Page 64 of Kill the Beast
She picked up Alderic’s abandoned fork and helped herself to some of the blackened salmon still left on his plate. “Then what were you doing earlier?”
“Wallowing.”
She froze with the fork halfway to her mouth. “Wallowing?”
“You know, lying around and feeling sorry for myself? Don’t tell me you’ve never wallowed.”
“Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?”
He looked down at his plate. “I have spent days trying to figure out a single personal concern, and have come to the stark realization that of all of the things crammed into my stupid manor, I have nothing that holds any real value to me anymore. It made me feel incredibly sad and lonely—hence the wallowing.”
Her throat tightened. “Then why did you tell me to go away? You said youwantedto be left alone.” She refused to admit to him that she had been lonely, too.
“Wantedwas perhaps not the correct choice of words,” he said lightly. “I should have saidneeded.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word as she struggled to understand what he was saying. “Then why did youneedto be alone?”
He heaved a sigh and ran both hands over his face. When he dropped them back into his lap, he glared at her. “Because I’m starting to wonder whether I’ll be able to go through with all of this. It has been so long since I’ve cared about anyone, and for that to end so abruptly—” He stopped himself. Took a swig of hisdrink while Lyssa stared at him in stunned silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I… I’m a little intoxicated.”
“I can see that.” She didn’t know what else to say. She remembered the shock on his face when she had told him that she didn’t expect to survive her encounter with the Beast. Had it really shaken him so much that he might not want her to fight it at all? He had just scolded Lyssa for thinking that Honoria could have changed his mind, given everything the Beast had taken from him, and yet he was getting cold feet because ofher? “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but there’s no way I’m going to stop now.”
“I know, Carnifex,” he said with a wobbly smile. “That’s why I hired you.”
And to her horror, he started to cry.
“Okay,” she said gently, “I think you’ve had enough.” She finished the dregs of his drink, gagging at how strong it was, and helped him to his feet. The waiter rushed over, and she said, “Put it on his tab—the Queen’s Suite.”
Then she helped Alderic out of the restaurant and into the lift.
“This is the second time this week I’ve had to lug you around,” she said wryly.
“Well, I won’t be a burden on you for much longer,” he said, solemn as a promise. “Soon this will all be over and you’ll be free of me forever.”
His words sparked a flare of fear inside of her.
“You aren’t a burden,” she said sharply, thinking of the scars on his wrists, his neck. The idea that he might be planning to try again once the Beast was dead made her feel sick. “And I don’t want to be free of you, you idiot.”
He blinked at her. “Really?”
“Really.” And maybe it was because he was drunk and she knew he might not remember it—knew she could pretend it had never happened, even if he did—she squeezed him around the waist and said, “I was lonely today, too. I… well. I missed you.”
He put his head on her shoulder, and she let him keep it there.
When they reached the top floor, Lyssa helped Alderic into his bed, then let herself into her own room through the connecting door. She paced for a while before she gave in and went back to the Queen’s Suite, settling herself on the bench at the foot of Alderic’s bed.
She tried to turn over in her sleep and woke with a start at the jolt of pain it produced.
“Ow,” she moaned, and sat up. She had been curled up on the bench at the foot of Alderic’s bed all night, and it had tweaked something in her neck.
“Great. You’re up. Now you can explain what you’re doing in my room,” Alderic said stiffly. He had a half dozen outfits spread out on the bed, but he stopped what he was doing to cross his arms and look down his nose at her, his expression pinched.
She winced. “How much do you remember about last night?”
“Last night?” He eyed her warily, then started folding his clothes, as if to give himself something to do with his hands. “I… remember that woman sitting down at my table when I was already swimming in alcohol,” he told her. “The redheaded Hound-warden. But I don’t remember what she wanted or what happened after that, though I have a vague recollection of her leaving and… you showing up right after?” His eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”
“No,” Lyssa said, and his shoulders sagged with relief. She felt her own bud of relief unfurl that he hadn’t remembered anything else, coupled with a strange sense of disappointment.
“What happened, then? Why did you sleep in here?” Alderic asked.
