Page 86 of The Beast's Broken Beauty

The Beast stares back, eyes thunderous, scars twisting across my face like furious snakes having a party. I reach up, feeling my skin, but in the mirror, the Beast's claws rake across its face, leaving bloody marks.

"This is what you are," it snarls, voice like gravel. "This is what you've always been."

I try to look away, but I can't. My hands move of their own accord, grabbing at my face, trying to tear away the monster's mask.

But the more I pull, the more grotesque it becomes. Blood runs down my arms, hot and sticky, and I realize with horror that it's not just my blood.

It's Isabella's. It's Elena's. It's everyone I've ever hurt.

"NO!" The shout rips from my throat as I hear a door creaking open. I'm on my feet in an instant, muscles coiled, ready to fight. To protect them from the monster. To protect them from me.

My eyes strain in the dim light, every shadow a potential threat.

But it's not a ghost or monster coming through that door. It's her. Isabella. And fuck me if she isn't a vision, pressed against the door like some kind of fantasy come to life. The soft glow from the moon outside peeking through the window silhouettes her, highlighting every curve. For a moment, I wonder if I'm still dreaming.

"Hey," she says, cool as you please. Like she didn't just walk into the lion's den wearing... Fuck.

I can't help but drink in every detail. That scrap of red lace she's wearing leaves little to the imagination, hugging her breasts, her hips, in all the right places. My fingers itch to touch her, even as I force myself to stay still, unworthy of her beauty, her forgiveness, her sweetness and strength.

My heart's still pounding from the nightmare, adrenaline mixing with desire in a cocktail that leaves me dizzy. The Beast inside me roars, demanding I claim her, while another part screams that I don't deserve her, that I'll only end up hurting her again.

"You shouldn't be here," I rasp out, my voice rough with conflicting emotions. "Isabella, I'm not... You deserve better than this. Than me."

She takes a step closer.

"I decide what I deserve," she says, her voice soft but determined.

I close my eyes, battling the self-loathing inside me. When I open them, she's even closer. "Tell me you're real," I whisper, my resolve crumbling. Because despite everything, despite my nightmares and the past, I need her to be real. I need her to be here. My Isabella. My Bella. My fucking reason for breathing. The one I've pushed away and pulled close so many times I've lost count.

She takes another step towards me, and I can smell her perfume. It’s like getting a lost in a melody, stirring memories of all the times I've buried my face in her neck, breathed her in.

Her fingers trace my shoulders. They slide down my chest, and I'm acutely aware that I'm bare-ass naked, my cock standing at attention like a good soldier waiting for orders. Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert, hyper-aware of her proximity.

"I'm real," she whispers, her breath warm against my skin. "I'm here, Tonio."

When her hand wraps around me, a groan tears out of me, raw and primal. It's been building for so long, this need for her. And now she's here, touching me, looking at me like I'm the only man in the world. Her hand is soft, but her grip is firm, sure. She knows what she wants, and fuck if that doesn't turn me on even more.

"Bella," I rasp out, my control hanging by a thread. My hands find her hips, pulling her closer. I can feel the heat of her body through that flimsy lace. "What are you doing to me?"

Her eyes meet mine, dark and full of promise. "Choosing us," she says simply, and then her lips are on mine.

It's like a fucking supernova exploding in my chest. Her lips are soft, but there's nothing gentle about this kiss. It's all heatand need and years of pent-up desire. I taste a hint of wine on her tongue, and something sweeter that's pure Isabella. For a split second, the metallic taste of blood from my nightmare flashes through my mind, and I pull back, searching her face. But all I see is desire, not the lifeless eyes from my dream.

My hands slide up her back, one tangling in her hair, the other pressing her closer. Every curve of her body fits against mine like she was made for me. I can feel her heart racing, matching the frantic beat of my own.

She nips at my bottom lip, and a growl rumbles deep in my chest. I walk her back, pressing her against the wall, my body caging her in.

The Beast inside me roars in triumph, and for a moment, I see my reflection in her eyes - scarred, monstrous. I freeze, the echo of my nightmare still taunting me. "This is what you are," it whispers. But then Isabella's short nails rake down my back and I let myself fall back into the reality, the here and now.

When we finally break apart, we're both panting. Her lips are swollen, her eyes wild, and I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

"Isabella," I breathe, resting my forehead against hers. There's so much I want to say, so much I need her to understand. The words stick in my throat, choking me like the seawater from my nightmare. I want to tell her to run, to save herself from the monster I am.

But I'm too selfish, too weak to push her away again. And I won't deny her. I'll never her deny her again.

She places a finger on my lips, silencing me. Her smile is promising things that make my blood run hot.

"Let me show you," she whispers, her fingers on my chest telling me to take a few steps back. Once I do, she sinks to her knees.

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