Fifteen
My heart pounded against the base of my throat.
An empty plate sat before me and I began to regret eating it so fast; my stomach knotted in the tense silence. I glanced at the empty chairs surrounding me, then at the doors. Where had he gone? I thrummed my fingers anxiously against the obsidian table.
A great boom echoed throughout the dining hall. I nearly jumped from my chair at the sight of him covering the distance between us in long, powerful strides. He held a hand behind his back and I craned my head to see what he was carrying. "Don't be afraid," he said as he stood before me. I leaned forward in my seat at his words.
"Why would I—"
My question was forced back into my chest as he lifted his hand from behind him. His fingers gripped the dark green stem and let a crimson rose fall onto the table.
The air left my lungs as if he'd punched me. My nerves were set ablaze by the sight of it, my heart screaming inside me. I dug my nails into the armrests and pushed my back flush against the chair. It groaned underneath me. I shoved myself away from the table.
"Adaira." His hands gripped onto my arms and held me in place, fingers tightening around me. He gave my shoulders a slight shake until I met his worried eyes. "You wanted answers. This is one of them." He stared at the rose. The bringer of death.
Yes, but not this way, I wanted to scream. A shaky breath escaped my lips. I turned to stare at the table again. Mama, Hendric— would I be next? The thought made my body tremble. "Get it away from me."
He sighed, but not in defeat. I caught the frown pulling at his features. His hands stroked the soft fabric that covered my arms in soothing circles. I felt my pulse ease and settle into a less frightened rhythm. He guided me away and left to pick it up in his hands, leaning on the edge of the table as he picked at the dark petals and black thorns. One by one he snapped off the pricks and let them fall to the floor. A familiar red liquid began to ooze from the wounds. I swallowed. Blood. "Ask your questions," he commanded, intent on plucking each thorn from its body.
Where do I begin?
I moved to the opposite side, keeping my eyes locked on the hellish flower, and sat on the arm of his throne. His gaze remained on the deadly thing. Blood stained the tips of his fingers. "How can you grow those things after everything they've done?"
He caressed a limp petal, frowning as it fell. I lifted my feet from the ground and moved to crouch on the chair. "I used to love them. They were rare, beautiful things that somehow thrived on the mountainside. They were resilient to the cold." Another petal floated onto the floor. A thin puddle of crimson spilled from the tear down its center. I swallowed. "Now I can't get rid of them even if I wanted to. They stay as long as I do." He ripped off another and crushed it in his palm. There was a hidden anger in the way he touched it. It had looked so loving when he held it at first, but now I could see the hate burning in his eyes and the way he rubbed the flower so roughly. "Next question." He flung the naked rose back onto the table and wiped his hands on a napkin.
My skin crawled at being so close to the thing that had killed half my village, nearly half my family. "How are you not sick?"
His lips pulled into a dark smirk. "Not everything is as it seems, Adaira. I die a bit every day because of those things."
"Then why don't you burn them?"
"If they die..." His voice fell away. He caught himself and shook his head. "They're part of my curse. If they all die, so do we."
I felt my heart drop. The question lingered on the tip of my tongue, but somehow I wasn't ready to ask it yet. Our relationship— if you could call it that— was hanging on by a thread as it was. I still didn't know what to make of him. I'd seen him lose control down in the cellars. What if I said the wrong thing? Would he become that monster again? "How long have you been like this? Cursed."
His frown deepened, but he never looked away from me. "About a century now. Every rose is a year. It's the only reason I keep them around: so I know how long I have."
"Aren't you afraid of the blood rose?" I asked, my voice so low I barely heard it myself. He stood from the table and paced in slow steps in the distance between our seats.
"At this point, nothing scares me anymore. Nothing except myself. If I were able to contract the disease I'd welcome death with open arms."
"Don't say that," I said before I could stop myself. His eyes flickered to mine, silver lights blazing into me. Heat surged to my face. I fumbled to correct myself. "You'd be leaving behind people who love you." His pacing stopped. My nails sliced deeper into my palm. "Lumea, Mrs. Potter, Coggington— they would be lost without you."
