Aimée and the Bear: A BBW Bear-Shifter Romance (Fairy Tales with a Shift)
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Authors: Cara Wylde
AIMÉE AND THE BEAR
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST RETELLING
FAIRY TALES WITH A SHIFT
Copyright © 2015 by Cara Wylde
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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I should have known better. I should have known this wouldn’t end well. I wiped my tears and tried to clean my dirty cheeks with the rim of my sleeve, which was probably useless since I was almost sure I was going to rot in this filthy dungeon. The little light that was coming through the small square window was just enough to allow me to see how dirty the floor and the walls of my prison cell were. I was sitting with my back against the cold iron bars, trying to make myself as small as possible. I could see the shape my body had left on the dusty floor when the
thing
had thrown me into the cell. I shuddered at the thought that half the filth and dust in this enclosed space was now on my face, hands, and clothes.
Yes, I should have known better. This was all my fault. Stealing is bad even when you’re starving and the thing you want to steal is not that important or valuable. I deserved this.
“It was only a bunch of red roses…” I whispered to myself. The dark, hollow corridors turned my words into a soft echo.
My family wasn’t always poor. Until a year ago, my father was a wealthy merchant who brought fine silks, exotic spices, and precious stones from the Middle East. Sadly, he wasn’t very good with managing his income, so when his trade ships were destroyed in a storm on their way home, we lost everything. Instead of buying new ships and hiring a new crew, father had to pay all his debts, which led to us losing our house and having to start a new life out of the city. My two sisters and I had been raised as proper ladies, and when we saw ourselves at a farm, away from the world we loved, with no servants to cook and clean for us, we panicked. Actually, they panicked. I was a little more adaptable. After all, I couldn’t just stand there and wait for a miracle to happen when my father woke up every day before dawn and started working.
He was a good man, my father. After mother died of a strange, incurable disease, he took care of us and made sure we studied with the best professors and had everything we wanted. Beautiful dresses, expensive jewelry… We might have been the daughters of a merchant who had worked all his life to get where he was, but we were as well-dressed as the queen herself. In retrospect, maybe father should have saved the money he spent on us and invested it in a second business. It was all gone now, and there was nothing we could do about it. So, while my sisters, Cécile and Diane, moaned about how hard life at the farm was, I decided to help my father as much as I could and learn the little he knew about farming. If we stayed united, we’d eventually rise back to a respectable social and financial status, I was sure of it.
Usually, I was the one who went with him at the market to sell our produce. My sisters avoided the market at all costs. They didn’t want to be seen in washed-up dresses, mingling with what they called the common people. Honestly, I couldn’t care less. All our friends already knew about our misfortune, so it wasn’t like we had anything to hide. To them, we didn’t even exist anymore.
Little by little, we managed to get some loyal customers. Our vegetables were always ripe and fresh, and we often sold everything in just a couple of hours. The clients were wealthy people who sent their servants every morning to buy fresh fruit and vegetables. But these were not the only things they bought… It was at the market that I saw how servants and maids were looking for… roses. Of all the flowers, roses were the most popular, but they were also very rare in this part of the country. Of course, there were a lot of people who sold greenhouse roses, but the wealthiest members of the highest society wanted nothing more and nothing less than big, beautiful roses that grew naturally, preferably in the wilderness, uncontrolled and unconditioned by man, which smelled so divine that the smallest sniff could knock you off your feet and make you dream of Heaven. The problem was that these pretentious flowers were impossible to grow naturally, outside of a greenhouse. They just didn’t like the soil. There was one single place in these parts where they grew freely and beautifully: the deserted gothic mansion up on the Eastern hill. For reasons no one could comprehend, the blood red roses everyone was dying to have on their living room tables loved the soil in the huge garden that stretched behind the mansion. Some said it was the magic there, others said it was the curse that had led to the family’s mysterious disappearance years ago. Whatever the true reason, one thing was certain: the old mansion was believed to be haunted and no one dared even approach its gates.
Lucky me that I had never believed in curses, magic, ghosts, or monsters. The folk tales that went around were just that: folk tales. Fiction. It might have been normal to impress those who didn’t know how to read, never opened a book or studied with a professor, but they didn’t impress me. So, the moment I realized there was real money to be made if I only managed to offer the clients the roses they wanted, an idea struck me. The mansion was clearly abandoned. No one would miss a bunch of roses, especially since they would eventually grow back. I had never stolen a thing in my life, but it wasn’t called stealing if no one owned the flowers, right?
