A Beauty So Beastly Read online

  A Beauty So Beastly

  The Beastly Series

  By

  RaShelle Workman

  Also by RaShelle Workman

  Blood and Snow: The Omnibus Collection ~ includes all 12 volumes of the first season of Blood and Snow and the short stories: Cindy Witch, The Hunter’s Tale, Gabriel, and After the Kiss

  The Cindy Chronicles

  VampireLies ~ Blood and Snow Season Two, #1

  The Immortal Essence Series: The Omnibus Collection

  www.rashelleworkman.com

  A Beauty So Beastly

  The Beastly Series

  Copyright © RaShelle Workman

  Polished Pen Press Corp

  Digital Edition

  This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, RaShelle Workman, P.O. Box 1408, Bountiful, UT. 84011.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by: Okay Creations @ www.okaycreations.com

  Design copyright @2014 RaShelle Workman

  Edited by Jen Hendricks

  Find RaShelle Workman on the web!

  www.rashelleworkman.com

  @RaShelleWorkman

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  Main Menu

  Copyright

  Also by RaShelle Workman

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Afterword

  Coming Soon

  Contact Information

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  While A Beauty So Beastly is a new story with new characters, the world is the same as that of the Blood and Snow world. So don’t be surprised if Snow, Cindy, Jasmine or one of the many characters from those stories makes an appearance in this series.

  You don’t have to have read the other stories to appreciate and enjoy this story though.

  Sincerely,

  RaShelle

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to my children. They inspire me to make use of my crazy imagination.

  Acknowledgements

  A great big thank you to Sarah Hansen for the gorgeous cover, Ali Cross for the amazing formatting on the print books, Jen Hendricks for her incredible editing and my amazing family. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do.

  Nearly eighteen years ago…

  “Go, Lenora! They cannot catch us.” Fisher pressed his nose against her furry cheek, urging her on. His whiskers tingled with the realization that the Locanis were close. Too close.

  They were being hunted by his father’s servants, the worst of the worst of the Locanis. And Kevoney had not been a kind master. He’d been ruthless. Fisher knew if he and Lenora were caught the werewolves would slaughter them without remorse.

  Fisher and Lenora had to survive. They were all that was left of the Vaktare royal family, and his mate carried the child that could save their species.

  He looked back, peering into the dark night. A strong smell of smoke wafted through the air and Fisher knew the werewolves had burned their home.

  “I can’t do it.” Lenora stopped, panting. She swayed, her swollen belly nearly touching the ground before she caught herself. “Our child is unhappy with all the running. It’s making her sick.” Lenora fell onto her side. “It’s making me sick, too.” As though to prove the point, she retched on the ground.

  Fisher moved close, taking a protective stance, sensing the Locanis were getting closer.

  A quick glance at his chest showed him the pendant was still there, the red stone gleaming in the moonlight. It was their only chance, the one significant advantage they had over the Locanis: each Vaktare was born with a unique preternatural ability.

  He had been given the gift of conjuring, which was why he could use the pendant. Lenora could control the elements, but couldn’t use her power now for fear the strain would harm their unborn child.One of the Locanis howled. Others responded. There were at least a dozen, and they were getting closer.

  “Please, Lenora. Get up.” Urgency caused him to roar. “If we can get to the top of the mountain, we’ll be able to jump realms. It isn’t far.” Fisher helped her to stand.

  Lenora’s legs shook and wobbled.

  “Oh,” Lenora cried. “I think the baby is coming.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  Her ears twitched and she shook her head. “Minutes, possibly just seconds.”

  Fisher knew there was no way to predict when the child would come but he wouldn’t let them give up.

  Another set of howls. The werewolves were gaining fast. He paused, closing his eyes. Unlike Lenora’s gift, his usually required additional components in order to work. He needed a spell that didn’t require any ingredients, something that would slow the werewolves down. If only Lenora could use her talent and create a thunderstorm to conceal and wash away their scent.

  “What is it?” Lenora asked, her breathing heavy.

  Fisher opened his eyes, considering his mate. Could he ask such a thing of her, especially in her condition?

  Lenora swayed, but held her ground.

  His mate seemed to understand. She closed her eyes, focusing. And Fisher immediately felt the winds pick up. Dark thunderclouds appeared in the already opaque sky as it began to rain heavily.

  He wrapped his furry arms around her swollen body and lifted Lenora with his front paws as he began walking the remainder of the way up the mountain. He debated changing into his human form, but tossed the thought aside. If he and Lenora were caught it would be easier to fight the Locanis in his werecat form.

  This high up, the wind whipped fiercely against their faces, slapping through their fur, stinging their skin. He kept going, bowing his head against the tempest his wife had created.

