Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales 2) by Rachel van Dyken Read Free Book Online Page A

the balance between keeping her fearful and leery of him, and wanting to protect her from everything.
    The truth of it was she reminded him of when he was a small boy. When he wrote music about princes slaying dragons. His mother told him stories at night about such things; she said that since he was a prince, he would one day need to find a princess and rescue her.
    Apparently he had found his princess.
    Unfortunately, he treated her as a nuisance.
    It wasn’t just his mistrust of women. No, it was the absolute loss of control he felt in her presence. What had he been thinking? To bite her? And lick her milky skin? His thoughts had been initially to shock her into submission so she wouldn’t cry. Instead, he had gotten entirely carried away, almost following through with his urge to bed her.
    But as his hands moved down her supple body, his eyes caught a glimpse of his gloves and he remembered. Everything.
    The blood, the scars, the pain, and the betrayal. But most of all he remembered the monster he was, and realized that he would rather hurt her beyond saving and have her hate him than have her pity, for if she pitied him, his heart just might break, and he hadn’t the strength to put it back together again.
    For how could a Beauty such as she ever hope to love or care for a Beast?

Chapter Six
     
    The melody haunts even my dreams, it seems every time I write it down I never allow myself to play it. I merely throw it in the fire and pray that God sent my father into the very fire he dipped my hands in. For I would give my soul, my gift of music, I would give my life, just for a chance to go back…
    —The Diary of Dominique Maksylov
     
    The following morning did not start off as Dominique hoped it would. For one thing, the sheet on the bed had fallen completely off, leaving Isabelle draped across the mattress looking like a goddess emerged from the sea. Temptation to take his wife, because after all, she was his, was so strong that he poured himself another brandy and then another.
    Hunter chose that unfortunate time to barge into the room. His golden eyes fixated on the goddess in question before turning an amused expression to Dominique. Laughter soon followed when he approached the woman and watched as she dozed, looking completely untouched. Dominique scowled as Hunter motioned to the drink in his hand.
    He had half a mind to throw it at his hateful friend. Hunter shook his head in merriment and made a motion for Dominique to follow him out to the deck.
    The salty air rejuvenated him, but only slightly. “What is it?”
    “Snappy this morning, eh?” Hunter elbowed him. “Your tone speaks not of a man who was satisfied throughout the evening. A little cold was she? Perhaps I should warm her up first? You don’t mind, right? After all, you mean to push her away until she hates you as much as you hate yourself.”
    Dominique cursed. “You go too far! Don’t for one minute think that because we are friends that I wouldn’t shoot you for touching her.”
    Hunter eyed him patronizingly. “Come, Dominique, we both know you excel in fencing, not shooting. Besides, I was merely jesting, at least about the warming part. I stand by everything else.”
    Dominique glared and chose to ignore his friend’s ramblings. “We should make haste. The ship will be docking soon, and we have a long journey ahead of us through the woods.”
    “And through the trees to Dominique’s house we go!” Hunter added with his singsong voice. Oh, what Dominique wouldn’t give to punch his happy friend in the face.
    With a growl, he turned on his heel and marched back into the captain's quarters. “Get up!”
    Isabelle’s eyes fluttered open, a look of confusion passing over her features.
    “I said get up!” Dominique yelled. “Make haste, we arrive within the hour and still have a grueling journey ahead of us.”
    Isabelle nodded solemnly and pulled the sheet tighter around her body.
    Must she be such a prude? After all,