Beast within the Beauty || A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

Chapter Fifteen || To Guilt a Beast

HE  WAS SEATED at the head of the table, leisurely staining his lips with red wine. I crept out of the shadowed hall, noting that he had only slightly inclined his head to acknowledge me. His gaze seemed to be pinned on me, watching as I inched my way across the hall and into my seat.

"Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and unweighted. It was as if the events of last night had never occurred.

With my gaze lowered, I proceeded to nibble on what little food did not give me to the urge to vomit. My hands appeared pale against the dark gown I wore and they shook violently—even as I placed them on my lap and grasped at fistfuls of my skirts.

"Do you not have a response for your lord husband?" he taunted after a prolonged moment of silence.

"Good evening," I mumbled quietly from my end of the table. My voice was small and timid, resembling the squeaks of a mouse cornered by a cat. As I knotted my fingers together in an attempt to keep from fleeing, I realized where his gaze had settled.

It was upon my faintly bruised shoulder and neck—displayed by the low cut of my gown. I had selected it personally, much to the dismay of my maids. But since they were inclined to refuse to explain why I could see them last night or give any more information about the 'Flux,' then I was inclined to my choice in dresses. Even more so, I was entitled to ignore their protests regarding the knives in my possession.

"Did you think to guilt me?" he snapped accusively. The manner in which he spoke set something boiling within me.

"Of course I had." Boldness seeped into me like the tendrils of a fire latching onto blades of dried grass. It ate away at my sense of reason and devoured my every thought with its heated flame. I sat tall and brought my gaze to his. "You are the one to blame."

He watched me with calm composure, resting his weight upon his elbows. Upon noticing my attention, he sat back and met my eyes. I clenched my fingers.

"I had warned you from entering the West Wings. It was you who decided to forego my warning." With a lazy inclination of the wine glass held between his fingers, he took a sip and tilted his head ever so slightly. "You brought it upon yourself."

"You blame me?" My palms slammed flat against the table as I kicked the chair back and found my feet. "You cornered me like a hungry wolf with a defenseless little lamb!"

He set his glass onto the table and rose to his full height. "It was not unprovoked, Ismae."

I felt a flutter in my breast. He was toying with me, taunting me only because he had the ultimate power to do so. I inhaled a sharp breath."That does not give you the right to bite me like some wild animal!"

"You are married to a beast."

I crossed my arms, feeling the urge to put something in between me and the man prowling towards me. "And a liar. Leaving the castle, hm?"

"What I say or do is of no concern to you." He stopped a few steps away from me—close enough to intimidate but too far to receive the blow of a knife. "You should have kept it in your mind that, while I may be your passionate husband, I am also a tyrant."

"I am done—this dinner is over." I shut my eyes and breathed, my arms growing numb in a way that had previously been limited to the cold. I began to turn, leaving the rest of my meal untouched. I would retch the moment a spoonful met my lips. "Goodnight."

He caught me in place, a hand spread over my hip—over my knives. "Do not ever turn your back to a wolf." His lips brushed against my nape. "It just may decide to take another bite."

I stiffened, curling my fingers around his wrists. "The lamb may decide to kick."

"Need I remind you that you barely resisted any of my advances last night?" he asked, a hand wrapped over my waist as to keep me against his chest.