Beauty and the Beast: An Adult Fairytale Romance Read online

  Above them, a shadow passed over Lorehaven, its long tail stretching behind it like a kite’s ribbon.

  Not an it. A he, she decided. The dragon’s breadth of figure and build struck her as masculine, a majestic creature as brilliant as the rubies decorating her favorite tiara.

  She watched him soar, her emotions treading a fine line between awe and envy. In their panic, the townspeople had vacated the roads, and it struck her as sad that they had nowhere else to go and sought refuge from a fire-breathing beast in wooden cottages.

  No guards awaited her at the gates, but the grounds had been reduced to bedlam. As she rode through, startled faces filled with recognition and called out to her.

  “Princess?” asked a guard who crossed her path.

  “Where is my father?”

  Every protective spell had been activated. Magic sizzled in the air, creating a hurricane of charms in every defensive variety.

  “In the courtyard,” the soldier replied. “The dragon has landed, your majesty. You must not go that way. Let me lead you to safe—”

  “No!” She jerked the reins to the left when he reached to take them from her. Sterling dashed around him and charged into the courtyard.

  Her father, protected by a suit of golden armor, faced off against the dragon. Flames licked the tops of the ornamental trees, their burning boughs sending up plumes of smoke toward the heavens.

  “Father!”

  “Anastasia?” King Morgan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Seek safety, child! Head to the lowest level of the castle and evacuate through the tunnels!”

  A member of the royal guard touched her arm, meaning to drag her aside. She jerked away instead.

  Is this what Eleanor referred to? My choice? Am I meant to speak with this dragon? she wondered.

  “No! I won’t run and hide again!” She darted forward to her father’s side, magic wand in hand to shield them both.

  The dragon recoiled as if her presence had frightened it. His eyes grew large, and the ridges above his brows raised over his reptilian face. The breath he had inhaled came out of him harmlessly without fire.

  “Listen to me, Ana. I may never have this chance to speak with you again. Know that I love you dearly, and acted in your best interests to keep you safe. Your mother and the rest of the staff have evacuated. Go to them now and save yourself. A carriage has been prepared, as of yesterday evening, waiting to take you away to safety.”

  Anastasia trembled. Dalborough had been in contact with him. He knew, and he’d taken steps to spirit her away somewhere. To protect her.

  “What a touching reunion,” the dragon rumbled in a deep voice, his chuckle reminding her of boulders tumbling down a mountain. Anastasia saw her own face reflected in his dinner-plate-sized eyes, their irises the ochre color of butterscotch fresh from the candy maker.

  “This is between you and me, beast,” King Morgan said.

  “Indeed, it is. You will make a fine pet, human. Many times I have warned you, yet I remain dissatisfied. Your futile efforts to raid my mountain have ended in failure once more.”

  King Morgan stared down the great dragon in front of him. “I do not fear you, dragon.” Compared to the enormous monster, his puny sword appeared to be only a thin shard of useless metal.

  “Your panicked heart betrays your composure, proud king. How quickly would you lose it if your dear daughter danced in my flames? Shall we put it to the test?”

  “No!” King Morgan cried. He threw himself between Ana and the monster. “Ana, run!”

  Her father lunged forward and thrust with the blade toward the dragon’s throat. Its enchantment flared, a flash of blue-white light exploding over the courtyard. It left shapes blinking in and out of her vision, and once it faded, she saw her father lying beneath the dragon’s enormous claw, his broken blade shattered nearby on the cobblestone walking path.

  “I should kill you for all you have done,” the dragon hissed, “but death would be too easy for you. No. I will take you instead, pitiful king, to serve me for the remainder of your pathetic life.”

  “Leave my father alone!”

  Her voice had power she hadn’t known she possessed. The dragon flinched almost as if she’d struck him with magic instead. With a single, powerful backstroke from his wings, he jumped onto the stone wall to perch above them.

