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  Beast: The Untold Legend

  Shoshanna Evers

  Deflowering the princess may just save her life.

  Princess Justine makes an unlikely ally when she storms into the stables and finds an angry, devastatingly handsome young man tending to her mare. Victor belongs to her soon-to-be Queen mother-in-law, and he has the whip marks on his muscled back to prove it.

  The Queen, an enchantress well-accomplished in the art of black magic, turns Victor into a creature like no other. He’s a ten foot tall beastly wall of muscle, animalistic sinew, and savagery ready to unleash every primal urge coiled within him. At the Queen’s command, he kidnaps Justine on her wedding day to the prince — but refuses to kill her. Instead, he keeps her safe by turning her from a threat to the Queen’s power into a ruined woman who will never ascend the throne.

  Now the Beast holds his princess captive in the woods, his focus on only one mission: deflower her and get her with child before the queen comes back to kill Justine herself. But as their tentative alliance forms, both Victor and Justine can’t help but wonder— what if being together is their chance for true love?

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

  BEAST: THE UNTOLD LEGEND

  Wicked Series

  Copyright © 2015 SHOSHANNA EVERS

  ISBN: 978-1-943576-31-9

  All Romance eBooks, LLC Palm Harbor, Florida 34684 www.allromanceebooks.com

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First All Romance eBooks publication: February 2015

  Prologue: The Other Beast

  A long time ago, in a land far, far away, an incredible young man was turned into a terrible beast by an evil enchantress, the queen. No— not the infamous Prince, whose adventure and subsequent marriage to Belle has been well documented. Not him. The other beast.

  The other beast came first—after all, the queen had to try out and perfect such an elaborate spell on her favorite whipping boy well in advance before daring to use it on royalty. The unfortunate young man who had garnered her intimate attention went by the name of Victor Gerard, son of no-one important, heir to nothing. No one would miss him should he disappear, save for the line of farm girls who batted their eyelashes at him as he walked by.

  Victor was strong and handsome, having built his muscular body through back-breaking work as a stablehand for the castle. But though there was steel in his blue-gray eyes, though his size would intimidate any man looking for a fight, he had been forced by the queen’s magic to submit to her every desire and treacherous whim, against his will and dominant nature.

  ****

  Chapter 1

  The Stable Boy

  Victor winced as he took his soiled shirt off and stuck it in a bucket of cold wash water by the stables. The queen had been in one of her moods the night before, and he had suffered for it as always. At least he was safe from her now, for a few hours at least.

  What he wouldn’t give to turn the whip back onto her own pretty ass. Maybe then she’d finally leave him be—if he could take back control. An impossible dream. After all, his mistress wasn’t afraid to use her magic against him. In her hands, he was helpless.

  That only made him stronger—and angrier—when she was not near. In the short time each day that he was free from the queen, the muscles in his body sung with unreleased tension.

  His morning chore neighed for attention, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  “Hang on there, girl,” Victor told the mare. “I know, you smell your treats, don’t you, girl.”

  He grabbed the wet shirt from the bucket and scrubbed the spots of bloodstains hard against his wooden stool, and wrung it out. It would have worked best with some ash soap, but he was in a hurry to get both himself and Lady into presentable appearance.

  The bright morning sun would dry him and his clothing out soon enough. He splashed some water on his face and dark hair, and quickly combed his fingers through the tangles.

  “Now it’s your turn, pretty Lady.”

  Lady sniffed his trousers with interest, her big velvet brown nose tickling his sides until she found the pocket filled with apple peels and cores from the castle kitchen. She snorted, nearly knocking him off balance as he attempted to put the wet-but-noticeably-cleaner shirt back over his head.

  “All right.” He chuckled. “You’re as persistent as the queen when I’m without my clothes.”

  Victor gave her the apple pieces, loving how easy it was to make his horse happy. Well, she wasn’t his even if it felt like she was. She was just one of many who belonged to Prince Frederick—the queen’s stepson, and rightful son and heir of the King.

  “At least the boy doesn’t have her poisonous, wicked blood running through his royal veins,” Victor mused aloud to the horse, under his breath. “And that is lucky for his fancy princess bride, as well, huh girl?”

  “Pardon me…” a sweet voice said from behind him.

  He whirled around. He had thought he’d been alone in the stables. How long had she been standing there—what had she seen or heard?

  The beautiful young woman stared back at him with wide eyes tinged with…fear? Was she afraid of him, or what he’d said?

  If she knew what was good for her, she’d be afraid of him for interrupting the only time he had to himself. The castle may be the domain of the rich and privileged, but the stables were Victor’s domain. Even a fancy girl like her should be able to recognize she didn’t belong there.

  Still, she’d been nosing about and had heard just enough to get him in trouble with the queen. Maybe more than trouble, if his offhanded words to a horse were twisted into treason.

