Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) (20 page)

He winced, remembering Danya and Alena.  Beatrix might not know the exact specifics, but she knew him before he became cursed, and she knew what it took to break the curse, so of course she must know about his sexual escapades.

"The only person who might have a chance at doing anything right now would be a member of the clergy," the witch said, thinking aloud.  "Maybe not even anyone current.  I doubt we have time to rush into town and find someone who has experience with demons.  It's unlikely we'll be able to find someone and get back in time before Pinem'e's destroyed your mansion and killed everyone left in it.  He might chase us, though.  Or, you, more like.  Luring him into town might be even worse."

Everett thought.  It was easier to think now, though he was still growing accustomed to real, logical acumen.  It took time, but it seemed like one of those things where once you knew it, you could always do it.

He thought, and then he knew.  "I have," he said.  More.  Say it.  Correctly.  You aren't a beast any longer, he reminded himself.  You've almost freed yourself from this curse.  "I had a member of the clergy within my household," he finished.  Beatrix would know this, too.  "He was one of the best and had experience with demon exorcism.  We never needed to rely on him for that, but my father insisted we keep safeguards just in case."

"Yes, well, I was such a safeguard once upon a time, now wasn't I?  Look what good that did you?"  Beatrix laughed at her own joke, then stopped abruptly.  "Is he revived?  Father Auguste?"

It was certainly possible.  Possible, and yet he doubted it.  He should've known of Father Auguste had been revived before now, unless he returned after his most recent coupling with Danya.  Even still, if Father Auguste came back then, he likely would have immediately recognized the presence of a demon within the mansion and done something about it.  Seeing as he hadn't, and Everett had passed by the small chapel room in the mansion many times before his most recent dalliance, it seemed unlikely the priest was back.

"No," he said.  "I don't think so."

"A great lot of good that is, then.  We could bring him back, of course.  If there was a woman here for you to fuck.  It's a gamble, but it's better than any other choice we have.  Not that we have..."  She paused.

Everett blinked at her.

She blinked at him.

"I guess we could," she said, muttering.

He cocked his head to the side and regarded her oddly.  "What?"

"Are you an idiot?" she asked.  "You bring people's souls back from the objects I put them in by fucking a willing woman, right?  I'm a woman, aren't I?"

Everett cleared his throat after nearly choking in surprise.  "Beatrix..."

"I'm willing, alright?  I'll do it.  What other choice do we have?"

He wasn't entirely sure what happened after that.  Something primal and base within him took control.  To be honest, he did like Beatrix.  He liked her before and he'd admired her from afar.  It was silly and dumb at the time, and he knew nothing could come of it, but then... there was a faint spark of possibility.

He'd watched Beatrix attending her duties around the mansion for years, always thinking of her more as a guest than anything else.  She was a servant of sorts, but not at all the same as anyone else within his family's service.  Powerful and strong, an immortal witch, and more than somewhat untouchable because of that.  He honestly never thought of her as sexual, though he'd privately fantasized about it on more than one occasion.  What need did a witch have for sex, especially one that would live forever?

Oh, he was wrong, though.  A few strong glasses of wine and some sweet words brought Beatrix to his bed.  The experience was both oddly unsettling, and deliriously amazing all in one.  Beatrix was unapproachable, and so no one had bothered approaching her.  He found out that this made her all the more willing and eager.  She enchanted him that night, literally, and they coupled, bodies entangled together, for hours and hours.  He couldn't stop, and didn't want to.  Whenever he spent himself inside of her, he remained erect and ready to go again, and so they did.

She had a sparkle in her eyes then that he'd never forget.  It pained him to remember it now, because he knew he'd hurt her so much.  The whole scenario scared him, though.  What good was that to admit?  He was the Master in charge of this mansion, and long ago he'd been important.  Nearly a King, or at least a prince, a powerful lord, destined to rule this area.  He wasn't allowed to be scared, especially of one of his servants.