  If she fled, the King and Queen of Dalborough would travel to the ends of Vale to demand justice for their son. Alternatively, if she remained in the palace, the two nations would be at war. Innocent citizens would suffer. It was no longer about her own freedom or the happiness of her parents.

  With her eyes trained upon the dragon, Anastasia stepped toward him.

  “Don’t take my father. Take me instead,” she offered.

  “Ana!” The king struggled to sit up, but fell back with a wince, wrapping an arm around his chest. The armor had been crushed.

  “You will give yourself in the place of your father to be my prisoner?”

  “I will,” she confirmed.

  “Ana, do not do this,” the king attempted to order her.

  As her father’s best men placed their lives between the monster and their king, Anastasia knew there could only be one choice.

  She had to leave with the dragon and offer herself as the price for her kingdom’s safety. Her father had taunted the creature, and in doing so, had doomed their kingdom.

  “What will your choice be?” the dragon rumbled. He glowered at them from the ledge of a stone wall where it crouched precariously like the world’s most enormous, reptilian bird. His wings fanned out alongside its body, scales covering them like thousands of ruby flecks with gilded edges.

  There was a strange beauty to the dragon that had terrorized their city. An unexpected sense of majesty to the monster who her father both loathed and feared. Had she known it would be so handsome, she would have begged harder when beseeching the king to end his war against it.

  Now it was much too late. Whether or not they lost their lives would come down to a single choice.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ana said.

  “Over my dead body,” the king spat. “Kill the beast now while it stands before us.”

  At her father’s command, archers raised bows and aimed arrows. Her father thought killing was the answer, but that wasn’t to be the solution to their problem. Already, he’d sent so many hapless adventurers to their doom that the dragon no longer found his pitiful attempts amusing.

  Would his archers succeed where so many had failed?

  Anastasia raised her chin in an act of defiance. “No, Father. You gave me away to a terrible man. Now I have the right to give myself for a greater cause.” She turned to face the dragon. “Make a promise now to cease setting fire to our kingdom’s villages, and I will go with you happily, Dragon. May I have your word?”

  The mighty beast chuckled. “Unlike humans who lie and deceive, I have never broken my word, beautiful princess.”

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully and glanced at her helpless father, who would no doubt surrender his life to rescue her from her fate if he could. In all of her life, she’d never seen him so vulnerable. “I want your word, an oath of blood bound in magic.”

  The dragon’s nostrils flared, bright and piercing eyes growing wide.

  “Is this acceptable to you, Sir Dragon?”

  The tense wrinkle in the middle of the dragon’s brow smoothed. “Sir Dragon. I like that. Aye, this is acceptable.”

  As fire raged around them from the tops of the trees to the palace gates at their rear, the king’s guard waited on his command, their shields poised and swords ready. On his word, they would charge in to do combat against the monster.

  But she would be caught in the middle.

  Once the dragon abandoned the wall and settled back on his haunches, long tail writhing behind him on the stone ground, he tapped one black talon against the pad of his clawed hand.

  “Your turn, Princess.”

  Anastasia held out h
er hand and closed her eyes. She felt only pressure at first. When she opened her eyes, a fat droplet of blood had welled from the center of her palm. The tips of his talons were so sharp it took seconds for the pain to register.

  “Don’t do this, Ana,” the king pleaded.

  “It’s for the best,” she whispered. The moment of contact stung, a sizzling jolt sparking between them, unseen but felt by all standing within fifty meters. Two members of the palace guard jerked back and flinched, and another angled his body forward as if he meant to rush to her rescue.

  “By dragon flame and heart’s blood, my word is our bond. May the gods strike me from the sky if my vow is broken. Your life for their freedom, all within this kingdom shall be spared.”

  “My life is yours, Sir Dragon, from now and until my final breath, the price of freedom and life for all I hold dear. Unless challenged or threatened, you shall not harm any human or hurt my countrymen while I am yours.”

