Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He protects me as if I’m the only thing that matters to him in this entire world, and something about that makes me feel so special. So … loved.
And it’s a kind of love I haven’t experienced before. What I look like doesn’t seem to matter anymore—only what I do, my intentions, my emotions.
Is this what life could’ve been like if I hadn’t been born into my father’s world?
I swallow away the lump in my throat as I fill a cup of fresh water from the sink.
Every sip reminds me that I can never take something as simple as water for granted. Or food.
We don’t have much, but we’ve made do with what was still there from previous vacations. Before my life was replaced by one I barely even recognize.
Just like the girl staring back at me when I look in the tiny mirror hanging on the wall in the hallway.
There’s something about her, something about me, that’s changed.
That girl no longer wants to hide.
She has this kind of … courage.
And it scares me.
I put down my glass and approach Beast, who stares at himself in the mirror, his fingers tracing his scars. He’s wearing only a towel, and it’s so damn hard not to gape at his rigged muscles, especially knowing what he can do with them.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Our eyes connect through the mirror. He tilts his head and touches the base of his neck. “I need this thing … out of me.”
I rub my lips together. Right. The device Lex uses to keep him under control.
“But I can’t reach it myself,” he says, staring at me intently.
Oh God. He wants me to do it?
My stomach drops.
“Aurora.” The way he says my name makes goose bumps scatter on my skin. “Help me.”
Wow.
He’s never asked me for help.
And it almost sounded like … begging.
How can I say no to that?
When he turns, I feel queasy.
I swallow and nod, but the more I think about it, the more anxious I get.
He walks past me and heads straight into the kitchen, fishing one of the bigger knives from the cupboard. “This should do the trick.”
My eyes widen at the size of that thing. “You want me to … cut you with that?”
With a nod, he pushes the knife into my hands, then sits down on the stool and stares at me like I’m wasting time.
I gulp and approach him, but the closer I get, the more nervous I become.
Oh God. Am I really going to do this? Can I really cut into someone’s flesh?
“Sanitize it,” he says. “With fire.”
I nod and carry it to the stove. Turning on the burner, I heat the blade so it’s sterile. Then I stand behind him. He tilts his head even farther to the side, exposing the skin where there’s an obvious scar. “There.” His breath is steady, while mine is completely unhinged.
Sweat drops trickle down my forehead. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he says, eyeing me from the side. “I believe in you.”
His words bring me a little bit of courage, but when I sit down behind him and actually point the knife at his back, I get cold feet.
“What if I mess up?” I say. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hey,” he says with a low voice. “You can do this. I trust you.”
I touch his hot skin, sweat drops trickling down my face as I put the knife at the edge of the device. I can feel it move underneath his skin.
“Don’t hesitate. I can take it,” he says.
And I puncture his skin.
The blood runs out immediately, covering his back, but he seems unfazed, so I cut farther, deeper into his skin. It feels odd, like cutting into Jell-O, and the warm blood covering the blade makes me even more nauseous than before.
He hisses as I slice farther, making an opening. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“Don’t. Just take it out,” he says through gritted teeth.
I carve it out farther until I finally see the chip. “There.”
I put the knife aside and lean in with my nails, tugging at one of the edges until it dislodges from his body. He groans as I pull out and chuck it onto the floor.
“Oh my God …” I mutter, staring at the device.
Beast stands up and crushes it underneath his foot, rage almost boiling his skin. “Never again.”
I just stare at him with bloodied fingers and a stomach ready to flip over.
God, I can’t believe I just did that.
I actually cut something out of his flesh.
I run to the bathroom to clean my hands and wash away the blood. When I return, his back is still covered in blood, so I quickly fetch the first-aid kit from the shelves again. After grabbing a few sterile tissues and some alcohol to pat down the wound, I tape it all up neatly and clean up his back too.