I tightened my hands around the skirting of the dress the Beast had picked out for me to wear for dinner tonight.

It was a soft blue with a yellow satin ribbon tied under the bust. The sleeves were dainty and capped, and my neck, shoulders, and most of my arms were exposed.

I was dressed but somehow felt bare.

I was about to step out of the room and go downstairs when Madame arrived and instantly eyed me. She tsked as she came to stop before me and lifted a lock of my long brown hair.

“This won’t do. Master wants your hair up and out of the way.”

Out of the way for what, exactly?

She said it so matter-of-factly that I was too stunned to speak and just stood there as she expertly tied my hair into a chignon at the crown of my head.

With a few more fusses to my dress, and after she applied another generous swipe of red lipstick to my lips, she ushered me out of the room.

I felt as if I were in a fog as we descended the long, ornate staircase and I was led into the grand dining room.

The table sat in the center of the room, long and lavishly dressed with candelabras lit, crystal and porcelain dishware, and large, dome-covered silver platters hiding the food underneath.

There were bowls of fresh fruit, cut cheeses, freshly baked rolls, squares of butter on tiny gold-leaf plates, and wine goblets sat at the place settings.

The fireplace mantel was grand, double my size in height and width, a fire intimately crackling and throwing light and shadow throughout the entire room. The crystal chandelier that hung above the table cast prisms of rainbows across the room.

This certainly hadn’t been what I envisioned of the Beast’s home. I’d pictured dank and dark living quarters, mold-infested walls, and steel-barred cells I’d call home.

I hadn’t expected such… beauty.

Maybe the rumors I’d heard of my new husband were false? Maybe he wasn’t some ugly, horrid Beast that I’d have to sleep with. Maybe he was a gorgeous prince with flowing golden locks and gentle blue eyes who wanted us to get to know each other before we consummated the marriage.

“Master will be here momentarily. Per his request, dinner and wine are already set and waiting. Staff have been sent away for the evening.”

My throat once again tightened at the prospect of being alone with him, my anxiety filling every recess of my body.

I knew the moment Madame had left, when everyone was cleared out of the castle. Because I felt an instant, sudden hollowness surrounding me to the point it was almost crushing.

I was used to being alone, what with my father and his provocations that left me at the house. But at least I’d been around creature comforts, things that made me happy, that didn’t make me feel terrified to even breathe.

I’d never been somewhere that was so big or grand or lavish.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard the first sounds come through the large expanse of the room. At first I wasn’t sure what it was, and I turned to face the entrance of the room.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart started fluttering harder, and I gathered the fall of my dress, tightening my fingers until they ached.

The sound grew closer, and I realized what it was.

Footsteps.

He was coming for me.

I held my breath and took a step back just as the Beast finally made his appearance.

That one step back wasn’t enough for what I was looking at, for how the very instinctual part of me said to escape.

I found myself stumbling back as the Beast—the monster and my new husband—stepped into the dining hall. The rumors of him had been true.

He was utterly terrifying.

Easily three times the size of a human man, with shoulders terrifyingly broad, and a barreled chest that blocked out everything behind him.

His massive biceps and forearms were hairy, but even that couldn’t hide the power in them. And his face… completely inhuman.

He had a wide forehead, pitch-black eyes, and a nose that reminded me of a primal animal. And his legs—God, they appeared to be like a feline, or even of the canine variety, bent oddly and tipped with massive paws.

His hair was dark and fell to his shoulders, only broken up by the huge, arcing horns that curved back and away from his forehead.

And his mouth was full and wide, his teeth sharp, and the lower ones like daggers. My heart thundered as I stared at them which looked more like tusks than teeth, protruding up so that when he closed his mouth, they were still frighteningly visible.

He wore clothing fit for a noble, but it couldn’t hide how animalistic and utterly primal he was.

Nothing could mask how entirely terrifying he was.

He took a step forward, and another one, and I swore I felt the floor vibrate from the force. His legs and feet reminded me of the illustrations from fairy tales about the werewolves that prowled the dark, danger-filled forests, walking on their hind legs. Paws… God, he had black, claw-tipped paws.

His focus was already trained on me. He looked like the very devil himself.

I made sure to keep the table between us, although I knew it was foolish. This was just cloth and wood, glass and steel. It wouldn’t keep a creature like him away from something he wanted, even if right now I felt like this piece of furniture could hold back a demon such as himself.

He didn’t speak and neither did I, my tongue in knots as I watched him come farther into the room, his nails scraping against the wooden floor, seeming deafening in the closed quarters.

He stopped behind the chair at the end of the table, lifting those huge, pawlike hands and curling them around the top. His nails were so long and sharp. Like daggers.

“You are afraid,” his voice rumbled out, and I felt it in every part of my body. “I can smell the sweet sweat on you, hear your breathing pick up.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

“No harm shall come to you. That is not why you are here.”

