Beast_A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance Read online

  I shiver still at the memory. Yes. Prince Adir is dangerous indeed but I have no other option. I have to save the library.

  I have to protect my father.

  Chapter 6

  Adir

  The elevator doors open into the spacious top floor of the sky-rise. I own the building, using the penthouse as home and the lower floors for my business ventures. Usually, I like to take in the panoramic view of the city from the uninterrupted glass walls that surround the space and then enjoy the furniture and artwork I've carefully chosen to create this oasis. A place where I can come to just be, without everyone's judgmental stares, surrounding myself in my own space helps calm the beast and the man. But not today. Today, I go straight to one of the few mirrors still left in the spacious apartment. I've slowly been taking them down as my appearance continues to change, as the beast inside starts to show its face more and more until the man is slowly overtaken.

  I stare at my reflection, at what I've become. At what I've allowed myself to become. I haven't forced myself to really look, to really examine the changes that have gradually become apparent. My long, pointed ears, shaggy hair and dense beard. Sharp, vicious looking fangs. I look down at my hands, at the thicker hair beginning to grow. I've been ignoring the slow transformation, pretending the inevitable slide isn't happening. Continuing to indulge in everything I want to indulge in, turning a blind eye to the consequences.

  But today— today Isabelle Stone happened. Seeing Isa's pretty, delicate face, her softness... I stare down at my hands as they turn into fists, remembering the touch of her soft skin beneath my palms and the fear in her eyes. I look back up into my own eyes, into the heart of the beast. The beast that wants to eat up little Isa, taste her virginal body. I have enough experience to recognize the signs of a girl who’s never been touched by passion. It isn't something I'm usually particularly drawn to, I enjoy experienced females. But when it comes to Isa and her body, I want to gorge myself on it. In it. Take that innocence and mark her as my very own until she and everyone around her knows that she’s my territory. That nobody else has any right to touch her.

  "Mine," I growl.

  And I see my face, the avarice in it, the almost violent lust. I shut my eyes, turning away. What have I become? How have I let my inner beast come out this far, take over so much of the man I am? Even as I turn away from myself in disgust, my cock throbs as I remember Isa. Isa of the pretty face, large brown eyes, the feminine curves. Isa of the virginity I need to take. She will be mine. Just the thought of it has me groaning. Opening my pants, I pull out my rock hard erection, squeezing it roughly as I imagine everything I want to do to her. Everywhere I want to touch her.

  Lick her.

  Bite her.

  Even the thought of how brave she was, how defiant, even while she tried to hide her fear of me, only stokes my desire for her. Would she be just as defiant, just as fearless in bed? Would she meet me kiss for kiss, touch for touch? Thrust for thrust. I start to slide my hand up and down my shaft even as I tell myself to stop. She was afraid of me. I shouldn't picture her and touch myself. It isn't right. I open my eyes and look at myself in the mirror. A beast of a man, his thick cock held in an almost painful grip. But I can't stop. Snarling, I walk further away until I don't have to confront that image of me. Avoiding it. Just like always.

  I want to be better than this. I want to be someone Isabelle Stone would look at only with desire in her eyes. Not fear. I let go of myself and brace my hands against the wall as I take a deep breath, trying to get a handle on this raw, sexual need. But that's a mistake. A hint of her sweet scent still lingers from where I touched her. My cock twitches in reaction, my balls drawing up. There’s no denying myself at this point. I moan as I reach down and take a grip on myself once again, clenching my jaw at how close I am already from simply the thought of her.

  I give in completely.

  Will she flush just as softly if I kiss her breasts, suck on her nipples as she did when I touched her face? Will she watch just as defiantly as I pet her, kiss a trail down to the damp heat of her, the soft place between her legs? Because though I know she was afraid of me, I also have enough experience to have read the signs of arousal. She wanted me. The slight hitch in her breath, the flush to her cheek, the dilated eyes. I hold on to that thought. She was afraid. But she also wanted me.

