Page 24 of The Beast's Baby
His head snapped to her, then back so that he could keep his focus on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel as though she was making him self-conscious.
Good.
“Were you preparing to have sex with me before you found the note from Olive?” she clarified the question. “Hmh?” she prompted. “Were you?” she asked, moving in her seat to lean closer to him and he gave her a look to stay back, as though he believed she might actually attack him.
She smiled then.
Wolfish and challenging.
Because she had her answer.
“What else was I supposed to do?” he asked. “I would’ve gotten fired. And you… I mean, they would’ve… sent a wolf in to… persuade you.”
“To violate me,” she corrected. “To rape me.”
“Yes,” he said. “Okay, yes. And that’s why I got you the fuck out of there.”
“No, you got me the fuck out because of Olive. You didn’t listen to what I wanted. You were too caught up in your little Savior God complex or whatever. You thought that the ends justified the means, and I was just a fucking means to an end. Admit it!”
She hadn’t meant to, but she exclaimed the last so loudly that there was a growl behind every word. It scared him, the car swerving once, twice, before he stepped on the brakes.
The car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the deserted road, pine trees standing sentinel on either side forming an impenetrable sort of darkness that felt about ready to swallow them and the car whole. They’d disappear without a trace. Their only source of light was the headlights of the car and the swatch of the world it revealed in front of them. The sky was pitch black, the stars incredibly tiny, cold and too far away to illuminate anything.
He was breathing hard, as though he was fighting against what she was asking of him. As though the confession was painful, exhausting. As it should be.
“I admit it,” he finally said, voice lowered.
He wouldn’t look at her.
“Admit what?” she asked.
“I didn’t listen to what you wanted,” he said slowly, “because I thought the ends justified the means. I thought we were going to save people’s lives. I thought what are the few against the many?”
She glared at him. He met her gaze and, at first, there was softness there. It was gentle and warm, coaxing her to calm. She wouldn’t, and soon he began to mirror her glare. “Haven’t you ever cared deeply about something?” he challenged. “Haven’t you ever believed wholeheartedly that what you were doing was right?”
“No, I haven’t,” she snapped, growing defensive.
She didn’t want to talk about her lack of conviction.
“Never?” he asked, the softness back and disturbingly soothing.
“I haven’t had much occasion to believe,” she said. “Alright? I didn’t grow up with that sort of mindset. I wasn’t taught it. I’ve never…”
She didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
She’d never encountered so many things.
He was quiet for a moment, as though mulling it over, then said, “I’ve never left work early.”
She stared at him, raising her eyebrows. It sounded like a confession. Was he serious?
“I’ve never hidden from wolves in my car,” he stated, making her eyebrows dip into a frown as this was clearly him in confession mode. Was this meant to make her feel better? That he’d never…too? “I’ve never not done as I was told,” he declared, eyes on hers, the intensity of those green eyes of his stealing her breath, and she swallowed.
His expression was borderline cajoling. It was a game—he wanted her to play.
She didn’t want to bend. She wanted to remain aggravated, and on the fence, and not pretend that this was anything more than what it was. But…
“I’ve never…” she began, the look in his eyes changing into encouragement at her acceptance. “I’ve never flown in a hot air balloon,” she said.