I thought about this for a couple of days, and even made sure to pass by the abandoned mansion every time father sent me to the market to buy various things we needed. From what I could see through the heavy iron gate, the garden was more of a jungle. The wild roses were suffocated by weeds, and I soon convinced myself I’d do them a favor by picking and selling them at the market. At least they’d end up in tall, beautifully ornate vases, not die in an unkempt garden behind a house in ruins. On the fifth day, the decision was made.
Since I wasn’t sure it would work, I didn’t tell anyone about what I was going to do. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and my father was resting while my sisters were reading. I told them I was getting bored at home and I felt like taking a walk to town. It was rather far from our farm, so I had all the time in the world to sneak in the garden, pick a bunch of roses, then bring them back home and put them in water until Monday morning. My heart started beating faster and my legs sped up with excitement at the thought that my father would be so surprised and happy to see how I came up with a new source of income. This was definitely worth it.
At the crossroads, I took the left path instead of the right one, which led to town. The abandoned gothic mansion wasn’t far, but I was so eager to get there already that I started running. When I reached the front gate, I stopped for a second to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down my wild heartbeat. The gate was tall, made of solid iron, and it was secured with a thick chain and a huge lock. I looked around me, trying to find another way in. I was alone in the burning summer sun, surrounded by complete silence.
“Not even the annoying chirp of crickets…” I whispered. I straightened my back and listened more carefully, trying to find the tiniest sound in the still air. Nothing. “Hmm… this is strange. No birds, no bees… How can it be so quiet?” A shiver ran up my spine and small goosebumps rose on my arms. I rubbed them to chase away the odd sensation and threw another glance at the tall mansion behind the gate. With its pointed arches that threw themselves up to the sky, and romantic decorative patterns, the building was absolutely beautiful. Too bad the paint was peeling off and the left wing looked like it had seen too many storms. “I wonder who lived here.” The only information I had been able to gather about the old mansion was that it was haunted. It belonged to a noble family, but all the members had perished under a terrible curse. No one knew more details, or they weren’t willing to share them. “Oh well, time to explore.” I took a deep breath and decided to walk along the stone fence, in hopes that I would eventually find a hole or a place where it had collapsed. Judging by the state the mansion was in, I was sure it wouldn’t be too difficult. And it wasn’t. After a ten-minute walk, I almost stumbled into a pile of bricks. That part of the wall was so damaged that it was unrecognizable. I pulled my skirt up so I could climb the pile easily, and I was on the other side of the fence in a matter of seconds.
“That was almost too simple,” I said to myself. I knew it was weird to do it, but I always had the tendency to talk to myself. Now that no one was around, I felt more comfortable. At home, either Cécile or Diane would laugh at me or call me crazy every time they overheard me. I didn’t care, really. Thinking out loud helped me focus and make better decisions.
I let my skirt fall to the ground, and the rim got caught in weeds. “Damn it!” I gathered the folds and held them tightly with my left hand. I didn’t have many dresses, so I couldn’t afford destroying this one. I was right behind the left wing, and as far as I could see, this part of the garden was full of blood red roses. I took a couple of steps and bent down to smell them.
“Dear God… They are perfect!”
I touched the velvety petals with the tips of my fingers, smiling at the sweet thrill that sneaked under my skin and ran up my arm. These were the most gorgeous roses I had ever seen. The long, thorny stems ended in thick petals embracing each other, forming big, rich flowers.
“These beauties will make me a small fortune.”
With that in mind, I put on the gloves I had brought with me, took out the sharp scissors and set to work. The garden looked like a sea of red roses. There were so many that no one would even notice I had been there. I cut a couple of dozens, but I had to stop to wrap them in my scarf and make sure I was able to carry them without scratching myself in their thorns. They were quite heavy. I lifted the bunch gently and secured it in my arms, then straightened my sore back and looked for the way out. Once again, my eyes fell on the majestic mansion, and curiosity took the best of me.
