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CHAPTER TWENTY

CHARLOTTE

T he silk of the gown pooled around me in decadent waves, the fabric so delicate it felt like I could dissolve into it.

My fingers traced the intricate embroidery along the bodice—Belle’s handiwork, every stitch a masterpiece.

She had been right. It was beautiful. The kind of gown meant for a fairy princess, meant to be admired, envied, worshipped.

All eyes had been on me. Too bad the only pair of eyes I’d wanted to see hadn’t been there.

I had whispered my vows with my eyes closed beneath the veil, pretending it was him standing before me.

I had spoken words of devotion, of duty, of forever, and I had meant every single one of them—not for the Beast Prince, but for the man who had held my heart long before I ever knew what love was.

But then the veil had lifted.

Prince Adom’s sharp eyes had met mine, and in that moment, the fury that should have ignited never came. Instead, his face slackened, his pupils dilating. His lips parted, as if he meant to speak, but then—he wavered. He collapsed. Then he shifted.

The man in the bed was no beast. He was unfairly handsome. His features were sharp, regal, as if the gods had sculpted him with a perfection meant to frustrate artists. As a beast, he had been fierce and commanding; as a man, he was a vision.

But not my vision.

He was not Jorge.

And yet I'd bound myself to him.

How could I do this? How could I go another three minutes, let alone three years, without his face, his touch, his voice murmuring my name like it was sacred?

My grip tightened on the dagger. I wasn’t going to stay. I couldn’t.

I'd said the vows. The curse was broken. The beast was human. The moon was appeased. There was no edict that I had to stay. But escaping wouldn’t be easy .

The Beast Prince stirred. Though perhaps I shouldn't call him that any longer. Since he was human.

Prince Adom stirred, his golden lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, his face slack with confusion.

Then he sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

His movements were unhurried, as though he'd woken in a stranger’s body.

His gaze landed on the mirror across the room, and he rose, stalking toward it.

He stood before the mirror, studying himself. Was it vanity? Or disbelief? His fingers brushed over his jaw, his reflection’s smooth, unmarred skin where once fur and claws had ruled. He turned sharply, finally noticing me in the room.

“Hi, I’m Charlotte. Your wife.”

“I’m Adom. Your husband.”

We stood in silence, appraising each other like adversaries rather than partners. He sank heavily onto the bed, running a hand through his wild mane of hair. I hesitated, then joined him, careful to keep space between us.

“Are you planning to use that?” he asked, nodding at the dagger still twirling between my fingers.

I caught it mid-spin and studied its glinting edge. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Jorge made it for me. For my twelfth birthday.”

“He was planning to rescue you. Not her. ”

I nodded, the truth settling heavily between us.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

He rose and crossed to the door, testing it. Locked. Of course it was.

“We're under orders from the Sky Keeper Mages to finish the marriage ritual before they'll let us out.”

“Finish?” His tone was flat, though the glint in his eye suggested he already understood.

“You know…” I motioned toward the rumpled sheets, still untouched on the side he hadn't slept on.

His shoulders tensed. He looked so disturbed, as though the very thought of being violated—of being at someone else’s mercy—was a wound too deep to articulate. I was surprised he didn't clutch for imaginary pearls around his neck.

“I didn't touch you while you were sleeping. Even though my consent was taken from me on the day I was born, I wasn't going to take yours from you.”

“But you were going to give yourself to me, to this union?”

“No. I wasn't planning to stay long.”

“Jorge is waiting for you somewhere?”

“You didn’t have him taken?"

"I have no idea where he went after he tried to steal her. "

“Then she must have him,” I muttered, the pieces clicking into place. “She’ll kill him this time.”

I kicked the door in frustration. It shuddered under the force but didn’t budge. Panic clawed at my chest, hot and suffocating. “If she has Jorge, she’ll have Belle too.”

Adom’s head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s…”

"I ran from you at the Summer Castle, and Belle was forced by my mother to take my place. Belle and I traded places last night. She went to save Jorge in exchange for me taking my place and marrying you so that I could break the curse."

Prince Adom's jaw tightened, the golden hue in his eyes deepening. A low rumble started in his chest, the lion within him waking to find itself caged in a human body.

“Belle wanted to marry you. I think she actually loves you. But she knew she couldn’t break the curse. And I had to save Jorge. I love him with all of my heart, and I won't let her take him away from me again. He’s mine.”

Adom’s exhale vibrated in the air between us, low and primal, carrying with it a weight that pressed against my chest. His golden eyes flickered, molten and alive, glowing brighter than they should in the dim light of the chamber.

The rumble in his chest grew louder, deeper, shaking the floor beneath my feet .

I took an involuntary step back, the dagger still clutched in my hand. “Adom?”

He didn’t answer. His body visibly tensed as though something inside him was clawing to get free. His muscles rippled beneath his skin. The lines of his face sharpened, becoming more feral. His hands clenched at his sides. The tendons in his neck stood out in stark relief.

Then he growled—a sound so raw and guttural it made me clutch my blade for protection. The room shrank around him as his form shifted. His shoulders broadened, his limbs lengthened, his fingers curled into claws that gleamed like obsidian.

He bent forward, his back arching. Bones snapped and realigned, the sound reverberating through the chamber.

His mane of golden hair grew wilder, spilling down his back in waves that caught the faint light.

His face elongated, the regal features of a man morphing into the commanding visage of a lion.

A thick tail lashed behind him, brushing against the floor with a low, threatening hiss.

The transformation was as terrifying as it was magnificent. His clothes tore at the seams, falling away in shreds as fur overtook his body, rich and golden like the fields at dusk. His paws hit the floor with a heavy thud, claws raking the stone as he straightened to his full height .

His glowing eyes met mine. I saw the man behind the beast. There was pain there. There was also rage behind those molten gold irises.

Prince Adom broke the door down with his front paws. Screams erupted from outside. Then he turned and made a motion with his head. I didn't speak lion, but I got his message. I hopped on his back, still clothed in my wedding dress, and hung on to his mane for dear life.