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It’s safe.
That’s what this feeling is—and I certainly shouldn’t have it with this man.
Footsteps shuffle across gravel, and I open my eyes and peek over my shoulder toward the car parked near mine, which has sat unmoved for days.
Dad opens his door, offering me a worried, hard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you, Cal.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
His jaw hardens, and I can see the defiance bubbling up in his gaze. “I’ll be back for you.”
The Beast offers a warning growl, and I watch Dad’s car pull away and disappear into the trees. My body quakes as I fight tears that I won’t let fall in front of this man.
He grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Don’t misconstrue anything that’s happened in the last few days for a weakness you can exploit.”
I never saw any of it that way.
At first, it was confusing. Unusual and unexpected from a man with such a violent and bloody reputation. But this morning, when I woke to find the pretty sundresses hanging in the closet that hadn’t been there before, I began to recognize it for what it is.
Kindness.
There is something human underneath all this anger and volatility. Someone other than The Beast.
He may not want to see it, but I do.
Of all the things I worried about happening when I came up Barker Mountain, actually, maybe, possibly actually finding things to like about The Beast was not one of them.
Now, we’re at an impasse.
He wants something from me, or I wouldn’t be here, but he has yet to reveal his purpose. All I know is that the way he’s looking at me now, the feel of his arm around my back and his body pressed to mine, all seem to be suggesting one direction.
I swallow my nerves, repeating the question I asked when Dad was still here, hoping The Beast will answer me truthfully now that we’re alone. “We will come to some arrangement, won’t we?”
He knows what I’m asking.
He’d have to be an idiot not to.
And the implication makes a low growl rumble through his chest and hurt flash for a split-second across his gaze. He unlocks his arm from around me and uses his free hand to tug mine off his chest so he can step back.
His intention is clear.
The Beast won’t touch me.
Not now, not ever.
I shouldn’t have said it.
Somehow, I knew it the moment the words left my mouth, but seeing his disgust, the way he physically distanced himself from me immediately at the simple suggestion proves the point I’ve been trying to wrap my head around since I arrived.
Something very strange is going on here.
The Beast clearly doesn’t want me on his mountain, in his house, or in his life, but that note was pretty damn clear. He had his opportunity to send me home with Dad and didn’t take it.
Why keep me here if he doesn’t want something from me?
It doesn’t seem as simple as just threatening me and holding me captive as leverage against Dad—not when he’s lavishing me with food and gifts and trying to make sure I’m comfortable here.
He retreats another step, putting more and more distance between us, but I move with him, still hobbling unsteadily, the uneven rocks biting into my soles because I was in such a rush to see Dad that I didn’t even grab my shoes.
