What if he gets up to pee and finds me in here?
Tears sting my eyes when I see what the photos are: Damian, a younger version, a smile on his face that seems unlikely now. In one, he’s standing at the edge of a lake, the sun shimmering across the surface, holding a big fish. A man with Damian’s eyes and jawline stands behind him, hands on the boy’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes.
I turn over the photo.Dad and Me, the best day of my life.
I make a small choking noise. I came in here looking for evidence that he’s a bad man, but this just makes me feel even more sorry for him. I sort through more photos. His mother is–was–beautiful, an elegant woman with dark hair and serious crystal blue eyes.
In one photo, Damian is wearing an elf outfit, his dad a Santa costume, and his mother has a sparkly green dress. The photo is a candid shot taken when Damian was young at what looks like a party, his mouth split into a big happy grin as though nothing could ever hurt him, as though life was going to just keep getting better and better…
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 understandI 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.