  “Stop you mangy cat!” Even through the downpour it was easy to hear the Locanis’ words.

  It had been the leader of the pack, Adam, who shouted. The werewolf was young and arrogant, but he was also fearless and exceptional in the art of killing. Many Vaktare had died with their throats in his mouth, their blood dripping from his fangs.

  “It’s okay. Keep breathing.” Fisher spoke softly to Lenora, keeping his back to the werewolves.

  Lenora opened her eyes with a look of amused irritation. It said if she had more strength she’d lovingly claw his eyes out.

  “I know. Sorry,” he whispered, a wisp of a smile on his face.


  She rested a paw against his cheek. He leaned into it, setting her down. He would use the pendant now. If they weren’t close enough to the gateway, it wouldn’t matter. They were dead anyway.

  “Turn around, Fisher. Don’t be a coward like your father. Face your death honorably.”

  Fisher’s hackles rose. He wanted to make the werewolf leader pay for his insolence. Instead he chanted the words for the incantation. The wind and the rain kept the portal hidden until it was nearly big enough to jump through.

  “Go,” he shouted ferociously, shoving Lenora into the opening.

  But Adam was suddenly on his back as Fisher took a step toward the portal.

  “So you are a coward,” Adam hissed, sinking his teeth into Fisher’s shoulder.

  With a mighty heave, Fisher pulled Adam off him, trying to snap his neck in the process. “You’re a lot of talk, Adam.”

  The gateway was beginning to close.

  Adam stood, shaking his head. Then he charged. Fisher planted his feet. Adam lowered his head, preparing to ram Fisher. At the last second, Fisher sidestepped and leapt into the closing portal.

  He heard Adam howl in frustration just as the gateway locked behind him.

  It was dark in the new realm, like it’d been in Hiraken, but Fisher’s enhanced vision allowed him to see that Lenora was on her side, breathing rapidly.

  “Lenora,” he shouted, running to her. He was in his human form now, as was Lenora.

  She didn’t speak, all of her attention on birthing her baby. As the child came, Lenora let out a loud roar. Then she fell silent.

  Fisher picked up the human child. “Lenora,” he whispered, when the baby started to cry. “Our baby girl.”

  It was strange. While he’d been so terrified for the child moments before jumping realms, he now found he had no emotion at all. He remembered he’d had emotions, that he’d once known what it was like to smile, to love, but he couldn’t find where they’d gone. The medicine woman had explained that in order to shut away the werecat part of them, when they crossed into the human realm the enchantment would seal away all emotions as well.

  “I feel nothing,” Lenora said.

  “Neither do I. This is what she said would happen.” Fisher looked down at the baby. “What should we call her?” The question seemed appropriate, though he couldn’t understand his need to name the child now.

  Lenora closed her eyes, nodding. “We’ll name the child Beatrice.”

  “Agreed.” Fisher glanced down at his naked chest. The pendant was gone. He remembered when Adam rushed him, as he’d moved to the side, he’d felt a tugging. “Adam has the pendant.”

  “He won’t be able to use it. He has no power. We are safe.”

  Fisher nodded, but a strange buzzing deep inside made him think otherwise.

  You Aren’t Invited

  One

  I was seven when I caught my first glimpse at how much power my family possessed, how much power I possessed. My dad rented out an entire amusement park for my birthday. I invited the kids in my class to come. We rode the rides as many times as we wanted, watched the shows over and over, and ate ice cream, funnel cakes, and homemade fudge from the food shops.

  Throughout the day more than one classmate told me I must be “the richest girl in the world” or asked if I was a princess. Of course at that age I wanted to believe I was a princess. So I said yes.

  After that I gained a lot more friends.

  It didn’t matter that I felt nothing. No one cared if I treated him or her badly. Those who I allowed to spend time with me felt privileged. I was given everything and took what I wanted without consequence.

  I was ten when one of my classmates first called me on my personality, or lack thereof. She’d said I was a heartless bitch.

  My dad had rented out the entire IMAX Theater so my friends and I could watch the newly re-digitized Beauty and the Beast movie. Dad and Mom told me to invite as many people as I wanted. I invited five.

  Alice Lindell came over to me one day in school, sat primly in the seat beside mine, and informed me that I should be kind and invite everyone. She was one of those trendy girls, very friendly, super pretty, and her parents obviously had money too, which was why I wanted nothing to do with her. I was the princess. No one else would ever be allowed to claim my title.

  She’d been wearing flower pants, a white half shirt with the word princess sparkling in hot pink across her chest, a hot pink tank shirt and matching hot pink boots. The girl loved hot pink. Her hair was blond and she always flipped it with her hand when she talked.

