CHAPTER NINETEEN
Belle swallowed nervously as she dared to look into this Prince's glowering gaze. There was a certain amount of possessiveness and entitlement in the man's cobalt blue eyes that darkened to an almost cerulean hue, a myriad of different shades of blue, the angrier this noble Prince got. Well.
Noble or otherwise, he certainly had not behaved admirably towards Belle, and what was even worse, Belle believed, was what would Quasi think, if he were to discover the two of them in here alone, in a rather precarious position, no less?
For this Prince Adam was not exactly shy towards her regarding his intentions, given the way he had unceremoniously shoved her against the wall of the library's wall, the tip of his straight, rigid nose almost touching hers.
He was close enough to kiss her, and Belle flinched, sincerely hoping that he would not try it. She shirked away from the man's touch, as far as she could press her back against the wall, not that it did her any good.
"Don't give me that look, mademoiselle. This is your duty as a woman is it not, what is expected of you. You learn to make the best of your given situation, and I can give you much more than anyone else can, my dear," the Prince growled, his blue eyes narrowing, no doubt having noticed the look of daggers and look of perfect disinterest, a passive indifference that Belle had learned to perfect in the nine months of having been married to Gaston. "I can promise you, what follows next, you will enjoy," he snarled, the edges of his lips curling upwards into a truly twisted smirk that in the half dim light of the torch flickering on the wall nearby, it gave the handsome blonde-haired Prince a truly frightening appearance. "No one is coming for you, sweet little dove," he murmured, lowering his voice, and running the skin of his palm against her collarbones.
Belle's insides went cold. She knew what was about to happen to her. Adrenaline flooded her system; it pumped and beat like it was trying to escape. She thought for sure her heart was going to explode, and her dark eyes went wide with fear.
She wanted nothing more than to bolt from the cathedral's library and run back up the stairwell to the second level and make for the safe sanctuary of Quasimodo's towers, which was, admittedly these days, the only place that she felt safe. Protected.
And it was because of him. Instead, Belle was quite literally pinned down by the sheer force of the Prince's hand against her chest.
"Beast," she hissed through gritted teeth, hoping that her eyes did not betray how frightened she was, and her lips parted openly slight as her ears perked up at a rustling noise coming from directly behind her, and she froze, biting the inside of her cheek, unaware that the briefest flickers of hope had passed through her dark umber eyes, which were darkening in color the more upset and panicked Belle became.
Maybe Quasi had discovered her missing and had come for her. She could only hope that he would because this Prince outweighed her by several pounds and looked to be much stronger. Belle blinked, momentarily broken out of her involuntary trance of the man's crystal blue eyes, the only thing of this wretched Prince in front of her that showed any semblance of humanity. He might be handsome, but nothing about this man was redeeming. His appearance alone in it of itself was seductive. The man's features were alluring, even Belle could not deny it.
But his eyes….it was as if God Himself had molded this man just to spoil those eyes. The cold blue glacier stare of this man, this stare full of intensity.
Of danger. He had a slender nose and a pair of thin, pink lips that were in the form of a twisted smirk. His tight jaw was an angular shape that was filled with little whiskers from two-day stubble, suggesting to Belle that he had not shaved, but would be needing to soon if he valued his appearance.
The Prince's white linen shirt hung open slightly at the neckline to reveal the pale column of his throat, and the black vest he wore was made of pure wool with a satin lining, along with a dark black overcoat. His black leather breeches were form fitting, and his black leather boots practically gleamed.
"Let go," gasped Belle, as the man's powerful hand came upward to grip the column of her throat and wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed.
The Prince snorted in response to Belle's plea, and if anything, that only made him squeeze harder. "You cannot walk away from this girl. You know it," he growled, his words escaping him as a low barking growl that sounded more beastly than spoken word. Belle flinched at the harshness of his tone as the Prince spat the words as though they were poison upon his fluid tongue. "But if you insist…and try to fight me on this, darling, you are more than welcome to try, though you shan't win, and I would be only too happy to…" He paused, as though searching for the right words, "how do you say…. 'play along? This will go easier for us both if you stay quiet. Cooperate, girl.'"
Belle felt her dark eyes widen in shock and disgust, and her lips parted open just slightly to protest this, to scream for someone—anyone—to come help. She let out a muffled squeak of anger and fear as the Prince let out a growl as Belle shook her head no, seemingly disappointed with the young brunette, like he expected more.
