Page 8 of Beauty and Her Beasts (Dirty Paranormal Fairytale Haremlan 1)

My words echoed through the long, damp corridors beneath the castle. Drips of water and stagnant air returned my words.

“I hired a manager. The least you could do as an owner of the hotel is introduce yourself.”

Again, my words bounced back to me, unanswered.

I finally gave up and headed back upstairs to prepare a feast not only for the few guests of the hotel but for the woman I was convinced would change everything.

3

ALLANA

Dinner was painful. Bittersweet. I hated saying goodbye to my father. What made things worse was the evening felt… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

Maybe it was because I noticed the age on my father’s face as I sat across from him at a quaint restaurant on the edge of town. Maybe it was the soft, low music rippling through the air, creating gentle melodies, and forcing a bit of melancholy into my heart. Or, perhaps, it was the constant low rumble of chatter all around us.

I didn’t think my gut feeling had anything to do with the atmosphere. But as I sat in front of my father, I noted the ribbons of grey that streaked his dark brown hair. His copper-toned skin had started to lose its vibrance. Even his short beard was coated in grey. His eyes were as kind as they had always been, but there was cloudiness to them that was marked by the lights within the room. He was never considered handsome among the townsfolk in our sleepy river town, but he made up for his apparent lack of pleasing features with his incredible intelligence. Handsome or not, he was my papa, and I loved him dearly.

I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine. He had been quiet for some time. Withdrawing into his own thoughts as he often had. But this time there was a weariness to him I could sense.

“I can turn down the job,” I said. “Stay a little longer, as you suggested.”

His eyes met mine. “You will do no such thing.”

I sat back, pulling my hand from his. “But you’ll be lonely.”

He laughed. “Oh, my darling, I will be just fine. Children are supposed to grow up and move away from their parents. This is meant to be.”

I bit my lip. A weight of worry and anxiety twisted my stomach, cancelling out my appetite. The thought of food brought a sour taste to my mouth. This didn’t feel like a regular goodbye. It somehow felt permanent. I fell into the silly apprehension he would somehow disappear if I wasn’t there to make sure he ate and got enough rest.

No. That wasn’t it. It was deeper.

I had never second-guessed myself in my entire life, but I was willing to put a stop on everything I ever wanted just to be there for my papa. He was there for me. And something inside me knew he wasn’t ready to let go yet. Or it was me who simply wasn’t ready.

He smiled at me in the way he did before he told me how proud he was. I smiled back.

After half an hour of him reassuring me he was going to be fine on his own, I still felt the weight in the pit of my stomach. This wasn’t only goodbye. This felt so much harder than that. More permanent.

Once we finished dinner, we walked home, reminiscing about my younger years. I tucked my arm around my father’s and drank in every ounce of time I had left with him. Relishing in every single second of what minutes remained.

“Do you remember the time when you were knee-high?” Papa asked.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Papa,” I said and pulled my shawl tighter around me. It was chilly for an early fall evening. The sun had already set on our sleepy town, and the stars glittered above us. A purple storm brewed above the mountains nearby.

He chuckled. “You were playing out in the yard, picking flowers, dancing, and singing like you always had. But this group of kids came over and started to pick on you.”

I smiled at my father as he continued to chuckle. He was reliving the moment in his mind, and he clearly was amused by my antics as a child.

“Anyway, you threw mud at them, and sternly told them to crawl back to their momma’s and cry to them because you weren’t listening to it.”

I snorted out a laugh. “I said that?”

Papa nodded, holding on to his smile. “I knew then, no matter what life threw at you, you would rise above it. You were strong then, and you’re much stronger now. You didn’t need me to fight your battles.”

He settled his gaze on me, filled with pride.

“I know, Papa. You’re proud of me,” I said.

He leaned back a little. “You knew I was going to say that huh?”

---