The Beast by Lindsay Mead

refusing to ride double with another. He encouraged the Friesian through every limp.
    When they finally made it to the barn, the Hunters were desperate for its heat and a break from the wind. But still they waited, letting Delano lead his horse in first. Nicolas and Jean assisted in getting Honor back on the ground. Belle and the others picked up the slack, tending to the rest of the horses.
    Depositing the last saddle and bridle in the tack room, Belle then went to where the others had gathered. Most of them were on the ground, prepared to hold down the stallion should he try to rise. Jack stood in front of the iron fireplace and withdrew from the fiery belly a long, red blade. Carefully, he handed it to Delano, who was crouched next to Honor’s head.
    Delano looked at the sword with red-rimmed eyes. He gulped and squeezed the hilt as he nodded to himself. Honor’s eyes were wide from either fear, pain, or both. Delano whispered reassurances to him.
    Finally, Delano sat back and let the hot steel hover over the wound. He took a few steadying breaths. “Be strong, Honor.”
    He nodded to the men. They carefully leaned on the stallion, putting pressure on his body and legs. Then Delano pressed the sword onto the wound.
    Flesh and blood sizzled from the intense heat, blackening instantly. Honor tensed and thrashed. Delano cooed to him as he continued to cauterize the injury. Honor listened, squealing from the pain, but not fighting their restraint.
    Belle had pushed herself against the wall, tears brimming in her eyes. She turned away from it, heading down the line of stalls. She opened Charming’s door and stepped in. Putting a hand to her chest, she blinked back the tears.
    Charming left his water bucket, water dripping from his chin, and came over to her. He nickered softly and shoved his muzzle in her hand. She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in his comforting scent. “I hope I never have to do that to you.”
    “Hey now, don’t bite, Magnas.”
    Belle dropped her arms slightly and turned toward the voice. Gastone was in the adjacent stall, petting Magnanimous. She watched him seeking comfort in his horse, just as she was. His shoulders were slouched just a little and his movements soft. Melted snow dampened his hair and skin.
    Gastone met her gaze and she saw his sadness. Keeping one hand on Charming, she reached over and grasped the railing separating their stalls. Gastone cupped her hand, running his thumb over hers. It was as good as being hugged.
    There was no reason for her to be afraid of a future with Gastone, she realized. He was her friend, and already family. He understood her in ways that no one else would. He understood the challenges they faced—and he faced them by her side. A comforting warmth spread through her hand, reaching straight to her heart.
    This will be good,
she thought.
    When there was nothing more to be done for Honor, they headed for bed. Except for Delano, who insisted on sleeping next to Honor. LeClair House was now fully out of sight and hidden beneath the sea. Only when the sun rises will the gears carry the metal structure back up the cliff side, where it will reside above ground until the following night. The Hunters walked single file to the lighthouse, each using the one in front to shield from the wind.
    Belle followed Gastone into the large stone building and stomped her boots to rid them of snow. Jean took the rosary from his hip and slid it into the lock. With a twist, the metal doors unclasped to reveal the lift within. It was small, but the only way to get down to the house at night.
    Nicolas volunteered to take the lighthouse watch from Andre, claiming his own distress for his brother would prevent sleep. No one argued, seeing it written in the red of his eyes and the pale of his skin. He left them to follow the long winding stairs up into the Watch Room.
    With the Hunters cramped somewhat tightly into the elevator, the doors cranked shut.