Page 51 of The Beast Between Us
He huffs a shaky breath against my shoulder, and I swear I feel the storm of war still raging inside him.
“I’m not afraid of you, Beast. I never was.”
Another whimper. His body presses tighter against mine as if needing the contact just as badly as I do.
“But I can’t lose Thorne. I won’t. I love your teeth and your fur, your strength, and your loyalty. But I need his voice, his arms. I need the way he looks at me when I speak too much. I need his stubbornness, his warmth, his… humanity.”
I draw in a shaky breath, burying my face against his neck.
“You can’t exist without him. Not really. And he can’t exist without you. You’re not enemies. You’re halves of the same whole. I don’t want a broken man or a caged beast. I want all of you.”
His breathing changes, becomes uneven, heavier. The massive body beside me trembles.
“I know you’re scared,” I whisper. “So am I. But please, come back. Both of you.”
The wolf lets out a low, guttural noise. Not a growl.
A sound of pain.
Of conflict.
Then he goes still again, chest rising and falling in short, rapid bursts, his claws twitching against the dirt.
He’s fighting.
And this time, he’s not fighting me.
He’s fightingforme.
And I know it.
“Can’t you feel him, Beast?” I whisper, pressing my hand to his side, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath fur and flesh. “He’s not your enemy. He’syou.Just like you are him. Stop fighting each other. You’re tearing yourselves apart.”
The wolf growls low. Not at me, but at something unseen. Inside.
“I know you’re scared,” I continue, softer now, curling into him despite the night’s chill and the ache in my battered limbs. “He’s scared, too. You’re both afraid of hurting me. Of losing control. But don’t you see? I trust you. Both of you. With everything I am.”
His massive chest rises and falls, shaking with restraint. I slide my fingers along the side of his muzzle.
“Thorne,” I breathe. “Come back to me.Please.You don’t have to be just a man or just a beast. Be both. Be mine.”
The wind hushes. The forest sounds vanish.
And then…
A violent shudder ripples through the wolf’s body.
He jerks away from me, teeth bared in a soundless snarl. Claws dig into the earth. His body contorts, muscles shifting beneath fur like waves beneath a blanket.
“Shhh…” I whisper, crawling toward him on my scraped knees. “You’re not alone.”
He howls. Not loud. Not angry. Just a heart-deep, broken cry of confusion and pain.
I reach for him anyway.
“I’m here,” I say, touching his face. “I’m not leaving.”
And this time… he lets me.
