Page 19 of Falling for the Beast

He put his hand on her back, consoling her. She turned and slid her arms around him, breathing in the smell of him. He pulled her closer, and her heart raced. “Sorry, I won’t call you that if it bothers you,” he whispered, his cheek against her hair.

“It’s okay, really,” she managed to say. “I don’t mind. I like it.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Yes.”

He released her and she instantly missed his strong arms around her. What was wrong with her? All she wanted to do was stay in his embrace. She turned back to the stove and poured out the last of the batter, getting better control of herself.

He opened a cupboard and pulled out the maple syrup. “Breakfast smells good.”

“Thanks.”

After they were sitting at the table, she decided to try to get more answers. He was opening up to her, and she was hoping he would continue to do so. “Can I ask you another question?”

He looked at her warily but slowly nodded, lifting a forkful of pancake to his mouth.

“Have you always been able to heal others?”

He swallowed and didn’t meet her gaze. “No.”

She waited to see if he would expand on that, but he didn’t. He did, however, eat with gusto.

“You’ve gotten your appetite back.”

“These are good. I thought you couldn’t cook.” His lips curled into a smile.

She ducked her head. “I found a mix. Just add water.”

He laughed, the deep sound reverberating through her. “Figures. Still good, though.” He put another forkful in his mouth.

She held off on the questions for a while, finishing her breakfast. When it looked like he was about to get up, she blurted, “Did you pull my car door off?”

His gaze dropped. “It wouldn’t open.”

He hadn’t denied it. But he hadn’t said yes, either. “So you yanked it off?”

“I had to get you out.”

He wasn’t admitting to it directly, and frustration welled in her. “You have super-human strength?”

He stood suddenly, his chair scraping the hardwood floor and then toppling over. “No,” he said, his voice raised. “Not super-human. Not human at all.” His green eyes held fury and he stormed out of the room.

Aribelle ran after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face her. “You’re not a monster.”

“You don’t know what I am. What I’ve done.” His eyes burned.

She matched his intense gaze. “Then tell me.”

“No!” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll hate me.”

“I have no idea why I would hate—”

“I killed a man,” he interrupted. The anger melted from his face and guilt replaced it. He swallowed and took a step back from her. “I’m a murderer.”

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