chapter 2

When he'd first come to collect her, Evelyn remembered, his face had been hidden under a dark hood, his body swept in a billowing cloak. As she'd left with him, trying as best she could to keep a brave face, he had not spoken a single word.

Sitting next to him in his carriage as it raced across the bumpy road she'd been terrified to think what manner of man he might be under that dark, flowing coat. The truth, once finally it'd been revealed to her, had frightened her far more.

Months had passed before he had at last shown himself to her. He'd stayed so long under his hood; the only part of him sometimes visible to her had been his cruel, shining, catlike eyes.

He frightened her more than she could ever say, yet since he'd locked her in his dungeon he'd been strangely gentle. From time to time, when she disobeyed him, he would get mad. He would force her to eat and make her suffer pain if she didn't. But more often than not he was kind. He would care for her. Making sure she was comfortable, rubbing her belly when all his food made it ache, cleaning her when inevitably she spilled on herself. He could be so tender, so caring. As long as she obeyed him he seemed almost sweet.

As time passed her fear became mixed with fascination. She couldn't help but wonder who he might actually be? What terrible secret might he be hiding under his hood? She wanted to know more about him. To know who he truly was.

One day, after he'd stuffed her swelling belly full with sugary treats, she'd finally worked up the courage to ask him.

The question had caused him to freeze. His eyes shining under his hood he'd looked at her, studying her now far from thin body.

"You don't want to know." He'd said, his deep voice echoing as he spoke.

"But I do." She'd insisted. "Please, I beg of you, if you're going to hold me here at least let me see your face. Let me see who you really are."

For a moment he'd just stood there, silent and implacable. Then, finally, the fabric of his hood had moved as he nodded in agreement. Slowly he'd raised his gloved hands, removed his hood, and allowed his cloak to fall to the floor.

The sight of him had made her gasp. What stood before her was no ordinary man. It was a beast in human clothing. Like a panther that had imitated the shape of a man. His countenance was monstrous, his eyes were yellow and shining with hunger, his hands like talons, paws with sharp claws.

As she looked at him she could tell her fear had hurt him. He drew back from her, fleeing the room and leaving her once more alone in the darkness. For the next couple of days he had not returned.

It'd surprised her how much she missed him. How much she found herself longing to see him again. He frightened her so, yet she could not bear to be without him, to be alone with nothing but her thoughts and fears for company.

She knew it was madness; he'd locked her in this small cell, taken her from her family and robbed her of her freedom. He'd taken even her figure, her appearance, and bent it to his will. Even so she somehow could not help but feel guilty at how her fear had hurt him.

Some days later, when finally he'd returned to her, he'd made her eat more than ever before. He'd forced down her throat more food than she'd thought she could possibly take. And when at last she'd eaten every last scrap, when her belly was stuffed and aching like never before he'd gently rubbed it, stroking and kneading it with his powerful, clawed fingers.

As she'd looked then at his terrifying face his expression his expression had seemed so kind. At that moment he'd looked, somehow, strangely handsome.

Raising her fleshy arm and placing a hand on his cheek she'd said:

"I'm sorry for being so scared of you. You're beautiful, you know that right?"

"So are you." He'd responded, a gentle, yet terrifying toothy smile on his face as he put his own massive hand on her round squishy cheek.