Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Keep up your end of the bargain,” I whisper.
A smile crinkles his lips and he nods. That’s all the agreement I need as I slump against him. He’s so warm and I’m so cold. I’ve been so cold. I’ve been cold for so long. Longer than I even realized, I think.
But that’s the last thing I manage to think because sitting up and drinking down the pills took more out of me than I expected, and I’m soon drifting back off into the warm cocoon of sleep. Feeling safer than I ever have before in the Beast’s arms.
Fourteen
Beast
She fights a fever for days. I pace the floor, cursing myself. I forgot she was so weak, so fragile. Her beauty and brain are so strong, but their vessel is frail. Just like her mother.
I remember her father pacing the floor like this, wearing a tread into the carpet. Finding him in the lab with his head in his hands. He worked night and day for a cure. He never lost hope.
The second I saw her, I knew we were meant to be, he told me once of his wife, Isabella. With your success, son, you’ll have women throwing themselves at you. He placed a hand on my shoulder. Take my advice: wait. Wait for the one.
True love? I’d asked with a jaded smile. He was right; women did throw themselves at me. But only if they couldn’t get Adam’s attention. He always outshone me. Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates?
If by soulmates, you mean a woman made for you as you were for her, then yes. Dr. Laurel had been perfectly serious. A scientist who applied reason to everything but his relationship with the love of his life. True love does exist, son. And it’s worth the wait.
I press my head to the freezing glass, gritting my teeth against the cold. Winter has come with a vengeance. Below, in my rose garden, even the hardiest varieties are bowed under the weight of ice.
Daphne whimpers and I cross the room, kneeling by the bed to take her small hand. I check her forehead. The fever is breaking.
“Stay with me,” she whispers through parched lips. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t, sweetheart.” I hold a glass of water to her lips until she drinks. When she’s done I ferret out a jar of salve from my lab to smear over her chapped lips. Caring for her feels natural. Like everything in my life led to this moment.
For years I’ve burned with one purpose: revenge. It’s her father’s fault that I’m a Beast, too ugly and gruesome for anyone to love. Far from throwing themselves at me—if women ever saw me now, they’d run. Just like Daphne did.
And yet, I forgive her. How can I do anything else when she clings to me so trustingly? My heart was frozen as the winter earth, and her touch melts the bitter frost.
“I’m here, Daphne. I’m not going to leave you.”
Fifteen
Beauty
“Open for me, sweetheart.”
I glare at the masked man sitting across from me. He regards me steadily. He still hasn’t replaced my glasses but in the past few days, the slightly blurred angles and contours of his face, neck and hands have become familiar to me. For all the torment he’s dealt, he can be surprisingly gentle.
Even when his patient is increasingly grouchy. And mouthy.
“You know, I’m not a baby. I can feed myself.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He says nothing and proffers the soup spoon until it’s a millimeter from my lips. I sigh and open my mouth as instructed. Ugh, broth.
“Chicken soup? Again?” I settle back on the pillows as he scrapes the bowl for another tepid spoonful. “What I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger.”
“You need to replenish your fluids and electrolytes.”
“Thank you, Dr. Obvious,” I mutter. His good brow raises. I curl my fingers into the blankets to keep from reaching up and touching his face. Not the first time I’ve had the urge.
He spoon feeds me a few more mouthfuls. Ever since I grew strong enough to sit up, he’s insisted on feeding me. I give him a hard time but secretly I love it.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than feed me? Tend your roses? Torment another prisoner? Play your giant organ?” I let my gaze flicker to his crotch. Like always, he’s dressed impeccably, with well-tailored slacks and dress shirt, shoes and cufflinks polished and gleaming. A veneer of elegance that only draws attention to his powerful body. Always enclosed in such fine clothes, but lately, with nothing else to distract me, I can’t deny that sometimes my thoughts wander to wondering what he might look like underneath…
Now both his brows are raised. “My giant organ?”
I blush. “Um, yeah. The instrument, oh Masked One.” I flutter my fingers in the air and hum Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor. “Like, for composing an opera.”