Of Beast and Beauty - Jay Stacey (читать хорошую книгу txt) 📗

“Not as different as either side would like to think,” he says, before

adding in a harsh voice, “Women are women, I can promise you that much.

The same tricks work the same way. You even make the same sounds when

you—”

“Stop,” I choke out, struggling to swallow past the sick feeling rising

inside me. For the first time since we touched, I feel ashamed. How could

he? How could he be so understanding one minute and cheapen every

unguarded thing that happened between us the next? “You’re cruel,” I say,

hating the catch in my voice.

“What did you expect from a corrupt soul?”

“Fine,” I snap. “Never mind. I should never have—”

“What if you weren’t tainted, Isra?”

I blink, startled by the change of direction. “What?”

“What if you’re wrong? What if you’ve been wrong your entire life?”

he asks. “What if there’s nothing Monstrous about you?”

“I thought you hated that word,” I whisper.

“I hate a lot of things.”

“I know you think …” I pause, not wanting to inspire any further spite,

but feeling I owe him honesty in a way I didn’t before. Spiteful or not, he

saved my life. And kissed me and held me and admitted it felt right, and

that has changed things between us. I can’t pretend it hasn’t. “I know you

find your people beautiful,” I say, “and I envy you that, I really do. But my

people … they don’t see beauty in mutation. It scares them. They were

horrified when they saw me for the first time at my coronation.”

Gem snorts as if I’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and

anger flares inside me again. He wasn’t there. I was, and I heard the people

pull in a collective breath; I felt their surprise when they looked upon their

tainted queen for the first time.

“Believe what you want,” I snap, “but I know—”

“You know nothing. You’re not tainted. You’re nothing like a

Monstrous girl. Any one of them could break you in half, and not one has

skin that peels everywhere but their face,” he says, making me wince and

my fingers curl self-consciously, drawing up inside the long sleeves of my

sweater. “Whatever’s wrong with you, it’s not caused by resembling my

people. As far as I’ve seen, you look almost exactly like the other

Smooth—”

“I do not look like them,” I snap. “And no matter what you think, I

know if I weren’t queen, my life would be very different than it is now. I

might not be tainted enough to be cast out, but I am, without a doubt, ugly

in a way that puts the state of my soul and mind in question. That’s why I

can’t start issuing bizarre orders. I have to win my people’s trust. I believe

the garden will—”

“Stop,” he says. “I can’t listen to it again. I can’t.”

“I won’t talk at all, then!” I turn back to the fire and lean away from

him, wishing with every bone in my body it were safe to go for a walk. The

last thing I want to do is stay within spitting distance of this stubborn,

infuriating creature.

“There’s one thing I want to know first.” The gravel crunches, and I

sense that Gem’s moving closer, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of

scooting away. “If I’m hideous, inside and out—”

“I never said—” His arms close around me, and my words end in a

sharp intake of breath as he hauls me onto his lap. “Put me down!” I push

at his chest, but he ignores me and pulls me close, whispering his next

words against my skin.

“If I’m so ugly in every way,” he continues, the feel of his mouth

moving against my cheek making my blood rush in spite of myself, “then

why do you want me, Isra?”

“I—I need your help. And your father promised you would—”

“Don’t be stupid. You know what I mean.” His hands skim over my

body, one teasing the skin at the back of my neck, the other tracing the

column of my spine from top to bottom before smoothing around to my hip

and squeezing tight, fingers digging in until my belly flutters.

I shiver, and I know he knows the reason why. My lips part and my

breath rushes out, but I don’t scramble away. I close my eyes and count

slowly to ten and try to remember how hurt I was when he compared me

to all the other knots he has untangled.

But it’s so hard. Because he’s right. I do want him. I wanted him

before, and I want him even more now. I want to banish the ugliness

between us with my lips on his. I want to kiss him until his blood runs fast

and he whispers my name in his thick, needy voice instead of his tight,

angry one.

Words only bring pain; we should use hands instead. I lift my hand to

his face, smoothing my thumb across the hint of whiskers on his cheek.

“Answer me,” he whispers, fingers slipping into my hair.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.” His jaw muscle leaps beneath my fingers.

“Why? Because I’m here, and we’re alone? You’d have done the same with

any boy?”

“No, it’s not …” I lick my lips, torn between the painful truth and a

painful lie. I decide on the truth. At least there’s nobility in that. “I’ve never

felt like this,” I confess. “I’ve never kissed anyone the way I kissed you. No

one has ever … touched me like that.”

“Why not?” he asks, his voice only the tiniest bit kinder. “I can’t

believe there aren’t Smooth Skin boys who would tolerate your ugliness in

order to have the queen in their bed. Your king will have power. That’s the

Smooth Skin way, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I say, blushing in spite of myself at his casual mention of my

bed. “And there has been some … interest. Bo kissed me once, more than

once, I guess.” I twine my arms around Gem’s neck, unable to resist the

temptation of his skin. “But he didn’t make me feel anything like this.” I try

to move my lips to Gem’s, but he turns away, and my mouth bounces off

his jaw.

“Why is that? Why do you believe you desire me more than you

desire one of your own kind?”

I swallow. “I …” I’m suddenly sure what he’s after, and just as sure I

don’t want to give him his answer. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me,” he demands. “I want to hear you say it.”

I shake my head.

“Is it because you’re tainted?” he asks, his tone so sharp, I wince.

“Because you’re ugly on the outside and wicked on the inside? That’s why

you’re drawn to a monster?”

I don’t say a word. I don’t have to.

He makes a disgusted sound. “I feel sorry for you, Isra. I really do.”

I draw my arms back to my chest and slide from his lap, feeling dirty

and small and more wrong than ever before.

“You make yourself miserable,” Gem says, “and refuse to let anyone

keep you from it. I’m a fool, but you are … I don’t have a Smooth Skin word

for what you are.”

I cross my arms and fight the urge to cry. “What about you, Gem?

Why do you want me? I thought Smooth Skins sickened you.”

He’s quiet for so long that I don’t think he’s going to answer, but

finally—“I told you, I’m a fool.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He grunts and falls silent again. After listening to the wood pop in the

fire and the wind howl beyond our shelter for what seems like hours, I

decide to consider his unwillingness to answer a small victory. Ignoring the

tears still pressing against the backs of my eyes and the filthy feeling I know

no bath could wash away, I lie down and close my eyes. My body needs the

rest, even if sleep seems impossible.

Seems impossible, but obviously it isn’t. I’m halfway there by the

time Gem lies down behind me and tucks one heavy arm around my waist,