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48: One step forward
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Sold to the coldhearted beast 49: What does he want ?
*Everly* I am in my nightdress by the time I hear him leave his bedchamber. I expect him to come to me, but instead his footsteps echo in the hallway, growing fainter as he retreats down the stairs. I consider crawling into bed, but I have decided this mistress business involves more than what happened between the sheets. He might not want it to be so, but it does. For whatever reason, he is estranged from his brothers, and while he might not admit it, it causes him considerable pain. Grabbing my wrap, I slip into it and belt it firmly at my waist before heading out of my room and following the path I am certain he has taken. He might have gone to his club for all I know, but I hope not. I know it is his place of solace, when I dearly want to play that role in his life. I am not certain when I had developed such a fondness for him. He is obstinate, moody, and doesn't possess a frivolous bone in his entire body, but for the moment at least, he is mine. Until he grows tired of me, I
Sold to the coldhearted beast 50: Her spineless brother
*Tristan* I set her down gently on the bed and unknot the sash of her robe. She barely stirs as I work her out of it. Bringing the covers up over her, I am incredibly tempted to slip beneath them with her. But it has been years since I have been able to stand the weight of covers laying heavy on my body. She doesn’t harp, she never complains. The more I come to know her, the more I realize she would not have ended up in the slums as I had originally assumed. She possesses a determination, a strength of will that would have had her finding a way to avoid the rookeries. She had taken the path of least resistance by staying with me, but it had also been her smartest move. Smarter yet to make me think that she had allowed fate to decide when she had done it all along. She is here because she has chosen to be. Which means she can just as easily choose to leave. I break out in a fine sheen of sweat. I do not care if she leaves. She means nothing to me. I hadn’t enjoyed dancing with he
Sold to the coldhearted beast 51: Tempted
*Everly* He has yet to show. It is unusual for him, even though he always claims he will not see me before midnight, he has never yet held to that claim. As I wait in the sitting area of my bedchamber, I tug on the sash of my silk wrap. Beneath it, I wear a silk nightdress that shimmers over my skin whenever I move. I see no reason to dress formally, when he will have me out of the clothes almost as soon as he walks through the door. I suppose I should be glad that he has such a driving need to possess me, but sometimes I do wish we had time to savor each other a little more. Although I isn’t going to complain. He had taken me to the ball after all. I think if I asked, he would take me to the theater. I have seen an advert … The door burst open. He takes two steps in, then stops. “Why weren’t you waiting for me downstairs ?” “I was waiting for you here”. I have never seen him look so disheveled. He is breathing harshly, his neckcloth askew, his waistcoat open, his shirt unbutto
Sold to the coldhearted beast 52: His demons
*Tristan* They are holding me down, beating me, monsters with hideous smiles and cackling laughter. I want to kick at them, strike out with flailing fists, but I have no arms, I have no legs. Nothing. I can do nothing, not even roll. Everything is pressing in. My chest is going to cave in. I can’t breathe. I hear the whimpering, the fading cries for help. They are coming from me. They are not coming from me. They stop, and that terrifies me even more. “I’m a bet. You can’t treat me like this ! I’m a beta. My father was an Alpha. My brother’s an Alpha”. But they only laugh louder, push harder, wrap more tightly. They are putting me in a cocoon, like the one I had once seen a caterpillar create. Being inside it had changed the insect into something else, something beautiful. I had seen it emerge. But I know I won’t emerge from this. I am going to suffocate, die. I can feel less and less of myself. I am disappearing while the monsters loom larger. When I no longer exist, I will not
Sold to the coldhearted beast 53: His story
*Everly* I glance around at the disarray of clothes strewn about, the buttons littering the floor, the mattress stripped bare, the curtainless window, the dust-coated floor. “Please leave”. He mutters, hunching over slightly, pressing his hand to his side, no doubt suffering excruciating pain from his wound. But I see more: his humiliation at me discovery of his secret. The strong man who has protected me, provided me with sanctuary, appears defeated, and it tears into my soul. “Don’t be ridiculous. Sit in that chair by the fireplace while I get sheets for the bed”. “I don’t want sheets. I can’t stand them”. Gingerly, he eases himself into the chair. “They make me feel as though I’m smothering”. And I had tucked them in securely around him. Quietly, I walk over, kneeling before him, and lightly placing my hands on his knees. Holding his gaze, I say, “You’re not mad”. “Look around you. Of course, I am”. I could argue until I am blue in the face, but he is obviously past the poin
Sold to the coldhearted beast 54: Touch all of me
*Tristan* I awake, momentarily disoriented by the silken sheet beneath my back and the velvety canopy above my head. I am as bare as a newborn baby, my wound uncovered. The stitches pulls when I roll onto my hip. And there she is, turned on her side, a hand resting beneath her cheek, her long lashes lying gently against her skin. Her knees are drawn up, her nightgown having gathered at her calves. Her toes curl and unfurl as though she is dreaming of skipping over green fields. I inhale her fragrance with each breath, and watch her rhythmic breathing. She has left a lamp burning just low enough that I can see her clearly, and yet the shadows still form a gossamer layer over her. I almost find myself envious of the shadows. I remember how gentle her hands had been as she had tended to me, careful to touch me as little as possible. During that time as her hands had moved so tenderly over me, I had experienced an unfamiliar sensation: of being loved. And the feelings I felt towards h