  His eyes flared red-orange, a glow like scorched coals in the dark. “Our vow is made.”

  “Our vow is made,” she repeated.

  As the deal was struck, her father wept out in horror.

  “I love you, Papa. And I forgive you.”

  “Ana, please.”

  “It is done. Tell everyone I love them. Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I’ll miss them so much.”

  Warm, hard digits closed around her waist. An involuntary shudder ran through Ana’s body, and then her feet were abruptly lifted from the ground. The wind pushed over her and through her hair, and as she opened her eyes, she saw the ground rushing away from her.

  They were in flight.

  The flaming guard towers became tiny red specks against the green surroundings. Without warning, an involuntary reaction came over her. Screaming, she beat at the dragon’s clawed hand without success and gazed up into the inquisitive, scaled face of the beast.

  “Put me down. Put me down!”

  She’d known all along, deep down in her thoughts, that they would leave by air—but she also hadn’t been prepared for the quick ascent into the sky. The dragon had his own haste spell, and with it, he’d shot into the clouds like a bullet from a flintlock pistol.

  He laughed, the same grinding, rough noise at the back of his throat, a growl as much as it was a chuckle.

  “Please!” My slaps bother him as much as a flea troubles a dog. Her palms ached by the time she stopped, bruised from the fruitless effort.

  “Have you a desire for death?” the dragon asked. His voice was a deep rumble, a masculine brogue with a lyrical cadence.

  Wouldn’t the joke be on her if he turned out to be a she?

  “N-no.”

  “Then stop. A fall from this height will be your death and no responsibility of mine,” he grumbled.

  “I’m afraid of heights!”

  “Then close your eyes.”

  Of course, she had no hope of moving his clawed digits, even if the inclination remained. They were strong, each of the four easily as long as her forearm, and each talon may as well have been molded from steel.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Is this… this is the way to Benthwaite!” she cried above the noise generated by his flapping wings.

  “Why ask our destination if you know the way?”

  Although she couldn’t be certain, Ana thought a hint of amusement colored the dragon’s deep voice. The distance requiring days on horseback took a mere fraction of the time by dragon’s wing. They rose higher into the skies until they breached the low-level clouds floating above the mountain range.

  As her captor came in for a landing on the green plateau, she wondered how long they had flown. His claws sank into the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in the grass.

  The moonlit view of the world below stole Ana’s breath away—for the second time. She knew this mountain! A winding path illuminated by lanterns disappeared around the plateau, while the rest of the level road bisected an enormous courtyard with four neat rows of blossoming orange trees. Their wild fragrance filled the air, and together, they were more beautiful than the royal orchard.

  Night had fallen, but darkness had been abolished by a multitude of hanging lamps glowing down the cobbled path and high parapets. Lights shone in stained glass windows and lanterns gleamed near the castle doors, creating a marvelous spectacle.

  The dragon lowered her gently to her feet on the ground. She stepped forward, too dazzled by her surroundings to make a prompt comment. A thousand questions whirled through her thoughts, and as her mind ran free, the dragon lowered to all fours and moved forward, his body sleek and muscular at once, an odd contrast of bulk and compact muscle.

  Her captor led the way up the path, past the orange trees and a large fountain on the other side. The palace itself towered above them, an ominous and inviting presence of immense beauty. She couldn’t believe her eyes that something so magnificent had been tucked away in the mountains all this time, occupied by only a dragon. Did dragons hire masons and laborers, or had he usurped the throne centuries ago from some lost and forgotten royal family?

  “What am I to do now that I am here?” Ana asked, bewildered. “Are you keeping me like a hog for the slaughter?” she demanded.

  Growling, the mighty beast whirled to face her, practically crashing his tail into the fountain. The spikes grazed the angelic statue crowning the center.

  “Are you not Princess Anastasia of Creag Morden?” he demanded.

  She started, taken aback by the recognition. She’d never told him her name. “How did you…? I don’t understand.”

