Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,107
in prisms across the alabaster floor.
The room was open on four sides to nature. Flowing drapes of gold, silver, and pale green hugged the fluted columns and pooled onto the floor, waiting to be drawn against the night. A staircase with quartz steps and a silver rail curved to a cozy alcove with a bookcase and a sprawling white chaise lounge. Perched atop the gleaming bannister, a snowy bird with a sleek head, jeweled eyes, and extravagant tail feathers trilled softly.
A white piano with a conch shell lid sat on the right side of the downstairs space. To the far left was a large sunken marble tub and a basket overflowing with plush towels. Dominating the space between the piano and the bath was an immense bed of bleached wood with tree trunk posts and a headboard of windblown branches. The bed linens were purest white, the mattress high and luxurious. Rose petals were strewn across the coverlet and fluffy pillows in invitation.
A memory tugged at Sassy. She had seen this room or something like it in a dream.
No, not in a dream; in a book, her favorite childhood story. Clever, wonderful Grim to have known.
Sassy flew down the short path. The stone pavers were cool beneath her feet. She crossed the threshold of the folly and felt the brush of magic, and looked down. Her jeans and top were gone, and she wore a sleeveless gossamer gown in muted shades of blues, greens, and apricot. The diaphanous garment, woven from fabric as thin and delicate as dragonfly wings, clung to her breasts, and was fastened at the shoulders by wisps of silk ribbon. Her feet were bare, and so was she beneath the flowing dress. She’d had more ball gowns in her life than she could count, but none of them had made her feel this beautiful, this wild and sensuous.
Where was Grim? He was nowhere in sight.
She wandered farther into the room, the skirts of the gown swishing around her ankles.
“Grim?”
She received an answering growl from the trees beyond the folly.
“Where are you?” Sassy called. “Thank you for this place and the gown. They’re lovely.”
“Do not thank me. You deserve beauty and fine things. You deserve better than this warrior.”
“That’s sweet, Grim, but I don’t need gifts.” Sassy peered into the woods. Something large moved among the trees. “I need you.”
“It pleases me to please you. Should you deign to stay with me, I will shower you with gifts, and you will not say me nay.”
“Deign to stay with you? Hel-lo. I practically threw myself at you at the motel.”
“That is because you do not know me.” The growl moved closer. “You do not know the things I have done.”
A beast stepped out of the trees. It was Grim. Or more precisely, a cruel, fantastic version of him with cloven hooves and a horned head. His topaz eyes burned in his twisted, scarred face. He was clad in black armor. Sharp metal thorns rose from the plates at his massive shoulders and sprang in barbs from his fitted cuisses, bracers, and greaves. A snug black helm sat low on his bulging brow, topped by a bristling metal spine between his horns.
He was such a fearsome sight that Sassy nearly turned and fled. But this was no monster. This was Grim. She fisted the skirts of her delicate gown and held her ground.
“Stop it,” she said. “I don’t like this anymore.”
Grim snarled. “I would have you see me as I am. When Dell showed me your favorite tale a moment ago, I knew the truth at once. You are Beauty and I am the Beast.”
“Dell’s behind this?” Sassy put her hands on her hips. “Dell should mind his own beeswax. He may know his Yarthac, but he doesn’t know beans about love.”
“Look at me, Sassy. I would have you know the truth.” Something like desperation crept over Grim’s disfigured face. “The Beast was cursed by a wicked fairy. Grief and hate have been my curse. I have spent untold years consumed by my need for revenge, living by the sword—for the sword.”
“It’s a story, Grim. You are not the Beast.”
“I am not worthy of you.”
“Maybe I’m not worthy of you. Have you thought of that?”
Grim’s nostrils flared. “Do not say that. Ever. You are wonderful.”
“So are you.”
Grim looked ready to explode. “No, I am not. I am a sorry bargain, my love. You could do better.”
“I see. So you think I should have stayed with Wesley.”