The Beast Read Free Page B

night. The great Catholic cathedral loomed above the snow-topped buildings like a dark Goliath. Two sparkling lanterns hung at its doors; a welcome to any late night worshipers. The Hunters made their way down the hill and onto the cobblestone. As the Friesians walked along, their clopping hooves echoed off the buildings.
    Illuminated lampposts lined the streets, showing that most shops and homes were shut tight. Save for Le Géant Tranquille, which spilled light and music out into the town’s center. Here were some of Belle’s favorite buildings; the church, tavern, bakery, and the bookshop.
    In the middle of the circling cobblestones was a fountain, topped with the same style lantern that dotted the streets. It was too cold the majority of the year for the water to run, but instead of the structure being a waste, the town’s people started a tradition of placing candles along the fountain’s edge. Candle after lit candle, they built up and consumed the stonework. Now, solid waterfalls of wax drooped over the sides. There was nothing more lovely than a still night when old and new candles flickered around the fountain, and the overhead lantern cast a warm glow upon it all.
    Outside Le Géant Tranquille were a set of hitching posts. They were fashioned into tiny horse heads cradling metal circlets in their mouths. Belle dismounted and looped the reins loosely through one of the rings.
    From the back of her saddle, she removed and unrolled a large blanket. She spread it over Charming. The other Hunters did the same. Just a little something to keep the snow off the horses while they waited. Delano and Nicolas used the butts of their rifles to break the ice in each trough, allowing the Friesians access to the water beneath.
    “Shall we, messieurs?” Belle asked as the men finished up their tasks.
    She unbuttoned a clasp at her waist, which released her skirts, and they fell freely to the ground. Belle had sewn the buckles into her dresses years ago. It didn’t take her long to realize that running or even mounting a horse was much more complicated when her legs were engulfed by layers of fabric. With a button on the outside of her dress and a strip of cloth stitched underneath, she could lift the skirts over her right hip and pin them up with ease. It revealed entirely too much leg for a proper lady…but the rules of higher society didn’t have much place on a hunt. However, so as not to offend anyone’s sensibilities or to sully her own reputation, Belle covered her legs in the presence of non-Hunters.
    “After you, mademoiselle.” Gastone pushed open the tavern door and waited for Belle to enter.
    She smiled as raucous music, laughter, singing, and slurred speech filled her ears. The Hunters followed close behind, eager for warmth. As cold air swirled into Le Géant Tranquille, the patrons glanced their way, and the crowd broke into a cheer, welcoming the Hunters’ safe return.
    For Belle it was a tradeoff; being a Hunter hurt any prospects she had for marriage, but in its place came great respect from the town’s folk. As was the way of the world, the men did not have this issue. In fact, being a Hunter made them more desirable as suitors.
    Belle accepted this reality. Her duty to protect Contefées always came first. The only time this bothered her was when she thought of her parents. They’d loved each other deeply, standing together against many enemies. Her mother’s death was a devastating shock. More so for her father, who disappeared into his workshop for weeks afterward.
    Even now, Belle would catch a certain look in Henri’s eyes. A look that said he wasn’t with her at that moment. He was with the memories of his wife. She knew because his eyes somehow shown both love and sorrow. Belle might give up hunting for that sort of love—a love that gripped the soul and didn’t let go.
    “Gastone!” Medford, a nearing middle-aged miner, stumbled his way over. He was scruffy and unkempt; the sort to only