Page 14 of Falling for the Beast

The sensation lightened, and tingles started taking the place of the warmth. She felt a pressure on her forehead. Unsure of what was happening, Aribelle stayed still. Was she in the hospital? Or was this what dying felt like?

No, she wasn’t dying. The pain was gone, but she was fully aware of her body. Aware of someone else with her. He screamed, a primal kind of sound, and she knew who it was. Thaddeus. The pressure eased and she suddenly felt drowsy. Too sleepy to stay awake. Her consciousness faded and she passed out.

When she was once again aware of herself, she blinked, trying to remember what had happened. It was dim. Too dark to be daytime. Had she slept all day? She slowly sat up, the car crash coming back to her. Her hand flew to her head, but she felt no injury. No scabs. Nothing. Only the crusty feeling of dried blood. Her chest was fine as well. She looked around, wondering where she was.

And then she saw him. Thaddeus lay on the floor beside her in a pool of blood. She stifled a scream and put her hand on his shoulder. “Thaddeus? What happened?”

A jagged gash across his forehead oozed blood. The top of his skull was bashed in as if he had been the one driving without his seatbelt. She would have thought he was dead, except his shoulders moved slightly up and down as he took in a breath.

The facts swirled around in her head. She’d been in a terrible accident and hit the windshield. Yet, she had no injuries. Her shirt was soaked in blood, though. Thaddeus had come for her. She remembered hearing him. Why did he look like he’d been the one in the accident?

Unless…

Had he somehow healed her? And if so, had he taken her injuries upon himself? How could that be? And yet, here he was in front of her. She was whole. And he was…

Fear ignited in her chest. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? It had been careless to drive without her seatbelt. And even stupider to be going so fast. And now look at what the consequences were. Thaddeus had healed her, but at what cost? Why had he done it? She was the hired help. He should have left her.

But he didn’t. A wave of compassion filled her. He’d put himself through this…for her.

She had no idea what to do for him. She couldn’t call an ambulance. He was—well she didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t human. She remembered how he’d reacted when she’d mentioned the hospital last time. And now she knew why. It wasn’t an option.

She’d witnessed him heal extraordinarily fast. Would he heal from this as well? It didn’t look like it was possible, and yet, she would think it impossible that he was even alive. His shoulders rose again with another breath and she stood, not wanting to sit there and stare at him.

Unsure of what else to do, she grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned up the blood from his face, then cleaned the floor. She didn’t want to move him, nor did she think herself capable, so she carefully slid a pillow under his head and covered him with the woolen blanket from the closet. Then she curled up on the floor beside him and prayed he would heal.

Every hour she checked him. Cleaned up more blood. Gave him sips of water from a glass, and made sure his injuries didn’t look infected. In the early hours of the morning, she fell asleep beside him. The next time she awoke the sun was up. She turned to find his eyes open, and he was staring at her.

“Thaddeus.” She scrambled to sit up. His skull looked normal again, and she gasped. “Are you okay?” She reached out to touch his head and he grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t.”

The harshness of his voice startled her, and she shrank back from him. He released her wrist, the severity fading from his eyes. “It’s not healed yet.”

He tried to roll over, and pain flashed across his face.

“Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”

He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then rest.”

He closed his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She watched him breathing for a few moments. As she pondered what she was going to say to him, a hint of a smile played on his lips. “You snore,” he said.

“What?” Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I do not!”

He chuckled and then winced at the pain.

“Stop it. You’ll hurt yourself.”

He sighed and threaded his fingers, placing them on his stomach. Her back hurt from sleeping on the floor, and she stretched. “Can you eat?”

“Not hungry.”

She curled her legs under her. “Mind if I eat breakfast?”

His eyes opened. “Please do.”

She busied herself in the kitchen, making herself a bowl of cereal and then cleaning up the dishes he’d dirtied over the weekend. She checked on him again, but he looked to be asleep. That was good, right? He seemed to heal faster when he slept. She crept upstairs and showered to get the grunge from yesterday off her. She put her jeans back on but borrowed one of his hooded sweatshirts to replace her bloody sweater.

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