A/N:Ok, so the response to my last update was pitiful! An in non-existant! So I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and believe that maybe the reason for that is either a) you're all dead, in which case, I'm sorry for bugging you b) you're bored with the story, which is sad, but a fact of life which I'm gonna have to get over or c) you're all LAZY! and not reviewing because it's too much trouble. If the last is the case, SHAME ON YOU! I told you I wasn't gonna drop the ball this time, so I'd thank you not to do the same! so this time around, if you're reading the story, review! is it too much to ask? just write 'love it, more please' or 'hate it, stop bugging me' but give me something here ! PLEASE! Thats all for now. Enjoy!

Chapter 7: For Some Inexplicable Reason

Nathaniel stood by the fireplace, cradling her princess-style in his arms, with absolutely no idea what to do next. He had tried to set her down on the couch—he had had enough interactions with the girl for his liking, she confused him too much—but she refused to let go. Even in her unconscious state, her small hands gripped his tee shirt as though it was the only thing keeping her from slipping away into darkness. He had tried to shift her position and pry her hands free of his shirt, but no matter which way he moved her, he never had a free hand. So he just stood there, at a loss for what to do next, until a gentle tap on his arm alerted him to his invisible servants' presence. The invisible hand grabbed a corner of his shirt and pulled, and he was forced closer to the couch, at which point he growled,

"I already tried that! She wont let go!" but it seemed the servants had something else in mind as they turned him slowly and pushed him backwards with a considerable amount of strength. As a man they could have knocked him over, but as a beast he only momentarily lost his balance. However, it was enough for him to understand what they were trying to do. "No, no, no, no!" he exclaimed, his voice gravely and low, "I will not cuddl—ahhhh" they pushed again, and caught unawares, he toppled back into the couch.

He growled again, and made to get up, but the girl in his arms stirred, muttering something, and snuggled closer into his chest. He stopped his movements, looking down at the girl curled contentedly on his lap. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, eyes closed, her breathing light and slow. With a sigh, he let himself go, and turned himself sideways on the couch, propping his legs up on the armrest on one side and his head on the other. She murmured again and cuddled closer, pressing her legs to his side, and tucking her head beneath his chin. It was a foreign concept to Nathaniel, snuggling with a girl without even making out with her, but with his beastly snout and three-inch fangs, he realized that anything beyond cuddling was most certainly out of the picture. So he let himself relax slowly, breathing in her light flowery scent and closing his eyes.

He was just drifting off when a thought startled him into full consciousness. Nathaniel realized with trepidation that he had never been more comfortable, more content, more at peace than at that moment. He snorted lightly, and shut off that train of thought, not liking the sensitive place that it was taking him. Blocking out all other thoughts than his rough, raspy breathing, he finally let himself succumb to sleep.

Clara blinked the sleep from her eyes, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. The room was too drafty to be her bed at home, and her pillow kept rising and falling as though it was breathing. Breathing! Clara forced her eyes fully open, but her vision was obscured by something very large and grey. She tried to sit up, but a heavy weight around her waist kept her pinned in place. She couldn't turn her head because of her position, so she let her senses explore. Whatever she was lying on was enormous; her curled form was dwarfed by its size. The material was soft under her hand, and felt remarkably like a cotton shirt. Her ears picked up a heavy rasping sound whenever her pillow inflated that almost reminded her of her father's snore, except it was softer and less aggravating.

Most of all, Clara noticed the smell. With her nose buried in the cotton fabric, Clara could smell the fresh scent of laundry detergent combined with a musky, earthy smell that reminded her of a forest or the air after a heavy rain. It was a good smell, she decided, and not to overbearing. Her last boyfriend had worn so much Old Spice that his clothes had to go through the wash twice, sometime three times, before they stopped reeking.

