Dark golden strands of hair fall over the face of a fallen angel. Strong jaw, proud nose, dark brows and a hard, twisted mouth. But his eyes… They aren’t what I expected to see. They are
empty. Cold. Eyes of a true monster.
Promise me.
I promised. And I can see it now. This is not my Beast.
He sneers. “You’re no savior. I know exactly what you are. You’re the bitch that thinks to
banish me. From my own house, no less. Harridan,” he accuses, his fury rising with each word.
My Beast could never be so cruel. “Trespasser. Interloper. Whore!” No, this is not my Beast.
But this was my Beast.
Before he became cursed.

Alianne Donnelly