The Rose

Belle, trained assassin extraordinaire, has a new mission. Find the Beast, a huge, fierce myth that could probably tear Belle's throat out in two seconds, take all of his secrets, and kill him. Not him- it. Belle must stop thinking of this fascinating creature as something that could possibly have feelings.

And it had feelings. It had motives, and plans, and purpose.

And Belle?

Belle wanted to know more.


4. Chapter IV

My eyes fluttered open. There was a slight ache across my face, but otherwise, I felt fine. I tried to sit up, but I felt a gentle push on my shoulders and I let my head fall to a plush pillow. I opened my eyes fully, and to my astonishment, the Beast sat in an armchair, looking down grumpily at a book that rested on its lap. I felt a surge of anger rise in me, and I began to sit up. My hands flew to my hips, expecting to find my belt with my knives tightly secured to it, but instead I felt only soft cotton in its place. I pushed against the gentle force trying to lay me down, and staggered to my feet. Around me, furniture was lined up in awkward angles. Guess the Beast isn’t an interior design type of… thing. I looked around the room, looking for some kind of weapon. The only thing I could use was a wooden chair, which the Beast could probably tear to shreds in seconds. I started to tiptoe towards it, but suddenly the Beast looked up from his book.

And he had the most beautiful sky blue eyes.

I gulped, preparing for an attack, shifting my posture into fighting position. I may be going down, but not without a fight. I glared at the Beast. ‘Well?’ I growled. ‘Last thing I remember is you ripping my face off. Try that again, let’s see what happens.’ I approached him cautiously, my fists up in fighting stance. He looked beyond bored.

‘I’m not going to fight you, regardless of the fact you tried to kill me.’ He sighed, raising himself up from the armchair. His voice was melancholy, almost sad. He wore a maroon coat over a red waistcoat and white shirt. His trousers were black, and he wore no shoes on his back paws. I refused to drop my stance.

‘Why should I believe that you won’t hurl yourself at me any opportunity you get?’ I snapped. I couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. They were so pale, yet deep as the sea. They looked so… human.

He stared right back at me, unwavering as he spoke.

‘Because I’m not about to kill my last hope.’

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