This was the first time Beast had been outside since the night he was almost killed, and I watched him clutching at the wheelchair, his red, scarred knuckles turning white as he held tightly to it like a lifeline. I was beginning to wonder if this had been a really bad idea when he finally started to loosen his grip and come out the other side of whatever he had just gone through.
When I placed my hand on his shoulder to let him know I was there, he tensed and looked up at me sharply, but I kept my gaze out on the world below and eventually he relaxed against my touch. He needed to know, to understand, that his scars didn’t define him. His scars didn’t matter to me. Maybe it was because I was a nurse and had seen some of the awful things that people did to one another. Or maybe it was because I’d never seen the man he was before. Either way, I didn’t care, and he needed to know that others would be the same too.
He was wearing one of the hospital nightgowns and I’d thrown a blanket over his legs to keep him warm. I’d managed to fight his hair back into a bun at the top of his head, too, and he was surprised when he didn’t entirely hate the look. It was better than the greasy, lank hair that had framed his face.
He sighed heavily and I looked up at the machines, checking the numbers were still okay. He shouldn’t have been out there, but I figured that a little fresh air was good for the soul. And right then, Beast really needed his soul to be cleaner—if that were possible for a man like him.
“Stop that,” he grumbled, his voice gruff and throaty. “Making me feel like a damn invalid, Belle.” But for once his aggression wasn’t as vivid. Instead it was more of a plea. He looked up at me and he told me so much with that look.
I thought back to the night before, to our little playful back-and-forth before things had turned ugly. The memory of his hand on my ass made my body shiver as it merged with the memory of Lorenzo’s tongue on my nipple. God, what was I doing? I was still in shock over having sex with one of my patients—Beast, of all men. If anyone found out, I would be fired and there would be no way Beast or the club could protect me. It was all sorts of wrong, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself, and if I was being honest, I’d thought about it since I’d first met him but I’d never thought it would actually happen. And what did I do now? He was still a patient, and I was still with Lorenzo. Oh my god, that had only been last night! In the space of 24 hours I’d had sex with two different men…What was happening to me? Who was I?
The lines between right and wrong and Belle and the stranger that had apparently taken over my body were becoming very blurred, and I was struggling to understand anything. What other lines would I be tempted to cross, I wondered. Because lines didn’t seem to matter to a man like Beast, and I couldn’t deny that I liked that about him. Yet Lorenzo was a good man. Handsome, successful, and considerate. He was the polar opposite of Beast, and I liked being with him just as much as I liked being with Beast.
With Lorenzo, I didn’t walk on eggshells. I didn’t worry that I was going to get yelled at constantly. I wasn’t on edge, worrying in case I did something wrong. He treated me like a princess—like I was important to him. Beast yelled at me, he made me feel like everything I did was wrong. I was constantly walking a tightrope with him.
Beast reached out and took my hand in his. It swallowed mine and I felt that same electricity surge through me that I’d felt since the day I’d met him. Being with Beast was reckless, and I worried I would be sucked into his world and would never escape, yet a part of me liked that.
“You think too much,” he grumbled, and I looked down at him, forcing a smile to my face.
I cleared my throat and pushed the thoughts away. “Sorry, I forgot, you prefer your women not to think, right? To just do as they’re told.”
He nodded, but the corner of his mouth tipped up and told me he wasn’t serious. “You get this faraway look in your eyes when you’re overthinking things, and your shoulders sag like you’re trying to hold up the world on them.”
I sighed. “Sometimes it feels that way,” I admitted.
“You ever wonder what would have happened if your mom hadn’t left you?” he asked.
I frowned. “Wow, this conversation took a huge U-turn.”
He looked back out at the world. “My mom used to go off for days at a time. I learned that you had to look after yourself because no one else was going to do it for you.”
“And you think that’s why you are the way you are?” I asked.
Beast looked back up at me. “And how am I, Belle?”
I could sense he was bristling below the surface, but I didn’t care. He had asked that for a reason, and maybe that reason was because he wanted my honesty because no one else dared give it to him.
“You don’t trust anyone,” I began. “You don’t even like most people.”
“Most people are assholes,” he replied.
I shook my head and laughed. “You’d be surprised…Most people are actually pretty good if you let them in.”
“Do you think I’m good, Belle?”
I stared at him long and hard, thinking how to answer that question. Was he going to yell at me if I said no? Would he laugh at me if I said yes? Was he asking because he wasn’t sure of himself anymore, or because he was just genuinely interested in what I thought? With Beast I could never tell what he was thinking.
“I don’t think anyone is intrinsically bad.”
“That’s a cop-out and you know it,” he said with a raised brow.
I shrugged. “Okay, well, I think you’re both things, actually. Both good and bad. Deep down you have a real good heart and care about people way more than you let on, but on the surface you’re bad and you do bad things.” I took a deep breath and waited for him to push me away and be horrible, but he just sighed and looked away.
“Fuck, it feels good to have the air on my face again.” He closed his eyes but then quickly opened them, like he was afraid that if he kept them closed for too long he might never be able to see again.
I looked over at the machines, checking the numbers to make sure he was okay.
“Told you to stop doing that,” he growled. “You need to stop treating me like a sick patient.”
