Page 43 of The Beast Between Us
His eyes sharpen, the storm behind them rising for a beat before softening. “You don’t have to be,” he says. “Not here. Not while I’m breathing.”
I shift my weight, hesitating…ashamed of the words building on my tongue, but unable to swallow them down.
“I know it’s… improper,” I say softly, “and I won’t ask it of you again, but…could I… sleep in your room tonight?”
His head jerks up, startled. “What?”
“Just to sleep,” I add quickly, cheeks burning. “It’s just… I feel safe when you’re near. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
He doesn’t speak at first. He just stares at me like he’s searching for something beneath my skin. My heartbeat stumbles.
Then, with a slow exhale, he rises to his feet, towering but gentle.
“You can,” he says, voice rougher than usual. “If it helps. You can.”
His eyes shift ever so slightly, glinting in the candlelight. Not beast, but not entirely man either. Emotion swirls behind them. Confusion. Affection. Longing. Something deeper he won’t name.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods once, then offers his hand…not as a command, but an invitation.
And I take it.
“You will sleep in my bed,” he says, already turning toward his chambers. “And I’ll take the chair.”
“Oh no,” I protest. “I couldn’t possibly take your bed from you.”
“There is no debate, Ella,” he says, softer now. “You’ve endured enough tonight. You need rest. Proper rest.”
I open my mouth to argue, but stop. There’s no command in his voice. Only protectiveness. And something else. Something heavier.
“Alright,” I whisper.
He nods once and silently leads me into his chamber. The room is warm, lit by the low flicker of firelight. The bed, massive and carved from rich, aged wood, is draped in soft blankets and deep pillows that practically glow in the amber light.
Thorne steps forward and carefully folds back the covers, then turns and gestures for me to lie down.
I climb in slowly, settling against the pillows. They smell like cedar and something faintly smoky. Like the woods after rain. Like him.
He tugs the blanket over me with hands that are far too gentle for claws, and I watch in silence as he retreats to the fireside. He lowers himself into the chair with a groan, resting one elbow on the armrest, his jaw tight.
I stare at him through the golden light and can’t hold the question in any longer.
“Thorne…” My voice is quiet, but he lifts his head. “Why do you care so much?”
He blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“Why do you stay close when I scream in my sleep? Why do you protect me the way you do?” I sit up slightly, the blanket slipping from my shoulder. “Why do you look at me like I matter?”
His eyes flare…just faintly…and then dim again as he looks back at the fire.
He doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches so long, I start to think he won’t speak at all.
But then…
“Because you do,” he says, voice rough. “You matter. More than you should.”
I swallow, heart hammering in my chest.
