Beast (The Submissively Ever After Series Book 1)

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Warning: this story is filled with dark, graphic sexual fictional situations and should be read by ages 18 and up.

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Text
copyright © Kim Faulks 2015

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

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Dedication:

To the best friend, mentor, and editor I could have, Eden, you’re the best.

Naomi, I’d be lost without your friendship and your support. And to Kristy, thank you for listening to my creepy ideas.

Copyright Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

THE END

Chapter One | Gretel

Chapter Two | Gretel

T
he bedsprings creaked, dragging me from oblivion. I followed the sound all the way to the surface, hovering just out of reach of reality. Warmth spread from the base of my neck. The tension melted away with a sigh. It was all just a dream—one crazy ass dream. Connor, my ex, cheating with Hannah, my so-called best friend. Leaving town in a car that died after the first two hundred miles, then hitchhiking. The green car. Everything. I licked my lips. My tongue stuck against my mouth, thick and dry. Just a dream.

"Belle. I need you to wake up now."

I opened my eyes at the sound of a voice. No one called me Belle, not since my mom died. White-washed walls crowded my vision. Specks of dust danced on the tip of my nose. Even the dim light hurt my eyes. I eased them closed, seeking the darkness once more. "Just a little more sleep."

"No more sleep, Belle."

Pain tore along my arm, shaking the fog from my mind and wrenching me awake. I jerked my eyes open and stared at the hold on my arm. There were too many pieces of my memory dancing behind my eyes. I forced my mind to reconstruct the broken fragments as I stared at the man beside me. Somehow, he looked familiar. One curl from this thick brown hair fell to land in the middle of his forehead. I searched his brown eyes, drifting down the sharp ridge of his nose to soft, full lips, then skirted his wiry body. 

"Who are you?"

The muscles of his jaw bulged, his lips tightened, then curled as he forced a smile. "I’m Mark."

Mark.
The name settled in my mind and felt true. The green car. The tree. I recalled him smiling. I searched for the woman who’d been with him—
What was her name? Nala
—and licked my lips. They tasted bitter and somehow, also sweet, like berries. He reached toward my face. Skin touched skin, just the briefest glance, before I jerked from his touch. "Get away from me. Where am I?"

"You're safe. For now."

Safe
. I shook my head. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but I didn’t feel safe. My focus settled on the clothes I wore. My fingers skirted the dress. The color was almost black. I blinked and stared, trying to shake the fog in my mind. My thoughts were slow and heavy, trapped by what I wore. The woven threads were hard under my fingers. The filigreed skirt turned to smooth satin covering my stomach and breasts. Midnight blue billowed over my legs to cover the single bed. I opened my hands and turned my palm over, staring at the long sleeves. "What have you done to me?"

"Nala changed your clothing, that's all. No one else has touched you. I promise."

I wrenched my gaze up and snarled. "You drugged me."

He nodded and sadness clouded his eyes. "We had to. I'm sorry, Belle. You would never have come with us if we didn’t."

Come with us
? "Where am I?"

I waited for him to answer and for the fog to clear. Both took their time. Mark stared at the wall, unwilling to meet my eyes. "Before I say anything else, I want to tell you a story."

I could feel the corded muscles in my neck bulge. "You want to tell me a fucking story, Mark? Tell me where you've taken me? Tell me how to get out of this place. Tell me where my damn clothes are!"

My arms and legs still felt heavy, but fear made me move. I slid from the bed, keeping one eye on my captor. My feet hit the wooden floor. The room was small and dirty. Thin strips of peeling paint hung from the ceiling overhead. I stumbled to the window.

The derelict room was made colder by the crowding trees and bleak winter sky. White wisps of fog lingered, forcing me to squint to see towering trunks which hemmed me in. Behind me, Mark kept talking in soothing tones that reminded me of my therapist. I gripped the chipped window frame and pushed my body against the glass, straining to see as far left as I could. A waving green ocean of pine needles was all I could see. I wrenched my head to the right. There had to be a way out somehow.

Mark's droning voice dragged me into the room. I couldn't take anymore. I couldn't stand the noise. "Shut up. Why can't you just shut up?"

I wasn't that girl who cried, or played dumb, leaving others to pave their way in this world. I was the loner, the soldier. I was the survivor. But as the green sea wavered outside the window, I realized I was none of those things now.

I was a captive.

I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to think. Midnight Mountain Range was the last thing I remember. I could be further east, or south.
Think, dammit.

How long had I been out?

My breath fogged the dirty window as hopelessness circled like a predator. "If you let me go, I won't say anything. I won't go to the police. I won't say a word to anyone, I swear."