"So be it then. You call me a Beast," the Prince growled. "As you wish it, girl."
With that said, the Prince lunged towards the young woman, and grabbed her arm, his other hand coming to wrap about her middle, his fingers clutching almost painfully on Belle's waist, clinging to the fabric of her green linen dress for support.
"NO! LET GO!" Belle screamed, letting out a pained gasp and wildly kicking out at the Prince with her leg, though he easily side-stepped the maneuver and she missed.
She let out a gasp as the man moved behind her, crushing his rough and slightly calloused hand over her mouth. Belle lashed out, trying in vain to clamp her jaws down on the Prince's hand and bite down as hard as she could in an effort to flee from this horrible situation, but it was no use. She let out a muffled little whimper.
Belle threw back her free arm towards her assailant, trying to hit the Prince with the crook of her elbow, pretty much anywhere that she could reach. Belle cried out as Prince Adam quickly grabbed hold of her flailing arm and violently pinned it above her head against the library's wall. She winced and bit her tongue, hard enough that she tasted the metallic taste of iron as the warm blood welled on the hurt appendage.
She stifled her urge to scream. She hoped this brute hadn't broken or dislocated her arm. That was going to be a hell of a thing to explain to the cathedral's bell ringer.
If he found her, which Belle was beginning to question if Quasi ever would. Belle winced as she heard this Beast of a noble Prince let out a threatening low warning growl that sounded more like the noise a dog would make when it cornered its prey.
"Now look at what you have made me do," the Prince hissed. "I do not like to hurt pretty women such as yourself, mademoiselle. I do not want to hurt you, sweet angel, but if you refuse my advances, then you leave me no choice, Dupont. Oh yes," he added, as the Prince took note of the dawning horror in the young woman's eyes. "You are married to Gaston. I am…quite familiar with the man, I am afraid to say. What on earth am I to do with you, pretty little thing?" the Prince crooned, reaching up a delicate hand and caressed her right cheek with the back of his smooth palm.
Prince Adam whisper hissed his words through gritted teeth into the shell of her ear. It sent a shiver of revulsion and fear down the young brunette's spine as she looked towards the left and right of the library, anywhere but to the Prince in a panic.
The Prince sighed, emanating a tense exhale of frustration and cocked his head to the side as he regarded Belle. His hand that had been caressing her cheek almost tenderly so, the intimacy of the gesture throwing her off and catching her off guard, had now wandered to the back of her skull and had found purchase in her dark hair.
He tugged on it violently and jerked her head backwards, exposing the pristine, unmarked flesh of her neck, though the Prince felt himself sneer as he glanced at the red markings his fingers had left upon her neck, so now Adam could no longer say she was untouched. "But you really are a pretty little thing, aren't you. A fine specimen indeed," the Prince growled, feeling his inner beast tug and pull deep within the confines of his chest, despite Adam's feeble attempts to quell the overwhelming ache and heat he felt flaring within his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was desire.
"I think that I have…something to show you, Belle. May I call you that? If you are to be my Princess, then I suppose I ought to start calling you by your name, dear. I think you will be interested in what I have to offer you, sweet thing. Trust me, Belle."
The words escaped him as a low growl and there was a twinkle of amusement in his cobalt blue eyes. Belle swallowed nervously and clenched her eyes shut, trying to take her mind away to someplace better, not wanting to see what was about to happen next, though she could feel it, as she felt the Prince's fingers grip onto the fabric of her green dress. Had the Prince not been maintaining his firm grip upon her arm, she would have fallen. Belle felt her jaw lock up, feeling heartbroken, defeated, and stupid.
She should have known better than to wait downstairs in the nave alone, but Belle had been under the impression that this cathedral, her sanctuary, was a safe haven. Belle should have realized that there was no place in this world that was safe.
But she had cared so much about having her own independence, and she had not thought that it would have perhaps been in her best interest to wait for Quasi in his bell towers, and venture out together, instead of separating like this, and now…
Now, her decision was coming back to haunt her. Her heart pounded so loudly against her chest that she thought she would not have been surprised if the corded muscle within the confines of her chest just decided to break free of its own accord.
She was really truly starting to panic, something she knew was not a good thing, for if she could not keep a level head, then she might die. This Prince, might not seem to want her dead, but if he kept behaving the way that he was and didn't start being more gentle with the young brunette, then there was a very high chance that the nobleman would end up killing her on accident. She was quite tiny and delicate and was not meant to be manhandled and treated so roughly. "Don't," she begged weakly.
