Roses in the Dark: A Beauty and the Beast Romance
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Prologue
Roses in the Dark
Sophie Stern
Copyright © 2017 by Sophie Stern
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by Melody Simmons // www.ebookindiecovers.com
Contents
Roses in the Dark
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About the Author
Alien Dragon
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
The Saucy Devil
Prologue
1
For all of my readers
May you find light in the darkness
Chapter 1
It’s not every day you meet a monster.
For most people, monsters are something out of fairytale storybooks. They’re things of legends, things they’ve only ever heard about. For most people, the idea of monsters is horrifying and a little unnerving. After all, no one wants to admit the thing they’re most afraid of is real. No one wants to admit the stories could be true.
My father warns me that Farwol is this sort of monster. He warns me that the best thing I can do is to stay hidden, to lock myself in my bedroom and not come out. He says that when Farwol comes to collect his debts, I need to be as far from the creature as possible.
He says this is the only way to survive.
I don’t remember when my father got entangled with the beast from the forest. Everyone in the village fears the reclusive billionaire who comes only to collect his debts. It’s only when the three moons align together and shine bright that Farwol will come. It’s on these nights the villagers who are indebted to him must pay what they owe or face a fate worse than death.
It’s on these nights when the creature comes to call that the villagers grow terrified.
Tonight, my father is one of them.
He begins to panic around lunchtime. The sun is still bright in the sky, but he’s trying to collect enough money to pay back the man he borrowed from. Why my father owes Farwol, I don’t know. Why my father would turn to seeking money from a monster, I don’t understand. The only thing I know is that when the sun sets, he’ll come to our door, and my father must be ready to pay.
“I can help you,” I say, watching him run around. He’s grabbing different items of value to try to go sell. He’s grabbing the candlesticks, the paintings, the silverware. He’s grabbing anything he thinks might fetch a price, but fear fills my heart because I don’t think it will be enough.
Whatever debt my father owes Farwol, it’s one that will not be repaid with simple silverware. No, this debt goes much deeper and is far greater than I can imagine.
“Eve, you must stay here,” Father says. He grabs a few more items and throws them into a large bag before heading out of the house. “And no matter who comes to the door, you don’t answer it. Understand? Do not answer the door, Eve. Not even for your friends.”
I stand at the door and nod, not quite understanding the seriousness of the situation. My father is completely panicking and I wish I could help him. I wish there was something I could do. I should be able to do something, to ease his suffering, but he won’t tell me what he’s done, what he owes.
He won’t tell me why he went to the monster in the first place.
Father closes the door and waits just outside while I lock it. Once satisfied, I hear him descend the rest of the steps and leave with Pepper, our horse. Then I am truly alone.
I sit in a chair and stare at the wall, wondering how the world has come to this. Am I such a failure as a daughter that I cannot figure out a way to save my own papa? Am I such a terrible human that I cannot come up with a single solution to this predicament? I should be better.
I should be able to find a way.
Yet I spend the entire afternoon and into the evening trying to come up with ideas to make the money my father desperately needs and I come up short. I come up with nothing. Soon the moons rise and father still isn’t back. I pace back and forth in the living room for what feels like hours. Eventually, the sound of hoofs arrives outside the door and father comes into the house.
“Did you get the money?” I ask anxiously, hopefully, but he shakes his head. “Oh, Papa,” I whisper, going to him. I hug my father, wrapping my arms around him. “What’s going to happen now?” I ask.
“We’ll figure something out,” he says, only this time, he doesn’t sound as hopeful as he did before. The paintings and the silverware are gone. Father is carrying a thin velvet bag that jingles as he moves.
“How much gold did you get?” I ask, nodding toward the bag.
He shakes his head. “Silver,” is all he says, and he sets it down on the wooden table in the center of the room. We sit to a supper of warm stew and stale bread, but eat in silence. We’re both so completely wrapped up in our own thoughts that we don’t hear the horses approaching the house until the riders are coming up to the door.
“Eve!” My father says my name in a hushed whisper. “Quick! To your room!”
“Papa,” I protest lightly, but I know it’s no use. They’ve come for him and there’s no stopping whatever happens now. He motions for me to go hide, so I go into the adjacent bedroom and close the door. Then I crawl under the bed.
Papa showed me long ago where he wanted me to hide if anything bad happened. This isn’t a particularly good hiding place. I think if someone wants to find me, it won’t be difficult, but it’s the only place I have.
The area beneath the bed is dusty. I should have kept this area clean, I realize, but it’s too late for that now. My dress will be dirty and soiled when I come out, but that doesn’t matter.
