Page 58 of Beau and the Beast

"I wouldn't try to talk any of you into anything you didn't want to do unless I really thought it would help you in some way," Beau said, looking at Wolfram pointedly.

"I appreciate that," Wolfram said.

* * *

When Wolfram had emergedfrom his wing that evening, it had been beyond difficult not to stare at him.

It wasn’t the shock of seeing an enormous man with teeth like daggers and a hide like a lion’s.

It was that Wolfram had never looked so put together.

Beau was shocked to find that Wolfram owned formal clothes, and though the cut of the garments were the same as he’d always worn, the find fabrics somehow made the outfit look purposeful—as if Wolfram could’ve walked into a press conference in the breeches and open vest and no one would’ve batted an eye.

It was more than that, though. He’d done something to his mane, smoothed it somehow, and the dark hair cascaded around his face in perfect waves that would’ve made runway hairdressers jealous. His horns, which had been dull and gray in some of their twists,gleamedin the lights of the penthouse kitchen—as if they were something Wolfram was proud of and not a manifestation of the curse.

Beau was struck with that odd realization again:Wolfram is handsome.

It wasn’t that Beau could imagine what he would’ve been like as an unremarkable man. He was handsomenow—and when he allowed himself to take pride in how he looked, he oozed power, virility, and sex appeal.

Beau had to squeeze his eyes shut at the thought.

How long does it take Stockholm Syndrome to kick in, he wondered.

Beau had forced himself to concentrate on the steaks he was searing until he had finally been able to serve Wolfram and take his place at the other end of the table.

The dinner had been going remarkably well, considering how much Wolfram had resisted it and his staff had apparently dreaded it.

Beau didn't know why it made him so proud to see Wolfram at the dinner table with his staff, actually eating with them, and maybe even enjoying the conversation—but it did.

He'd been worried about getting the meal right for Wolfram. But in the end, he could tell the other man was earnestly enjoying the food that Beau had prepared for him. He seemed to be able to use the big improvised utensils at least passably well. Maybe it was a good experience for him, then, to sit with everyone else and feel like a normal man for once.

As the meal went on, though, he could feel the normalcy degrading.

Even as everyone else was finishing up their meals, Wolfram had a pile of food left to tuck into. Surely in private he could've eaten faster, with his hands, not bothering to use utensils when he had the right teeth to be able to cut and shear his food.

Everyone's eyes seemed to drift to him more, and so Wolfram began to eat faster. As he rushed, his skills with the utensils became more strained. Soon the light fur around his mouth was stained, giving him the ghastly look of an animal with a bloodied muzzle. Wolfram was oblivious to the condition and, apparently, the fact that as he tried to eat faster, his eating becamelouder.

Things came to an ugly crescendo when he brought the thick bone of a cross-cut beef shank to his mouth and crunched it between his molars. Even with a closed mouth, the sound was loud enough to silence everyone at the table. It set off something primal inside of Beau—and the rest of the staff, he knew. The sound alerted something ancient, something that told him a predator was too close, that he needed to run.

Beau calmed his nerves, clearing his throat conspicuously in an attempt to get everyone to look back to his end of the table. Wolfram’s eyes went wide, though it was clear he didn’t know what he’d done, what effect it had on all of them, and the sound he made as he continued to pulverize the bone sent shivers down Beau’s spine.

He tried to guide the conversation back, to bring up topics so engaging that no one would have time to give into their urge to stare at the man who so infrequently joined them for dinner. Violet kept her eyes on Beau, and James was good about it as well. But Alfie, Geoffrey, and Song couldn't seem to keep their eyes off the other man.

An uncomfortable silence descended on them.

Wolfram was the first to say something.

"I'm sorry. I can finish this back in my study."

He moved to get up and Beau moved just as quickly to stop him.

"Not at all," Beau said, crossing over behind the seated staff. He put a firm hand on Wolfram's waist and another in the center of his back. "Please, you're not done. Sit down."

Wolfram looked down at him almost panicked, but he obeyed.

"Why don't you all start cleaning up while Wolfram finishes his dinner?" Beau suggested.

Song and Alfie stood immediately and Beau sat down in Song's spot, closest to Wolfram.

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