Oh, I knew why I was here. I didn’t think he would hurt me, but sometimes death wasn’t always the worst fate.

He cocked his head to the side slightly as if examining me, as if I were the one so unusual he was having a hard time grasping that he was in my presence.

The movement of his head inclining had his thick hair moving over his shoulder. I could see his slightly pointed ears, watching as they twitched, which caused my heart to beat wildly.

"Woman,” he growled. “I can hear your heart racing. I told you there was nothing to fear from me.” He slowly slid his hands off the back of the chair, his nails scraping the wood ominously before he started walking around the table and closer to me.

This in turn had me moving to the other side, our steps parallel; the only thing stopping him from getting to me was the slab of wood that suddenly seemed wholly inadequate.

He gripped the back of the chair at the head of the table, situated right in front of the fireplace, pulled it out, and sat his heavy form in it.

He dwarfed that massive thronelike structure, leaning back so the wood creaked from his substantial weight. The firelight caught the sharp points of his horns as they arched up and backward.

“Sit,” he growled.

His voice sounded so monstrous, all guttural and harsh, that a small sound left me and I stumbled back so quickly I nearly lost my footing and had to reach out and grip the edge of the table to steady myself.

But I obeyed. I sat down across from him and realized how grossly I’d underestimated the size of the table.

At first I thought the table had seemed grand and long, enough distance separating us so that when we sat, I could still feel like I had control and safety.

But as I sat down on one end and he on the other, I realized how close we really were. So close I smelled the wolf, the primal scent that clung to him.

To occupy myself, or perhaps as a distraction from the situation, I glanced down at the large silver platter situated at the place setting in front of me.

I could hear the Beast lifting his dome, metal banging against metal so loudly I actually glanced up.

He tossed the lid aside like some kind of heathen who couldn’t be bothered with formalities, then glanced down at the entire roasted chicken before him. He lifted his gaze to mine as if he felt me watching him, and his lower tusks became more prominent as he bared his teeth.

Was that supposed to be a semblance of a smile?

At the startled sound that left me, he scolded and gestured a large paw toward me, presumably to open my lid, too.

Maybe he wanted my approval at dinner, which seemed unbelievable, but I did what he said.

I raised my fingers, trying to stop the shaking in them, and gripped the top, lifting it and instantly inundated with the scent of rosemary and butter, roasted herbs and onion. I set the lid on the table, seeing another whole chicken before me.

At least five potatoes had been cut up amidst carrots and celery and placed around the meat.

This was more food than I’d ever seen in a sitting. And certainly nothing that I could ever finish on my own.

“Is it to your liking?” he growled out.

I looked up at him, slowly dragging my tongue along my bottom lip before pulling the flesh between my teeth. I didn’t miss how he glanced down to watch the act. He slammed his hands down on the table, his expression showing frustration as his head lowered, his gaze still watching my mouth.

His nails dug into the wood, creating gouges that sounded so loud I pressed my back to the chair, trying to make myself as small as possible as a fearful noise left me.

His growls grew louder, and as if he caught himself, he pulled his nails out of the wood and cleared his throat. For a second he didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, and kept his focus off of me.

“Eat,” he finally said and ran his paw over his face and fangs. His chest was rising and falling as he looked down at his platter, his beastly, bushy eyebrows pulling down low as he stared at his food.

He didn’t wait for me to obey before he tore into his own food.

I felt my eyes widen and my mouth go slack, and I couldn’t stop watching as he devoured his food.

And that was exactly what I was witnessing.

There was nothing formal or delicate, noble or human, in the way he ate. His paws and claws were swift as he picked up the chicken and tore at the meat with his sharp teeth, growling and snarling as if he were ravenous.

Meat was flying everywhere as he shoved it in his mouth, then he attacked the vegetables, potatoes, and pieces of carrots and onion scattered around the tabletop, covering his face and all of his fur.

I concealed my mouth with a hand and kept watching him, but when he glanced up and saw my undoubtedly horrified look, he froze. After looking down at the platter, then at my untouched one, then back into my eyes, I felt a strange sort of amusement spring to life in me.

“I, ugh,” he said in that strange, deeply distorted voice of his. He ran the back of his paw over his mouth and reached for his wine goblet, guzzling it so fiercely the ruby-red liquid dribbled down his hairy chin and chest.

I burst out laughing then, unable to stop the humor I found in this very unconventional situation.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said and wiped the tears from my eyes. “I’ve just never seen anyone be so ravenous—” My words stilled when he suddenly stood, looked at me ferociously, then stormed off.

I sat there alone, feeling all kinds of shame that I’d clearly humiliated and offended him. The instinctual part of me pushed forward, and I was about to stand and go to him, when I heard a crash and ear-splitting growl that seemed to shake the entire castle.

So I stayed right where I was because I really didn’t want to approach the Beast when I was the one who’d just pissed him off.