All that matters is my father.
I hear him open the door.
“Gentlemen,” he says politely. “What can I do for you?”
Even with the bedroom door closed, it’s not difficult to hear what they’re saying. The hardwood floors make every sound echo, make every footstep exaggerated.
“You know why we’re here,” a deep voice says.
“I don’t have your m-m-money,” my father starts to stutter, and suddenly, the room seems so much colder.
He’s scared.
Papa is scared.
My father is never scared, never afraid. Nothing makes him worry. Nothing upsets him. He certainly never becomes unnerved to the point of stuttering, but that’s happening now.
“That’s unfortunate,” the voice says. “I suppose I’ll have to take my payment in other ways.” I listen carefully. There are at least three men, I think. The one talking must be Farwol. He said my money: not our money. That makes me think he’s the one in charge, the one leading this group of thugs.
That’s what they are, I think with an angry frown. They’re thugs. They’re bandits. They’re worth
less pieces of shit who have no business coming in here.
And I won’t let them touch my father.
I should go out there and reason with them. Maybe if I explain everything, they’ll be understanding. Maybe they’ll leave us alone.
Only, before I can move to wiggle out of my spot, I hear footsteps approaching the door, and I pause.
“Anything,” my father says. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Farwol pauses for a moment. His men say something I can’t quite hear. Maybe he’ll be reasonable. Maybe he’ll be normal. Maybe he won’t be the monster everyone says he is. Maybe he won’t be the beast.
But then Farwol says, “I’m terribly sorry about interrupting your supper.” My heart starts to race as I realize what he’s going to say next. “Who was your dining companion? Surely an impoverished man, such as yourself, wouldn’t eat two bowls of stew on your own.”
“I…I…”
“Find her,” Farwol commands, and I hear his men burst into my father’s bedroom. This is it. I’m next. They’re going to find me and take me to him. I scoot back further under the bed. All thoughts of being brave flee as I wonder what’s going to happen to me.
Maybe they won’t look under here.
Maybe they won’t see me.
Maybe…
But then the door to my room opens and they walk inside. I see two pairs of muddy boots enter and move to the center of the bedroom.
“She’s not ‘ere,” one of the men says.
They didn’t look under the bed.
I’m safe.
They didn’t find me.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but when I do, my breath kicks up a little flutter of dust from the bedroom floor and before I can stop myself, I let out the loudest sneeze of my life.
“Never mind!” The man says, reaching under the bed. “Found her.”
Chapter 2
I wiggle and thrash my body around as the man pulls me from beneath the bed, but he’s much stronger than I am.
“Feisty little thing,” the man says. He hauls me to my feet and whirls me around, pinning my arms between my back and his chest. I’m stuck now. He wraps a thick, muscular arm over my stomach, yanking me tightly against him. “Don’t move, sweetheart,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“And she’s ill-mannered,” the second man says. The two men guide me roughly out of my bedroom and in the main room where my father is standing beside the biggest, tallest, handsomest man I have ever seen in my life.
It must be Forwal.
It has to be.
He’s taller than I expected; his head almost reaches the ceiling. His shoulders are broad and he’s wearing a snug-fitting shirt that shows off his muscles. The shirt is tucked into a pair of pants that are also too tight and I close my eyes before I have a chance to truly finish looking at him.
This is the man who is ruining my father’s life.
This is the man who is about to ruin my life.
I can’t be attracted to him. That’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. I can’t be turned on by the way these men are treating me roughly, by the way they’re forcing me to do their bidding. In fairytales, the princesses are always innocent and sweet. They’re never bad or dirty. They never have unclean thoughts about men. They never have dark desires.
Not like me.
“Please,” my father says. “Leave her alone. I’ll do anything you want. Anything!”
“I’m afraid that your word is no longer any good,” Forwal says. I hear him take a step toward me. “Considering the promises you made me just three months ago. You may promises to pay that you have failed to keep, Alerion.”
“I’ll do better,” my father says. “I just need more time.”
“Time is something I will not give you,” Forwal moves closer. I can hear him, smell him. I think if I reach out, I’ll be able to touch him, but my arms are still pinned behind me. With my eyes squeezed shut, all of my other senses are heightened, and I’m very aware of how my body must look at this moment.
My breasts are pushed outward: an offering, an invitation. My lips are pursed together, but judging by the growing dampness between my legs, I’d guess they look sultry: not angry. My breathing is heavy and rushed, which further pushes my breasts out. They’re heaving and heavy. I’m not even wearing a corset. I know Forwal can see all of me, but the thought doesn’t humiliate me the way it should.
