PETALS AND THORNS Read Online Free PDF Page B

hips. The sleeves and bodice drew up softly around her shoulders, the soft silk soothing to her sensitive skin. She brushed out the snarls from her hair and finding no pins to put it up, left it hanging loose. Soft kid slippers appeared, and she gratefully slipped them on.
    Amarantha made her way through the manse, which loomed dark and quiet.
    She hadn't noticed its glory when they first arrived because the place clearly slept by day. It, and everything in it, really only lit up at night.
    Including her.

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    Could she bear it? Amarantha supposed she would have to. Her father deserved that much from her. Every vase of roses, redolent and tempting, accused her.
    She wandered awhile, passing room after quiet room, feeling like a ghost. A parlor followed a library. She supposed a ballroom and kitchen lay in other wings somewhere. At the end of one wing she found a cozy reading room with a sunny patio accessible through French doors. Steps from the patio led down into the gardens.
    The formal garden paths led her past quiescent rose beds and quietly flowering herb clocks. Spring would take hold before long. Amarantha hadn't thought to bring a wrap, but she hadn't seen one. The sun shone warm enough, and the gardens slept sheltered and still.
    Amarantha allowed herself to mull over the events of the day before. Even Angelica had never hinted that men and women did such monstrous things. The Beast had promised not to harm her but instead devoured her just as her father had feared. Only in a different way.
    At least she understood why he couldn't have wedded normally, besides his appearance. Any girl not bound by a dreadful bargain would have run screaming for home just from what happened in the atrium, much less the rest. Who knew what would happen tonight?
    Amarantha shivered. Anticipation . She heard the Beast's gravelly voice in her mind.And then he stood before her.
    The Beast's large, black-cloaked form filled the pathway, odd amid the weeping-willow grove, their fairy-thin, leafless limbs dusting his shoulders.
    “Good morning, my bride,” the Beast said with a bow.
    Amarantha raised her eyebrows at the slanting sun. “More like afternoon, isn't it?”
    “As you wish, my love. When one is forced to keep to the night, the partitions of the day mean little.”

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    “You don't appear to be confined to the night.”
    “I roused early so I could spend time with my lady.” He extended a courteous arm. “Shall we walk?”
    Bemused, she took his arm and listened while he pointed out the delights of the hibernating garden. He could have been any young man courting her favor, but for the obscenities of what had passed between them. Amarantha flushed at the memory.
    “And how do you feel today, my sweet?”
    As if he'd read her mind.
    “Fine. Thank you for inquiring.”
    “Your bindings—they did not chafe your skin?”
    “No.”
    “Your breasts? How do they feel?”
    “Um, a bit sore.”
    “The scratches—none too deep?”
    “No… They… I am not really comfortable discussing this.” Amarantha blushed furiously.
    “Are you not?” The Beast thought for a moment. “Then you shall have to show me.”
    “Yes, my lord.” Amarantha imagined he'd take plenty of opportunity in the coming night, if the last night provided any indication.
    He chuckled. “Now, Amarantha.”
    She stopped, aghast.
    “Here? Outside?”
    The Beast gestured to the empty garden. “There is no one here to see but me.
    Put your arms straight by your sides.”
    Amarantha sighed and obeyed, feeling her sense of helplessness spiral.

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    “Ah, she's learning.” The Beast sounded smug, and Amarantha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wished she could find a way to resist him, but she seemed doomed not to. She held herself still and stared steadfastly at the Beast's wide chest as he stepped in front of her and tugged at the ribbon holding the gown around her shoulders. The silk whispered down, not quite falling off her bosom.