I hold her close and try not to think about what I’m risking. Try not to imagine her choosing her father over us. Choosing her old life over the one we could have together.
She’s mine, I tell myself. Our bond is strong. She’ll come back.
She has to. Because if she doesn’t… I don’t finish the thought. Can’t.
Instead, I hold my mate tight and pretend I’m not terrified of losing her.
Six
Belle
“Rosalie,” Pierre calls loudly, his booming voice resonating through the castle.
The mirror reappears on the wall; her surface rippling like water. “Yes, sire?”
“Show Belle her father.”
I sit up straighter, clutching the sheet around me. Pierre’s face is carefully blank, but I can feel the tension rolling off him through our bond.
Rosalie’s surface clouds, then clears to reveal an image of my father.
He’s in our small cottage, looking thinner than he was just a few days ago when I left. Older. He’s trying to lift a heavy sack of grain, struggling with it, and I watch him wince and press a hand to his chest.
“Oh, Papa,” I whisper, bringing my fingers to my trembling lips, my eyes filling with tears.
The image shifts. My sister Margot is lounging on the sofa, examining her nails. My brother Claude is asleep in a chair,mouth open, snoring. Neither of them moves to help as my father finally drags the sack across the floor, breathing hard.
“They never help,” I say in a shaking voice.
Pierre stays quiet. Just watching me with his beautiful golden eyes.
The scene continues. My father sits down heavily, still catching his breath. Margot doesn’t even look up as she calls, “Papa, I’m hungry! When’s dinner?”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving. “I have to go. I need to check on him.”
Pierre goes very still. “Belle…”
“He needs me, Beast.” I’m already looking for my dress, panic rising in my mind. “I shouldn’t have left him alone with them his long. I knew they wouldn’t take care of him, I knew…”
“Belle.” Pierre catches my hand gently, his claws careful against my skin. “Stop.”
I look at him, and something in his expression makes my chest ache.
“You’ll let me go?” I ask quietly.
“Of course.” He says it like it’s obvious. Like it was never any question. “He’s your father. You need to make sure he’s safe.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by something that feels strangely like grief.
“I’ll come back,” I say quickly. “I promise, Pierre, I’ll come back. I just need to make sure he’s okay and set things up so my siblings actually help, and…”
“I know,” he rumbles softly, cupping my face with one huge hand. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
He dresses me himself, with careful, gentle movements . Neither of us speaks. The weight of what’s happening sitting heavy between us.
The bond in my chest pulls tight and painful.
When I’m ready, Beast leads me down to the entrance hall. The horse I rode here is already waiting, saddled and ready.
