The Other Belle Read Online Whitney G

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
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"I'm giving you one last chance to tell me that I own you..."

Those are thirteen words that I refuse to give to the beastly man who kidnapped me in the middle of the night and forced me on a never-ending journey through the woods.

While he's desperate to break a tragic kingdom-wide curse that's ruined him to his core, I'm determined to escape and find my way home.

I'm not the woman he wants anyway...

He wants my sister, the beautiful, book-loving girl who wants more out of life and believes a prince is all she needs to find a happily ever after.

Of course, he has no idea that she's none of those things, and as much as I want to deny the chemistry between us, I can only take so much punishment, and I may be forced to finally submit to his desires...

Until then, I'll hold off on getting closer to a man like him, a true villain, destined for Hell...

He'll never have the real me, the other Belle..

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One day I will go to all the places I have seen

Between the pages of my reads

And when you ask me where I’ve been

You’ll be convinced it’s all a dream…

* * *

—My mother’s lullaby to me

Once Upon a Time

Belle

I’ve always known that I am the biggest disappointment in my family.

Since the day I was born, my father made it painstakingly clear that my older sister Isabelle, “the better Belle,” is his golden child.

I’m an unwanted copper tin that he can’t wait to throw away, the “ugly rubbish” that he keeps hidden from sight as often as possible.

Only a few people in our village even know that I exist…

On countless nights, I’ve awoken to the sound of his vicious prayers, wondering if he knew I could hear them. Then again, I doubt that he cares, and I have them all memorized by now anyway.

“Please change Belle into someone else, so she can land a suitor who will help pull us out of our debt.”

* * *

“Why couldn’t you drag her to heaven instead of her mother?”

* * *

“Can you at least teach her how to read books as well as Izzie, so the town library might have a job for her when I die?”

I can’t help but see the irony in his last prayer since my sister is a living, breathing fraud, but that’s a story for another day.

“This is your last chance to prove your worth to this family, Belle.” He suddenly steps in front of my bed, holding out a bright red ribbon.

“If this prince’s glass slipper doesn’t fit your foot today, there’s no shame in that, but if it does and you even try to resist, I swear on everything I own that—”

“You’ll punish me by locking me in the basement until I’m forgiven.”

“I’ll never forgive you.” He snaps his fingers. “Izzie! Come help Belle with her hair and face, please!”

Stifling a groan, I walk over to the window and watch heavy sheets of rain attack our land. I silently wish the hills would rise and roll over our cottage so I won’t have to take part in this.

Every woman in town is buzzing with glee over the day’s big news: A prince from the Second Kingdom is crossing through The Whispering Woods in search of his lost love via a “Which maiden’s foot can fit the slipper she left behind?” contest.

I desperately want to know why he can’t remember what this woman looks like and attempt to find her that way, but no one else seems to find this odd.

Can a prince really be that stupid?

“Your eyes are so beautiful, Belle.” Izzie pulls a brush through my curls, yanking all the life from them. “Dark emerald and grey, like our mother’s. Instead of opening your mouth, you should help the prince focus on those when he arrives.”

“I’ll try.”

“Try hard,” she scolds. “I mean, that’s what I would do if this were my only shot at landing a prince. This is as close as you’ll ever get to attracting a suitor, so don’t cry if it doesn’t work out.”

“Right…” I don’t dare mention that she cried bloody murder this morning when she found out she was ineligible for this silly fitting game.

“Are you reading anything good lately?” she asks.

“Romeo & Juliet,” I say. “Oh, and I’m almost done with Oedipus Rex.”

“I see.” She loops the red ribbon around my smoothed hair. “Are they romances?”

“No, Izzie.” I hold back a sigh. “They both end in utter tragedy.”

“What?” She sucks in a breath. “Then why are you reading them? Better yet, how could any author bother to write such awful things?”

I bite my tongue as hard as I can.

Moments like this are what I wish most people witnessed when they complimented how “well-read” and “worldly” my sister is.

They’re completely unaware that she reads the same three books every week—usually skipping ahead to revisit her favorite chapters—and I’m convinced that she can recite those stories word for word. All without ever glancing at the page. She complains about being misunderstood and wanting to explore the world outside of our small kingdom, but whenever I tell her that we should go together, she comes up with an excuse.


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