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 just stands there, silently letting me do my thing.
He turns to face me. “Thank you.” He puts so much emphasis on the words that I don’t even know how to respond. It’s as though he wants to instill me with his gratitude.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and clean the knife, then put it back where it belongs.
With my hands leaning on the counter, I close my eyes and take another deep breath.
That was heavy.
Suddenly, his hands wrap around my waist, and he plants a sweet but sultry kiss on my shoulder. “I would be nothing without you.”
It’s hard to swallow but even harder to breathe.
“You … you’re a living, walking god. And I’m just tiny little me.”
He snorts. “Tiny … I like that new nickname.”
I smile and shake my head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he keeps insisting.
I snort. “We almost sound like a boring old couple arguing now. And no, absolutely not ‘tiny.’”
“Maybe I’d like to be a boring old couple,” he muses, pressing another kiss to my shoulder. “Beauty.”
The thought makes my heart flutter.
But could we have such a future together?
Suddenly, my stomach roars.
And he definitely noticed, judging from the frown on his face. “You’re hungry.”
“It’s fine,” I reply. I take a much-needed sip of my water and check our cupboards. There are only a few pieces of bread left and some jam in the fridge. Just one more day.
I sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Beast asks.
“We’re running out of food,” I reply.
“Well, we can get more,” he says.
I place my cup down. “How? We don’t have any money.”
He shrugs. “Steal it.”
I frown. “No. That’s wrong.”
He snorts and points at himself. “I’ve lived as a criminal.”
I make a face. “Well, it doesn’t have to be that way. We could try something else.”
“How?” he says, tilting his head. “Beg for food?”
I roll my eyes. “No, I mean like … shouldn’t we go find some jobs?”
His face grows tighter, darker, more intense. Like all the joy has been sucked out of him. “No.”
A pang hits my stomach. “Why not?”
What’s wrong with a regular job?
“Have you seen me?” he replies with a furrowed brow.
“Yes. Of course. That doesn’t have to mean anything.” It’s hard not to look at him, that’s for sure, especially when he wears so little that I can practically look underneath.
“No, no way,” he says, shaking his head.
I sigh out loud. “C’mon. We need to figure something out. We can’t stay here if we don’t do something to get money.”
“Stealing works too,” he says, grabbing a cup. “I won’t hurt anyone.”
“If you steal once, what are you going to do next? Steal again?” I fold my arms. “Forever and ever?”
“Whatever it takes,” he says like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“I don’t want to be like that. I want to be a good and honest person,” I say.
He fills his cup with water and stares at me with a raised brow. “Not everything in life is good and honest.” He takes a big gulp.
“Just because we’ve been thrust into a bad life,” I respond, “doesn’t mean we have to stick with it.”
He puts his cup down on the counter and gazes at it for a second. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”
My face softens. His life was nothing short of cruel, and I understand why he thinks he wouldn’t be able to.
“All I’ve known is how to steal. Hunt. Kill. Just to survive,” he adds, clutching the counter like it hurts him to even think about it.
“But you had a life before you lived on the streets too.” I place a hand on his chest where his heart is. “You were a good person then, and you’re still a good person now.”
His eyes home in on mine, searching for something, but I don’t know what. It’s almost as if he’s digging into his own memories.
“I don’t know …” he mutters, and he quickly looks away.
“There must be something you remember. Something you used to love doing. Maybe we can look at something like that,” I say, hoping to find a way in.
Because if I give up now … what hope do we have of even a semblance of a normal life together?
He walks off, but I push back the anxiety and follow him to the living room.
“Don’t shut me out, Beast.” I follow him to the window, where he stares out at the busy street. “Please.”
His fist tightens. “My life before I was taken, before I became an orphan … it’s all a blur.”
My brows draw together, and I can’t help but lean in to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was still that painful.”
He places his hand over mine, squeezing gently. “I have nothing, no money, no clothes, no home. Only you.” When he turns to look at me, the agony in his eyes makes me swallow back the tears. “And I want nothing more than to protect you. But I don’t even know who I am without fighting. Without that collar and these scars.” He gazes at his own hands and chest like it’s the first time he’s actually looking, really looking, at his own wounds.