The Next Morning
Eliora was wiping down the counter in the kitchen when the head chef called her name.
"Eliora!"
She straightened. "Yes sir?"
"You'll be serving the king this morning."
Her mind went blank. "S...sorry? Who?"
"The king!" he snapped, already moving to another pot. "Take the tray and go. I've got no time to repeat myself."
She stood frozen.
Serve… the Beast King?
Her heart slammed.
Kira's voice echoed in her head from this morning, "Everyone fears him. Even the beasts."
Eliora wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and pulled the muffler up, trying to hide her shaking.
The cold made it a reasonable excuse… but truthfully, she would've worn ten scarves if possible, anything to hide her cursed beauty and now, the mark.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the heavy silver tray.
"Move!" the chef barked.
She swallowed hard and hurried out.
The central royal dining hall was massive with gothic arches, icy windows and shadows clinging to every corner. Her small footsteps echoed as she walked inside.
She kept her head down, just like they had been taught.
At the far end of the impossibly long table, the Beast King sat alone. Silent. Brooding. A dark storm of a man.
The moment Eliora entered, Zarek's head snapped up.
That scent.
Sweet. Warm. Vanilla. Alive.
His chest tightened instantly...hard.
Eliora bowed deeply. "Good morning, Your Majesty." Her voice shook.
She didn't see the way his fingers dug into the armrests or how his pupils dilated.
She moved toward him, gently setting the tray on the table. And then, a sudden sharp pain tore through Zarek's chest.
He staggered to his feet, one hand clutching where the dormant bond mark lay over his heart. He sucked in a breath, his vision blurring.
At the same moment, Eliora gasped.
A burning sensation shot up her neck, violent, searing. Her knees buckled, and the tray clattered loudly as she collapsed to the ground.
"Ahh!" she screamed, her hand flying to her shoulder.
The mark blazed under her scarf, forming, completing.
Zarek's beast roared inside him.
Soulmate.
And then the scent hit him again.
Sweet, dangerously sweet.
Bright orange blossom, warm.
Fresh honeysuckle, soft and wild.
And a faint underlayer of jasmine, gentle but intoxicating. Combined into something that made control almost impossible; her innocence.
Eliora trembled on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut in pain, unaware that the king was watching her like she was the first dawn after centuries of darkness.
Zarek stepped forward, each movement silent, yet carrying the weight of his commanding presence.
He didn't touch her. He only watched.
Her scarf had slipped, and a cascade of red curls tumbled down her shoulders. Auburn, bright, fiery, impossible, he had never seen hair like this on any human, not even among the rarest of beast.
Her small frame was so tiny she would barely reach his middle chest. Her shoulders were narrow, her wrists fragile, her waist delicate and small enough to break beneath a single hand.
A human should not look like this.
Not in his world.
Not in his palace.
Not in front of him.
She looked like something forbidden.
A forbidden beauty fate had shoved into his hands.
Her face was almost shockingly, unfairly beautiful, too delicate to exist in a world this brutal.
Her skin was pale as early morning milk. Faint freckles dotted the curve of her nose and cheeks, and her warm brown eyes shimmered with fear and awe. Her lips, slightly parted, were pale, pink but soft looking, as though the slightest breath could shatter the calm in the room.
No human, no beast, had ever possessed such beauty. Such impossible perfection.
He let out a low, guttural growl that rumbled through the hall, vibrating against the stone floor. It was pride, longing, and the beast within stirring all at once.
Eliora felt her heart heave.
The echo of Zarek's roar had barely finished shaking the hall when the guards burst in, four of them, blades half-drawn, eyes wide.
"My king!"
Zarek's head snapped toward them.
The beast in him, freshly awakened, newly bound, lunged behind his ribs with a fury so sharp the torches flickered.
"GET. OUT."
The guards dropped to their knees from the authority in his voice. One only he, the beast king had.
One scrambled backward on his hands. Another dropped his sword. All four bowed so fast their helmets nearly hit the floor.
"Forgive us, Your Majesty!"
They fled, tripping over each other, slamming the door behind them.
His eyes, glowing faintly, never left her. When she notices, Eliora whispered, horrified, "Your Majes..."
He cut her off, "You are the one." He growled.
"Mine."
Eliora froze.
The word hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes grew wide. Her mouth opened. And in that instant, every instinct, every warning, every fear in her chest made sense.
She understood. Of course, she did.
She was his soulmate and there was no escaping it.
She had to escape. She had to breathe, to think, anything to get out of the room. Her small legs propelled her forward, away from the long table, away from him.
"Stop," his commanding voice cut through her panic.
Her heart skipped. She froze near the door, slowly turning.
Before she could take another step, he appeared right before her. In a blink.
Her scarf, which had slipped from her neck, fluttered in his hand.
"Look at me," he said calmly, yet impossible to disobey.
She hesitated. His presence pressed against her senses, magnetic, terrifying, and… enthralling.
When she dared to look up, her breath caught.
He was beautiful, wickedly so. A scar traced his jaw, a small line, sharp, yet it did nothing to hide his commanding handsomeness.
He was broad shouldered, muscular, yet perfectly proportioned. His golden eyes glimmered, sometimes flashing red as he watched her. His hair was jet black, packed loosely, some fell right on his shoulder.
He looked like a painting.
She should be scared, but somehow, she wasn't.
Her gaze lingered longer than she meant. She opened her mouth to apologize.
"Don't," he said softly, cutting through her panic.