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“What do you want?”
Shit.
That came out all wrong, like an accusation instead of an actual question.
Maybe I should have just let him speak. Let him say his piece. But all this waiting, all this doing nothing for days on end, has left me anxious.
He takes a tentative step in, then another, rubbing a hand along his beard. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”
My back stiffens.
What kind of game is he playing?
The Beast isn’t the type of man who apologizes for anything, and certainly not when he was so confident in his own actions only a few days ago. He was a man on a mission that night, and he was very clear on the purpose of dragging me out there—to scare the shit out of me and make me compliant.
“Why?”
“Because that isn’t—”
Isn’t what?
He bites back his words, and his gaze dips to the floor. I can see the wheels turning in his head as if he’s trying to find the right ones.
After a moment, his gray eyes lift to meet mine. “I want to show you something.”
That doesn’t answer my question. Doesn’t explain his sudden shift, nor do I know if I want to go with him. The last time he showed me something wasn’t exactly pleasant or a trip I’d like to repeat.
But the look in his eyes tells me he might not take “no” for an answer, and he’s already demonstrated he’s more than willing to toss me over his shoulder to get me where he wants me.
I raise a brow at him. “Is that an order?”
His face falls slightly. “No.” He shakes his head, his hands hanging loosely at his sides instead of fisted like they normally are. “You can stay here if you’d like, but I have something I think you’ll want to see.”
The almost soft tone of his normally hard, gravelly voice is so unexpected that it actually takes a moment for me to process his words. But I would be lying if I said my interest isn’t piqued. Because The Beast is looking decidedly un-beastlike right now.
I push to my feet and take a few tentative steps toward him.
His eyes lower to my foot, and he raises a white brow. “Better?”
It’s the only thing that has been good the last few days. Staying mostly in my room and off it has helped it heal even more, and in a few days, I can probably remove the stitches and not feel like part-Frankenstein’s monster.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I can finally walk on it without much discomfort.”
“Good.” He shifts awkwardly in his boots, almost as if he’s unsure what to do. The Beast unsure is certainly a new one. “Follow me.”
He turns and walks from the room, taking long strides I struggle to keep up with, since my foot still isn’t one hundred percent. But it appears he’s given up on using brute force to get me places, which I have to appreciate—no matter how annoying it is to try to match his steps down the hallway.
We reach the central staircase, but instead of going down, he starts up. I freeze with my hand on the banister, staring at the third floor and the set of double doors I’ve never seen open.
“You said not to go onto the third floor.”
He turns back from halfway up and narrows his eyes on me. “I did, but now I’m telling you to follow me there.”
I release a heavy breath and take a tentative step up, then another, following him with a strange mix of trepidation and anticipation bubbling in my veins.
Part of me always believed the answers I’ve sought were behind those doors, and now, The Beast is about to let me in.
Will I finally understand why I’m here?
