Beauty in Autumn (Beauty #3)
Ruby Dixon
1
WILLOW
For as long as I can remember, there has always been a beast in the castle at the edge of the forest.
I've just...never dreamed about him before. Not until tonight.
In my dream, I can hear the fall leaves crunching underfoot as I walk, but I can see nothing. Because I cannot use my eyes, all of my other senses seem to have come to life, and I smell the rich loam of the earth, hear the birds singing in the trees, taste the cool wind that brights the night. I am alone in the forest, which is strange, because no one goes into the forest.
It's cursed.
The forest birds go silent, and then I hear footsteps. They're not human footsteps; they're heavy. Slow. Ominous.
"Who are you?" A voice demands, deep and husky. I know this is the beast. Instead of being terrified, though, I'm aroused. There's power in the sound of his voice, in the heavy tread of his feet. I can sense his presence in the air, as if he's making the wind obey just simply by existing.
I go still and I can feel my nipples prick against the front of my dress. My pulse pounds between my thighs, like it does when I touch myself secretly. Still, I can see nothing, but I'm not afraid.
"I'm Willow," I whisper, and my voice sounds sultry to my own ears. "I'm here to be your bride."
"Leave me," he commands. "The only one that can be my bride must be here of her own choosing."
"I do choose this," I tell him, and I mean it. My body is prickling with anticipation, and I lick my dry lips. I want this, more than anything. I just wish I could see him.
"You must choose me," he repeats again. "In all ways." And his hand touches my face...except it's not a hand, it's a paw. I can feel claws and fur. I'm revolted, even as I wonder if he looks human in the slightest.
"Do you choose me in all ways?" He asks.
I nod.
"Then get on your knees," the beast tells me, and I hear the rustle of clothing. I don't know if it's his or mine, but I know I drop to my knees then and --
I wake up, gasping. My pussy's throbbing with need and I'm alone, in my bed. It was just a dream.
It felt so real, though. I wonder what it means. I get out of bed, restless, and cross to the small window in my room. I open the casement and breathe deeply of the night air. Such a strange dream. Strange to dream about the beast, and even stranger to be aroused by him.
I...wonder what he looks like. If he's as hideous as the stories say. I'll never know, but I'm curious.
The next day, the entire town talks of nothing but the beast, and the upcoming harvest festival. I'm not surprised. It's like this every year for as long as I can remember. My mother says that she has stories of her mother warning her not to go into the woods after dark, because that was the beast's domain. That he haunted the shadows and the dark places, and that he stole the light from all of those who ventured too near. That he was once a handsome prince that offended the queen of the fairies, and everything he valued was stolen from him as punishment.
There's not a word about what he looks like, though. Just that he's cursed and hideous. I ponder this as I go about my day, milking the cows and cleaning the barn. Even though there's an undercurrent of anxiety on this day, I'm determined not to let it get to me. If anything, I'm more fascinated by my strange, erotic dream of the beast.
He sounded human. So human. So...enticing.
I feel a little odd to think of the beast as anything other than horrific. I know if I told my mother about my dream, she'd be appalled. She'd say it's a response to the fact that the harvest festival is soon, and I'm worried.
I am, but I don't think that's why I dreamed about getting on my knees before the monster. There's no reason to make it sexy and exciting. It should be frightening. The harvest festival is a time of dread instead of a time of joy for every woman under the age of twenty-five. No one is allowed to marry before then, and no one is allowed to leave the kingdom. We're all the cursed prince's property, even if we've never seen or heard of him.
Every fall, when the orange and gold leaves cover the ground, there is a harvest festival on the anniversary of the day that the prince was turned into a beast.
Every year, a maiden from every village in the kingdom is commanded by the Minister to gather at the Harvest Stone at the edge of the haunted woods. The maidens are given ribbons tied to the harvest pole, and they circle round and round, slowly unwinding their ribbons from the pole in a reversal of the Maypole celebration. As the maidens dance in a circle, one by one, the ribbons fall away from the tangle, until only one ribbon is left.
That maiden is chosen to be the bride of the beast.
Every year, there is wailing and sorrow as the beautiful girl is sent into the woods at dusk. And every year, we wait. We wait for this to be the time that the curse will be lifted, the prince will fall in love, and our kingdom will be restored to prosperity.
But every year, the curse remains, and every year, a new bride must be chosen at the harvest festival. The old brides are never heard from again, and autumn is a time of dread instead of a time of celebration.
I have lived through twenty autumns, myself. I've never been picked to represent our village of Windybrook, but because we live at the edge of the woods, I've seen the ceremony many times. The girl in our village that represents us every year is Rosie, who is gentle and sweet and lovely, with a cascade of golden curls and a gentle smile. Rosie's lucky, though. Years ago, Rosie went to the wise woman on the edge of town and asked for advice. Leta, the wise woman, told Rosie that she would never be chosen to be the beast's sacrifice.