Sold to the coldhearted beast 55: Crumpling
*Tristan* Her hands travel back up my arms, over my shoulders, down my chest. “I don’t think I can ever get enough of this”. Leaning in, she presses her mouth to the center of my chest. It is my undoing. “Eve”. The guttural sound is that of a man dying, and I am. I plow my fingers through her hair, tilting up her face, and take her mouth as though I own it, as though I am the only one who will ever experience the taste of her. It drives me mad to think of anyone else ever knowing her as I have. Her hands travel along my neck, up into my hair, over my scalp, and back down. Always open, always nonthreatening, never closing around me. Long smooth strokes. No holding, no squeezing, no restraining. Liberating. How have I ever survived without this ? How have I ever thought it was enough to touch her, and not let her stroke me ? Her hands glide over my back, over my buttocks. I growl low, as I begin gathering up the hem of her nightdress. She breaks off the kiss, unbuttons the garmen
Sold to the coldhearted beast 56: Lost at sea
*Tristan* The yacht slices through the water, with Eve of all people at the helm. Some scrawny lad stands slightly behind her and guides her. Her smile is so bright as to be blinding. Her laughter is carried by the breeze, and sitting at the end of the boat, I fight not to growl. I also fight to keep my stomach from heaving. While we had missed the planned christening of the yacht, I had sent word to Raphael that the next time he took it out, Eve would like to join them. I had thought it would be weeks before I was forced to go sailing, but Raphael had promptly shown up at my club with a devilish smile. “Tomorrow. I’m not going to give you a chance to change your mind”. So here I am, impressed with the beautiful woodwork and craftsmanship. Raphael had taken us on a tour when we first arrived. Below deck, he had shown us a library, a sitting room, three bedchambers, and I had known that one is for me, that Raphael had designed the yacht hoping that all three of us brothers would ta
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Sold to the coldhearted beast 66: Epilogue
Snow Moon Castle, WolfshireWinter 1864 Tonight is the night we were supposed to die. Instead, we will make love to our wives. But for now, in the late wintry afternoon, we sit upon our horses, at the top of the rise, looking down on Snow Moon Castle. The castle looms in the distance, its frost-covered stone walls shimmering as the sun begins to set. The frigid air bites at our cheeks, and our breaths create clouds of steam as we take in the sight before us. From our vantage point, we can see the remnants of the tower that had served as our prison so many years before. Stephan, with a determined look in his eyes, has been slowly tearing it down, his sledgehammer against one brick at a time. The once imposing structure is now a mere skeleton of its former self, a testament to the resilience and defiance that had brought us to this moment. "Difficult to believe it's been twenty years". Raphael says, his voice filled with disbelief and a hint of nostalgia. The years have left their m
Sold to the coldhearted beast 65: Wedding Night
*Everly* Tristan carries me up the steps. The door opens. Laurence bows his head slightly as we walk past. "Welcome home, my Beta, my lady”. My lady. I almost laugh. As Tristan begins climbing the stairs, I say. "Who would have thought the illegitimate daughter of an Alpha would one day be a lady ?" "You were a lady the moment you were born”. He says softly. "You once told me I was ruined the moment I was born”. I point out. He gives me a sheepish grin. "That was before I knew you. I was a foolish man then”. Not so foolish, I think. Cautious, rather. Not daring to care for anything that he might lose. He lost me once. He will never lose me again. The door to his bedchamber is open, and he sweeps me inside, kicking the door closed behind him. When he sets me on my feet, I knock aside his hat and run my fingers up into his hair. "Oh, I have missed this, missed you”. "Mary and her silly rules about respectability”. Bracketing his hands on either side of my face, he looks at me ser
Sold to the coldhearted beast 64: Wedding
*Tristan* Studying my reflection in the mirror, I tug on my light gray waistcoat. It takes an inordinate amount of time to dress these days. My hand has healed but the mobility in it isn't what it once was. Dr. Grimley set the bones together as best as he could. I'm grateful for that, at least. I haven't lost my hand completely, and I'm learning to write with my right. In retrospect, I suppose I could have told Grimmock from the outset that I was left-handed, so he would have broken the right, but I'm familiar enough with the man's torturous ways to know that a time would come when I would have signed anything the man put before me in order to stop the pain. And I would be damned before I gave the man anything that belonged to Eve or to Mick, for that matter. So damned I am. But not as much as Grimmock. During the three months since my rescue, I have found myself spending more time with my brothers, and I wonder why I had resisted being in their company for so long. Late into th
Sold to the coldhearted beast 63: Settling debt
*Tristan* The boxing room is more shadows than light, but then it usually is. Most of the light focuses on the ring where Alpha Ekro stands, as he keeps glancing around at the other men surrounding the roped-off area. I called the meeting, and invited Ekro into the ring. It seemed like he was going to decline the invitation until Mick ushers him in with a gentle prodding and the lifting of the rope. Splints keep my left hand immobile and it's far from being completely healed, but I can pack quite the punch with my right. I wonder if Ekro recognizes the significance of the group of men who are in attendance. If any of them realize why they have been singled out for this particular lesson. "Don't keep us in suspense, Tristan. What's the meaning of all this ?" Ekro asks. "Beta Rafe". I correct him. He looks at me with confusion. "Pardon ?" "Not Tristan, but Beta Tristan Rafe. That's how I should be addressed". He huffs lightly. "I didn't think you cared much for your heritage".