  “Surprised that a dragon knows your name? Do you think me incapable of telling one human face from another?” Twin plumes of smoke and fire issued from both nostrils. She staggered back and bumped into a stone wall.

  “No! That’s not it!”

  “Then. What. Is. It?” he asked, enunciating between each word.

  A few hours ago, she’d been ready to embrace her demise, but she’d also never expected to literally stare death in its scaled, infuriated face either. As she dragged in a breath, a kind of foolish anger fell over Anastasia. She straightened her spine and stepped forward.

  “Losing your temper over a few questions make you appear to be a very childish dragon, you should know. When I rode past Lorehaven, I saw you setting fire to the watch posts and I feared my family’s palace would be next.”

  The beast stared at her, his unblinking amber-eyed gaze fixed to her face. At their close distance, almost nose to nose, she saw thin strands of green and gold against the amber, reminding Anastasia of a beautiful emerald and gold necklace her father once brought home from a trip abroad.

  “It would have been,” he answered in a lower tone. The anger and heat faded from his voice, and while it softened, the deep, rumbling noise remained. He dragged open the massive palace doors then ducked down to enter.

  A relieved sigh escaped her when he moved away. Now or never. She followed her captor into the castle, dreading what she would find.

  Her jaw dropped.

  The entrance hall stretched far above the dragon’s head. They strode to the end of a wide corridor decorated with elaborate, hanging fixtures lit by glowing alchemical globes. Their pale golden light mimicked the sun, illuminating the treasures sparkling from nearby display cases.

  Dragons loved treasure, so it shouldn’t have surprised her. They reached a circular chamber beyond the hallway with a painted mural of angels stretched across its dome-shaped ceiling. No. Fairies, she realized, gazing at them in awe. Tiny sprites, flowers, and a lovely garden had been depicted above the dangling chandelier. It took her breath away.

  This wasn’t Darkmoor Castle. This place felt alive and loved, nurtured with care.

  “This is beautiful.” She bit her lower lip, wondering why a dragon needed so much extravagance and if he could appreciate the beauty and the majesty surrounding him.

  He paused at the foot of the horseshoe-
shaped stairs leading to the upper level. “Thank you.”

  “Did you build this palace?”

  “No.”

  “Then how did you get it?”

  Silence. The dragon continued to lead her to the upper floor, stony and refusing to acknowledge her question.

  “Will you at least tell me your name?”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “As far as I am concerned, the title of Beast shall suffice. It is what your father prefers.”

  Grasping for ways to make the best out of a bad situation, Ana smiled and said, “There, now we are properly introduced.” She curtsied politely.

  “So we are.” Beast snorted, and the warm breath stirred her hair. “Do you believe you could be happy here, Princess Anastasia?”

  Happiness is subjective, Ana thought. She’d been happy at home with her family, excluding her mother’s frequent fits of insanity. Had Edward not been such a cruel bastard, she might have found happiness in Dalborough. Instead, she had faced a cruel fate. And now, here in this strange place, all she felt was relief that she had spared more bloodshed. “I could indeed have a pleasant life in this castle, and I’m quite happy to be here.”

  “You are pleased to be here?”

  “Quite,” she responded.

  “What a strange woman you are.”

  “Do you intend to starve and beat me?” Or rape me? The question felt absurd the moment it passed through her mind. After all, he was a dragon. They were incompatible for the act, thankfully. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

  “No.”

  “Then I have little to fear and you have my gratitude. Thank you.”

  “Heh.” He turned away and continued down the carpeted hall. “You may visit any room and level of this castle, excluding the uppermost floor of the east wing.”

  “What is up there?”

  The dragon rounded on her.

  “Nothing you need to be concerned with,” he snapped. “Is it so much, what I ask?”

  “No, Beast, it’s not. My apologies.”

  He huffed, bowed his head, and then resumed his sedate pace. “The dining room has sat empty. I am sure Hora will be pleased to see it used once more.”