Page 51 of Beauty's Beast

“All right.”

He could sense her standing just beyond the door, waiting, wondering what was wrong. “What are you doing here?”

“I went riding and I got lost. What areyoudoing here? What is this place?”

“A place where you’re not wanted.” He spoke bluntly, wanting to hurt her. “Go back the way you came. When you reach the stream, follow it eastward. It will lead you back to the castle.”

“You want me to leave? Now?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s dark outside.”

“In the morning, then.”

“Why, Erik? What have I done?”

“Nothing. You’ve done nothing.” He took a deep breath. “I want you gone in the morning.”

He heard the sharp intake of her breath, knew she was trying not to cry. “When are you coming home?”

He clenched his right hand. She sounded so young, so uncertain. So unhappy. Was it possible she had been missing him?

“Erik?”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes and wished for things that could never be. Wished he had two good hands to hold her close, wished he dared take her in his arms just once more. Wished he could lay his head in her lap and feel her hands moving over him. He needed the touch of her hand, needed the comfort only she could give. He was alone, so alone. And so afraid. The fear was a constant sickness in his gut; fear of what he was becoming, of what he was losing.

“It will be Christmas soon. Will you not come home for the holidays?”

His eyelids flew open and he saw her standing in the doorway. He turned sideways, hiding his left side in the dark shadows behind him.

She took a step forward, one hand outstretched. “Erik, are you bleeding?”

“Don’t touch me!”

She came to an abrupt halt. “I won’t. What happened to you?”

“I was attacked by wolves.”

Even in the darkness, he could see her eyes widen in horror. “Wolves!”

“I’ll be all right. Please, just go away.”

“Not until I have looked at your wounds. They’ll fester if they aren’t treated.”

“I’m not dressed.”

A rush of heat climbed up the back of her neck. They had been married for almost a year and she had never seen him naked. “It’s all right. I … I don’t mind.”

“I do. Wait for me in the other room.”

“Very well.”

He watched her go, then went out the back door to gather up his discarded clothing. He felt better when he was dressed, his mask once again securely in place. The worst wounds wereon his right side. He had not stopped to wonder why before, but he knew the answer. His human side was fragile, easily bruised. The skin on his left side was thicker, protected by a heavy layer of coarse black hair.

Desperate for her touch, needing to be near her, he would let her tend his wounds, and then he would never see her again.

When he was as presentable as possible, he went into the main room.

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