Those exact thoughts were what led to his downfall.  To be honest, he considered stayed in bed late that morning and cuddling with Beatrix, treating her more like a lover than a tramp, but he couldn't.  Or, he didn't think he could.  He needed to show himself that he was still in charge, and unfortunately at the time that involved humiliating Beatrix.  He'd waited until she came down for breakfast, then informed her she needed to leave because he had guests.  A witch wasn't proper company for the people he planned to play host to, so she needed to go back to her hovel or hut or whatever dirty, desolate place where she lived, and leave.

He had no guests coming.  He didn't know exactly where Beatrix lived.  He didn't know that she really did live alone in a small house that could probably use a little cleaning.  She wasn't a person to him and she didn't have true feelings or emotions; she was immortal and a witch, existing beyond all of that.  She was so much more than him, but in his position he could never admit it, and so he'd berated her and tried to cast her down in order to elevate himself back up again.

It helped that he had a reputation for casual dalliances and fooling around.  He never really loved any of the woman he slept with, though he was fond of many of them.  Unfortunately fondness couldn't solve the question as to whether he could take them as a wife; and regardless of what he felt, he knew he couldn't act upon it.  He couldn't marry some lowly servant girl, nor a lesser woman of nobility.  He especially couldn't marry a witch.

That was all in the past, though.  And what of now?  He supposed it didn't matter what he did or who he married.  He was still the Master of this mansion, but what use was that?  He had no control, no power.  The world had forgotten him long ago and he'd become some whispered rumor, the beast-cursed man who angered a witch.  That was all anyone would remember him for.

He was still that, and currently he was rutting with that very same witch off to the side in the destroyed remnants of his pantry.

Beatrix held her dress up near her waist, giving him easy access to the core of her body.  Wild, sniffing, losing himself in her intoxicating beauty, he moved forward with reckless abandon and buried his erect cock between the beautifully plump folds of her pussy.  He thrust deep, pounding into her, taking and claiming her.  She had bound him as a beast, but he was in control right now.

Beatrix was always beautiful.  It was magic, he knew, but that didn't make her flawlessness any less attractive and arousing.  Everything about her appearance was perfect, as she'd wished it so hundreds and hundreds of years ago.  He never asked her exactly how old she was, but he knew of her magic and her rose.  He knew she kept it in his guest home where they'd fucked so very long ago.  He even knew some of her wishes

Extraordinary beauty, immortality, and his curse.  The century rose only fully bloomed once every hundred years, and offered a single near-perfect wish at the same time.  With those three wishes, Beatrix was at least three hundred years of age, but for all he knew she could be many hundreds more than that, too.

It didn't even matter.  She was as perfectly nubile and beautiful as if she'd just turned eighteen.  Her femininity, those clean-shaven and kissable lower lips just begging to be savored with a tongue and licked and caressed and touched, looked pristine and unused as if she were a virgin.  Hundreds of years of knowledge gave her plenty of experience in her version of sexual witchcraft, too.  He didn't think that was magically endowed, though he never asked and couldn't know for sure.

She was tight around his cock, then and now.  He pressed far into her, feeling her clutch and squeeze against him.  It was perfect, almost too perfect; custom-fitted just for his shaft.  The first time they'd had sex, he lost himself completely with one thrust.  She'd giggled at that, sticking her fingers between her legs and feeling his seed seep out of her.  He apologized—it was embarrassing and despite what anyone ever said, he honestly had never done something like that before—but it didn't matter.  She'd just winked at him and wiggled her fingers, making his softening cock jut back up to full attraction.

She felt the same now as she did then.  Her inner walls caressed and massaged against his throbbing shaft as if she were teasing and caressing him with her fingers.  He groaned, relishing in the sensation.  It was perfect, and yet there was no love here.  There probably never was any love, either.  It was fun, yes, and he'd enjoyed it before as he enjoyed it now, but that was it.

That never meant he needed to be rude to her, nor that he needed to humiliate and embarrass her.  Even if she was a one night stand, she was a person and worthy of respect.  He'd never thought of this before, but after a century of complete isolation, he had a lot of time to think.

"Everett," Beatrix whimpered.  Her body grew hotter around him and she squeezed harder against him.  "I'm... I'm going to..."

