Beauty and the Beast

Ryan's POV

Rage. Pure, white hot rage.
It consumed me, it drove me. I rode the long, harsh pull of it as I continued to fling my paintings at Isabelle. I heard my voice yelling at her, felt things fly out of my hand. I saw fear, real, unadulterated fear in her eyes, and the way she dodged my flying missiles. Her screams distantly touched the outer regions of my mind, of my control.
Oh, God. I felt despicable and shameful for treating her like this, but even when my brain comprehended the thought, I couldn’t stop. The rage, the fury just rushed out, battling a furious battle with the guilt and remorse inside of me.
I picked up the painting of my mother and father, barely recognizing their smiling faces as I threw it at her.
She screamed, it tore through my reverie, and as she rushed out of the room without a second glance I sank to my knees.
The anger, old and constant leaked out. Leaving the shame. And the fear.
The fear that I had forever destroyed my chances, however slim they were, with such an amazingly…perfect girl.
Well, maybe not so perfect, she did come into here. I deliberately told her not to, but did the girl listen? No! So, basically, this whole thing was her fault. Not mine. I mean yeah, I kind of overreacted. But this was private. So, I felt a little better, not much, but enough to allow the anger to creep back.
And boy did it come back, not as strong, but just as potent. I clambered up, fully intending to go after the dumb ass, and to yell at her, when Mrs. Angela hurtled into the room.
“Ryan Tier! What the bloody hell did you do?” She screeched at me.
“Why the hell are you yelling at me?” I yelled back. “The stupid girl came in here. She knew she wasn’t allowed to, I even asked her nicely, sort of, not to come in here! YOU KNOW THIS IS PRIVATE!”
“You were screaming at her!” She accused me, her eyes narrowing. “It doesn’t matter if she had ruined every single painting, you do NOT yell at people like that.” It amazes me how my servants think they can talk to me like this. I own them, damn it. They have no right talking to me like this.
Even if she was kind of right.
“Who do you think you are, old woman, talking to your MASTER like that?” I said, icily.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re the Queen of bloody England, you better go after the poor dear.”
Even if I was planning on doing just that, it galled me that she was telling me what to do. So, I leaned against my paint table, and crossed my arms. “No.”
“You bloody ignorant fool.” She cried. “She ran into the woods!”
“God.” I breathed. The woods. No one went into these woods after dark. It was filled with wolves and bears and such this time of year. “She is so---” I paused, searching for a word that describes how troublesome she is. When none came, I settled for the normal human guy statement. "Gah!"
“You sent her running, boy. So go after her. Lennie and David are already out there looking for her, but you need to get your scrawny ass out there as well.”
“Scrawny?” I asked, indignant. I am not scrawny, at all.
“Go!”
“Fine!” I yelled. I took off out of the room, cursing everyone and anything as I wound my way through my halls. “Which way did she go out?” I snarled the question at a wide-eyed Chip, he lifted his finger out the West door. The door that faced the deepest, darkest parts of the woods.
I groaned, and snatched the flashlight he held out. “If I die, sue her father.”
“Yes sir.”
I ran out and called for Pied. He’s big and loud, but he’s such a pansy. You'd think him being such a big freaking dog that he'd have a big freaking attitude. Yeah, try he is afraid of the toilet.
So I didn't have much confidence in his fortitude, but he’ll probably, hopefully scare away anything that’ll try something on me. Plus, maybe he could follow her scent.
Running through the trees, dodging low hanging branches, jumping over roots and stumps, I lost track of time as I raced through the woods. The darkness was thick and overbearing, my flashlight barely cutting through it.
Damn this girl and her bad sense of direction.
The scream that broke through the night, and my thoughts had Pied growling and my heart racing.
The howls that followed had all the blood draining out of my face, out of my body. As I sped through the branches, I could practically feel the blood flowing out of my feet. She screamed again, and the growls had Pied barking up a frenzy.
“Crapcrapcrap.” I grunted as I stumbled over a root. Pied and I pushed through a bunch of trees to see about 4 or 5 wolves chasing Isabelle.
Oh, my dear God, Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the Saints. Fear, so unlike any fear I’ve ever felt before hit me, almost tripping me up, more than any stump or root could.
She was going to die.
And it was going to be my fault.
As the thought popped into my head, I banished it. Stop it, Ryan. You can’t help her if you’re already proclaiming her dead, I chided myself.
There were lights ahead of us, which had me cursing up a blue streak. We had found the highway. How, I don't know. Leave it to her to wind through the most dangerous part of the woods, at night, and find the windiest part of the highway. At night.Which was really, really bad. Considering Isabelle was running like hell, and high on adrenaline I doubt she would hear me yelling. Oh, Jesus. Closer and closer they ran to the clearing, and closer and closer the lights came.
“ISABELLE!” I yelled, but to no avail. She wasn’t listening, probably couldn’t listen. This could only be described as a major, high class suckfest.
As her and the wolves broke through the clearing, the lights were so close I felt like I could reach out and touch it. I don’t know how I cleared the space between me and her, but before I knew it I was flying out of the same clearing. The wolves were already running back into the woods, the lights and the horn blaring sending them running.
“ISABELLE!” I practically screamed as she froze in the middle of the road. The semi loomed closer and closer to her. I dove, slamming into her as the semi swerved. We crashed to safety on the other side of the road.
I saw stars as my head slammed into the pavement. Pain, unbearable and immense, assaulted me as I grabbed an unconscious Isabelle to me, pulling her more off the road. I almost welcomed the darkness that swallowed me whole.

