Beauty in Autumn Read online

  Beauty in Autumn

  Ruby Dixon

  Ruby Dixon

  Contents

  BEAUTY IN AUTUMN

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  BEAUTY IN SPRING

  BEAUTY IN SUMMER

  BEAUTY IN WINTER

  Fire In His Blood

  Ice Planet Barbarians

  Copyright © 2017 by Ruby Dixon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  BEAUTY IN AUTUMN

  Inspired by the story of Beauty and the Beast, a short and sexy interpretation of the classic fairy tale…

  For years untold, there has always been a beast in the cursed forest. Every year at the Harvest Festival, a new bride is sent to him...never to return. But when Willow is chosen to be the newest bride, she seeks out the help of the local wise woman.

  Willow might be able to break the curse, but to do so, she must refrain from looking at the beast entirely. It sounds easy enough, but as things get heated between them, can she keep her promise? Or will she need to see who - and what - she's bedding first?

  For Aquila Editing, who always makes me look a little smarter.

  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.

  So Windybrook has sent Rosie every year for the last ten years. And Rosie's returned every year, back to her family. She's never been chosen, just like Leta predicted.

  But Rosie married two months ago, and now a new maiden must be chosen.

  Maybe that's why I dreamed of him. It doesn't explain why I found it arousing, though. Why I want to touch myself, even now, just thinking about the dream. Why I wonder all day long what would have happened if I hadn't woken up, and if I'd stayed on my knees...

  These thoughts carry me through the day and into the night, when I must attend the town hall meeting. My mother and father are there. Heck, every Windybrook
family with a daughter is here, because tonight our fates will be decided. Someone will be chosen to be our village's representative for the harvest festival....and possibly the next bride of the beast. The mayor is stressed, mopping his forehead with a wrinkled handkerchief. Two rows up from me, my friend Siobhan weeps quietly, seated next to her father. Anna sits in the front row, her back stiff with anger, as if she's daring the mayor to pick her. She's his daughter, though - we know she won't get picked. Every bench in the small meeting hall is filled. No one wants to have their fate decided by another.

  My mother holds my hand tightly. "Just remain quiet, Willow. Do not draw attention to yourself, whatever you do."

  "It'll be all right, Mother," I reassure her, though I honestly don't know if it will be. I count off the maidens in the village that are of a marriageable age. Other than myself, there are seven girls, and Catriona will be too old next year. I feel my skin grow damp with sweat, though I'm not sure if it's from nerves or the press of bodies in the cramped room. Everyone in the village seems to be here tonight.

  I glance around the crowded hall, seeing nothing but worried faces. In a dark corner of the room, I'm surprised to see Leta, the wise-woman. She has no family, so it's strange to see her here. She's staring, quite pointedly, at me.

  I feel my cheeks heat. It's almost like she knows about my dirty dreams, dreams that no woman in her right mind would have about the beast. I glance away, then sneak a look over my shoulder again. Leta's still watching me.

  She knows something.

  I'm curious. I've never talked to Leta myself. No one in town does. She's strange and only comes out at night. She keeps to her little cottage at the edge of the lake, and the rumor is that she'll answer any question you have, but you have to bring her something in payment.

  I've never been curious enough, but today, I find myself wondering what Leta could tell me if I went to her house. I wonder if she knows what the beast looks like. I'm beside myself with curiosity.

  I look over and my mother has fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Oh, no. I give her hand another squeeze. "Don't cry, Mother. It's going to be all right."

  "How do you know?" She sobs, clinging to my hand.

  "Because I know." It doesn't feel like something bad is about to happen. If anything, it feels...like something's about to begin. I'm strangely excited, even though everyone dreads harvest season.

  The meeting begins. Nervous families talk over each other until the mayor decides that the only way it is fair is if the names of all the women are put into a bowl.

  "Let Leta pick," someone says. "She has no family. It's the only way this is fair."

  The room goes silent. All eyes turn to the wise woman, but her expression remains cool and calm. The bowl is brought to Leta and she reaches in without looking and pulls out a name. She hands it to the mayor.

  He reads it, and then scans the room. His gaze lands on me.

  I knew. I knew, I knew, I knew.

  I should be terrified, but I'm actually...a little excited. Breathless. Curious. Even if this turns out for the worst, I'll get to see what the beast looks like.

  My mother weeps louder. My father snarls an angry curse under his breath and leaps to his feet to argue with the mayor. I know it's no use, though. It's done. I look over at the wise woman.

  She nods at me.

  All right, then. I'm the female candidate from Windybrook. Except...I don't think it'll stop there.

  I think I'm going to be the next bride of the beast. And I think Leta knows it, too.

  I don't dream of the beast that night. I don't dream of anything at all, and when I wake up, I'm disappointed to find that it's been a quiet night. I wanted to see the beast.

  You'll get the chance soon enough, Willow, I chide myself as I get up to dress. It's nothing to be excited over. But I can't help it. I'm so very curious. I want to know more about him, who he was. What happened. There has to be more than just the stories, vague as they are. I dress quickly, heading out before my parents rise. I leave our small farm and head down the road, to the path near the lake where the wise woman lives, alone. I've got my small savings with me - nothing but a few coins and a pretty comb I was saving to wear in my hair for when I got married. I don't know what the wise woman will want as payment, but if this doesn't work, maybe I can bring her a chicken.

