Page 12 of Omega and the Beast
Though her presence did help him to retain his mind, and that was more than he’d had in years.
“What does it mean that you’re the Alpha of this territory?” she asked. “Whatisthis territory?”
“Your village is in my territory. It is one of manyvillages that are in my territory.” Telling the story had become a thing of rote at this point, something that no longer spurred his anger, only resignation. “Years ago, my parents were called away. I was too young then to undertake the proper duties of the castle they left me under Father Conal’s guidance.” The bitterness in his voice could not be disguised, and her reaction on hearing it showed she must share some of his feeling for the evil priest. “Don’t think too poorly of my parents. They didn’t know him well, but they’d always had a special relationship with your village, being the closest to our castle, and Conal’s predecessor was a good man. No doubt they thought Conal his equal, that he would care for me and give me guidance while they were away. Instead, he betrayed us all.”
Callista’s gasp of shock made him feel a little better. He’d been a young teenager the last time he’d been able to touch his parents, that they’d been able to seehim.That was the part that hurt the most.
“He gathered other leaders from the other villages within our territory and brought them together to cast a terrible curse. If I leave the castle, I take on the form and mind of a ravenous monster, mindlessly stalking anything that enters my territory. Only within the castle walls, am I myself, and only during the day.”
“And every night?” she asked softly.
He hugged her a little tighter, hoping she did not hate him for not having the strength to leave her when he’d changed forms. In her heat, she’d still wanted him, but she was no longer mindless with base need. She did not pull away or attempt to put any space between them, which reassured him.
“Every night, I become the Beast, and the Beast needs tohunt. I have very little control when in that form. It’s a struggle even to think… until I met you.”
She blinked. “Me?”
“I don’t understand it either. I think it must be because you are an Omega.” He laughed shortly. “Father Conal said an Omega would be the cure to the curse. I had hoped that would mean the curse would end, but… even if it only meant clarity of thought when I’m with you, I am grateful. I can be violent when in my other form.”
She stiffened in his arms, a tremor going through her body as thoughts passed through her eyes.
“Have you… have you hurt many people?” she asked tentatively, her voice full of fear—not of him, he realized, but of what he might have done. Who he might have hurt.
Callista. Callie. Of course.
His newest resident of the castle.
“I have… but your father is not… well, he was not badly hurt,” Adonis said quickly, speaking over her sharp intake of breath.
“My father?” She sat up, pulling away from him, hope and joy crossing her face followed by worry and fear.
Despite the beauty of her swaying breasts, Adonis could hardly be aroused when she was so clearly anxious over her father’s fate—just as her father had been over hers. He pushed himself up to a seated position beside her, anxiously watching her expression for her reactions.
Thanks to the curse and his inability to always control his actions in his other form, there were people in the village who would have real reason to hate him.
“An older Beta male named Broderick with a daughter named Callie? I assume that must be you.”
“Oh!” She put her hands over her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. “That’s him! He’s here?”
“He is. He hurt his arm when the carriage crashed, but I was able to herd him to the castle without harming him.” Adonis cringed as he spoke, realizing how they sounded, but truthfully, it was an achievement every time he managed to bring someone back to the castle safely.
Nightfall brought out his most violent instincts and urges. He wanted to hunt in his Beast form, and only a small part of him cared what he was hunting. When he reverted to his true form, he’d wept with relief every time he’d managed to save someone.
Several times he’d killed, knowing that those hunting him didn’t realize who or what they were actually hunting. But he’d done his best to herd innocents to the castle rather than harming them. Once they were within the castle, they were safe as long as they were within its walls.
Although none of them had cleared his mind in the same manner Callista did, something about having them in his home made his instincts recognize them as ‘his’ and therefore, not prey.
The light in her wide eyes seemed to flicker as she searched his face, like her voice, trembling as she whispered, “Have you harmed others?”
He had. Was he to tell her so? He could not consider himself a murderer, for all that he knew he had killed. Neither did he blame those who had come to the woods to hunt him. If one of them had succeeded in striking a mortal wound, still he could not have hated them. He was a monster, and monsters must be slain. Even as his fangs sank into their throats, he’d howled for them to honor their lives even as he took them. But that was the Beast, not himself, not Adonis.
Yet looking into her guileless eyes, such excuses withered. It must be the whole truth with her, his Omega. Andso he told her, haltingly at first, with long silences roughly broken that slowly, slowly took on the cadence of a man’s speech. He had never spoken of such things before – he rarely spoke at all in recent years – and he had to suppress a wince at how callous the words sounded in his voice, as if doing harm were only his nature. And perhaps it was, but only half.
In this form, under sunlight, harm could still be abhorrent to him, but nightfall brought out his most violent instincts and primal urges. As the Beast, he was not only capable of harm, he yearned for it. To hunt, to chase, to seize and rend and bite… and that small part of him that still cared what, or who, wandered in the woods cared less and less the nearer he came to his prey.
But he did still care. And as the years passed in this cursed form, he had somehow taught the Beast within him to see those who walked on two legs as a different kind of prey, and to take some small satisfaction from driving them before him back to his denning place, his castle. There, they would be safe. Something about having them in his home made even the Beast inside him see them as ‘his,’ as possessions to be protected, and therefore, not as prey.
“Your father is here,” he told her at the end of it, taking her hand to seal his words with a comforting squeeze. “His injuries are not severe. He should heal and he will be safe so long as he remains within these walls.”
