedding night started.
People keep approaching to congratulate us, welcome me back to the kingdom, tell Belle how beautiful she looks. While I’m counting down the seconds until I can get her alone.
“You’re doing well,” Belle whispers during a lull. “Very princely.”
I snarl. “I’m dying.”
“You’re fine.” She raises my hand to her mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it, making warmth spread throughout my body. And my breeches grow even more uncomfortably tight…
I growl. “I’ve been hard since you left our bed this morning. I need you, Belle.”
Her eyes widen. “Beast, we can’t just leave…”
I growl and pull her to the dance floor. If we dance, I can at least hold her. Touch her.
“You don’t dance,” she points out.
“I’ll make an exception.”
We sway together, barely in tune with the music. I’m terrible at this…my Beast form isn’t built for graceful waltzing…but I don’t give a fuck. Because my fucking wife is in my arms. Small and soft and perfect against my massive body.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
“Incredibly.” She rests her head against my chest, right over my heart. “You?”
“More than I ever thought possible.” I tighten my arms around her, breathing in her scent.
We make it through two more dances before my control breaks.
“We’re leaving,” I rumble.
“Pierre, we can’t just leave our own wedding reception…”
I’m already pulling her toward the ballroom doors.
“But the guests…”
“Gideon!” I call to my former captain. “You’re in charge. Keep everyone fed and drunk.”
“Gladly, sire!” He grins. “Enjoy your wedding night!”
I give him a wicked grin.
I practically drag Belle through the castle. She’s laughing, protesting… but not trynna stop me.
When we reach our suite, I kick the door shut behind us with enough force to rattle its frame.
Then I’m on her. Kissing her hard, my hands everywhere, ripping apart her dress because I need her naked. Right Fucking Now!
“Wait!” she gasps. “My dress…”
I completely tear it.
“Pierre!!”
“I’ll buy you ten more.” I’m already pushing the torn fabric off her shoulders, revealing soft dark skin and full curves that make my mouth water and my cock leak. “A hundred. Whatever you want. Right now, I need you naked.”
“Honey, you can’t replace my wedding dress,” she giggles.
I can smell her slick, strong and sweet, making my cock throb painfully.
I claw through her undergarments, then shrug off my own clothes at the speed of light. Finally, we’re skin to fur, and I can touch her. Feel her.
“My wife,” I rasp, backing her to our bed. “Mine to have. Mine to hold. Mine to breed.”
I crawl over her as she falls on the mattress. “Gonna fill you with your husband’s seed. Knot you until you’re carrying our pups.”
Her scent spikes with arousal, and I growl, feeling like the most powerful being in the universe.
“Yes,” Belle gasps. “Yes, please, Pierre…”
Spreading her luscious thighs wide, I lick her slit, running my long, strong, large tongue up and down, swirling around her clit, then pushing inside her soaked pussy.
Alternating until she’s yelling, pushing herself off the mattress, her fingers tight around fistfuls of my fur, rolling her hips into my face, her thick thighs pressed at my ears…
fucking riding me. And when she comes, I don’t stop, don’t slow down.
I keep licking, sucking, grazing, swirling, fucking her with my monstrous tongue until she’s shaking, ragged, wrecked…
Mine. Then I climb on top of my mate and run my thick shaft through her engorged folds, the mushroom head rubbing against her sensitized clit, making her shake, whine and writhe more.
When I can’t stand the torture anymore, I drive into her in one thrust, and we both groan at the incredible sensation.
Fuck. She’s so tight. Warm. Wet. So perfect.
“Mine,” I snarl, starting to thrust. “My wife. My omega. Mine.”
“Yours,” she cries out. “Always yours!”
I fuck her hard and deep, the way I’ve been desperate to do since she last milked my cock. The bed creaks under us. Her cries echo off the walls, meeting my groans. And all I can think is mine mine mine.
“Gonna breed you so full,” I growl against her neck. “So fucking full… Gonna knot you every day until your belly swells with my pups. Want everyone to see you heavy with me. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“Yes!” She’s clawing at my back, her legs wrapped around my waist. “Please, Pierre, I need your knot…”
“Beg for it, omega.”
“Please! Please knot me, fill me, breed me…”
My knot swells and locks into place as we both come. Her inner walls clench around me, draining my balls, and I fucking roar.
Perfect. She’s fucking perfect.
We collapse together, breathing hard.
“My wife,” I say again, because I can’t stop repeating it. Can’t stop marveling at the fact that she’s mine. Mind, body and soul. Through fate and the laws of men. Permanently. Forever. As I am hers.
“Your wife,” she agrees softly.
We stay locked together, savoring the aftermath, until my knot finally softens enough to pull out.
Then I flip her over on her hands and knees.
“What are you doing?” She’s laughing.
“Breeding my wife. Thoroughly.” I run my hands over her curves, admiring the marks I left on her skin. “We have all night, Belle. And I intend to use every minute of it.”
“Pierre, honey…”
I don’t let her finish.
We fuck for hours. I take her in every position, on every surface. Mark her, claim her, fill her over and over until we’re both exhausted.
Every time, I can’t help but growl, “My wife.”
And she replies, “My husband.”
Finally, as dawn breaks, we collapse in our bed.
Belle’s draped across my chest, completely spent, her breathing evening out.
I hold her tight. Snuggled close to me. Our bodies melting into each other. And let myself feel it. All of it. The joy of having her as my wife. The hope that I’ve bred her tonight. The knowledge that this…this life, this love, this perfect omega in my arms…is mine forever.
“I love you,” I whisper into her hair.
She mumbles something that might be “love you too” and burrows closer.
My wife.
My mate.
My omega.
My beauty.
Forever.