  Yes. She would be wet when I reach her, welcoming. Wet when I lick that delicate furrow. When I try to sink a finger into that tight passage.

  "Shit," I growl, my balls drawing up even higher as I imagine exactly the picture she would make, sprawled naked across my enormous bed, the sheets shoved to the side.

  Maybe she would be a little afraid. But she'd still like it. She'd love the orgasms I would give her innocent body, the pleasure I would be sure to drench her in until she was well and truly claimed, until the only person she would ever want is me. I make a hoarse sound as my cock jumps in my hand, the climax hitting me hard enough that I slap one hand back onto the wall to brace myself. I come long and hard, the orgasm draining every drop of out of me. Draining everything, the desire, the frustration, the anger. I let out a shuddering sigh as the last spurt finishes, my cock starting to soften in my hand. My ragged breathing is harsh in the silence.

  I look down at myself, shame washing over me. How far have I fallen that I've brought myself to orgasm imagining a woman so innocent it shines from her? A woman who has put herself in my care for years in order to pay off her father's debt. A woman so selfless she would sacrifice herself for someone she loves. A woman I have more power over than I ever should. I've beckoned my beast into the light enough times that I fantasize about using a vulnerable, innocent woman. Simply because I want her.

  Who am I now? I am not simply a man. Not any longer. Is this half beast all I will ever be? Am I too far gone to find my way back even if I want to? I look around at my home, at the expensive, modern furnishings, the careful color selections, the setting for a sophisticated, educated man. A Prince. And then I turn to the mirror and see this twisted version of myself against that backdrop. With a roar, I punch the mirror, shattering the glass and cutting myself in the process, but not caring about the blood I drip on the floor as I storm over to the other mirror across the room. Picking up the andiron from the fireplace, I pull it back and swing, seeing my rage-filled reflection only for an instant. The mirror now lies in a thousand pieces on the ground, the delicate tinkling of glass still echoes.

  I step back, breathing hard as I take in the mess I've made of the living room. I may be an ugly beast but I don’t have to confront the truth of it at every turn. I toss the andiron down with a loud clatter, uncaring of any damage to the floor as I turn and stalk away from the evidence of my rage.

  Turning a blind eye to the problem once again.

  How appropriate.

  Chapter 7

  Isa

  I crane my neck to look up at the skyscraper as I stand still in the middle of a streaming crowd of people. I check the address again. Yes, this is it. I look back up at the building. It's on a particularly expensive block, one where many of the owners and occupants are Singarti. Not a surprise, but even amongst all the impressive buildings, Prince Adir's stands out. Made almost entirely of tinted glass, it seems to pierce the blue sky, reflecting everything around it from some angles and looking almost black from others.

  I take a deep breath as I adjust my backpack and take a better grip on my suitcase. There's no use procrastinating any more. I already dragged my feet on the walk over from the subway. Squaring my shoulders, I charge forward, the front doors sliding silently open as I pass. The foyer of the building is neutral, tan marble. There’s the tinkling sound of a fountain and an ultra-modern seating area to either side. The soothing sound of classical music gently flows through the place, piped in through hidden speakers.

  Inside, two security guards hang back discretely, their eyes on the entrance; probably to make sure no riffraff comes in off the street. I’m pretty under
dressed in my jeans and sneakers but I walk up to the smiling receptionist as the guard's suspicion gaze follows. I definitely don't scream money. I grin at him, almost hoping he’ll try to stop me from coming in but he stays put.

  The girl at reception’s suit is a bright, bold red, matching her perfectly applied lipstick. I, in contrast, forgot to put my lip balm on.

  "How can I help you?" she asks, taking in my backpack and suitcase.

  "I'm here to see Prince Adir?" I say a little questioningly.

  Her face clears. "Ah, yes, of course. You must be Isabelle Stone," she says with a wider smile. "If you could just identify yourself, Prince Adir told me to let you right up."

