Page 10 of Beast

“I thought I gave you translator implants.” My eyes adjustas the sunglasses flow back into my jacket. It’s dark in the tent so I don’tneed them. All of the flaps that allow light in are closed. There’s a singlecandle burning, and only a bit of light filters through the canvas at this timeof the day. The place feels like a pit. Or a tomb.

Reeve snorts. “As if we could get close enough to get one inher. We’ve barely managed to keep her fed and to give her the medication thedemon claims she needs. I don’t know what the bugger was thinking bringing mean animal to sell. She’s not fit for any society.”

Whatever else is said, I miss because I catch my firstglimpse of the female in question. Through the gloom, I see a slender figure. Ican see nothing of her face, but her form moves, flows, toward the front of thecage.

The cage is the largest of the ones kept in the tent. A“mate cage,” as the Fae call them, is supposed to be for show. It’s a traditionpassed down through the centuries. Each cage is richly decorated. There arecarpets covering the dirt floor and soft mattresses with fine blankets for thewomen to rest on. The blankets and pillows have been torn apart in the woman’scage. It’s a chaotic mess, but still neater than the female herself.

She glows. Like all consorts, there’s an aura about her thatno vampire can mistake. My cousins might need to physically touch her to knowthat she’s an adequate bondmate, but I can plainly see it. She glows like Megglows. I wonder exactly how sweet she tastes. After she’s been properlycleaned, of course.

I can’t help but feel pulled to her.

Her brown hair is matted. I can’t tell how long it is, butthere’s an awful lot of it. She’s covered in dirt and other things I don’t wantto recognize. I’m surprised to see she’s naked. Reeve would have given herrobes to wear when she isn’t on display. Her small breasts are round, and Ican’t help but think they would make a sweet handful. She’s slender, but herhips flare in a pleasing way. She’ll be lovely when she’s clean. She sniffs theair around her and growls low in her throat at us.

“You see, Your Highness, she is completely feral. There isno intelligence,” Reeve says.

“Bullshit,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off the woman for asecond. The woman in the cage bares her teeth, but I’m looking at her eyes.They’re a startling blue. They look like the seas of the tropics on my homeplane, blue and clear, and I feel like I can see deep down to her soul. Istare, quite caught in her eyes.

The woman rattles the cage viciously. Her small hands wraparound the bars as though she can pull them apart with nothing but her ownwill. She howls, but I can hear something beneath the seemingly chaotic sounds.

“Befria mig.” She says it over and over again. Idon’t recognize the language, but it’s there all the same.

“Befria mig?” I taste the words, trying to makesense of them. Vampires are known for being talented with languages, and myinnate skills tell me that this seemingly feral woman is trying to communicate.

The female stops suddenly, her hands falling away from thebars. She stands up, where before she seemed inclined to prowl, as though moreused to four legs than two. She stands properly now, and all of her attentionis on me.

“Hjälp mig, var vänlig min herre,” she saysplainly. Her stark blue eyes are filled with tears.

“Not intelligent?” Beck asks. There is an iciness to thequery.

Reeve sputters, staring up at his king. “Sire, I…”

I ignore the small argument between the Fae. I step towardthe woman, trying to ignore the smell. “I don’t speak your language,sweetheart.” I pull a translator implant out of my pocket. I always have acouple. I hold it up. “I need to place this behind your ear.” I point to asmall spot behind my own ear where the translator will be deployed. “Then wecan understand each other.”

“Befria mig?” the woman asks, her voice almosttimid now, as though she doesn’t quite believe me. This close, I can see herhigh cheekbones and the delicate planes of her face. Her cheeks are soft andher chin a stubborn line.

I give her my most reassuring smile. I can handle this. Ican handle this better than Beck, who just planned to use brute force. I’llshow them all that diplomacy and charm work even better. “Sure, sweetheart. Letme get the translator in and we’ll ‘befria mig’ all you like.”

“Mr. Dellacourt, I would not do that if I were you,” Reevewarns.

“It’s fine.” I have this. I move toward her. “Give me thekeys.”

Reeve purses his lips together as though he wants to arguefurther. His small hands don’t move toward the keys on his belt. I give mycousin an impatient glance.

“It’s one small female, Beck,” I say, irritated that yetagain someone thinks I can’t do something. She’s petite, and her eyes are softand pleading. “I think I can handle her.”

“Well, if you can’t, I’m sure I can,” Beck allows, his handstill on the sword, but his arm relaxes. He stands in the center of the room,blocking the way out. He’s a broad, reassuring figure. “Reeve, open the cage.Let Dante have a try with her. I would hate to kill her if this is all amisunderstanding.”

The gnome doesn’t hesitate when his king orders him. Reevemoves immediately, pulling the correct key off his belt and turning it in theheavy lock that separates the woman from freedom.

I’m strangely fascinated by the creature in the cage. Everymuscle in her slender body is taut as the small gnome slowly pulls back thedoor. Her eyes flick suspiciously about the room as though she’s waiting forsomething terrible to happen. Is she frightened? Probably. She’s been throwninto a world she obviously doesn’t understand. At least Meg spoke the language.This poor thing doesn’t even have that comfort. I feel a wealth of sympathyrise for her.

Moving cautiously toward her, I keep my hands out,attempting to show her I have no weapons, only the tiny translator that willpainlessly burrow into her and attach itself to her brain, thereby allowing herto understand the known languages of the planes. I hope it works as quickly asit’s supposed to. Even if the language is unknown, the computer will eventuallydecode it. It shouldn’t take long before I can talk to the little creature infront of me. Then we’ll discuss hygiene.

She takes a step back when she realizes I’m coming in. Shegoes down on her feet. She crouches low, her knuckles grazing the floor.There’s a tenseness about her, as though she’s prepared to pounce.

“It’s all right,” I cajole. I suspect she’s quite lovelyunder all that grime. The bones of her face are delicate but well defined. Hereyes are wide and her lips… I know a lot of women on my plane who pay money toget lips like that. And she’s young. She’s too young to have eyes so wary.

I see the minute her eyes change from wary to aggressive.