  Whatever she wants, I'll pay it if she has answers.

  Leta lives on the far side of the lake, and there's a few of the small fishing boats out on the waters early this morning, a hunter walking in the reeds with his hound. I skirt all of them, keeping to the path and my head down so I don't have to talk to anyone. I hear the faint sound of chimes as I move closer to the cottage, and realize that the trees near Leta's thatched-roof cottage are covered in wind-chimes and noisemakers. Huh.

  The door opens before I can make it up the dirt path to her door, and Leta appears. She gives me a tiny smile, one of her brows arched as if she's not surprised to see me. I figured as much.

  "Come in," she says. "I've been waiting for you."

  "I don't have much to pay," I offer as I enter her small home. The interior is dark, a fire at the hearth, and a spinning wheel in the corner. Herbs of all kinds hang from the ceiling, drying in bundles, and there's a small bed in the corner. I'm surprised, because I thought it'd somehow be more...sinister. More wise-woman-ish. This looks like any other cottage, except for perhaps the sheer volume of herbs.

  "I won't take your money," she says. "Keep your comb."

  I stare at her in surprise.

  Leta pulls up a stool at the small table near her hearth. "Sit. You have questions."

  "I do." I wonder how many I'm going to be able to ask, and decide that I need to just focus on the truly important ones. "I'm going to be the one picked to be his bride, aren't I?"

  Leta sits down across from me. She has a wooden bowl in her hands and as I watch, she opens a small pouch and sprinkles herbs into the bowl, then adds water from a pitcher. She stirs it with her pinky finger and then offers it to me without a word.

  "Is this my answer?" I take it in my hands and sniffing the herbs. I don't recognize which ones they are.

  "You ask a question you already know the answer to," Leta says bluntly. "Is that truly the only thing you came here to ask?"

  "No," I say, thinking hard. "I want to know how to defeat the curse. How to free the beast."

  "Your answer lies there," she tells me, gesturing at the bowl.

  I peer into it, but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to read something in the leaves, or ask her a question, or what. Perhaps it's a magic potion? Am I supposed to drink it? I consider the bowl, and Leta's impassive face.

  Time to take a chance, I suppose. I lift the bowl to my lips and take a sip, then set it down and look at her expectantly.

  She looks fascinated, her pale eyes glittering. One hand goes under her chin. "What made you decide to do that?"

  "To drink from it?" I study the bowl, then her interested face. "I thought it might be a magic potion. I came to you for help, so I thought this was the help." I don't feel any different, though. "Should I take another sip?"

  "No need. The one was enough."

  "What's in it?"

  "Tea." She smiles. "The magic is in your response. You took a chance, without knowing the risk. Why is that?"

  "Because..." I think for a moment. "Because I'm not going to die here. It doesn't serve any purpose if I do."

  "Precisely. You used your wits, even if it seemed like a strange choice. You let logic guide you." Her eyes glitter. "Now ask your question again."

  "How do I break the curse?" I ask her. "If I'm to be picked as the bride, how do I break the curse so I can save the beast?"

  "You are the first one that has ever asked me that, you know." She takes out her herb pouch, sprinkles a bit into a cup, and then adds water, stirring once more. This time she sips her own tea. "Normally when I am asked about the curse, I am asked how it affects them. They do not care about the beast,
they only care about themselves. When they arrive, they ask if they will be the one picked. They do not ask how to help another. It's a curious thing, don't you think?"

  "It's hard to care about a beast when he has no face and you've never met him," I say. "I understand this."

  "Ah, but you have met him, haven't you?"

  My eyes widen. "In my dreams...how did you know?"

  "Because you are not afraid," Leta says enigmatically. "You do not weep or bemoan your fate. Your eyes are wide with curiosity, and you ask how to remove the curse instead of what this means for you." Her mouth curves into a smile. "You want to know the man behind the curse."

  I can feel my cheeks heat as I think of my dream again. "Is that so bad?"

  "No, actually. It is very, very good." She takes another sip of her tea. "I have the answers you seek."

  "You do?"

  She nods. "But are you prepared to listen? More importantly, are you prepared to do as you are told? There is a way to lift the curse, but it will not be easy."

  "How do you know?"

  Her eyes narrow on me. "Do you think he is the only one affected by the curse?"

  Oh. My hands tighten on the bowl. "Tell me what I need to do, Leta. I want to know. I want to learn."

  She leans forward. "You must do exactly as I tell you. As I have said, it will not be an easy thing. You will be frightened. You will not want to do as I have said. But it is like the bowl in your hands. Listen with your heart and not your head, and you will know the truth of the matter."

  That...doesn't tell me much. "Go on."

  "The curse is specific. From the moment you are chosen to enter the forest, you must never look upon his curse."

  I frown, not entirely sure what she's saying. "What do you mean?"

  "You will travel through the cursed forest. Leaves will crunch under your feet while you are on the path, and the birds will sing in the trees. As long as you stay on the path, you will be safe. The beast will meet you. He will demand things of you. He will ask you to look upon him." She sips her tea. "And you must be blindfolded the entire time."