His gaze became too much. I dropped my head to stare at the ground, slowly letting my feet touch it again. His boots stepped into my vision, mere inches from mine. "They'd be free without me. And so would you."
The urge to look at him was overwhelming. I imagined he could hear the loud throbs of my heart.
I swallowed around the sudden dryness of my mouth. My tongue felt swollen as it moved to form my next question. "What are you?"
I heard him exhale. Warm air fanned across my burning face, making me flush. "That depends on how you see me. I'm either cursed or I'm your curse."
I wanted to ask what he meant. My lips formed the question, but the words died on my tongue the second I felt him inch closer. His hand suddenly brushed the side of my face, fingertips sliding along my burning skin and igniting a trail of feverish sparks with his touch. The need to lean closer writhed inside of me. Half of me screamed to move away; the other half, the stronger part of me, begged to be closer.
His fingers curled under my chin and lifted my heavy gaze to meet his. "What am I, Adaira?" The rough pad of his thumb traced the curve of my bottom lip. His head lowered closer.
No. I fought to retain the last of my resolve against him, but every touch made it slip farther and father out of my grasp. He was a beast, a monster from the depths of hell— wasn't he? My insides quivered. I gripped onto the chair like my life depended on it. My tongue darted out and ran along my lips. "Are those my only choices?"
The stern composure of his face fell briefly, shifting into a dazzling smirk and a chuckle that drummed in my ears. "They don't have to be." His hand trailed down my throat and slipped around the nape of my neck. I felt my head tilt to await his. The tip of his nose whispered a feather-light nudge with mine.
My heart surged into my throat. "I... I think you're lost," I breathed, breaking the stupefied trance he'd put me in. My sluggish body moved to put space between us. His hand roamed through my hair before falling to his side. "I think you're in pain and I want to help."
I watched his throat constrict with around a swallow. "Why?" His thumb searched along my neck, pausing over my erratic pulse.
My eyelids fluttered. "Isn't that what friends do?" Something twisted inside my chest.
"Friends," he said, as if to weigh the word on his tongue. "Is that what we are now?" His smile came back, slightly more forced this time. "I'll take it." Then his hand dropped to my hip and sent another wave of thrills shooting up my spine. His fingers searched along my arm until he found my hand, tugging me to my feet. "I need to show you something."
Before I could take my next breath he was pulling me out of the dining hall and down the dark corridors. I staggered along beside him and felt his hand tighten around mine, his fingers pressing deeper into my skin. I thought about drawing it down to my side; his touch always seemed to blur the lines of what I knew and what I felt. But as the sinister door to the cellar came into view, I only held on tighter. My feet automatically dug themselves harder into the floor, my instincts rearing. The last time I went down there I nearly died. The slashes on my stomach flared with the memory.
Beast turned to me, his brow deepening. I cut him off before he could say something. "The last time I went down there you almost killed me."
He flinched. His silver eyes dropped at the recollection of it all: the cages, the blood, the wolves. "I know," he said quietly. "But this time I just need you to trust me."
I stared down at our intertwined hands, still astonished that I hadn't taken my own back. Not even a month ago the very thought of him made my skin crawl and made my face burn in anger. Now he did other things to my body and burned me in a different way. I wasn't sure if I could trust myself, let alone him.
He seemed to sense my struggle and stepped closer. "Trust me, Adaira. Please."
I winced at the desperation in his voice. Then I nodded.
He tugged us onward and down into the dim stairwell. I felt my food start to rise in my stomach, climbing higher and higher with every step down into the dark. Digging in his pocket with his free hand, he rammed a key into the rusted lock and pushed it open with an eerie groan. I shuddered. A cold, harsh wind gusted from the depths. He dropped my hand and slipped into the shadows. I fought against the instinct to run and waited, listening to him shuffle through the room for something to banish away the darkness. Finally, light poured from the cellar and spilled out into the stairwell. "You still there?" he called.