"Be quiet, or the next thing I do is snap your neck," the Prince growled angrily in a hoarse whisper, as his hand came up to grip her by the arm. She flinched and clenched her eyes shut as his other hand drifted downward and came to rest upon her right thigh. This man really did not know how to keep his hands to himself. If her Papa were here, Maurice would have wrung the man's neck without so much as giving it a second thought for daring to lay a finger on his daughter.
Or even Gaston, to protect his wife. Belle let out a choked gasp as his hand grazed against the skin of her prominent collarbones and came up to wrap around the pale column of her throat, not quite tight enough to cut off the young woman's air supply, but hard enough to enforce his intended message: Cooperate. Or else.
It was more than enough to coerce and scare her into submission, as she knew that the large brute of a man could easily snap her neck or strangle her quite easily, and probably wouldn't bat an eyelid over it. "Wh—what do you want with me? What is it? I—I can't breathe…" her voice cracked and trailed off as she blinked back briny, salty tears. "Please…l—let me go. Y—you know this isn't right…"
"Shh…" he soothed, and Belle felt her eyes grow impossibly wide and round with shock. He did it again for good measure, and the second shushing of her muffled whimpers and quiet cries for mercy sent tremors of fear down her spine, that it was a wonder she could still stand upright.
Belle squeezed her eyes shut and shrunk back, coughing, and bringing her hands up towards the Prince's burly chest, shoving him away. "Get off of me!" she cried, her voice shaking with anger and fear. "Th—that hurts! You're hurting me, please…stop…" she begged pitifully. The Prince was putting all his strength he had into subduing her and keeping her effectively pinned against the wall, preventing her escaping. "D—don't do this. I—I beg of you. Just let me go!"
"Shh," he smiled. "You're such a delicate thing. Like a little bird. I won't hurt you if you stay quiet. I could, but I won't do it. It would be very easy for me to and not so pleasant for you. I promise you, Belle, you'll enjoy what comes next if you stay still. You need not be scared. I promise, I won't hurt you unless you make me," he commanded curtly.
"Wh—what are you doing to m—" But Belle was cut off with a shaking, pained whimper as the Prince leaned down, violently pressing his own mouth against Belle's, forcing his tongue past the girl's lips and teeth, and his right hand came to grope and paw at her right breast. Belle's eyes flung open, wide in surprise and disgust, her hands trembling at her sides, unsure of what to do. What in seven hells was she supposed to do in this situation? Fight back? Bite down on his lip?
She felt herself shiver and let out a shaking breath as Prince Adam's passionate, unwanted kiss continued. His tongue pushed itself past hers, deep and forceful, his right hand running down the side of her dress.
The man's hands were already attempting to wander to places on her body that she did not want to be touched, but even as she squirmed underneath him, Belle knew there was no way out of this but to let him. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and took her mind away to a happier place, and let him do whatever he wanted, then it would be over.
"Please! D—don't do this, I—if there's any good left in you, please…I have done nothing to you! Please…let me go!" Belle pleaded, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
"Shut. Up." The Prince growled, his teeth grinding in anger, and he drew back his hand and backhanded the young brunette across the cheek, eliciting a pained cry of surprise from the inventor's daughter. "Quiet. The next time my hands flies, I won't be so…forgiving…" The slap was as loud as a clap and stung Belle's face.
It had been an open-handed smack and it had left a red welt behind. Just below her eye was a small cut where the man's ring had caught her. She staggered backwards, clutching her face, eyes watering, tears pouring down her face. Her eyes flung open as the sound of something moving coming directly behind the Prince reached her ears.
"NO! LEAVE HER ALONE!" A loud voice rent through the otherwise silent deserted library, save for the Prince's grunts as the stranger's strong hands fumbled with the lacing of her dress and Belle muffled whimpers.
Whoever had shouted, the voice rent the air, the noise becoming a violence in the bitter Paris breeze that wafted through the cathedral. What was once silent had now become polluted with rage. "What is the meaning of this?" the stranger's voice growled, and Belle repressed a shiver that almost traveled down her spine. "She has done nothing wrong! You would treat a woman this way, you bastard?"