  "Yes, of course." I smile back, pressing my thumb against the scanner set in the counter top.

  I look over at the guard as the scanner’s light turns green. He narrows his eyes at me and looks away again, back to his dour face. Inwardly I giggle. It's the little things in life.

  "Wonderful! Please, follow me."

  I nod, turning to follow the receptionist's slender frame as she comes out from behind the desk and walks over to the elevator bank, her high heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. The doors open as soon as she presses the button.

  "Now, Prince Adir's personal floor is only reachable with a fingerprint, but he signed off on including yours. If you will please just press your thumb here. "

  I go through the quick process of putting my print into the system.

  "Wonderful. This elevator will take you up to the correct floor now, but Prince Adir will have to give you a code because the print alone is only good for this trip. Any questions?"

  I shake my head, overwhelmed already as she steps out of the elevator.

  "Have a good day!" she chirps as the doors close.

  I swallow as the elevator rises quickly, my stomach sinking with it. I can do this. No problem. Maybe if I say it enough times I'll actually start believing it.

  The doors open with a gentle chime. Here goes nothing. I step out into a small entryway, also made of some kind of light brown stone. I take another hesitant step inside, absently noting the modern but comfortable décor of the living room, all neutral colors and glass. What catches my attention though, is the expansive view directly in front of me. The entire wall across from the elevators is made of glass, the entire city laid out in an awe inspiring view. The high-rises sparkle in the sunlight, the densely packed humanity down on the streets looks almost like a stream, one entity instead of many. I've never been this high up in such a tall building before, it's high enough to look over almost all the others. Much more of the blue sky is visible than I'm used to and it's beautiful.

  I'm so engrossed in the sight that I don't even hear Prince Adir approach.

  "Isabelle," his deep voice rumbles, making me jump a little in surprise. He's dressed in a pair of black slacks and a crisp, black button-down shirt, his eyes somewhat amused at my surprise.

  "The receptionist let me up," I say dumbly. Of course she did. How else would I get up here?

  "Indeed," he says, smirking. "Allow me to show you to your room." Without waiting for a response, he starts walking down a hall.

  My room? I thought maybe I would be sleeping somewhere else. Somewhere farther from Adir. With no other option, I follow, looking around as I do. There’s a surprising amount of artwork on display. The hall we go down might be longer than the hallways at school. How big is this place?

  "You will be dusting, cleaning, basically keeping everything in order in my home," he says as he turns down another hall and stops at a door at the end. "This is your room," he says, opening the door and stepping back. "Inside, you will find everything you need and also the uniform you are required to wear. If you would like to put your things away and put on the uniform, I will show you around so you can get a better idea of what will be expected of you."

  Dusting and cleaning? Not really what I'd expected.

  "Okay," I say, stepping inside.

  "Good. I will be waiting." He gently closes the door behind me.

  For a moment, I just stare at the closed door. Alright then. I turn to take in the room and have to stop to stare all over again. This isn't like any servant's room I've ever seen. Though, granted, I haven't seen any servant's rooms at all. There’s a large, four poster bed with a wrought iron frame in the middle of the room and a plush rug on the floor, a large wardrobe with delicate carvings stands on the far end and there’s another beautiful view from a wall of glass opposite the door.

  I notice another door and walk over to it to look inside. There’s an equally spacious and opulent bathroom complete with gold fixtures, an honest to goodness tub and plush bathmats on the pristine tile. Wow.

  I turn back to the bedroom, my eye only just now registering the golden yellow spill of color on the bed. Frowning I step towards it. It's a dress. A short, flouncy dress with a fuller skirt and a small white apron. A pair of supple black flats waits on the floor next to it.

  "You've got to be kidding me," I mutter, picking up the yellow maid's outfit. This thing is ridiculous.

