BEAUTY'S BEAST by Amanda Ashley is an intriguing twist on the classic Beauty and the Beast fairy tale with gothic elements. It's a stand-alone paranormal historical romance. BEAUTY'S BEAST is exactly the kind of fabulously gothic romance Amanda Ashley excels at. Kristine is a damsel in distress at the opening of the story when she is claimed to be the bride of the mysterious Lord of Hawksbridge Castle. Erik only goes out in public either masked or donning robes so nobody will see his slow transformation to a beast. What could be better than a tall, dark, masked man of mystery hero?
Sometimes with these Beauty and the Beast themed stories, the beast-like hero is often cruel to the heroine. However, in BEAUTY'S BEAST, Erik is a sympathetic character. He is sometimes firm with Kristine but never verbally abusive or cruel. He is cursed by a wicked witch to transform into a beast, not for any debauched lifestyle, simply because he has the bad fortune to have a wicked witch mother-in-law. She blames him for her daughter dying while trying to give birth to his child. The injustice of Erik's plight and the way he struggles to hold onto his humanity and sense of honor pulls at the heartstrings.
I think the romance between Erik and Kristine works well in this gothic fairy-tale setting. The characters behave as you would expect in that time period. I like that Erik ends up caring for Kristine more than he ever thought he could. Their relationship becomes very passionate and they are willing to make many sacrifices to stay together. I like that Kristine doesn't accept being separated from the man she loves. Even though she is not a modern woman, she is strong and fights for those she cares about. They are equally brave and make for a perfect match. The depth of their love is amazing and kept me enthralled from beginning to end.
BEAUTY'S BEAST is a great twist on a classic fairy-tale, with passionate characters and captivating story-telling. I enjoyed the twists and turns BEAUTY'S BEAST takes and the unusual characters Erik and Kristine meet on their journey together. I would be interested in reading future books about Valaree and her people. These supporting characters show great potential for world-building in future stories. I look forward to reading more things by Amanda Ashley.
Kristine woke with a start to find Erik standing beside her
bed. He had been so angry earlier, she hadnβt expected him
to come to her that night. Recalling the rage that had
burned in his dark eyes when he found her in his room still
had the power to make her tremble.
He had extinguished the light she kept on the table at her
bedside. In the darkness, he loomed over her like the
shadow of certain death.
After unfastening his breeches, he threw the covers aside,
flung her gown up over her hips. Unreasoning panic rose up
inside her as his body covered hers. She didnβt want him to
take her like this, as if she were no more than a receptacle
for his lust, some tawdry harlot whose favor he had
purchased for the night. She knew he didnβt care for her,
but she was his wife. Surely she deserved some small
measure of respect.
She felt his hand on her breast, and suddenly, in the
darkness, it was Lord Valentine lying atop her, his hot
sweaty hands groping her. She closed her eyes, and
Valentineβs image rose up before her, his thick lips pulled
back, his pale blue eyes filled with lust as they raked her
body.
βNo,β she whimpered softly. βLeave me alone, please just
leave me alone!β
Trevayne froze as she began to thrash beneath him.
βMy Lord Valentine,β she sobbed, her eyes tightly shut.
βDonβt! Oh, please, please, let me go!β
βKristine.β
Lost in the nightmare of the past, she writhed beneath him,
tears coursing down her pale cheeks.
βKristine, itβs me, Erik,β he said, and then wondered why
that knowledge should soothe her. He had given her no
reason to trust him.
βNo, donβt...donβt...β She sobbed the words.
Swearing softly, he sat up and drew her into his arms.
βKristine, you are safe here. Listen to me! I will not
hurt you. No one will ever hurt you again, I swear it.β
Opening her eyes, she stared at him blankly a moment. βMy
lord?β
βYouβre safe now, Kristine,β he murmured. βIβll not bother
you again.β
Carefully, he lowered her back onto the mattress, drew her
gown down over her hips, and pulled the covers up to her
chin.
Turning away from the bed, he fastened his breeches, then
walked toward the door. He was reaching for the latch when
she called his name.
βErik?β
βWhat?β
βWill you not stay with me?β
He went still, hardly daring to breathe. βWhy?β
βI donβt want to be alone. I...I donβt want you to be
alone.β
βWe canβt always have what we want.β
βPlease, my lord, wonβt you stay with me until I fall
asleep?β
Every instinct he possessed urged him to leave the room.
Instead, he retraced his steps to the side of the bed and
sat down on the edge of the mattress. βGo to sleep,
Kristine.β
He could not see her face in the darkness, but he heard her
soft sigh as she snuggled under the covers.
βThank you, my lord.β
He made a soft, wordless sound deep in his throat. He
wondered how long she had spent in prison, if that was the
reason she feared the darkness, the reason she kept a lamp
burning at her bedside throughout the night.
He took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the warm
sweet scent of her - the soap she had bathed with, the
peppermint she used to sweeten her breath, the scent of
lilacs that clung to her skin. It was part of the curse,
his heightened sense of smell, of taste. His hearing was
more acute. He could hear each soft breath she took.
He clenched his left hand, shoved his right hand into his
pocket to keep from touching the curve of her cheek, the
short silky cap of her hair.
Desire rose within him, a desire to bury himself within her.
He yearned to shed his clothes and his accursed mask and
enfold her in his arms, feel the heat of her skin against
his ...
His body hardened painfully. Why was he sitting here,
torturing himself with her nearness? He was not her
nursemaid, nor her governess. If she was afraid of the
dark, she had a lamp at her bedside.
But he didnβt leave the room, only continued to sit there,
his hands tightly clenched, until the soft, steady sound of
her breathing told him she was asleep.
Hating her, hating himself, he lit the lamp at her bedside
and then left the room, left the house.
Outside, he removed his mask, ripped off his glove and his
shirt, and then he began to run. He threw back his head,
and the deep-throated sound of his despair pierced the
darkness in a long mournful howl.
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