  “You said the prince doesn’t have the queen’s ‘poisonous, wicked blood running through his royal veins,’” the girl said, not bothering to lower her voice when she quoted him. “Why is that lucky for the prince’s bride?”

  Damn it.

  “A little eavesdropper,” he said, and gave her the smile he used on the dairy maid to get the first sip of fresh milk before it went to the kitchens. “Have I just found a spy from another kingdom?”

  He laughed, to show her it was all in good fun. Not that it was.

  “I’m not laughing, stablehand,” she said, unfazed. “I demand an answer.”

  “You…demand it?”

  He had hoped to diffuse the situation with honey, but clearly this snobby miss needed vinegar. Victor took a step toward the girl, waiting for her to notice how much bigger and stronger than her he was.

  “What if I were to demand one pure moment in this wretched kingdom,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “without some high and mighty spoiled brat prancing in to order me around?”

  Her glare softened, but she didn’t back away from him. Instead, she lifted her chin another few notches so her eyes were on his face instead of his wet chest. He could smell her hair. Like lavender. God only knew what he smelled like to her.

  “Ahh, I see. We’re not in the castle,” she said softly. “There’s no one around but us, so why should you listen to me?”

  “I won’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest, noticing how she flicked her gaze over his body. He flexed his forearms and stared back.

  Anyone else would have backed down by now. This girl was different. She didn’t fall for his charm nor did she wither under his glare.

  She pushed a wayward dark br
own ringlet off of her neck. “You must tell me about the prince. You know him; I don’t. I want to know everything.”

  Everyone in the castle loved to boss him around. To watch Victor do their bidding simply because they had been born on a different side of the castle wall than he. After his hellish night under the queen’s lash, this girl ordering him to tell her his private thoughts was the final straw.

  Resentment surged beneath his skin. He knew the anger boiling in him was really directed toward the queen, not the spoilt brat in front of him, but the more she stood there in defiance the harder it was getting to tell the difference.

  “Get out of my stall, girl,” he warned, “or I will put you over my knee and give you a good reason to leave.”

  The girl gasped.

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to threaten her. Now she’d really get him in trouble.

  Victor shook his head in annoyance at himself. It was too late now to laugh it off as a joke—it was clear to them both he’d be serious.

  “There is no one around but us,” he said, uncrossing his arms as if he meant business. “Just as you said.”

  By the look she gave him, no one in her life had ever threatened her with a little discipline before. “You—you wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me. You can tell your favorite Lord Uncle—or whoever it is you’re visiting—all about it,” he offered, doubling down on his words. “There’s nothing they can do to me that they haven’t already.” Other than kill me.

  Now she took a step back. She turned her head and looked toward the heavy, wooden stable door where she had entered, as if contemplating a quick escape, but then… she laughed.

  What?

  “Does this peasant amuse you, mademoiselle?”

  “You think I’m just visiting someone here?” She grinned. “You don’t know who I am… well, that does make more sense.”

  This pretty girl, who looked so perfectly coifed in her fine dress, coming in to ruin his only private time in the whole day—to stare at him in his wet, dirty clothes, at his tangled hair and laugh when she had no idea the kind of hell he had to go through just to survive every day under the queen’s thumb—

  She suddenly seemed to represent everything he hated about the elite at the castle.

  He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her close to him, not caring that he was probably ruining her outfit, and readied his hand to swat some decency into her.

  She was close enough he could smell the lavender in her hair once more. He pressed his face to her curls and breathed deeply.

  The girl trembled, her previous smile wiped off her face at his aggressive maneuver. “Please,” she whispered.

  “You’re not laughing now, are you, sweetheart?” he said through gritted teeth. “You want to know about the prince? If he were anything like his stepmother I’d tell his bride…to RUN.”

  The girl winced and turned her head, but he wasn’t done with her yet.

  “Unless the princess enjoys being abused as much as you apparently do.” He brought his hand down swiftly enough for the air to whistle—

  “I am the princess!” she cried out.

  She cringed and shut her eyes as Victor stayed his hand barely an inch short of hitting her bottom.

  “I don’t believe you.” He held her firm, his breath coming hard and fast.

  “I’m sorry I—”

  “Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone and I won’t spank you.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  He dropped his hand and let her go. Amazingly, she gave him a little smile. There were no tears in her eyes. Maybe he hadn’t frightened her as much as he had tried to.

  Best remedy that.

  “Tell me your name,” he said, “so I can find you if you break your promise.”

  “Justine,” she said. “Justine Peronelle, that is. Royal Princess of Summerset. I’m staying in the castle, actually, since I’ll be wedding the prince.”

  Oh no.

  “Do not fear, stablehand, I’m sure you’d be able find me quite easily.” She gestured toward his hand. “For my spanking.”

  Oh merde.

  He had heard the princess had traveled a long way by ship to get to their kingdom, and her entrance into the castle when she first arrived the week prior had been met with much fanfare. He had only seen her from behind, and from afar.