Seconds ticked by in silence until I found my voice. "Yes." With the single word I stepped into the musty room and let the echoes of my pounding heart deafen me. The same table of tools and display of chains, another door off to the side of the one I'd just tiptoed through. Beast was already halfway down the hall of cages. I rushed to catch up to him and stood close enough to feel his heat pulsing off of him in waves, an oddly reassuring sensation warming my bones. He halted at another door and sighed as he pushed it open. He lifted the torch to illuminate the room.
My jaw slacked in a mixture of horror and awe.
Hundreds upon hundreds of broken items littered the floor. Bureaus that had once been massive and elegant were shattered to pieces, tables broken in half, paintings slashed straight through a subject's face. It looked as if the devil himself had ripped everything to shreds. Furniture was blackened from having been in a fire, cotton was strewn about the contents like a softer, less painful snow. Thick layers of dust coated the room, small cobwebs spun in the corners.
I glanced back at him with my mouth hanging. He gently pulled at the hem of my shirt to draw me out of the room and closed it. "The cages are only used on full moons," he said, his voice haunted and anguished. "The things in that room are what happen when we don't get down here fast enough." I stared at the hard spot between his shoulder blades, unsure of whether to cry or to run. I wrapped my arms around myself to stave off the cold that had suddenly seeped under my skin. His body was stiff in a way I hadn't seen before, at least not from him. He was vulnerable right then and he knew it. "We haven't needed to put anything in there for nearly a month now. Not since you arrived." He turned to face me then, eyes searching my face. I saw myself in the silver reflection of his gaze: face as pale as the moon, dark eyes wide with the fear and confusion swirling inside them. I looked as small as I felt. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was lost to the loud sound of my own racing heartbeat. Slowly and very carefully, I turned on my heel and began walking back down the passage of the cells.
I looked into each jail and tried to imagine the creatures and people that had once been forced into them. I observed the hooks that dangled from the ceiling and forced away thoughts of what they could have been used for. Beast's presence hovered just behind me, never too close yet never too far. Walking seemed to ease the tension that stifled the atmosphere. I felt his breath grazing the back of my neck.
I moved off to the table with the display of tools, running my finger over the handles of each. Hammers, knives, stakes. "Why do you have these?" I asked, flushing at the squeaky sound of my own timid voice.
He stared down at them. "Protection. The others wouldn't last a minute against me if I got loose."
"But you did that night and you didn't hurt any of them."
"No, I didn't. But I did hurt you." His eyes fell to my stomach and moved to my hip. A hand stretched out to lift up the thin cloth that separated his stare and the marks. It froze just before it could strip back the shirt and fell down to his side. He closed his eyes on a deep, tired sigh. "I think that's enough questions for tonight."
I nodded but felt a twinge of disappointment. He waved me in front of him and began to follow me out. I paused at the threshold. My finger lifted to point at the door beside it. "What is that one?"
"A tunnel system."
"Where does it lead?"
His jaw clenched. He swerved around me and blew out the torches one by one, bathing me in darkness. I jumped out into the stairwell and barely refrained from pouting as he closed the door behind me, locking the latch with a dull click. I followed him up the steps and breathed in the sweet, warm air of the palace halls. My bones creaked with exhaustion. It took a lot of energy to be afraid of something, I realized. But it was better than letting myself feel something else for him. Something even more dangerous.
"Adaira." His voice caught me before I could leave. I turned to look at him, swallowing the lump in my throat. His tongue darted out from his mouth and coated his red lips in a fresh sheen that glowed in the light of the torches. "I answered every one of your questions tonight. I think it's only fair if I can ask one as well."
It wasn't a question, but his eyes still sought my permission anyway. After a moment, I nodded.
His hands fumbled behind his back, a nervous hitch to his voice when he spoke. "If I promise to try my best, earn your trust and friendship, do you think it's possible that I could ever make you... happy?"
My heart flipped.