30. The Beast Within
The Beast Within
“What part of stay hidden did you not understand?”
Safe. There would be no corner of the world where she would be safe from them.
You should have gotten rid of her. Searching every nook and crevice for… her. The man, Max had said. She hadn’t even seen him clearly, eyes blurry from peeking through the small hole. But that voice, the way he’d gotten in Lucien’s space. Her hairs stood on end.
He’d been right, she should have stayed put. Almost had, if answers hadn’t weighed heavier than the fear thrashing beneath her skin.
“Kate.”
She slipped out of her room, ambling past Lucien who stood waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, his shadow hovering on the wall. Her hand shot out, bracing against the door frame. Even in the dim lighting his scowl was clear, disappointment radiating from him.
She raised her chin. “I deserved to know.”
“You deserved to know.” He laughed, tasting the words. Bittersweet if she were to guess. “I explicitly asked you, nearly begged you to stay put. Against my better judgment, I actually thought you’d listen for once. How foolish of me.”
No smirk, no playfulness, no sweetheart or flirting. So unlike the Lucien she’d come to know. He didn’t shout, didn’t even raise his voice. But she could only stare. Frozen under the spell of his anger. An emotion she knew all too well, lived in, retreated to whenever the need called for it.
“All I’ve done so far is keep you safe, as was my setup tonight. But you keep running from help, don’t you?”
So far. Her ears buzzed, the two words colliding in her brain.
Anger, it would be useful here and now.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Is that a joke? Did that guy hit you over the head? Don’t you remember that you—” She jabbed her finger at him. “You… tried to kill me in my own home, while I wasn’t even supposed to be dying!”
“Oh, you were supposed to die, trust me. Didn’t listening in to tonight’s conversation teach you that?”
She recoiled, as if he’d slapped her cheek, only the red mark was missing,
His jaw tightened, he saw. “It doesn’t matter now, Kate.”
“Oh, it fucking matters! Death is waiting for me behind the corner!” She leaned her back against the wooden frame, legs like jelly.
“I just wish you had stayed put.” She barely even caught his whisper before he whirled around, striding into the kitchen like a man on a mission.
She heard the tap open, water sloshing, before he came back.
Green bucket in hand, foam glistening over the edge.
She watched as small puddles formed behind him.
He marched straight into the office. Not sparing her a second look.
But all she could think of was that it was too full. He’d let it slosh over the edge.
She dragged herself along the wall, disentangling herself before coming to rest against the entry of his study.
Lucien was on his hands and knees, scrubbing violently over the wooden flooring in front of Max’s chair. Foam covered the entire floorboard, sizzling over whatever he was dying to get clean. He kept rubbing the same spot, over and over again.
Her gut tightened. Whatever had been there, it was gone. Long gone.
“I think it’s clean.” He didn’t even seem to hear her.
The ire she’d felt mere minutes ago, it left as soon as it had come on. Leaving her deflated, cold, with nothing but a stone weighing on her stomach as company.
She stepped over the threshold. Glancing past the study, out toward the giant window that faced over the fields. Lucien and large windows, high ceilings. The stone in her turned. It should tell her something. But she didn’t understand its meaning.
Meanwhile the cleansing continued, he didn’t even look up as she dropped down next to him, gathering her legs below her. The foam had dissipated, leaving behind colorless water.
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
She reached out, resting a lone finger on his bicep. He didn’t so much as glance her way.
Fear clenched her heart together.
Wrong. Something was very wrong.
It was staring her in the face, whispering in her ear. She shook it off, clasping her hand around his arm, shaking him lightly. “Lucien.” Sluggishly he turned toward her, eyes glazed over. “It’s clean.”
He looked at the sponge in his hand, turned back to her. “Right.”
She pulled him closer. “Are you okay?”
He stilled, frowning lightly while his eyes traversed her face, tracing over every single line.
He halted at her jaw, and before she knew it, his finger came to rest against her cheek.
Warm against her pale, cold skin. It made a tantalizing slow descent down to her chin.
His fingers closed, clasping around her sharp jawline, holding her in place.
Her limbs relaxed, heavy under his caress. While her heart skipped, the rush of it all woke up her every sense, the room fading to a blur.
Their eyes met, his deep green ones dark in the sole light that shone from the desk, his pupils dilating. His breath slow against her rapid, hitching exhales.
One second they were frozen in time. The next, he shot backwards, sitting back to throw the sponge in the bucket. Gone was the warmth, cold air brushed over her face.
In one fluid movement, he got up, whiskey glasses clinking together in his grip.
He bent down to grab the bucket. Crossing past the armchair opposite her but one of the whiskey glasses plunked against the hard wooden armrest, shattering them both. Glass exploded in every direction, tinkling across the floor. Small diamonds spinning in and under the hardest to reach places.
Lucien sighed deeply, staring at the mess. Kate peeked at his empty hands. No blood to be seen. Unharmed.
She couldn’t help herself. “Whiskey tumblers aren’t safe in our presence.”
A rough chuckle escaped him. He swallowed once before answering. “Right as rain.”
“I’ll clean it up.” She pulled herself up by the chair. Still unsteady on her legs.
“No, no.” He raised a hand. “I’ll take care of it. Later.” He turned away from her, hands clasping behind his back to stare out over the fields. She could basically hear the wheels in his brain turning. She would give a lot to know where his mind strayed.
“Okay.” Dropping into the chair, she leaned on her knees.
Was that a… moment?
She rested her chin on her wrist, blowing the stray hairs out of her face. No, it couldn’t possibly have been. He was just… off. The meeting with Max had set him on edge. During their square off he was cold, calculated, even taunted his what, colleague? A true chameleon.
Minutes passed in silence, until he scraped his throat. “Still here?”
“Hmmhmm.” She’d debated leaving. But it was either the couch, where she wouldn’t be able to hold her focus in a book. Or, retreating to her room, where she would be alone.
I don’t want to be alone.
“Something you need, Kate?” He didn’t even turn to her.
“What exactly has you so… agitated?”
There was enough to choose from. That he’d let her survive their meeting. Lying to his colleagues, she could only guess what the punishment could be. But judging from the man they’d sent. No good. No good at all.
“I’m being forced to take decisions.” He trailed off, fatigue weighing down his voice, his shoulders. “Decisions I don’t want to take.”
He half-twisted around, studying her for a lingering moment. “Would you do it again? Listening in?”
“The truth?” She bit her lip.
A small smile played silently across his face. “Always.”
She played with her feet, ankles rubbing over each other. “Yes.” Truth was, she hated seeing him this… conflicted. But there was this need within her, to know. To prepare. But she could be honest. Lifting her chin, she said. “I’m sorry. But I should know what I’m facing.”
“Yes.” His shoulder rose and fell as he heaved a resigned sigh and nodded. As if he’d made a decision. “Figures.”