  I’d picked up my fruit punch juice container and “accidentally” spilled it all over her shirt and pants. “I don’t have to be kind,” I said, thinking I had no idea what kindness felt like. “I can do what I want and you aren’t invited.”

  That was when she used the words—heartless bitch.

  They stuck. If it were true or not, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. Those types of emotions meant nothing to me.

  Eight years later and people still called me a heartless bitch behind my back. And it still didn’t bother me. Nothing did.

  A lot has happened since then.

  I’d just turned eighteen, graduated from high school, and was the owner of a brand new LaFerrari. It was yellow, had black leather seats, and cost my parents more than a million dollars. The car was beautiful and I knew I should be excited, yet my mood remained the same as always—blank.

  “Would you like lunch by the pool or inside?” Mrs. Dotts asked, interrupting my thoughts of the past. She was Cavanaugh Mansion’s cook, an older lady, with gray hair, a friendly smile, and sensible shoes.

  “The pool,” I answered.

  “Very well, Miss Beatrice.” She bowed slightly, making her ruffled, white apron arch outward.

  “Have you seen my parents?” I asked before she left to go into the main house.

  “No, miss. When I arrived, they were already gone.”

  The way her pudgy face puckered, it was easy to discern she was distressed by their actions. I knew why. My parents were creatures of habit. They woke each morning, including weekends, at five o’clock. Exercised. Got ready for the day. Ate breakfast. And then my dad would go in to work and my mom would do whatever it was she did. I rarely rose before seven but they’d been following the same routine for so long, even I knew their schedule. Occasionally they took a trip, but they always gave plenty of notice so Mrs. Dotts and Isaac could prepare for their absence.

  “Did they leave a note?”

  She wrung her hands, filled with worry. “No, miss.”

  If they were gone, they were gone. I shrugged. “You’re blocking my light,” I said, waving her away.

  Mrs. Dotts nodded and headed toward the house.

  The pool was a few hundred feet from the main house, past the adobe-style patio. Cavanaugh Mansion was twenty thousand square feet of traditional grandness. The outside was a combination of stucco and brick. There were dozens of windows, and a balcony across the front and back of the house. It rested on the side of a mountain, overlooking Salt Lake City. Spanning fifty acres, Cavanaugh Mansion’s grounds had everything, including its very own nine-hole golf course, tennis courts, and stables, along with three guesthouses.

  “Alone,” I whispered.

  The pool water shimmered in the sunlight. I lay on my back, soaking in the warm summer rays. Birds chirped in the nearby trees, singing so happily I suddenly wondered what that must feel like—to be cheerful enough to sing about it.

  “Miss Cavanaugh, may I present Will, Eva, Ashley, Cassidy, and Greg.” Isaac came over to the pool followed by my guests. He wore black pants, a black jacket, a silver vest, a white shirt, white gloves, and a black bow tie. Always pristine and by the book, he was a butler’s butler. When I was little, he scared me. He was tall and thin with receding salt and pepper hair and thick eyebrows that seemed to grow thicker by the year.

  “Can we get some drinks, Isaac?” I sat up, my toned abs contracting as
I shifted.

  “Yes, miss.”

  I’d known my friends were coming. Yesterday was my birthday and they’d texted that they wanted to bring me presents. I wasn’t going to pass up gifts, no way. What they gave told me how dearly they held my friendship

  “The hard kind,” Eva said, smiling coyly up at a guy that I guessed was Greg. Then she said, “Happy eighteen, Bea. You look hot.” Greg nodded. He held a present in his other hand.

  “Thanks. I am hot.” Everyone except Greg laughed. He obviously hadn’t been schooled on what was appropriate in my presence. I’d find a way to make him see.

  I went to push my sunglasses on my head and then remembered I wore a tiara. Yes, the tiara was perfectly acceptable sunbathing attire. My bikini was red, the exact shade of the red diamonds in the rose crown. I took the glasses off and set them on the table next to my chair.

  “Damn, Bea. Where’d you get that crown?” Cassidy asked, setting her present on the patio table and moving closer. She liked shiny things almost as much as I did.

  Ashley shook her head. “Seriously? Only you would think to lie out next to a pool in a bikini and a tiara. What’s that stone in the center? A ruby?”

  I shook my head, feeling like the cat that swallowed the canary. “It’s a red diamond.”

  Will, who’d been quiet so far, blurted out, “Holy shit.” His father was in the diamond business. I knew that because he talked about diamonds all the freaking time. “That thing is probably worth eight million, give or take.” He sat on the long patio chair beside me, smiling. The present in his hand was small, with a brilliant blue bow and the word “Tiffany’s” etched across the box top.

  I smiled back, knowing it was expected.