PRESENT
There’sgrit in my eyes, probably remnants of smudged mascara after my failed attempt to get groped in a nightclub.If you’d told me seven hours ago that I’d be sitting in a creepy-ass house in the middle of nowhere with only Willa and the Beast for company, I’d have asked what planet you were on.
Once I’m in the room I’ve been assigned, I slump on the end of the bed before catching the red blinking light in the top corner of the ceiling.
He’s there.Watching.
It shouldn’t feel strange, as there’s always someone watching me.Whether it’s Willa hovering whilst I shop, Bastian sitting behind me at university, or even the Beast when I’m in a club, they always have their eyes on me.But at home, in my room, no one is ever watching.My bedroom has always been my haven, the one place where there are no eyes on me.
But not here.Not now.
He’swatching.
I escape into the en suite.
Checking the walls, the cabinets, and under the toilet, I relax a little.No cameras.Willa had said there were none, but you never know.
I strip out of the clothes I presume Nita, our family’s housekeeper who’s always looked after me, packed.She’s the only member of the staff who I’ll allow in my room, and who I’ll ask for more personal things.Like the time she had to cut chewing gum out of my hair when I was about seven, or when she helped me out of a dress I got stuck in only a few months ago, or when I started my periods and she was there with pads, two paracetamol, a hot chocolate, and a warm wheat bag.These are the things I should have gone to my mum for, but as I got older, it became clear that my mum had struggles of her own.Her grip on drink and prescription meds became tighter than it was on real life.She seemed distant, like she’d removed herself from reality, and it began to feel like she was out of my reach.
It saddens me to think of this.
And Nita is miles away.I wonder if she’ll miss me like I miss her, or whether she simply sees me as a job, a part of her role, which is the way most of our staff see us.
Twisting the dial on the shower, I wait for the water to heat before stepping under the spray.I’m eager to rid myself of the grime of the night and the lull from the sedative.
It feels good—the pummel of the water on my skin, the heat burning off the touch of that guy in the club.Sam?Tim?I can’t even remember his name—that’s how memorable he was.But I’d been willing to give myself to him.
And he would have had me if the Hellhound hadn’t broken down the door.
Water runs through my hair and onto my chest, gathering between my breasts.
A tingling buzzes between my legs, but not at the memory of Tim/Sam’s tongue on my nipple, or the feeling of his hands squeezing my ass.No.The buzz pulses when I recall the Beast dragging the guy out of the cubicle by his collar and shoving the gun down his throat.
I gulp at how turned on I am, how turned on Ihadbeen by his brutality, by the way he handled that gun.Maybe I have a gun kink?Maybe I should do some research into gun kinks and whether they’re an actualthing.
Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the gun at all but the man holding it?
No.
Absolutely not.
The Beast is just that: a menace, a creator of chaos.He wasa Hellhound until my father had the great fucking idea of making him one of my bodyguards.It was no surprise that someone new was needed.Bastian’s due to retire in the next year, and Willa had just announced Marta’s pregnancy.
I can’t help wondering if the Beast is loyal to my father.Is that where his dedication lies, in obeying my father’s orders to keep me wrapped up in cotton wool, not to be touched or marred by human hands?Or is there another reason he keeps me guarded?
Whatever his motivations, he’s sitting downstairs in the security room, waiting for me to come out of this en suite.I’d better get a move on.If he thinks I’ve been in here too long, he’ll break the door down—which, I hate to admit, would only excite me.
After turning the shower off, I step onto the mat, grabbing a towel from the heater.Once I’ve secured the towel around my body, I’m about to exit the en suite when I remember his blinking eye in the corner of the room.There’s a dark urge within me to strut through the door, let the towel drop, and walk naked through the bedroom, letting him see me,allof me.But even with the security of the lens, I chicken out and keep the towel wrapped around myself.If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure what relationship the Beast and I have.
I’ve tried to treat him like all my security staff, just another punching bag, someone to absorb my daily rage.But somehow, he seems immune to my jabs.He doesn’t respond like Willa or Bastian, batting my digs away as playful or simply ignoring them entirely.No—the Beast is different.
I don’t know why or how.Maybe it’s him, his scars, whatever it was that caused them, and whatever darkness burrowed deeper than the skin.Or maybe it’s me.Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there, feeling things I’ve simply imagined.
His actions are never clear.He’s protective, but without treating me with kid gloves.He’s possessive and violent, but never towards me.He can be brutal—unapologetically so.But I don’t understand the reasons behind it.Is he simply a workaholic who takes his job too seriously?Willa told me that he was in the army, so is it that mindset—does he view me as a mission he refuses to fail?Or is he simply doing a job, just like Willa, just like Bastian and Markus, and just like Nita?
If that’s the case, then why does it feel like he isn’t working at all?Why does protecting me appear to come so naturally?
Does he annoy me?Yes.Is he a royal pain in my ass?Absolutely.