He grabbed her hips and pounded into her.  He wasn't going to last much longer.  This wasn't an extended thing, anyways.  Out of necessity, they fucked, in some random, nonsensical hope that their coupling would revive Father Auguste and give them a means to end the fallen angel's rampage.

He wanted to be considerate to Beatrix, though.  If that was the only thing he could do to make any amends, he would try.  He could have ignored all of this and let her perfect body have its way with him and his seed in mere seconds, but he forced himself to prolong it enough to give her pleasure, too.  Was it worth it?  Did she care?

He thrust, hard, in, out, over and over, barely able to contain his lust and pleasure.  His cock felt so sensitive, especially at the tip, and he could barely hold back his climax.  Then Beatrix screamed out in ecstasy and her body convulsed hard around him, milking his cock of its cream.  He was so lost in lust and pleasure that he barely realized the difference between his and her orgasm.  With every twitch and throb of his cock as he released his seed inside of her, her body responded with greedy, spasmic tremors, pulling more and more from him.

He didn't know how long it went on, nor what became of either of them afterwards.  Crumpling atop her and burying his face in her hair, he breathed in deeply of her scent.  Beatrix smelled lovely.  She always smelled lovely, though.

Nestling against her sex-worn body, he whispered into her ear.  "Beatrix, I'm so sorry for what I did all those years ago.  I was a fool and an idiot."

"Yes," she said, whispering.  "You were."

He could feel her heartbeat in her throat as he pressed his head against the side of her neck.  "We can't be together and it scared me."

She breathed in deep, then out again.  "Everett, I knew how you treated women before any of that.  I never expected something serious to come of it.  That wasn't what it was about.  You might have been cursed to look like a beast, but people always treated me like one.  I'm beautiful.  I made certain of that.  I have powerful magic.  No one ever treated me like a woman, though.  I was considered fearsome and horrifying and the only reason anyone bothered to put up with me was because I offered them some of my magic.  Otherwise, they wanted nothing to do with me and hoped I would go away."

It was probably true.  He couldn't say it wasn't.

"Maybe that would have been the only night," she said.  "Maybe we never would have done it again.  I
wanted
that night, though.  I wanted to be a regular woman, if only just for a little while, and when you approached me, well... some wishes aren't possible, no matter what kind of magical powers you have.  You did grant my wish that night, but then in the morning..."  She trailed off.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I never intended to marry you.  I might've been your mistress if you asked and we remained discrete, but other than that... obviously you have obligations.  I just wanted to feel normal and be treated normally, that's all."

"I'll try to make amends," he said.  "I owe that to you.  If we make it out of this, if Father Auguste is revived, then..."

"He's not," Beatrix said, flat and monotone.  "I'm sorry, Everett, but this was for naught.  Father Auguste wasn't brought back."

"We..."  He choked on the words.  "Again... we can..."

"We don't have time," she said.  "As much as I enjoyed it, that took far too long as it is."

This was it, then?  They were done for?  What could they do now?  Fight, run?

The only thing he had to look forward to was his regained humanity.  After coupling with Beatrix, the remainder of his curse was fading away.  His fur vanished, replaced by tanned skin, and his mind felt less muddled and primal.  He could think, understand, and comprehend so much more.  His speech felt odd, but he didn't feel stupid when he talked.

Unfortunately that was literally the only thing Everett had going for him at the moment.  Besides the fact that an angel cast down from the heavens was on a mission to destroy him and perhaps his entire household, when he glanced up after seeing something out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Danya standing on the outskirts of the destroyed pantry.  She was staring at the sexual aftermath of his and Beatrix's foolhardy plan, both of them laying on the floor in blissful afterglow, spent.

Danya watched him, aghast, mouth open, gaping.

Alena and Dante didn't find Danya.  As they rushed down the halls towards the source of the scream, something stopped them.  Wide open and alluring, two large double doors called to them in the middle of the hallway they traversed.  If they looked inside, surely they'd find Danya.  This was what Dante said, at least.