The Beast (37 page)

Then Belle went for the throwing knives strapped to her chest. She fingered one of the handles, intent on stabbing the norn in the eye. But her brain was fuzzy and she struggled to pull the knife out. Skuld knocked Belle’s hand away and grabbed the sash. Deftly, she ripped it off her and tossed it away. That was it then. Belle had no more weapons. With one last surge of panic and defiance, she swung at Skuld. It was easily blocked.

Pain raced through her body. Belle was acutely aware of every part of her that screamed for air. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she continued to open her mouth, as though somehow air would find its way in. This wasn’t how Belle was supposed to die. She was supposed to die with blood—not like this.

Through the fog, movement drew Belle’s attention. Aleksander, in his hulking beastly form, rose from his crouch on the ground. Blood leaked down his body as he drew to his full height. In livid silence, like he could feel no pain, Aleksander came over to them with long smooth steps and towered above the unaware norn. He glared down at Skuld, his lip beginning to curl in an unrealized snarl. And just like that, the Prince snapped. Many sharp, deadly teeth bit into Skuld’s neck.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air and Skuld’s hands pulled back in her agony. Belle dropped to the floor, her legs crumpling weakly beneath her. She gasped, desperate for air. Fresh blood trickled down her side from her reopened wounds.

Still latched onto Skuld’s neck, the Prince planted a hand on her shoulder. With strong claws, he pulled the armor from her shoulder. He released her just long enough to bite into the now bare skin. The norn seemed helpless to stop the attack. True fear filled those evil eyes of hers.

Suddenly, Aleksander jerked away. His lips twitched. He shook his muzzle, like a dog that didn’t like what he tasted. He stopped, ears forward and eyes wide. Belle followed his gaze back to Skuld. Something other than blood spread from the gashes on her shoulder and neck.

It was gray, laced with black veins like some of the marble in the castle. It spread up into her hair and down into her armor. Skuld looked at her trembling hand. The substance swept up from beneath the metal and wrapped around each finger. Then, whatever it was, moved to the armor itself. It sunk into each crevice, leaving nothing uncovered by it.

The fear in Skuld’s eyes vanished as she seemed to realize, or accept, what was happening to her. Though neither Belle nor Aleksander knew what that was. She retrieved the armor the Prince had ripped from her and reattached it. Then with slow, pained movements she pulled her hood back over her head.

“I can feel your glee,
Mánagarmr
. You think that with my death, you and your people will be free.” She shot Aleksander a nasty glance. “Your people will never be free.”

The Prince stood tall and squared his shoulders at that. He made no angry move for her though. Even if his people were lost forever, it seemed that they’d won. Skuld plucked a fully bloomed rose from the nearby archway. She looked at it fondly, ignoring Belle on the floor completely.

The norn walked toward the Prince, but Aleksander didn’t seem concerned. The gray substance had drawn over most of Skuld’s body now. Even her cloak was covered. Each step she took was slow and weighted. She stopped before him, twirling the rose between her fingers. “And you will never be rid of the beast.”

Her hand lashed out, unhindered by the thing that was consuming her. Skuld shoved the rose into Aleksander’s wolf chest. Light burst from where they touched. The Prince’s head fell back in a wall-shaking roar. He stumbled away, claws raking at the bloody spot over his heart.

Skuld’s face was serene. She exhaled calmly and closed her eyes. The grayness swept down her face, completing its domination. With that, she stilled. If Belle didn’t know better, she’d have thought that it was a statue of a sleeping woman that someone forgot to lay down.

Belle clambered to her feet. She felt weak, her throat was sore. Aleksander’s bloodied hands were cupped before him and he stared at the rose carved into his chest. He flexed his hands, then let his arms drop with exhaustion.

Cautious, Belle walked over to Skuld and tentatively touched her. Her hand snapped back at the feel of cold stone. Skuld didn’t just look like a statue, she
was
a statue. Head to toe. Cloak, skin, and hair—all of it was a solid piece of perfect marble. Belle formed the cross over her chest, speaking the Latin words of the holy trinity.