  Sighing, I consider my options. Or, more accurately, my option. Singular. Yup. Don't really have any or I wouldn't be here in the first place. And Adir is still waiting outside. Shaking my head, I put my stuff in the corner to deal with later and shuck my own clothes quickly before sliding into the dress. It’s silky smooth against my skin as I pull it into place and do up the side zipper. God forbid Prince Adir get a cheaply made outfit for his help. Grabbing the small apron, I tie it around my waist and slide my feet into the flats.

  I walk cautiously over to the full length mirror set to the side, in a corner. I didn't notice it earlier, almost hidden. Odd place to put it. I stop, not really wanting to look. The dress is short, though not ridiculously so, I guess. It hits me at mid thigh. The sleeves are short and fitted, the neckline is high with a small white collar. It isn't ugly and the color actually suits me. Shaking my head, I turn away. No point in spending any more time on something that doesn't really matter. Smoothing down the skirt in a useless effort to try to gain another inch of length, I go to the door and open it.

  Adir is waiting, leaning against the wall as he scrolls through a paper thin tablet, making notes. Dictation is the norm nowadays, but some people still prefer the tactile method. Somehow, it doesn't surprise me that he would want to use his hands. The way he holds the slim stylus even manages to affect me. How ridiculous.

  He looks up as I step out, straightening to an impressive height. His eyes immediately take in my outfit in a lingering glance. I suddenly feel a whole lot less dressed. I could be covered from head to toe and that look he just gave me would still send a shiver down my spine.

  "Good," he says, clearing his throat. "It fits."

  I clasp my hands behind my back and he nods sharply, looking away, all of that male interest shut down in an instant. I frown, confused. Did I misread him?

  "Follow me," he orders in a cool voice.

  Okay. Maybe he's on his period. Snort.

  He leads me through the ridiculously large space, showing me the areas he wants me to keep neat and organized. The living space, the office, spare bedrooms.

  "Don't clean the office space or the bedrooms unless they are unoccupied," he says firmly. "Do you understand?"

  Does he think I'm an idiot? "Yes."

  We walk past another door that catches my attention. It's made of real wood; a rich, deep cherry color that glows in the light with delicate carvings along the border. Even the doorknob is unusual, a gleaming metal etched with tiny vines with an old fashioned lock, complete with a key hole. I wait for Adir to point it out but he doesn't. Frowning, I clear my throat.

  He looks over his shoulder impatiently, arching a brow. "Yes?"

  "What about that door? What's behind it?"

  His eyes flick over to the door and then back to me, his face hardening. "That area is off limits," he says crisply. "The door remains locked and you will remain on this side of it. No e
xceptions." His eyes bore into me. "Is that clear?"

  My heart skips a beat. "Yes." Very clear. Got it. Don't go behind the mysterious locked door. I wonder if that's where he keeps his harem chained up, ready to be brought out for his pleasure. Shaking my head at the thought, I tune back in to what he's saying. I don't want him to say I'm not trying and start adding time to my indentured servitude.

  "The kitchen is also to be kept spotless, as well as the dining room," Adir continues. "But that won't be until tonight, when the chef comes in. Do you have any questions?" He watches me, his face a little detached, like anything I say won't really matter.

  "No," I say quietly.

  "Good." He looks around again. "I'll leave you to get started then. I have work to do."

  I nod, but he's already walking away. I watch as his back disappears around the corner, leaving me in the middle of an empty living room. I turn around, taking everything in again. I don't even know where to start. Dusting is a good, low pressure way to ease into things, so I go to the supply closet he pointed out during the tour and get out what I need. If there's anything I know from living in that old building with Father, it's how to clean. I get to work, dusting every nook and cranny in the room, letting my mind wander as I settle into a rhythm. As I polish a table, I'm a little flabbergasted at how different this is from what I expected. It was just...Prince Adir's intensity had me thinking... but I guess he really did just want a basic servant to do menial tasks for three years. Doesn't seem worth the debts he forgave. Maybe good help really is that hard to find. However, considering all the possible alternatives, I should be thankful this is all he seems to expect.