Clara shook away her thoughts, refusing to allow herself to dwell on that awful man. Instead, she focused on the large form next to her. She was tucked into its—no, his, she decided—side, and her feet were entangled in a thick material that reminded her of heavy sweatpants. She still couldn't pin down where she was, or what she was doing pinned into this man's side, when he shifted to his side, facing her, and his arm around her waist pulled her closer into his chest. It was at that point that she felt the coarse hair that covered his arm and the heavy muzzle-like jaw that rested against the top of her head. Feeling his fur, all her memories came flooding back, and she realized where she was. I'm in the main hall on that velvety couch in front of the fireplace, aren't I? She wondered, but her next thought stopped all contemplation about her location. I'm nestled in the Beast's arms! At that thought she struggled, trying to push her way out of his arms and release his hold on her. But either he was asleep and impervious to her struggles, or he was simply ignoring them, because the Beast refused to move his tight grip on her, and she was forced to give in to his strength.

She lay there in his arms, silently seething, waiting for him to wake up so she could give him a piece of her mind, when something occurred to her. He had told her to get out, right? He had told her to leave. If he obviously hated her so much, why did he bring her back in from the cold, and more importantly, why was he cuddling with her on the couch? All these thoughts raced chaotically around her mind, as she lay warm but confused in the Beast's arms.

He stirred, groggily shaking his head in an attempt to knock the sleep from his eyes. Blearily, Nathaniel looked around him, taking in the burnt out fireplace and the sun streaming in the window. It seemed that the storm had finally stopped. He looked everywhere but at her, knowing that she was awake, and not wanting to face her anger just yet. His plan was ruined when she gave a polite, sarcastic little cough, and he was forced to meet his eyes. Yep, he had been right. The anger was there in her eyes, but there was another emotion he couldn't quite pin down. Confusion? Yes that was it, she was confused, and rightfully so. After all, he had roared at her last night, and to all appearances, it would seem that he hated her. But that didn't explain their current positions. He hoped she wouldn't ask, as he couldn't really explain it himself. But of course, the first thing she said after he scrambled off the couch was, "Why were you holding me?"

He admired her for her bluntness. He hated women who tried to skirt the issue at hand, not strong enough to face their problem without wavering. But the girl was different from the other women he knew; he had seen that from the beginning. She was strong and independent. She was sure of herself, something he hadn't seen in a woman in his entire life. And he admired her for it. Sure, it intimidated him considerably, but not enough to scare him off. Reaching up and scratching the back of his neck with one furred hand, he coughed, and fidgeted, trying to summon the correct words to express why they had been asleep on the couch together. It was at that point that he realized that he himself was acting like one of the loose, insecure women that he hated. Forcing himself to look her in the eyes, he gave his answer in a strong voice.

"I brought you in from outside. Why you were out in the cold I will never understand, but there you have it. I was going to leave you on the couch, but, um…" cough, "you, um, wouldn't let go, so I—"

"So you're saying that it was my fault?" she exclaimed fiercely, pushing herself painfully up off the couch. She limped up to him and poked him in the chest as she continued, "May I remind you that I was the unconscious one in the situation?"

He stepped back slightly, but forced himself to remain calm. "Only because you decided it would be a good idea to go get yourself killed in the middle of a blizzard!" he said, with and teasing tone in his voice. However, she would have none of it.

"You," here she poked him again, "were the one who told me to get out, so technically you were the reason I was out in the blizzard."

His eyes opened wide and he spluttered incomprehensibly for a moment before he regained his vocal coherency. "I told you to get out of the room. My private room! I'm not so cold hearted as to kick you out of the house altogether!"

"Oh yeah?" she replied. "Forgive me if I don't believe you!"

"I mean it!" he responded, exasperated at her stubbornness. "I was merely asking you to—"

"Asking?" she spluttered, "Asking? You call that, that bellowing asking?"

Seeing that explaining himself was going to get him nowhere, Nathaniel was about to leave when he thought he saw out of the corner of his eye, something shiny on her cheek. Turning completely to face her, he ducked his head to her level, and realized that the shininess was in fact a tear rolling down her cheek. She sniffed and turned away sharply, roughly dragging her sleeve against her face.

