Page 24 of Wicked Beasts
I know I’m not supposed to leave my room so late at night, but I can’t help myself. I haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Part of me feels like a creep, peering at him through my window and now racing to the kitchen to try to catch him, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I just need to talk to him. I need to make sure everything is okay between us or, at the very least, find out if I have crossed some kind of boundary.
My heart is pounding so loudly, I can hear the beat in my eardrums, concealing any other noises that might encourage me to turn around and scurry back to my room.
I fling open the side door and step outside. The cool air nips at my face as a gust of wind ruffles my hair. I brush away the tangled tendrils trying to muddle my vision as I hurry down the stone steps, barely seeing the whites of his collared shirt disappearing into the woods.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
My breath hitches in my throat, and I nearly leap out of my skin when Manu steps in front of me. Where did he even come from? His face is obscured by the darkness, his beard looking like a tangle of decaying foliage in the night. I can see the whitesof his eyes and make out just enough from his expression to notice the glare on his face.
I start to point toward the gnarled forest with my thumb as I turn my body awkwardly. “I was just—where is Tristan going?” I ask.
Manu frowns at me, his scowl surfacing as the crease between his brows deepens. “None of your concern,” he says in a low, guttural growl that only strokes my curiosity further as he tries to redirect me back into the house.
“But—” I try to slip away from him, and he grabs hold of my arm, his grip tight and strong. “Where is he going?” I ask in protest, his grip feeling like he’ll dislocate my arm if I don’t comply. “Why has he been acting so strange?”
“None of your concern,girl.”
“I am not a girl!” It sounds peevish coming out of my mouth, which makes me even more frustrated.
“No?” His voice is so deep and loud, I instinctively take a step back, as though the word struck me physically. “Because you’re certainly behaving like a child.” He opens the side door that leads into the kitchen. “Get back in the house now—if you know what’s good for you.” He delivers his words like a warning that chills me to my bones. Still, there’s an unsettling feeling deep within me I cannot shake. I harden my expression, ready to defend myself, when he shoves me inside and slams the door behind me.
Fuming with rage, I tighten my fists at my sides before striking the door hard with my hand. “What is wrong with everyone in this house!” I snap, a storm of irritation brewing within me.
“Is something the matter, Miss Amara?” Mortimer asks, and I spin around to see him standing in the kitchen doorway, most of him obscured by the darkness with the exception of his face and neck and the hand holding onto a candlestick illuminatingthe ghostly paleness of his cheek. “You shouldn’t be out of your room, especially not outside.”
Yeah, Manu made that quite clear.
I want to demand answers from him. Force him to talk to me. To tell me what is going on. I feel like the butt of a cruel joke everyone else is in on but me. I can feel the blood rushing to my face as my cheeks grow hot, but no words slip from my mouth. I have nothing to say. I know he won’t give me any of the answers I search for.
I don’t even know if I want to know. I only manage to rake my fingers through my tangled mess of brown hair and return to my room, shaking my head dismissively.
Twenty
Nothing changes over the next two weeks—nothing except my resolve. I spend more time on my phone texting Kehau and a few other friends than I do working on my novel or socializing with the other employees. I feel a growing disconnect between me and this space. Even in my room, whose original macabre beauty was once exhilarating, now feels heavy with secrets it doesn’t want to tell me, secrets the walls whisper and quiet when I draw near.
I don’t feel like I belong here, and while the pay is good, is it worth the cost of my self-esteem?
You don’t have to stay there, you know
You can quit
I want to. I want to tell her Iwantto leave, that Tristan is a horrible boss and everyone is so unfriendly, but I can’t bring myself to type it. Because are they really? Or are they just a littlestrange? Not the usual you come across in Hawai’i. My emotions and my logic are constantly at war with each other. How silly would it be to quit, all because my employer…what—leaves me alone? Because he doesn’t want to socialize with me? Becausehe…doesn’tlikeme in the way I would like? Because I feel…sad? How silly to react on the affections of my heart. Feelings can be fleeting, as can moments. I wouldn’t feel this way if I wasn’t attracted to him. I wouldn’t be taking everything so personally.
Why did he have to be so charming? And so elusive…
My phone vibrates again. My brows furrow as I notice the name when I tilt my phone.
Why isTuckertexting me?
Hey Mar—how ya been?
I stare at the text notification.
I hate that. I hate when people reach out—people I haven’t spoken to in a while—and don’t just tell me from the start what they want and why they’re contacting me. I would like to have all the information upfront before I choose whether or not to respond. I immediately feel like I’m being baited, annoyance creeping in and crawling across my neck. They bait you with small talk and trap you with emotions as soon as they know they have your attention.
Tucker is an ex-boyfriend. Or—not exactly. An ex-something.