A burst of silver light flared in her eyes, causing her to flinch away. Only twice had Belle seen that color of light before and, as it faded, she knew it could only mean one thing. Hurriedly, she blinked away tiny stars and saw a human Aleksander standing in the room’s center. He looked at his hands again, then touched his silk shirt. Without the fur, his multiple stab wounds were more obvious. The blood was already seeping through his clothes.

He looked at Belle with an awed expression and she knew she returned it. She didn’t dare believe what she was witnessing. Her Prince was human! Aleksander started to smile, his chest heaving with excited breaths.

As though he’d been stabbed through the gut, the Prince hunched in on himself. His muscles began to twitch and flex. He grunted in pain, his face contorting from it. Concerned, Belle stepped toward him.

Angelic ringing gave her pause. She looked away just before the light could blind her. When she opened her eyes, her heart fell at the sight of the beast.

Had this been what Skuld meant? Her death freed him but using the rose had somehow forced the Moon-Hound back on him? It was so cruel to give him just a taste of freedom, only to snatch it back.

Not looking down at himself—he knew the wolf form all too well—Aleksander stared at nothing. The sadness in his eyes broke Belle’s heart. She stepped into his shadow, forcing his eyes to hers.

There was a part of her that still said this was wrong; a woman should not love a beast. But her heart saw only Prince Aleksander, the man she loved. Belle reached up and touched his soft fur cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand. A sorrowful moan rumbled in his throat. It made her want to cry.

All at once, Aleksander was engulfed in light. It filled the room and chased all shadows away. It was pure…like moonlight. The sweet ringing was as loud as ever. Then it was gone, vanished in an instant.

Belle blinked. Beautiful, blue eyes filled her vision. The Prince was smiling down at her, his face much closer than it had been as a wolf. A ripple shifted over his skin and she thought he was about to become the beast once more. Aleksander closed his eyes. His jaw clenched with strain. After a second, he relaxed and opened his eyes.

His gaze caressed her face, memorizing it at that moment. The tips of his fingers gently touched her forearm. A thrill shot through her. He was touching her. Actually touching her.

“I can control it, Belle. I’m free.” His lips spread into the most exuberant of smiles.

She laughed with disbelief as she finally understood. Skuld’s death had freed him, but with the rose she made it a part of him—not just something placed on him as it was before. With effort, Aleksander could shift between beast and human.

He didn’t seem to realize it now, but he would never be free, not truly. This meant that he was something…else. Skuld did not do this to be kind. There were consequences here that, by the joy in his eyes, the Prince didn’t see. In
his
mind, he was free.

Unsure of what to say, trapped between fear and happiness, Belle’s gaze fell to the rose-shaped wound over Aleksander’s heart. She gently moved his shirt. The bloody etching wasn’t life threatening, but it would scar.

Prince Aleksander touched her temple. His fingers ran down the side of her face and his palm rested on her cheek. His thumb grazed her jaw, angling her face upward. Meeting his gaze, her breath caught at the smoldering, possessive look in his eyes. “Belle—my beauty—I love you…and I’d like very much to kiss you once more.”

“My Prince…” Her voice trembled with raw emotion as she responded with a breathy, “I love you—”

Aleksander’s lips alighted onto hers. They gave soft, gentle caresses. Lip over lip, drawing her in for kiss after longer kiss. His arms encircled her, forcing one of her hands on his chest and the other on his waist. The simple feel of his muscles and warm skin, even through fabric, were enough to melt her. Belle felt the slightest brush of his tongue on hers and he pulled her in for one extended, luxurious kiss.

“Holy Hell!” Andre’s voice bounced off the stone walls, jarring the passionate embrace.

