Beloved Beast

Chapter Thirty-One

            All things considered, Elle knew she appeared remarkably calm, but on the inside, she was beside herself with emotion.

            There were so many unanswered questions. Inconsistencies that roused doubts and reservations. She couldn't shake this terrible sense of foreboding, this ever-present fear of the uncertain, not knowing if danger lurked just around the corner. If this was a spell, and she was fairly certain it was, what purpose or motive could there be for which it was thusly created? Was it in any way tied to Don and his tortured past? It was too coincidental to not be. Is that why he sent her away? Cast her out as if she had meant nothing to him?

            In more ways than one, she should be rejoicing, thrilled to be returning home, to her family. She should be alarmed by the enigma behind her working eyes, and recognized in one tremulous exhale, that she was healthy parts both. But how does one begin to process it? She hadn't the energy to fixate on either, not in the here and now with the terribly bright world closing in on her, inciting an awful throbbing behind said eyes.

            Frightening and undesirable outcomes ran rampant through her baffled mind, amplifying her fears to a nauseating degree.

            Instead, her thoughts centered around her heart and the unpleasant sensations lodged there. Pain. Disappointment. Confusion. A sense of betrayal. This, she understood. The humiliation. The rejection. It was painstakingly familiar. The feeling of being unwanted. It was a constant in her life, but it was far less terrifying compared to the not knowing, to the faceless danger that stalked at her heels.

            Don had openly expressed his desire for her, but had harshly sent her away. She was sure of nothing, anymore. Should she cry? Should she laugh? Her plight was anything but laughable. The fine line between sorrow and exhilaration were adrift in a sea of complicated feelings that burdened the deep chasm of her chest.

            With every undulating hill that swept them by, her heart shrank all the more, next to her foolish idealism and one ardent impression of a man more beast, than human.

            With heavy-lidded eyes, Elle stared at her surroundings and for the first time since acclimating to the light, she sought the darkness – or rather, the man crafted from it. Beneath the colorful canopied trees, in the partial gloom, she willed for his massive frame to appear, to take her back to musty corridors and red silk.

            Her thoughts touched briefly on the dress, recalling its smoothness against her skin, and the way it had made her feel. Beautiful. She had left the garment with Lucy. She hadn't the heart to keep it, it wasn't hers ... not really, but how she longed to relive that moment, to be in his chambers again awaiting his return.

            And like the loss of the dress, she felt the immediate loss of his presence. Everywhere. The air felt meaningless. Empty of his vast shadow. Bereft of his thunderous timbre and scarred kiss. Devoid of his abrasive touch and mercurial temper. There was just a clear and definitive desertedness that plagued her heart, urging her to turn back.

            I warned you that I was not a soft or kind man. I feel nothing for you.

            Eyes stinging with fresh tears, her throat constricted around the emotion knotted there.

            He had warned her, countless times, but she hadn't heeded his threats, believing them to be hollow. By his own admission, Don did not want her. His cruel words far more hurtful than any physical pain. She didn't know what to think. What to believe. She just knew that her heart lay at his feet. Was she so unsuspecting of his true nature? So foolish to think that she could mend his broken soul? That she would simply be enough to liberate him from his demons? That he could love her? Should she have fought harder? Demanded answers? Was his past that compelling that he was willing to forgo a chance at love? A chance at happiness with her?