  But the saucy bounce in her step was the same. He circled her in the stables in a moment of panic, staring at her from every angle. It was really her.

  “Without your tiara, you looked just like a real person…” he said in wonderment.

  “I…I am a real person.”

  And I’m a dead man. He’d messed with the wrong woman, and it was time to change tactics. Victor dropped to his knees so he wouldn’t tower over her so, and bowed his head.

  “Your Grace, please forgive me. I was unaware of who you were. I misspoke about the queen.”

  “I don’t believe you did,” she said, stifling what appeared to be a laugh.

  “Don’t laugh at me, Princess; you could have me killed.” He took a deep breath. “I am at your mercy, Your Grace. My life is in your hands.”

  “That may be true,” she said slowly. “And because of that…my life is in your hands.”

  He looked up at her in confusion, careful to keep his traitorous palms clasped together. Right now, he had to make himself look smaller and like less of a threat. Exactly the opposite of how he’d behaved before. Why had he lashed out at her, of all people?

  “I acted like a beast; I am so sorry, my Princess,” he said softly.

  He meant it. It wasn’t the princess’s fault that his rage simmered so closely to the surface. Rage was a sin he nurtured because it was the one thing the queen could not beat out of him.

  “There is no one around to see what happened,” she said. “No one here now. If you truly thought I would tell the queen what you’ve said and done, then I’d be lucky to escape with my own life.”

  He smiled despite himself. Victor was many things, but murderer was not one of them. Though he’d meant to frighten her a little, he couldn’t let a woman mistakenly believe he might actually kill her.

  “That route never even crossed my mind,” he said truthfully. “Please don’t be fearful of me—I would never harm you.”

  “Oh, is that so?” She didn’t appear convinced. “Tell me the truth: if I weren’t the princess, would I not still be over your knee at this very moment?”

  “With my mood today? Very possibly,” he admitted. “I can’t be certain. We might have moved on to kissing in the haystack by now.”

  The princess widened her eyes in shock. “Well—”

  “—But,” he interrupted, “a spanking would just hurt a bit—I swear I would never harm you, no matter your title, no matter who you were.”

  “So I’d ‘very possibly’ be getting spanked if only I weren’t a princess,” she mused. “Have you done this before, to other women who sneak up on you?”

  “Only the naughty ones.” He winked, hoping to lighten the mood, but she just raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “I…I apologize, Princess. You caught me at a bad time,” he admitted. “I may have been conflating your derrière with the true object of my anger.”

  Hopefully she would appreciate his honesty. The queen would have a field day with his own derrière if she found out how he had behaved.

  “Well,” the princess said, “that would have been a wonderful story to tell to the ladies at court, anyway.”

  He bit his lip to fight back a laugh. But she could have him hung for treason if she wished, or more likely, tortured by the queen herself for even having thoughts that went against her.

  He kept his head down.

  The princess held her hand out to him — something surely no one of stature had ever done to a dirty stablehand like him before — and shook her head. “Please, there’s no need to be on your knees before me. You may stand.”

  In a moment of spontaneity, V
ictor pressed his heated lips against the cool, perfectly white skin on the back of her hand. She gasped, and he stood slowly, still holding her delicate hand in his large, callused one.

  “Forgive me, mademoiselle,” he said. The princess came up to his shoulder. “I mean, Your Grace. I come to the stables and forget all my manners.”

  “It seems I shouldn’t have stormed in and started ordering you around—”

  “—that is your right; I am merely your servant,” he interrupted.

  “No. You are the first person here to say what I’ve been thinking about the queen—even if it was only to a horse. So we’re even.”

  “Now, Your Grace—Lady is a really good listener. When she’s not robbing me of apple cores.”

  “I can be a good listener, too,” the princess said with a smile. “You may call me Justine, at least when it’s just us. I don’t require apple cores.”

  “She beat you to them, anyway. And—thank you for gesture. But I dare not call you…Justine.”

  It felt freeing to “not” say her name, and he couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t the fake smile meant to charm women into his bed, it was real.

  “Would you be willing to assist me?” Justine spoke the words slowly, as if practicing the art of asking instead of ordering.

  “Your Grace,” he laughed, “I would assist you to the ends of the earth if you requested it, after what I put you through today.”

  “All is forgiven,” she demurred. “I originally came down here because I wanted to go for a long ride. Maybe Lady can tell me your other secrets…if you’d be kind enough to let me borrow her.”

  “She is the best mare,” he said, patting the mare’s back. “Perfect for the princess. I have to groom her first—someone interrupted me earlier.” He winked to show he was only teasing her. “It will only take but one moment.”

  She nodded, her long dark hair curling down in waves that touched her bosom.

  “I saw the welts on your back,” she said when he’d turned away from her.

  Victor froze, his spine stiffening.

  “When you were washing your shirt,” she explained. “I didn’t mean to see you in a state of…undress. Does your master always treat you so harshly?”