Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
It breaks my heart that a car crash ruined all this for him.
I slip the photos back into the folder and open the next drawer, which has another folder inside.
This one is confusing, filled with newspaper clippings that seem to have no link.
Local Boy Wins Spelling Bee.
Woman Wows With County’s Biggest Pumpkin.
Christmas Cheer As Mall Santa Serves Homeless at Soup Kitchen.
The door creaks. I look up… and I’m busted.
Damian stands in the doorway wearing nothing but his underwear, his muscles gleaming in the lowlight, his eyes even darker and more intense than usual.
“Snooping, Celine?” he growls, walking briskly over to the desk. He picks up the closed folder, the one with his family photos in it. “Did you look at these?”
I look up at him, at this Beast, caught between fear and want, easily the weirdest feeling I’ve ever experienced.
“Yes.” I can’t lie. “They’re beautiful, Damian. I’m sorry. You all looked so happy.”
“Hmm.” He nods to the desk, teeth gritted. “Getting a good look at those, too?”
“I wanted to know more about you,” I say. “Stop looking at me like you’re going to hurt me or something.”
“Fucking hell.” He strides to the dirty window, just about clean enough to let in a shaft of moonlight. His broad back, tightly corded with muscle and bulging shoulders, made me want to touch him. “I’d never hurt you, Celine. Or any woman.”
“What are these clippings?” I ask.
“My attempt,” he grunts.
“Your attempt at what?”
He spins on me, looking like he’s ready to erupt. A vein in his neck throbs. “This won’t make anything any easier,” he growls. “I’m trying my best to keep you away, to make you understand I am not right for you.”
“What does that have to do with this?” I gesture at the desk.
“I’m the Beast, Celine. I’m not from your world. I’m something else. Think of me as a different species. Think of me as a monster.”
I approach him cautiously. His voice broke toward the end, with more vulnerability in him than I’ve seen or sensed yet.
“Tell me,” I whisper. “You want to. I know you do.”
His mouth twitches. I’m right.
With a sigh, he says, “They’re the people I’ve saved.”
“Saved?” I ask.
“The streets know me as the Beast. As far as the mob is concerned, I’m the most lethal enforcer who’s ever walked these streets. As far as the Family knows, I’ve slaughtered women, children, and entire families. But I would never, never fucking do that. So I pretend. I fake crime scenes. And then I use the cash the mob gives me to make sure their targets get far, far away from the mob, so far they can never be touched.” He nods towards the desk. “Those are the survivors.”
“People who would be dead if it wasn’t for you,” I whisper.
“Hmm,” he grunts.
“People who are living second lives because of you.”
Another grunt.
“Why wouldn’t you want to tell me this?”
He reaches up, cradles my cheek. “Everything would be much easier if you hated me.”
“You don’t want me to hate you,” I tell him. “Maybe things would be easier… but you don’t want that. I know you don’t.”
He wraps his arms around me. He holds me almost tenderly, like I’m made of glass. One wrong move and he could break me.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he whispers.
I’m one step ahead. I’m pretty sure he’s already ruined me.
“You should be proud,” I say, cupping his scarred cheek. “You took a bad situation and did something good with it. That’s… inspirational.”
He laughs gruffly.
“I mean it, Damian. So you only hurt bad people?”
“I’ve killed people, Celine,” he says darkly, as if desperate for me to hate him. “Just because I’ve done some good deeds, it doesn’t mean there isn’t blood on my hands.”
“People like Rico? People who hurt others?”
He takes a step back. It’s like he’s afraid of being too close because he’ll kiss me or take it a step further and pick up where we left off earlier.
“Forget you ever saw this,” he snaps, back to being a grump. “And learn what personal space means, Celine.”
He steps into the hall, hovers at the doorway, glaring at me, waiting for me to follow. His shirtless form is tight from head to toe as he watches me expectantly.
I walk into the hallway, and he shuts the door behind me. “I’m going to lock this,” he growls.
“Why–what else is in there?”
“Nothing,” he snaps. “But those things are private.”
“Why?” I say.
His entire body trembles, every muscle seeming to contract. I remind myself that this isn’t a moment of excitement or desire. Okay, maybe I always experience those sensations when he is around.
“Why what?” he grunts.
“What does that even mean, Damian? Why what… Why do you hide the good side of yourself?”
“In my world, it’s easier to be a devil than an angel. If the Family knew what I was doing, they wouldn’t take kindly to me disrupting their fucked-up business.”