"I'm punishing her," The Prince retorted coldly, all the while never once removing his unwavering gaze from Belle. Everyone tensed, even the Prince as his blue eyes narrowed and his head whiplashed upward to regard the other male voice. Someone was standing directly behind them, shrouded in shadow, though currently blocked by the Prince standing directly in front of her, rendering Belle unable to make out any details of the man's face. The man stifled a growl. "Your loud mouth seems to have saved you this time, unfortunately, Belle, though if you'd just kept quiet you and I could have gotten better acquainted with one another, beloved angel of fire…" the Prince whisper hissed into the shell of the young woman's ear, violently shirking away as the man standing behind came to grip the Prince by his right shoulder and violently wrench him away from Belle. "But I'll find you again later. I don't want to disappoint you, Belle. Or myself. I know you. I know what you are, and where you live, Little Mouse. Don't think that I don't. I'll find you, come back to whatever wretched room in this place that you sleep, steal a kiss," he breathed, his dark eyes wild, unhinged. "I'll find time to finish this…"
But she did not hear whatever the Prince said next, as a loud guttural warning growl erupted from the second man's throat Belle let out a startled whimper of fright and cowered in the corner of the library as the man, still hidden in the shadows, and the young woman did not know who threw the first punch, but suddenly, the Prince's fist was slamming into the new stranger's face while his sank into the shorter man's stomach. The two men stumbled apart for a brief second to catch their breaths before diving back at each other, their eyes narrowed in determination.
The other dodged the Prince's fist as the other man let out a low threatening growl from the back of his throat and came up with his own. For a brief instant, the Prince's cerulean dark eyes widened before the other man managed to heft his fist back and sent the Prince sprawling to the floor, the noble coughing and struggling to get up.
Belle hesitantly lifted her gaze and exhaled a shaking sigh of relief, feeling the tension leave her as she breathed out slowly. "Quasi," she breathed, never so glad to see the cathedral's bell ringer in her life. She glanced over her shoulder towards the Prince, who was, it seemed at least to her, for the moment, unconscious and unmoving. "Y—you did not have to hit him so hard. You really think that this won't have consequences, my friend? Y—you hit a Prince!" she protested, wide-eyed and in awe of the man's almost god-like strength as she turned back towards the bell ringer.
She was not at all sure she liked the expression in his eyes, for they had darkened to a cerulean hue that she had witnessed forming in the Prince's eyes only moments ago, and she drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and held it as she watched as the bell ringer almost growled with the effort to restrain himself from continuing, though it seemed to be enough for Quasi to watch as the man's chest slowly rose and fell, though the noble Prince that had just tried to accost Belle made no move to get up.
"But…you did save my life," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
The poor bell ringer was looking so shocked and slightly offended at the thought that he wouldn't, and his expression would have been comical if not for what had almost happened, and Belle did the only thing she could and responded swiftly in an effort to diffuse the tension by giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Belle watched as Quasi's head whiplashed sharply upwards and his normally kind blue eyes remained still quite angry with the Prince, no doubt adrenaline still coursing through his veins at what he had almost walked in on, though if she was not mistaken, his expression softened as he looked at her, and the inventor's daughter could practically see the man's rage dissipate, as he without so much as a single word took her hand and led her away from the library and out towards the front doors of the cathedral's entrance, waiting until they were outside on the front steps to speak, intent on leading her away from the Prince, far away as possible before anything else could happen to her tonight.
Belle could not quite shake the feeling of warmth that spread throughout her chest and down to the tips of her toes as she felt the surprisingly smooth skin of his palm in her own, not able to discern exactly what the feeling was, but she enjoyed it.
The inventor's daughter allowed the cathedral's bell ringer to lead her down the front steps of Notre Dame de Paris, despite the horrors of what had almost happened to her just now, she allowed the faintest ghost of a smile to cross her features as she continued to enjoy the feeling of his hand in hers, even going so far as to interlock their fingers and give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze, as if to say to him thank you.
Belle did not speak much as Quasi led her down the step and towards one of the winding side streets of Paris, seemingly to head towards the River Seine, or so he said, instead her mind wandering to thinking of how nice it felt to be holding Quasi's hand. She did not allow thoughts of the Prince to invade her mind anymore.
Not when she was holding his hand and had the sweet, melodic, tenor-like tones of his magnificent voice to call upon as she allowed the man to lead her to a new hope.
A better future, one that she would mold herself, and somehow she knew that as long as she was with him….everything would be okay.