“Merde, he’s got one big bump, doesn’t he?” A heavily accented whisper jarred me out of my blessed darkness.
“Oh, man, this is all my fault.” Isabelle?
“No one is saying that, dear.”
“But it is!” Isabelle whispered above me.
“No. Gosh, doesn’t he look so gentle whilst sleeping? Too bad looks can be deceiving.” I wanted to sit up and tell them to stop talking about me when I’m asleep, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I shifted, and arched my back as a fresh wave of pain hit me.
“Christ on a crutch.”
“You’re awake!” Isabelle cried.
“No thanks to you!” I yelled at her, cringing as my yelling brought a whole other bout of pain.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked me.
“God, you are so irritating.” I sat up, slowly so I wouldn’t jar my head. I snuck hand to the back of my head, and grimaced when my head came back red. “I’m bleeding.”
“Yes. But don’t worry, Mrs. Angela just went to get some stuff for me to fix you up.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Can you bandage the back of your head?” She asked me, rolling her eyes at me.
“Can you go to hell?”
“Can you act like a mature adult?”
“Nope.” I said, giving her a grim smile. “Not in the least.” When she just pursed her lips at me, I did a small victory dance in my head.
My victory was short lived, as my head immediately started to ache, causing me to curse, and lay back down heavily on the couch, grasping my head in my hands.
“We were going to take you to the hospital, but it isn’t that serious.” She ignored my muttered oath as she put her hands on my head, turning it to see the wound. I’m so glad she thinks it isn’t serious, because it doesn’t feel “not that serious”. No, it hurts like a mother, and it was pissing me off.
“Wow, and your opinion means so much to me.’ I snapped, jerking somewhat unwisely out of her grasp.
“Gosh, I think I like you better unconscious.” She retorted as Mrs. Angela came back, sure enough, carrying a tray. “Now, keep still.” She had grabbed a cloth from the tray, but feeling the need to be belligerent, I kept dodging her touch. That is until she got frustrated, and pressed a tad hard on my cut.
“GOD ALMIGHTLY WOMAN!” I roared. “THAT HURT!” The servants had all backed away from us as she stood over me, her hands on her hips.
“IF YOU WEREN’T MOVING AROUND SO MUCH, AND LET ME HELP, IT WOULDN’T HURT SO MUCH NOW WOULD IT?” She yelled back. I stood up angrily, my aching head roaring in protest.
“IF YOU HADN’T OF RUN AWAY, I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO CHASE AFTER YOUR STUPID ASS. WHICH WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS WHOLE DAMNED SITUATION!” I got in her face, trying to scare her away. I was pissed. Pissed at her. Pissed at her for being so amazing, and so stubborn. Pissed at her for disobeying my order, ruining the sanctity of my room, my haven. I wanted to slap her, and I wanted to kiss her. Both urges sent a profound sense of shame coursing through me.
“IF YOU HADN’T OF FRIGHTNED ME, I WOULDN’T OF RAN AWAY!” She was getting right back in my face. Gone was the pale, somewhat soft-spoken girl. Now, she was bright eyed, flushed, and so damned beautiful.
“Well, you shouldn’t have gone in my room.” I scowled.
“Well, you should learn to control your temper.” She retorted. "Now, hold still, you stubborn jack ass."
Shocked that she had called me a jack ass, I sat there as she positioned herself between my legs. Pushing my head, so it was resting on her ribcage, she cleaned my cut.
"Jesus, woman, be gentle!" I hissed as she pressed too hard.
"Baby." She mumbled. But, her touch grew softer, and I actually found myself enjoying it. Despite the brief and frequent flashes of pain, her touch was magic. Calming, soothing.
"By the way," she said, her voice low. "Thank you. For saving my life."
"Did you--just thank me?" I asked her, completely and utterly flabbergasted.
"Yes, now shut up." She was embarrassed now, and she ducked her head. Shielding her face behind her thick curtain of hair. I leaned back, and stared at her until she met my gaze.
"Your welcome." I said, desperately wanting her to know that I meant it. That I'm not all that bad...
"Uh, well thanks." She cleared her throat. "Now, I'm sure they're not broken, but I need to check."
"Check what?" My question ended in a squeak as she brushed her fingers down my sides.
"Your ribs."
"Dear God woman." I jolted again as she felt my ribs.
"Problem?" She asked, a smile brushing her mouth.
"I'm a bit ticklish." I admitted.
"Well, suck it up and imagine your happy place, this wont take long."
It was torture really, fearing that at any moment I was going to giggle like a little girl.