Aleksander pulled back from Belle and, in one blinking flash, turned back into a lycanthrope. The hand on Belle’s hip became a paw that nearly covered her entire waist. A snarl rumbled past his lips at Andre’s unwanted interruption. The Hunter’s eyes widened with shock. He stayed on the floor, frozen like a terrified deer.

Belle smiled. “Are you all right, Andre?”

He looked at Belle for a long, thoughtful second. “Uh, yeah, I think I’m fine. What happened?”

A loud crash cutoff Belle’s answer. The door’s flew open with a bang. Wielding a large battering ram between them, Jack, Laramie, and a group of guards stumbled in. Aleksander pulled Belle back protectively. Edvina followed after, brandishing two deadly candlesticks above her head. They all stopped and looked around menacingly.

“It’s all right,” Belle said drawing their attention and gestured to the norn. “We’re all fine now.”

With a collective groan, they noisily set down their makeshift battering ram. Belle raised an eyebrow as she recognized the statue of the god, Odin. Jack quickly went to Andre, leaning over him to check his head. Laramie and Edvina rushed over to Belle and Aleksander while the guards examined the strange stone norn.

“Your Highness, the men from Contefées are here,” Laramie said, clearly frazzled. “No attack has been made, but tension is quickly building. General Kogsworthe is trying to delay things, so you can imagine…”

Laramie’s comment drifted as Aleksander closed his eyes and sighed. Once more his muscles rippled, tensed, and the ringing light sprang forth. She felt his body change, the fur replaced by warm, smooth skin. The claws on her back turned to gentle fingers. When the light receded, everyone opened their eyes. Aleksander’s breathing was slow, controlled. He already seemed completely at ease with this new change in his life. There was even a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh my,” whispered Edvina, grabbing her cheeks as everyone else stared, dumbfounded.

“Your Royal Highness, how?” Laramie put a hand to his forehead, looking suddenly flush. “You’re human!”

Aleksander placed a comforting hand on his advisor’s shoulder. “There is no time now. Later, we’ll discuss everything.” Lifting his chin, the Prince’s tone changed to one of command. “I want two men guarding this statue till I say otherwise. Get the Head Physician and his team here at once.” He looked at Belle, a softness flashing in eyes. “Any suggestions on how to deal with your people?”

Belle contemplated this, only distracted slightly by his hand still at her waist. “They came to kill a beast, show them you are still a man. A man controlled by no other.”

“I’d do so proudly.” He smiled. “Laramie, have our horses readied. We must ride out to meet them.”

“Of course.” Monsieur Petit turned to act out his orders, but stopped and looked back. “It is good to see you again, your Highness.”

Aleksander inclined his head. “It is good to be seen.”

Edvina was ready to burst into tears, her smile so big that it crinkled around her eyes. Soon the doctors came. Several tended to the Prince, who insisted they do some quick patchwork—as he had some place to be. Others saw to Andre while Belle had her back stitches quickly fixed. Edvina was put to the task of making them presentable and she did a far better job than was expected. Though she was still smoothing hair and clothing till the moment Belle and Aleksander mounted their horses.

The militia beyond the gate was larger than Belle anticipated. The crowd yelled for blood, shouting over General Kogsworthe as he stalled for time. When Aleksander and Belle started down the long bridge, their horses at a casual pace, the angry militia grew quiet.

They peered over each other and squinted their eyes, trying to see who approached. Belle did some identifying of her own. Immediately she recognized her Hunters. They were stationed around the outskirts of the crowd, watching for hellhound trouble. At the front of the gates were the church clergymen, Henri, and Edgard Chevallier—the Count of Contefées, Gastone’s father.

On the bridge were several rows of Vakrein foot soldiers. They were calm and disciplined; just what Belle expected under the watch of Kogsworthe. As the Prince neared, the lines of men separated in perfect unison and the General left the gate to meet his Prince. Belle could see the astonishment in their eyes at the sight of Aleksander, but they did well to mask it.