“What is your name, girl?” He says. The thought of refusing to answer his question doesn’t pass through my mind.
“Evelyn,” I whisper. “But I’m called Eve.”
“Well, Evelyn,” he says, ignoring my nickname. “You’ll be coming with me. Say goodbye to your father now. You won’t be seeing him again.”
“No!” My father cries out, but the man behind me suddenly releases me and pushes me forward. I open my eyes in time to stop myself from careening into my papa.
“Say goodbye,” Forwal repeats.
“Goodbye, Papa,” I whisper, hugging my father tightly. I plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, which is already wet with tears.
“I’m sorry, Eve,” he says.
“It’s okay, Papa.”
“I’ll find a way to get you back, Eve.”
“I’ll be fine, Papa.”
“That’s enough,” Forwal says. He doesn’t offer to let me gather any of my clothes or belongings. He doesn’t give me anymore time. He simply motions for me to follow him out the front door and somehow, I manage to force myself to move. Somehow, I manage to go with him.
There’s a large carriage outside with a driver sitting out front. Two horses are connected to the carriage. There are another two horses with saddles and baggage. I suppose those are for Forwal’s goons.
“Get in the carriage,” Forwal commands, and once again, I obey him wordlessly. I should turn around and look at my childhood home. I should turn around and try to get one last glimpse of my father. I should turn around and whisper goodbye to the place I was born, the place I was raised, but I don’t. Instead, I climb into the carriage and sit down. Then I place my hands in my lap.
Forwal says something to his men before joining me. I can’t make out the words and I’m not truly listening. My life is going to be different now. My life has changed. Everything is going to be new and strange.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.
Forwal climbs into the carriage and closes the door. I expect him to sit across from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits directly next to me on the bench. He scoots over until our hips are touching and he places one of his hands on my thigh.
I don’t flinch.
I should flinch.
A proper girl would flinch.
That’s what a good girl would do.
I’m not really a good girl.
The thought floats through my mind quickly before I banish it, along with all my other secret dreams and fantasies. Those are the things I keep locked away, the things no one must ever know about. Those are the things I must hold close to my heart. Those are the secrets I must never share.
Forwal doesn’t speak. Instead, he simply sits with his hand on my thigh, reminding me silently that I am his now. He can do with me as he wishes. If he wants to lock me in a dungeon, he can. If he wants to make me his servant, he can. If he wants to toss me in a bedroom and play with me, he can. He can do his bidding.
There is nothing I can do to stop him.
I should feel sadder. I should feel fear. I should feel so many things that I don’t, and I wonder what could possibly be wrong with me. Most women would be crying, begging for their lives. Most women would be asking their captor not to touch them, not to hurt them, but I’m not doing that.
I’m not begging because I don’t want him to take his hand away.
I don’t want him not to touch me.
The carriage jerks to a start and Farwol keeps his hand in place as we ride into the night. I don’t know where we’r
e going.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.
Chapter 3
After stopping to collect three more debts, the carriage leaves my village. It’s a tiny place: my village. It’s always been home to me, but I feel a strange sort of disconnect as we leave. The carriage follows a road out of town and into the forest. I know where we’re going now. Even without asking, I know.
Now we’re going to Farwol’s home.
We’re going to his castle.
We’re going to his lair.
I look at him as we ride. Each time we stopped to collect someone’s debt, Farwol warned me to stay put. Then he went with his two men, who are called Fortune and Gauge, and collected the money owed to him. Each time he returned, he seemed surprised to find me still in place. Of course, he left the carriage driver to watch me, but I think he still thought I would try to run.
The problem is that I have nowhere to go.
Even if I did have somewhere, I don’t really want to go.
I sort of just want to stay here.
His body is warm against mine and comfortable. I’m no wilting flower. I know Farwol is as evil as they come, but somehow, I’m not afraid of him. I find his presence calming, almost tranquil. As the ride grows bumpier, Farwol slides his arm around my shoulder.
“Lean your head on me,” he says. “It will be more comfortable.”
I say nothing, but I obey him instantly. He’s right. Leaning on him keeps my head from hitting the back of the carriage. He’s soft and he smells nice and the position makes me feel wanted and secure.
“Good girl,” Farwol whispers, but then he falls silent again. I wonder what the future holds for me. Will I be his slave or his mistress? Will I be his worker or his wanton? There’s no way to tell what a man like him might demand, so I stay silent and try to focus on breathing.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
After awhile, I begin to feel tired, and I allow myself to drift off to sleep. When I wake, Farwol is touching my hair, gently playing with the long, dark strands.