Beast and Beatrice

Chapter three - Beatrice

  A bear was roaring. Beatrice was sure it had to be a bear. No other animal could make such a horribly deep, rumbling noise. Even the earth seemed to tremble beneath her at the sound. It was as if the beast was right beside her, roaring directly into her ear. Her eyes popped open and blind with terror, she attempted to leap away. Escape was her only intent, but to her horror, she found she was trapped. She could do no more than wriggle helplessly like a fish trapped in a net. Something warm and heavy weighed her down and held her fast.

  Oh, God. The bear was holding her down. He was going to devour her whole, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut again. Her heart pounded frantically within her chest as she waited for the painful death to come. Surely, the beast would soon be ripping into her flesh with razor-sharp teeth and claws. Her imagination supplied her with endless gory images of yellow, razor-sharp teeth covered in blood and gore. So filled with such spectacularly gory images that it took ages to notice the roaring had stopped.

Until a soft puff of warm air brushed across her face. She braced herself, expecting the putrid, fetid breath of a feral carnivore. Instead, the faint scent of warm tea and salty tang of chicken broth flowed past her nose. She frowned in confusion. But she was far too panicked to reason it out. She kept her eyes tight shut, rigid with expectation. After what felt like an eternity of terrifying suspense, curiosity eventually overcame her terror.

  Cautiously, she cracked open one eye and took a quick look. The first thing to fill her vision was a hairy mountain, and she almost succumbed to another bout of panic. Then she frowned in confusion as her sight focused on what appeared to be a rough grey blanket. Why would a mindless beast possess an ordinary wool blanket? As this question rolled through her mind, she tilted her head back slightly, her gaze following the hair-covered mound that rose above the edge of that grey blanket.

There, sloping upward was revealed one broad shoulder with far less fur than any bear she had ever seen. In fact, there didn't seem to be any rough fur. More sparce, dark whorls of hair, and even more swarthy skin. Her eyes traced the muscular shoulder further, watching the hair thicken and lengthen until a face came into view. A human face with a hard, square chin covered by a dark, thick beard. Softly curved lips peeked out from beneath a dark, heavy mustache, adding an almost feminine softness to an otherwise strong, masculine face. A long, prominent nose and broad, heavy brow added weight to his features. More thick dark hair, tousled and unkempt, covered his head.

  Beatrice almost sighed with relief. Now that she knew her life was not in immediate danger, she had calmed enough to realize there was no bear. Just a man, sound asleep and snoring. But then, he was as large as any bear and nearly as hairy. No wonder she had mistaken him for a beast. But who was he? And how did she come to be here, laying by his side, trapped in his powerful arms? One strong limb was wrapped around her back, a calloused hand clamped on her backside and trapping her against his side. Her head lay in the hollow beneath his broad shoulder, one arm trapped between their entwined bodies while her other hand was caught under his callused palm, sandwiched against that hard, powerful chest. The dark whorls of chest hair tickled her palm and, impulsively, her fingers clenched in the soft, springy pelt. The man snorted in his sleep, and she froze, fearing she had wakened him, but he simply grunted and resumed his snoring.

  No longer bothered by the deep sounds rumbling from his throat, Beatrice decided his bear-like appearance wasn't quite so intimidating as she'd originally thought. He had a boyish, youthful look with his features relaxed in sleep, despite those hard, manly planes. Not that he would be considered handsome by most standards. That hawkish nose of his was too large, his forehead too broad, his jawline too square. And that dark, heavy beard only seemed to add weight to the hard manly strength of his chiseled features.