Page 87 of Beau and the Beast

“Isidore Wolfram Jr.!” Beau shouted, punching down his fear and pressing his face closer to Wolfram’s, conjuring up the name as if it would make Wolfram remember who he was. “Get it together! What are you doing?”

Wolfram squeezed his eyes shut, growling sharply as if Beau had struck him. Slowly he shrank, his posture changing, fur no longer bristling. His claws disappeared and he sagged, sitting on the bed rather than perching on it like an animal. The growl moved deeper into his chest and some of the electricity in the room dissipated.

“What the hell was that?” Beau demanded, standing now and rubbing the back of his head.

“You… can’t… touch that,” Wolfram said, the words coming out so slowly, as if he was learning how to speak for the first time.

“You can’thitme!” Beau countered. “All that over a watch?”

When Wolfram opened his eyes, they werehis eyesagain: golden yes, but with that human understanding that was all Wolfram.

“I hit you?”

* * *

Wolfram workedto put the pieces of himself back together as he stared at Beau.

He stood at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips. It was remarkable how a man so small could command the room in bare feet and a stretched-out sweater.

He’d hit Beau? How? When?

“You did, and you scared me so bad I hit my head on the fucking floor,” Beau said, slinging the words at him. “What’swrongwith you?”

“I didn’t mean—the watch—Beau, I’m so sorry,” Wolfram said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—God, I’d never want to hurt you. I was frightened when I saw you with the watch—it’s so dangerous—and it justtook over.Christ, I’m sorry, Beau.”

Beau softened and he dropped his stance. “I forgive you, Wolf.”

“You’re a fool then,” Wolfram said. “You don’t have any idea—“

He knew he was babbling, but a desperate fear overtook him as reality sank in. It wasn’t the life-or-death fear that he’d felt a moment before but instead the miserable nightmare of whatcould havehappened. He hadn’t been in control. He’d hurt Beau, but it could’ve been so much worse.

“Jesus, I could’ve killed you,” he said, feeling exhausted, feeling every muscle in his body go slack. He held his head in his hands, pressing the tips of his claws into his scalp just enough to feel them, to remind himself of the monster he was.

Beau had made him feel sohuman. For a moment he’d forgotten.

“I know you wouldn’t have hurt me,” Beau insisted.

He’d stepped forward to lay a hand on Wolfram’s shoulder. He reallywasa fool if he was willing to get so close to Wolfram now.

“Do you?” Wolfram asked, looking up and searching Beau’s eyes. “I certainly don’t.”

“Youwouldn’t.”

“How could you think you know what I’m capable of?”

“Because you pour tea and study Rumi—“

“I have fangs and horns—“

“And a collection of butterflies and a penchant for wildflowers,” Beau said, interrupting him. “You’re a peculiar man, Wolf, but you’re a man nonetheless and I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“You have no proof of that.”

Beau hitched a shoulder. It seemed that their argument had drained all of the anger out of him.

“I can’t prove a negative,” Beau admitted. “But I have faith in you.”

There was a knock at the door and the two of them froze.

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