The beating of my heart was too fast. Still I waited for an answer.
Please. Please let me go.
I left the wintery view and turned back to my cage, to the dust covered floor and the stained, striped mattress.

"Please, Belle. The story is important."

I swiped my eyes with my thumb, feeling the slick tears glide away. I couldn't breathe in this damn dress. I couldn't think. I yanked the material and reached for the collar.

"You look so beautiful standing there, you know? Your scowl matches your dress. The moon and the night, that's what you remind me of. Haunting, filled with mystery. He's going to fall in love with you, I just know he will."

"He?"

Mark never answered.
Mark
. If that even was his name. His full red lips were those of an angel, or a seductive devil. He reached to pat the filthy mattress. "Belle. The story."

I glanced toward the door, eying the pitted knob.

"Don't bother. It's locked. There's no way out of here. Even if you did get out, we're surrounded by the forest. Please, don't run, Belle. Don't make me set the dogs free."

His quiet voice carried all the venom of a rattlesnake. I gripped the brittle wood of the window frame and turned to the grounds. My gaze followed the green spikes all the way to the horizon. I'd never make it. Even if I could get past him and the hounds. With no matches, or food, or water, I'd die within a week.

The thudding of his hand on the bed drew my gaze. The floor felt cold to my feet as I crept toward the bed and perched on the edge.

"You might be familiar with the story I'm about to tell. Maybe not, though. I guess it's changed a little over the years. You see, people want to believe in the notion of good. They want to believe it's always the ending, no matter how dark the road is to get there. People want to believe that love conquers all. But, you and I know that's a lie, isn't it?"

He was waiting for me to agree, to give him absolution for what he'd done to me. He could go to fucking hell.

"Once, there was a man who lost his wife to a riding accident." Mark’s gaze slid down my body. "She was his sun and his moon. She was the air he breathed. He wanted nothing more than to spend his life with her and raise their three daughters in a life only the rich could afford. But when he lost his wife, his whole world fell apart."

I tried to find the connection to why I was here, but his words made no sense. I shivered as the cold seeped into my soles.

"His daughters were a joy to behold. They filled his days and staved away the lonely nights. But they were used to a life of luxury, especially the older two, Beatrice and Selene. Those two thought themselves above everyone else, including the youngest of the three, Belle. You see, Belle was different. She was a quiet slip of a girl. Content with dancing, singing, and being the apple of her father's eye. The two other daughters were green with envy. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she put others’ needs before her own. So, when their father's merchant ships came under attack and the family faced financial ruin, the two older girls sank into a pit of depression, along with their father."

The tale conjured memories of when I was a kid, sitting on a threadbare sofa watching a cartoon re-run. I shifted my gaze to the window. Evergreens filled the view like some outdated Seventies wallpaper. I had to make the connection here, and try to figure out how to get out of this damn mess. Was this an attempt to collect a ransom? If this was, he picked the wrong person. The longer I thought on the situation, the more space it occupied in my mind.

Mark's voice was the only anchor to this room. "You see, he had no choice. His daughters were growing fast. Beatrice and Selene were already courting, and Belle had stars in her eyes when she started seeing a young hunter. He feared he was no longer of use. He had no money, no means to care for his children. So their father was convinced his daughters would be happier without him. So, one night he packed his bag and left."

I swallowed, captured by Mark's words. 

"He rode for days and nights, searching for a beast big enough to spear his body and spill his blood. And he did, Belle. He found the beast to do just that. One look and the beast made him an offer. It was an offer of happiness, of heart’s desires. In a moment of weakness, their father took the beast's offer. He dropped and slept, curled around the base of a massive pine tree. When he woke in the morning, he looked upon the face of his dead wife. You see, nothing in this life is fair Belle, not death, not life, not consequences. Not being drugged after a free ride on a lonely stretch of road."

My stomach clenched. A vicious howl tore through the floorboards. I felt the vibration through the floor, raising the hair on my arms. The tortured cry for help spiked the erratic beat of my heart. My nails buckled under my grip on the stained mattress. I searched Mark's eyes for fear, but there was none. Sparks danced around his black pupils. Excitement flushed his cheeks.

"He knows you're here. He's been waiting for so long, and so have we. But, I have to finish my story. I have to make you understand why we brought you here. You see, Belle woke that morning to find her father gone. He left no note, nothing to speak of his return. She knew the sadness that had plagued him since the loss of his wife, and now the loss of their land and possessions were too great a burden. Belle feared she'd lost him forever. She set off with her hunter to find him. The young man was fast on his steed and good with a sword. Even though her father had traveled most of the night, they found him."