Chapter 3

In his sheer arrogance, Gaston planned for us to wed as soon as possible. A date was set. I would be married in just a month. Every time the thought occurred to me, I felt the anger and hatred swell up inside me. Why should I sacrifice my happiness? Wasn't there an easier way?

No. There wasn't an easier way at all. If there were I would have found it. And now I was subjected to look into the grotesquely handsome face of Gaston for the rest of my existence. He would try his best to make physical contact with me but I shuddered away from his touch. Would I ever get used to the freezing ice that were his hands?

Due to my father's rapidly deteriorating condition, we had decided that we would move to Gaston's manor before the wedding. Of course we would have separate chambers, which was the only joy I had felt in months. And I took solace in the fact I could escape from his lecherous glances. Gaston had an immense library, which I adored and, when I was not caring for my father, I would escape to a world that had been created for me. I read fairytales and romances, falling into deep worlds where no one could hurt me.

Of course this peace would never last for long. Most of the time I would receive word from the maid that Papa was awake and wishing to see me, or to report he was particularly ill. And I was wrenched from the world of true love and fairy tales, into reality, into hell. Every now and again Gaston would also try and intrude my privacy, clawing into my inner sanctum. And this particular day was one he had chosen.

I was sat in an overly proportioned arm chair, curled up into the cold hard leather, with my nose buried deep into a rather compelling story of fated lovers, when I felt something loom over me. I could smell the testosterone reeking from him, and curled my nose up slightly. His stubbornness in his silence compelled me to ignore his presence and continue reading, although the invasion had already distracted me.

"Belle?" he boomed, irritation coating his voice.

I didn't look up immediately, "mmm?"

He stomped round to stand in front of me, glaring in frustration at my lack of acknowledgement, "Belle?"

With a sigh, I raised my eyes to look at him, "Yes?"

"Go change, I'm having some guests. I wish you to look decent," he snapped.

Decent? I felt I was decent enough as I was. I wore a simple blue dress, nothing fancy but certainly not indecent. I was wearing what little make-up was acceptable for this time of day and my hair was swept into a sleek ponytail. Yes, I concluded, most certainly decent for any company that I was to be presented to.

"I'm fine as I am, Gaston, who is it you want me to meet?" I felt the steely determination rush through me. His eyes flickered at my response. His posture straightened, his strong jaw clenched and his arms folded in defense.

I noticed that as he spoke now, his breathing had quickened, "Belle. Do as I say."

The hot anger in his voice made me flinch slightly, but I was not about to lose so early, "No. They are to see me as I am or not at all, Gaston. You chose."

"I chose," he spat the word vehemently, "for you to be a wife and do as I say."

Now I flung myself from the chair, hatred coursing through my blood, "I am not your wife yet! And I will not be ordered around by a disgusting beast like you!"

"You will be," he snarled, rage taking over. I saw his hand rise from the corner of my eye, but I did not break the stare. I would not let him win. Fear winded me, but I could not let him know how truly terrified I was.

A noise at the door broke the moment as the maid gasped in horror. Her big eyes filled with fear and I thanked her a million times in my mind. With my heart pounding in my throat, I ran from Gaston's strength and into the dark night. Snow lay thick on the ground, and I found it terribly difficult to run in. My mind raced faster than my legs could conceive to carry me. I had to back; I knew that without a doubt. But how? How could I force myself to be with such a man? How could I marry a vicious beast that would beat me and suffocate me?

My thoughts were cut off by a horrific sound, coming from behind the trees. The shock stopped my feet, and forced me to listen. I could hear growling, snarling. It was almost deafening. Yet, underneath the terrible noises, I heard something softer. Pain?

I turned to where the sound was coming from, though I could barely see a thing, the black cradled me tight. What was that? I approached very slowly, trying not to anger the thing that was hissing and snarling, but too anxious to see who was hurt.

And then I saw them. In a clearing below me were a pack of wolves. Giant ugly creatures, with severe blood lust and hatred in their eyes. The circled something much larger than they were but on their own, ready for the kill. I couldn't make out what it was at all. As it moaned in pain, the creature looked up towards me, terror in his eyes. And I gasped. What was he?