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S O THIS WAS ARABELLA Blume.

The beast stared at her through the two-way mirror, finally seeing her for the first time. She was sleeping peacefully on the bed, her long dark hair fanned wide against the silk pillows, the covers falling just below her full breasts.

She was smaller than it had expected and far lovelier, too. The latter fact might have pleased other men, but that was the problem.

The beast was not like other men, and no other men could be like the beast.

Swinging away from the sight of her, the beast paced broodingly, its mood made edgier by the claustrophobic narrowness of the secret passageway, which wound behind the walls of every room in the mansion.

Could it really be possible?

Could she be the woman the beast had been waiting for?

The beast wanted to believe it was so, but the cynical part of it scoffed at this.

What the beast wanted was a dream, an illusion.

And it would never come true.

A growl of frustration escaped the beast at the thought. The sound caused Arabella to stir on the bed, and the beast stilled. Damn. The beast knew it would only be mere moments before she came into consciousness.

He should leave now , the beast thought.

But instead, the beast found itself doing the opposite.

A swift push of a button had the wall sliding out of view, and it slid back into place as the beast stepped silently inside Arabella’s room. Her scent immediately reached out to the beast, and it closed its eyes, savoring and committing every nuance of her scent to memory.

This was perhaps one of the few advantages of being a beast: the ability to identify a person, not only by sight but also by their scent.

And some scents were more tantalizing than most – as Arabella Blume’s was.

Her scent was a mixture of pure innocence and fiery passion, of sunlight and roses that were just about to bloom. It was enthrallingly contradicting, this scent of hers, and the beast found itself moving closer towards her, wanting more.

But then Arabella suddenly stirred, and the beast stilled.

Even deep in her sleep, the woman had managed to feel its presence, and the beast’s nostrils flared at the realization of just how sensitive she was.

If she was this sensitive, then did it apply to the rest of her body?

Would Arabella Blume be as acutely responsive if the beast dared to touch her?

The thought came out of nowhere, and the beast inhaled sharply.

The beast tried to control itself, but it was too late. The enticing notion had already taken hold of its thoughts and erotic images flashed in the beast’s mind.

Her dress falling in a pool around her feet, revealing her silken nudity to the beast’s hungry gaze—-

The feel of her skin under its claws, the way her gloriously large breasts would jiggle at its touch—-

Liquid heat laced its blood, and a shudder ran over the beast’s large, powerful body.

Arabella.

Just thinking of her name –

Of being able to say it as the beast kissed her –

The beast’s cock swelled and hardened into a formidably hard erection behind its pants.

Mon Dieu.

How it wanted this woman!

But would she want the beast back?

Breathing hard, the beast turned away sharply at the thought.

Logic told the beast that wishing for such a thing was a sheer waste of his time, and yet –

It could not forget her words.

Although the beast had never left its island, it still retained full control of the family empire. It knew the business inside and out, and that included each and every person who worked in the company. Like the security chief, the beast believed that Maurice Blume had been a pawn, and it had been the beast’s idea to set a detective on the father and daughter’s trail, hoping that they would reveal something in their private conversations.

And indeed it had.

It revealed that Arabella Blume, daughter of a man accused of theft, might be the one woman in this world who could love the beast...because of her words.

Her very own words—-

Not even if the whole world thinks you’re a monster.

I will always trust and love you.

Because I know you.

The beast could not help turning to face her again as her words echoed in its head like the most elusive of promises.

From that moment on, it had wanted her.

It had wanted her like it had never wanted a woman before –

More than Louise Baldwin even.

It had wanted her for those words alone, for the beautiful heart that could have given her the strength to speak such words.

It had wanted her before it had even seen her.

But the beast also knew wanting on its side was not and would never be enough.

Arabella Blume had to want him, too.

So could you do that, ma belle?

Could you want a beast like me?

A hiss of frustration escaped the beast before it could stop itself and this time, it was enough to wake the figure on the bed. As Arabella started to sit up, the beast swiftly retreated past the shadows, the wall soundlessly sliding shut behind it as Arabella rubbed her eyes.

The clouds of hair framing her too-pale face fell against her back as she looked around her, obviously searching for what could have wakened her up.

Time passed.

The beast stared at her through the mirror, willing her to let it go.

Go back to sleep. Forget what you’re thinking. Let it go –

So it, too, could walk away.

But she did not.

W-Who’s there?”

The quiver in her voice, the way her gaze kept searching for the beast in the shadows –

Even without seeing the beast, even when the stealth of its movements had never failed the beast before, even when it should not be –

Arabella Blume knew the beast was here.

Its heart thudded against its chest at what this could mean, but even so, the beast dared not let itself hope. It could not hope. It should not.

Or at least not just yet—-

Not until she understood the only thing the beast had left of Aurélien Sauvage was his name.