Page 48 of Beast

Gaston presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re mine, baby girl. Body and soul.”

I want to argue, to tell him that he’s wrong, that I’m not his to claim. But the words die on my lips, because deep down, I know he’s right. I am his, whether I like it or not.

Hours later, all I can do is stare at the ceiling while sleep alludes me. Gaston’s arm is draped over my waist, my back against his chest and the warmth of his breath caressing my neck. I’m hyperaware of his presence.

In the stillness of night, guilt, doubt and shame overwhelm me. How can I willingly fuck this man? Allow him to hold me. Feel anything other than hate toward him?

It’s at times like this, I wish I could psychoanalyze myself, because this is fucked up. Is it Stockholm Syndrome? Maybe. I really couldn’t say, but I’ve felt this powerful connection toward him the moment we met.

I shift carefully, trying not to wake Gaston. But his arm tightens, holding me in place. “Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs sleepily.

I freeze. “Nowhere. Just can’t sleep.”

Gaston nuzzles the sensitive spot below my ear. “Relax. You’re safe here with me.”

I nearly laugh. Safe? I’m trapped here, at the mercy of this powerful, dangerous man. A gilded cage is still a prison. When I don’t relax, he pulls me around to face him and props himself up to look at me. His eyes gleam even in the darkness.

“You know you belong here now. With me.” His tone brokers no argument.

“Belong with you? I’ve got no choice. Just because I’ve fucked you a few times, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“No?” Gaston smiles, but it’s wolfish. “Are you sure it doesn’t mean anything?”

I’m not sure. I fear it means too much, and that’s why I’m so torn up. “What are you suggesting?”

He moves his lips to within an inch of mine and then kisses me softly. “I’m suggesting that you feel like you belong here, wrapped in my arms. And that scares you.”

Goddamn it.

How is he so perceptive?

Or am I just really fucking obvious?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply.

He smirks. “Deny it all you want, mi reina. You’re meant for me.” He kisses me once again, before pulling me tightly against his chest so my head is just above his heart. “Now sleep.”

My Spanish isn’t great, but I know that one. My queen. Is that how he sees me? Is it possible that Gaston actually cares for me?

The thought makes butterflies take flight in my stomach and my heart pound harder. I can’t help but think of my friends while I lie here, wrapped up in my captors arms. Are they okay? Are they even still alive?

The thought of harm coming to any of them makes my heart clench. I need to find a way to help them, to save them.

Gaston’s breathing turns rhythmic behind me, warning me he’s fallen asleep. And as I feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath my head, sleep eventually claims me again. But my dreams are filled with stormy gray eyes and the feeling of strong, greedy hands claiming my body. And I know that I’m already too deep in his trap.

20

GASTON

The engine of the town car has lulled my angel to sleep.

Blake didn’t seem too excited to be getting out of the apartment this time, but it’s possibly because I wouldn’t tell her where we’re going.

I gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She’s been such a good girl for me, I decided it was time to treat her.

“Blake,” I murmur, gently shaking her. “Wake up, mi reina. We’re almost there.”

She groans and then her stunning blue eyes open, meeting mine. “Gaston?”

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