How to Tame a Beast in Seven Days (The Embraced #1)

Yes, she was beautiful. And if rumors were correct, she might also be vain and selfish.

He didn’t believe it. After leaving the chapel that afternoon, he’d spotted her working in the kitchen garden. Would a selfish woman help the servants? And she hadn’t bothered to protect her head from the sun or her hands from the dirt. Her confession about taking a long bath made her appear vain, but his gut told him she’d made it up. No doubt she’d been warned that the priests were spies for the king. As far as he could tell, the only time she’d been sincere was when she’d admitted her fear of her betrothed.

He sighed. How was he going to court her if he couldn’t touch her? He was a warrior, not a poet, so he doubted he could win her heart with words.

Fool, he chided himself. No noble expected to find love in his marriage, not when the king was the one who mandated whom you would wed. So why did he worry about winning her heart? Why did he care so damned much?

As a warrior, he was accustomed to analyzing battle plans, not emotions. Even so, he made an attempt to put labels on what he was feeling.

Lust. That was the easiest to discern. She was a beautiful woman. Lovely face, gorgeous body. A glint in her eye and a lift of her chin that spelled intelligence and courage. Of course he desired her. He could lose his right nut and still lust for her. Hell, he could be on his deathbed, and she’d still make him hard. He shifted his weight. His damned breeches were getting too tight. He’d better stop thinking about lust. What else was he feeling?

Possessiveness. He didn’t want to share her. Something about her filled him with greed. And lust. Move on.

Protectiveness. The king wanted her dead, so his protective instincts were in full swing. Along with lust. Get a grip.

Kinship. The king wanted both him and her dead, so he felt a connection to her. And a great deal of lust.

Dammit. Wasn’t there more to him than lust? He might be a Beast, but he still had a soul. He delved deeper into his heart till he reached an inner core of truth.

The Beast needed to be loved.

Hungry men could dream of food, thirsty men might dream of wine, but his soul was shriveling from a different kind of starvation. How many years had it been since he’d touched someone? Since someone had touched him?

His soul was starving.

Dammit to hell. The truth made him feel pathetic. From the age of five, he’d lived as the Beast. Feared and reviled. Everyone believed he was so powerful, but deep inside he was plagued by a desperate weakness. He needed someone who could love him in spite of what he was.

Her words came back to taunt him. I’m afraid … of my betrothed.

“You should be afraid,” he whispered.

“Of what?” Nevis asked, and Leo whirled around to see him entering the gallery.

“Dammit,” Leo growled. “Don’t sneak up on me.” This was the second time today his friend had caught him unaware.

“Would you rather I make a lot of noise to draw everyone’s attention?” Nevis asked wryly as he approached the balcony railing.

“Stay behind the curtain,” Leo warned him. “Do you have news?”

“The duke gave me permission to bunk in the barracks with the castle guards, so that should help me figure out who the assassins are. The captain of the guard was rude about my moving in. Acted like an ass.”

“I want him dismissed.”

Nevis’s eyes widened. “You … know about him?”

“I know his men are poorly trained. What else is there to know?”

Nevis winced. “Well, he appears to be the source of the rumors about the Lady of Vindalyn.”

Leo stiffened. “He’s the one spouting garbage about her?” He scanned the people below. “Where is he?”

“That’s him.” Nevis pointed a finger around the edge of the curtain. “Captain Bougaire.”

Leo eyed the man in full uniform with an abundance of medals and ribbons pinned to his barrel-shaped chest. The man definitely had an inflated idea of his own importance. And he kept glaring at Tatiana. “He doesn’t like her?”

Nevis snorted. “He claims to love her.”

Leo tensed. “He…”

“Yes. He’s the one having an affair with—”

“Alleged affair,” Leo cut in.

Nevis sighed. “According to the other soldiers, he openly boasts about his … conquest. He’s so obnoxious about it, they call him Captain Booger.”

“I prefer bastard.”

“Works for me.” Nevis nodded. “My father had a long talk with the duke. Convinced him of the danger he’s in. The duke has agreed to let us provide guards for him and his daughter.”

“Good.” Leo continued to watch Tatiana and her father to make sure no one pulled a knife or sword on them.

“Where’s Brody?” Nevis asked.

Leo gestured toward the hearth where a group of dogs sprawled on the cool stone. No fire would be lit tonight since the room was already warm. “He’s blending in.”

Nevis snorted. “And picking up fleas, no doubt. What about the priests? Did you check their rooms?”

“Yes. Two of the priests enjoy comfort. Expensive wine, fine furnishings, silk underclothes.” Leo spotted the three priests, who were approaching the duke and Tatiana.

“Those are probably the two older ones,” Nevis said. “They look like they’ve been eating well for years.”

“The third room was like a prison cell—narrow cot, rough blanket, no pillow.” Leo narrowed his eyes on the young priest, who resembled a black crow with his dark hair and long beak-like nose. “Under the cot, there was a whip with seven leather cords knotted with barbs. Stained with blood.”

“Damn.” Nevis grimaced. “He whips people?”

“That was my first thought. Then I discovered some of his undershirts had bloodstains on the back.” Leo scowled at the young priest, who was smirking at Tatiana. “He’s doing it to himself.”

“Sick bastard.”