“I’m just going to check the front door. If it’s open, I’ll take a small peek. No harm in that, right? If it’s locked, at least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
I had always been a curious person. As a child, my curiosity made me fall in love with adventure novels and helped me learn history and geography. It wasn’t even an effort. If it was new and interesting, then I had to investigate and assimilate, and the old, ruined mansion in front of me was taunting me with its air of mystery. I was sure it didn’t hold any life-changing secrets. It was probably filled with junk and furniture that would fall apart at the slightest touch, but I had to know.
I walked around the building slowly, careful not to bump into anything. I could barely see from behind the huge bunch of roses in my arms, and their perfume was starting to make me dizzy. As divine as it was, it was quite intoxicating. Finally, I reached the front steps and wiggled the flowers so I could free my left hand to try the rusty handle. To my surprise, it slid down smoothly, its soft click letting me know I was in, the heavy wooden door opening with a long, painful creak. I let go of the handle and watched how the door continued on its established way and hit the wall with a muffled thud. I stretched my neck to peek inside the large hall, not yet sure if I truly wanted to step over the threshold. But once I caught a glimpse of the interior, I simply had to. There was no way I could resist the temptation.
“What the…?”
My impatient feet made the decision for me, and before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of the hall, staring dumbfounded at the polished floor, the golden walls, and the beautiful staircase that led to the upper floors. There were vases with red roses everywhere, as if the whole house had just been cleaned and decorated in preparation for a party. I blinked a couple of times to make sure there was nothing wrong with my eyes. Maybe the strong perfume of the roses had started to mess with my head, making me see things which weren’t there. But no, this was real. I had just stepped into a whole different world, and it was as real as it could be.
“Holy mother of…” There were no words to describe the feeling. My confusion was stronger than my brain’s ability to analyze the facts logically, but the mansion was far from being abandoned. Or haunted.
I turned around to steal another glance outside, through the open door, at the desolate image of the unkempt garden. I barely saw the weeds waving softly in the lazy wind and the sun shining on the iron gate, when the door closed with a loud bang. My heart jumped in my chest, my stomach twisted into knots, and a shriek escaped my lips. The red roses I was holding scattered on the floor.
***
“Trespassing and stealing from me! How dare you?”
My hands flew to my temples, that was how loud and powerful the voice in my head was. It boomed with a force that made my knees tremble and my flesh crawl with fear. Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I had no idea if it was because of the confusion, the shame of having been caught stealing, or the sheer terror that I was trapped in a house I didn’t know, by someone I couldn’t see. I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move.
“No one steals from me! I’ll make you pay for this.”
Where did that voice come from? It seemed like it was only in my head, but that couldn’t be right.
“Please, I will pay for the roses…”
Thinking what I wanted to say was the only option I had. It felt like my vocal chords were paralyzed. Unfortunately, the person, or thing, that had invaded my mind and made my head buzz painfully, had other ideas when it came to making me pay for the flowers now lying around my feet.
The scream I released when I felt something strong and hard as a rock haul me up into the air meant I hadn’t actually lost my voice. What was it? I couldn’t tell. The wind was knocked out of me, and I closed my eyes when I realized I was practically flying at a speed that defied the laws of physics. It all happened in a blur, and all my senses were able to register was that the
thing
was taking me down several flights of stairs, somewhere cold and dark. It stopped for a second to open a heavy door, and the iron screeched in protest. It sounded like a cell door. It was a cell door.
The
thing
threw me on the dirty floor and slammed the door shut, securing it with a heavy lock. By the time I managed to push myself up to look at my captor over my shoulder, it was gone. The dust floating in the air, making it impossible to breathe, was the only proof someone or something had been there, on the other side of the locked cell door, and had left in a rush.
“No! Come back! Please, come back! Let me go! I’m sorry about the roses…”
I screamed and begged for what felt like hours. My voice was amplified a thousand times by the long, dark corridors, but no one seemed to hear me. When I couldn’t scream anymore, I realized once again how silent this place was. I started crying softly, whispering to myself, praying that someone would come looking for me, and cursing my stupid idea to come here without telling anyone. My father and my sisters would only realize that I was missing late at night, but that wouldn’t help at all because they would start looking for me in all the wrong places. I was doomed. I was going to rot in this filthy cell, and for what? For a bunch of red roses.