Page 6 of Beast’s Surrender, Beauty’s Revenge

CHAPTER SIX

ALMAS

The man simply followed me, and I didn’t know if he was unsure what to do or—or?—

There was a thread in my chest, something that tugged on me, even when I walked ahead of the Beast, keeping me aware of where he was. I thought that’d be true even if I couldn’t hear his footsteps behind me, even if the brush didn’t bend and break and crack under each step.

Walking through the dense forest, I had little idea of where we were headed beyond the ground slanting downward. Surely the water would carve some path below and we’d reach the bottom and find a stream.

Just when I was getting so frustrated that I considered ordering the Beast to find us some godsdamned water, I felt that coolness that belied fresh water on the breeze, the scent of something clean and flowing.

And finally, I began to hear it—water moving over stones, little white-capped crests that rose and fell where the creek turned.

It wasn’t enormous—the water was clear to the bottom and didn’t look deep enough to comfortably submerge in, but it was enough.

And there, on the muddy bank, I froze.

It was all too easy to do, as the Beast froze two steps behind and one to my right. He watched the water, and when I turned to look at him, his expression was empty, beyond a touch of confusion.

My neck ached, and I realized I was clenching my back teeth. I didn’t want to?—

Well, I wanted to wash the dirt and mud from my skin, but I didn’t want to be watched while doing it, and the way the Beast stood there?—

He wasn’t looking at me hungrily, but his eyes were empty, distant, and I’d prefer not to be in his field of vision.

“Go over there,” I said, waving my hand toward a bend in the creek. “Bathe yourself, then—then we’ll figure out what to do about food and rest.”

The Beast’s gaze finally narrowed on me, and his cheeks hollowed for a moment before he shuffled off the other way.

Still, I waited until I was sure he’d keep his back turned, watching him with narrowed eyes, before loosening my belt, tugging my tunic over my head, and shedding my breeches and boots. Even then, I rushed into the water, bending my legs to sink down to my shoulders and making quick work of scrubbing my skin.

The water was cool and crisp, and while I would’ve preferred a hot bath, it was wondrous to get my skin clean.

Once I’d scratched my scalp with blunt nails, combed my fingers through my shortish brown hair, I felt like a different person. I could breathe again.

And, biting my lip, I chanced a look at the Beast.

He was standing in the water by the bend in the creek, staring off at the opposite shore. He hadn’t even taken off his tattered trousers before walking in. Thankfully, he was only up as deep as his calves, and while the fabric hung heavy and wet around his legs, it was only the bottom of them.

I—I didn’t have it in me to demand he get out of the water and forego a moment’s care, but I swallowed nervously, hesitant to involve myself, particularly in such a vulnerable state.

I could get out of the water, dress, and explain the steps to him, or—well, if I stayed deep enough in the water, it was safe enough, wasn’t it? The stories I’d heard of the Beast, perhaps he’d drown me there. But we had already established that I did not care to save my life and he did not care to take it.

I let the flow of the water pull me toward his spot, and dug my feet into the muddy creek bed when I reached him—not quite arm’s length away, but close enough.

His gaze focused on me, his head tipped curiously one way.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve had to do this, hasn’t it?” I asked.

He gave no answer, just blinked slowly at me. Still, his eyes did not drop. He didn’t seek out a glance at my body beneath the water, so when I took a shaky breath, I drew it deep enough to calm my nerves.

“Your trousers,” I said, nodding at them. “Go take them off and hang them over a branch, then come back to me?”

With orders, the Beast seemed more at ease. He lumbered up the bank of the creek, and I—I stared. He undid the ties at his waist, and then he was naked, a startling amount of muscle making his legs scarily thick.

If I—well, sometimes, it felt as if I couldn’t appreciate another person’s form without making all my refusals of Lord Uther seem unreasonable. But rationally, I knew that wasn’t the case. Enjoying the shape of one person did not mean that I was beholden to surrender myself to anyone who wanted me.

It just... in my darker moments, when I tried to convince myself that it would not be so bad, it felt as if I could never have physical affection without first submitting myself to Lord Uther.

And then I wanted to vomit, because that was absurd, and the man himself deserved a knife punched straight into his heart and nothing more pleasant than that.

In any case, a confusing swirl of feeling rushed through me at the shape of the Beast’s backside, the curve of his back, and strength of his arms. And then he turned, and I made a choking noise, looking away, but not before I’d caught a glimpse of his particularly impressive?—

No. We were bathing, nothing more.

I waved him hastily forward, eager to have the water around his waist. Perhaps higher still. “Come on then.”

He sank into the water in front of me, and I swam behind him, tapping his shoulder. “Lean back.”

His hair was long, floating like a scarf on the wind, twisting out from his head in dark waves.

I ran my fingers against his scalp. His breath hitched, and I froze, a moment’s fear flashing through me before the Beast sighed and closed his eyes.

He let me clean his hair, such as I was able without a proper bar of soap. When I bid him sit upright, he looked faintly dazed, but I splashed water over his shoulders and neck, and he lifted handfuls to scrub at his face.

When we were done with that, I stepped back, and he looked up at me, his face smoother than I’d realized now that it was free of dust, his eyes a bit clearer.

“Can you do the rest?” I asked, miming scrubbing my hands over my chest. “Like this, but everywhere?”

He grunted and took to the work, and I turned away from him, trusting that he’d manage, and eager to get out before his attention was free again.

All that time, he hadn’t pawed at me, hadn’t even made a threatening gesture, but—but I didn’t understand why not. I didn’t entirely trust it.

Except that he’d been sweet, patient. And that, from the Beast of the Black Forest? Well, I had no idea what to do with that but flee and dress and hope that whatever came next was simpler.