"Something in my eye…" she muttered softly, but Nathaniel heard and smirked, letting a quiet chuckle escape his lips.

"I wasn't born yesterday," he said with a smile, and taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turned her face towards him. "What's wrong?" he said softly. Something inside of him pained to see her so sad. "Why are you crying?"

She sniffed again, and looked down at her feet before bringing her eyes up to meet his. "All my father ever did was bellow at me. He used to say that all the time, whenever I interrupted him on a business call, or even when he was just working in his office. 'Get out' he would yell, his voice chasing me out of the door. When you—" At this point her voice caught and she couldn't go on, just started shaking her head slightly, a movement that could almost be mistaken for a twitch. Nathaniel stared at her in horror. He hadn't known, but still! Uggh! He wanted to hit himself. Then again, never before had he had to watch what he said around women, never before had he cared how his words affected them. But somehow, for some inexplicable reason, with the small, fragile, broken girl in front of him, he did care. For her, he would destroy everything bad in the world, just so she would never be sad again.

The strength of his emotions shook him to the core, and he made to leave the room again—he needed air, needed room to breathe—when a small sob from the girl stopped him. She was crying again, and no matter how messed up his thoughts were, no matter how confused his heart, he couldn't leave her now. So he took her by the hands, and led her to the couch, where he sat next to her, and tentatively wrapped a furred arm around her shoulders. He needn't have worried. At his hesitant touch, she melted into him, letting her tears run out onto his shirt in an endless stream.

When her sobbing had stopped, he squeezed her tightly to him once more, and then stood up, pulling her with him. She stood carefully, leaning on him to balance herself on one leg, the other still suspended in the air, useless due to her sprained ankle. The crutches! He thought, mentally hitting himself on the head. With the new layer of snow, they would be impossible to find outside. He weighed his options, and looking down at her, picked the simplest one. Reaching down, he quickly scooped her up into his arms and proceeded to walk out of the front room into the kitchen. At first, she squealed, exclaiming, "Put me down!" and "What are you doing?" but he refused to let her go, and instead replied,

"Well, you can't walk, and I left your crutches outside, in favor of getting you inside, and I don't really want to have breakfast in this drafty room, so the most logical solution? Carry you. Hope you don't mind." She didn't respond, but instead leaned her head on his chest, a movement he took to mean, "No, I don't mind."

They reached the kitchen, and he set her gently in one of the enormous chairs by the merrily burning fireplace. Walking over to the doorway, he rang the bell that hung from the wall.

"You still use those things?" She asked incredulously and not without a little disgust.

He turned back to her, and replied with an ironic smile, "Not usually, but when all your servants have either left or turned invisible, then you can tell me the most effective way of finding them. As is…" he trailed off, feeling the familiar tug on his sleeve that told him that his servants were present. His face lit up in a smile—a toothless one, because he knew his fangs would scare the most courageous of people—and he turned to the girl. She was, however, not facing him, but rather staring off into the fire, unconscious of the world around her. He started to get her attention, when he realized that he hadn't even asked her name. Well that should be remedied, he thought, and said,

"I don't think I ever asked your name." she started and turned towards him with a perplexed look on her face.

"Oh, it's Clara," she responded, then continued, "And I don't think I ever asked yours…"

"I'm Na—" he stopped, and then continued softly, "You had better call me Beast." He looked up from the floor where he had been staring when she didn't respond immediately, to meet her eyes. There was no pity or sadness in her expression, merely happiness and a little ironic humor that expressed itself in the quirk of her mouth. At her smile, his melancholy mood dissipated, and he grinned, asking,

"Now, what would you like for breakfast?"

A/N: ok, so in case you didn't read my note, I was righteously pissed by the response on the last chapter. So please, do yourselves a favor, and review! I don't have to post this! I've got it all written down in my head, and it's for you that I try to post every day. So if you want me to keep posting, TELL ME! Please!

Thanks for reading,

A-N