Page 72 of The Beast's Heart

I stumble towards the voice. It’s all I have to go on in this world of howling gray. It grows further and further away. Like that nightmare where I’m trying to get to Dad. Or a siren luring me to my death.

Jonathan!

I see it, through the trees. A hulking figure. I struggle towards it, trying to shout, my words torn away by the storm. My feet catch in something and I fall back to my knees. It’s one of my blazers. My clothing is scattered across the forest floor, blowing up against the trees and snagged on branches.

But now the figure isn’t heading away. It’s coming towards me. A navy-blue blur. There’s only one person that size, one person it could be. Adam. Adam was searching for me. Despite what I did, he wanted to find me.

He sees me and picks up speed, crashing through the forest until he’s pulling me to my feet.Why is he here?He’s unzipping his jacket, he’s closing it around me. I’m pressed to his body, cocooned in down with his chest against my cheek. He hates me.I broke his trust. But he’s so warm and his arms are holding me, tight and protective.

“It’s okay,” he says against my hair, somehow audible above the storm. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

I melt against him, a sob building in my chest. “Adam. Adam, I’m sorry.”

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, cradles my head. I can feel him sigh. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Rain lashes against us. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t speak. I’m so cold. But he’s here. He’s holding me. And the jagged terrible thing, that icicle of hurt and guilt that had lodged itself in my heart, melts.

Adam lifts me into his arms and carries me back to the house, holding me close. I cling to him. Everything is loud and cold and painful except for him.

“I’ve got him!” he calls to someone.

“Oh my god! Is he hurt?”Ray.

“I don’t know! He’s freezing!”

Then we’re inside. The warmth stings and prickles my skin. Adam takes me straight to the kitchen and sets me down in front of the fire. He strips off my drenched coat and falls to his knees in front of me, enclosing my frozen hands in his large, warm ones.

He looks up into my eyes, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you hurt?”

“I… I hit my head. My glasses are broken.”

“Shit.” He brushes my hair out of my eyes, gaze roving over my face.

“Adam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t, Belle. You don’t need to.” He shakes his head. “I could have handled that any number of ways other than the way I did. Fuck. You really scared me. Us.”

At the last word he glances over my shoulder.

Ray appears at my other side. “Oh pumpkin pie, look at you! Your lips are blue. I’ll make you something hot to drink.”

“We need to get you out of these clothes.” Adam says. He starts unbuttoning my collar, then stops himself. “Can you manage?”

I fumble with the buttons. My hands are still shaking, the tips of my fingers are numb. He watches me struggle for a few seconds before taking over. As soon as the buttons are dealt with, his hands slip under my shirt. He helps my stiff arms out of the sleeves and slides the muddy, wrecked shirt from my shoulders. I’m exposed to him. Pale, scrawny, weak. I fold my arms in front of my chest in a vain attempt to cover myself.

He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. Unlike mine, it’s obviously designed for this weather, the inside is still warm with his body heat. I pull it tight around myself and at once I am enveloped inAdam; I’m walking through the woods, I’m picking out presents for the children, I’m sitting in the dark with a mug of wine while he confesses his fears. It’s too much. My eyes well with tears.

“How long did you know? About me?” My throat aches.

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” his voice is low and calm.

“I was never— it was never—” I want to tell him that everything between us was real, but I don’t know how to without defining ‘us’. It’s nothing tangible after all. It’s just something bright; a delicate and sparkling thing that I unearthed where I expected to find only coal.

His hand is on my face again and my breath catches as he strokes down my cheek. “I knew from the start, Belle. We all did. We interviewed your old man.”

“You never said anything.”

“I did. Sort of. In my own way.”

---