Page 25 of Beast

He’s also a grumpy jerk who doesn’t respond well to being challenged, and I realize now I will need to change tactics to get what I want. Which is to find my uncle and get the hell out of this castle.

He comes back to the bed and releases the ties from my wrists.

“Thank you,” I manage. My voice is small.

He looms over me, looking down at me, and I feel tiny in comparison to his size. I hold my breath. Waiting for what other crazy demands he is going to lay on me.

“We will talk in the morning,” he says. “Until then, get some sleep.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to dump all of this on me and then leave me here to stew?”

“What would you have me do?” He arches an eyebrow. Then very slowly, his gaze sweeps over me, and I feel my body begin to burn beneath it. Tiny throbs take up at my core because the heat in his gaze is positively nuclear.

I shift awkwardly. Mainly in an attempt to calm the throbs. But also because I feel very exposed and vulnerable and…like prey.

“I hope you’re ready for a fight,” I blurt out.

His eyes lock to mine. “Fight me, and this will be much worse for you.”

“You might have me at a disadvantage. But I will not make it easy for you.”

He takes a menacing step toward me. “Then this is going to be even less pleasant.”

I see the flash of menace in his eyes. Feel his dark power radiating off him.

Fear twists in my chest. This man could kill me with his bare hands and not even break a sweat.

I shrink back but keep my stare locked on his. I might be afraid, but I’ll be damned if I let him see it.

A cold smirk curls on his lips as he turns and makes his way to the door.

“Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

I watch him leave then leap off the bed to check the door behind him. Of course it’s locked.

A flash of lightning cracks into the room. I walk to the window and look out into the darkness. It is raining again.

At least in here I am safe and dry.

Even if I’m being held captive.

CHAPTER 10

BEAST

After my visit with Belle,I return to my room.

Outside, it’s still raining, ribbons of water teeming from an angry sky. Its bone-cold, a hint of a fierce winter to come. But inside the room made of limestone and slate, a fire roars in the massive fireplace beside me.

In a tall, leather-bound chair, I drink whiskey from the bottle and stare into the flames, recalling the events of the day.

Gaston and I have never been close. He’s resented me for as long as I can remember. He was a sickly child, quiet and odd, with a voracious attraction to dark things. Death. Murder. Keeping dead things in his room. Like the hamster our father gave him for his tenth birthday. When it was killed by Viking’s dog Brutus, he kept its corpse in his room until housekeeping complained about the smell to my father and he disposed of it himself.

But more animals followed. Birds. Squirrels. Rats. I let out a rough exhale. He was born bad. And he will die bad.

A cool draft blows in and the candles dance in the wind.

I rise to my feet and walk over to the fireplace.

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