Beauty and the Beast (Timeless Fairy Tales #1)

“Of?” Severin prodded.

Elle shook her head. She couldn’t speak her mind yet. “You look so much like a cat it occurred to me. Do you have a tail?”

Severin dropped his silverware and stared at Elle in horror.

“It’s a natural, scientific inquiry,” Elle said, nonchalantly nibbling on a piece of pineapple.

“No, I don’t,” Severin said, vigorously renewing his interest in his food.

“I was merely curious.”

“Allow me to recommend the candied nuts. I believe you will find them to your liking.”

“Touché.”

“Indeed.”

Severin shifted, careful not to jostle Elle’s head.

The girl was stretched out next to him, her head resting on Severin’s thigh. She was awake, but just barely. Severin suspected the soft plush of the carpet they were on and the warmth of the fireplace was going to change that shortly.

Severin glanced down at Elle when she deeply exhaled.

“This is nice,” Elle said.

“Yes,” Severin said after a few moments of silence. He placed a clawed hand on the crown of Elle’s head.

The girl didn’t even stir.

“Elle, why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Elle yawned. “What is there to be afraid of?”

“My claws, my fangs.”

Elle snorted. “I am more likely to turn into a were-squirrel than you are to use either of those weapons.”

“You’ve never screamed at me, not even when you first set eyes on me.”

“I would hope not. I would be a new breed of idiot if I went running around on your roof without any knowledge of what you looked like.”

“Elle, I’m asking. Why?”

Elle adjusted the placement of her head on Severin’s thigh. “You have never given me a reason to fear you.”

Severin felt her slip off to sleep when her breathing grew deeper and muscles relaxed. When he was certain she was asleep Severin dropped his eyes to her sleeping form.

Elle was the picture of peace as she slept. Her soft, flower petal lips were curled into a smile. Her glossy hair spilled over Severin’s leg like a waterfall of silk, and her skin—flawless and perfect—glowed in the firelight.

For the first time in years, the desire to be a man—to be human—sliced through Severin like a sword to the gut as he looked at Elle.

“I have done you a disservice, Elle,” Severin murmured. “I told my brother you were plain. I was wrong. Horribly wrong. You are more beautiful than even the most stunning rose.”

Severin gently touched Elle’s cheek. When she did not stir he continued. “The sparkle your eyes get when you hold a mischievous thought on your tongue, the gentleness of your touch, and the peace and elegance you have that comes with being comfortable with one’s own skin would take away any man’s breath.”

Elle’s breathing was easy and unburdened, unaware of Severin’s admiration of her beauty.

“Also, you smell like wild roses—which much offended me when you first arrived as I didn’t think you to be worthy of the scent. But now I half wonder if it is that wild roses smell like you, and not the reverse,” Severin said, thankful that he could praise the sleeping beauty without her knowledge. (If he admitted he had a better sense of smell than most humans, Elle was sure to imply it was because he resembled a cat.)

Severin sighed and brushed Elle’s jagged—but oddly perfect in Severin’s mind—bangs across her forehead with a heavy heart.

As much as he had grown to admire Elle, it was unlikely that she would be able to accomplish what countless other women had failed at. Elle would never be able to love Severin.

It was hard to forget the parade of women Lucien strung before Severin. Most of them were obvious in their lack of sincerity, but there were a few Severin had thought might be able to break his curse.

They were sweet, artless girls, and in the end they loved his possessions, his title, his inheritance, everything except himself—even though they had tried.

Now it hurt to hope. And Severin felt the increasing weight of his servants’ expectations every day.

Severin closed his eyes. “You are beautiful, Elle, and I am grateful for your companionship. But even you could not be so noble as to fall in love with a beast.”

Chapter 13

The Plot of Arcainia

When the courier arrived four days later Severin was on his way to the library.

“Your Highness!”

Severin turned around, shocked by the sound of another human voice besides Elle and his own in the normally quiet chateau.

Burke and a courier—dressed appropriately for the weather and dusted in a thin layer of snow—hustled down the hallway.

Burke ran straight up to Severin, but his companion dallied for a moment, shaking in fear.

“I am in my right mind. I will not harm you,” Severin dryly said after the courier took a step backwards.