Sold to the coldhearted beast 62: I want to make you laugh
*Tristan* They come for me and take me back to the almost empty room, placing me in the chair at the table, securing me to it. This time Grimmock is sitting too, scrawling on the paper. "When I'm finished here, you will just sign it as best you can”. He says. "Then your hell will be over”. I doubt it. I have not gone mad with the binding. I simply pretend that they are Eve's arms, wrapped around me, holding me close, as she whispers words of encouragement. All will be well, everything will turn out fine. Lies. I can survive on lies. So could a boy. "Do you already forget that I write with my left hand?" I ask. "I don't forget anything. I did not forget how you blackmailed me”. He lifts his gaze and stares pointedly at me, with one eye closed and the other hard and accusing. "I did not forget how you turned my own lads against me. Even those who owed me coins stopped fearing me, thought you were keeping watch over them”. I won't go so far as to say that I was keeping watch over
Sold to the coldhearted beast 61: Some truths and some pain
*Everly* As I follow Manson down the hallway, with Raphael and Stephan behind me, I realize how differently I view this residence now. Once I considered it my home, but I understand now that it was my father who made it a home, not the walls, the portraits, the furniture or the decorative pieces, although there seem to be far less of those now. I wonder how many items Orley has sold to relieve his debts. When we walk into the library, Orley jumps out of his chair and hurries around his desk. “My Alpha, Beta Raphael, sirs, this is an unexpected surprise”. I can't help but notice how he ignored me. “You know Miss Everly, do you not ?” The Alpha asks. Orley's face turns mottled red. “Yes, of course”. “You would be remiss not to greet her as well”. Stephan says in a tone that is clearly a demand. He gives me a perfunctory nod. “Miss Everly”. “My Alpha. May I say that you are not looking well these days ?” He had lost weight, much like me after the death of my father. His skin ha
Sold to the coldhearted beast 60: Searching
*Everly* I think I should be hungry, especially as the dinner set before me is one of the finest I have ever seen, but everything tastes of nothing. I eat tiny bites because it makes things more palatable. "Is it not to your liking ?" Mary asks. "I can have Cook prepare something else”. I smile at her. "I have no appetite. That's all. You have been so kind”. They took me in the night I walked out on Tristan. I didn't know where else to go, but I learned early on that the Luna is an extremely compassionate sort. She held me while I wept and blubbered. She passed no judgments on Tristan except to say that I had been right to leave him. But if that's the case, why do I hurt so badly ? Why do I sit in my bedchamber and stare out the window at the residence across the way, hoping for a glimpse of Tristan ? Is he well ? Does he miss me at all ? Sometimes I consider returning to him, but I want so much more than he can give me. I yearn for the essentials that can't be purchased: love,
Sold to the coldhearted beast 59: A pest from the past
*Tristan* I am standing at the window of my apartment at the club, watching people coming and going, trying not to remember how much they had fascinated Eve. I find it impossible not to think of her. Everything reminds me of her. As I walk through my residence, I inhale her fragrance. I can no longer bear being there, not even for a moment. Every room holds a memory of her. It's equally difficult being here, at my club. When I box with Mick, I think of Evie enduring my lessons in the ring. When I look out over the gaming floor, I see it through her eyes. When I go to my office, I regret not showing her the globe that Tristan had carved for me, not telling her that I was afraid to be grateful for it. If I truly care for something, it will be stripped away. The best recourse is not to care. Then I will be immune to hurt. So why am I now in so much blasted pain ? Because I adore her, dammit. That's the reason I am in such agony now, why I am not seeing after my club, why I don'
Sold to the coldhearted beast 58: Left behind
*Tristan*I press my back to the vibrating door. I didn’t need my key because it's no longer locked. I should be familiar with the room by now, but it still takes me off guard. All my clothing is gone. Every torn shirt, waistcoat, jacket. Every pair of trousers. Every scrap of remaining neckcloth. Every discarded bit of attire that once offended me, threatened to suffocate me. Gone.Eve had gathered them up and taken them to the poor.The bare mattress upon which I once slept when the thought of sheets or blankets would make me break out in a sweat is no longer visible. It's covered by violet velveteen. The recently hung draperies are drawn aside to let in the night. Not a speck of dust is to be seen. The wooden floor is polished to a fine sheen.The room smells of beeswax and polish. The room smells of her.She has done this. She has chased back the demons. She has returned to me the magic of touch. She has helped me conquer the madness.I stride over to the window and gaze out when e
