Page 26 of Wicked Beasts
I fetch a glass from the cabinet and pull the refrigerator open.
A knock comes with a low thud, heavy and foreboding, reverberating through the air like a warning bell as it startles me fully awake. I feel an unsettling awareness of the presence at the doorway behind me. When I turn around, a figure lingers in the entrance, one who wasn’t there only a few seconds ago.
“Oh!God.” I put my hand over my heart as I breathe a sigh of relief and immediately place the still-empty glass on the counter before I drop it.
“Not quite.” His voice is low and seductive, stretching the words as they leave his lips.
“You scared me,” I admit.
He leans casually against the swinging door, a striking figure, exuding a magnetic charm I find impossible to ignore. He has dark hair, tousled just enough to look effortless, a strong jawline dusted with a rugged scruff that adds an air of danger to his handsomeness. He dons a black dress shirt, the top buttons undone to reveal a hint of his sculpted chest while the fabric of his sleeves, rolled up to his elbows, are taut against the muscular swell of his forearms. His piercing eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine, both inviting and intimidating.
As he pushes off the door, a confident, mischievous smile curls at the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Miss Rose,” he says, his voice smooth and low.
I feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle. The way he pronounced the words lingers long after he speaks, as if he knows the effect he has on me and relishes in it. He steps into the kitchen, and I feel intoxicated by the scent of sandalwood filling the air. There’s a subtle danger in his demeanor—something unpredictable yet exhilarating. It mingles with my sleepiness, and his gaze softens momentarily before sharpening again with a smoldering intensity.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his confidence almost arrogant. It’s both alluring and disarming as he walks past me to the bar to pour himself a drink from a liquor shelf next to me. It’s the kind of invitation that feels like a dare, enticing me to step into something thrilling without knowing where it leads.
I pivot my feet as I turn, my body facing him always as I tug at the hem of my sleep shirt, realizing I am not wearing shorts.
“I thought I met everyone who lived here?—”
“Dante,” he says simply, stepping closer to me, the space between us shrinking. His imposing stance towering over me sends a chill coursing through my veins. “But most call me Dr. Shadow.” He hands me a glass of whiskey, and my fingers brushagainst his. The fleeting touch of bare skin sends a dizzying rush throughout my body, like the first breath after nearly drowning.
It’s so deliberate and sensuous, leaving me momentarily breathless.
Dr. Shadow, I consider and tilt my head slightly as I mull over my thoughts.Dr. Shadow. The one Mrs. Wong and Mortimer were worried about. The one standing outside of my bedroom.
The man Gisella mentioned—Tristan’solderbrother—and she wasn’t lying. He looks enough like him, alotlike him, but somehow, also everything he isn’t. He is confident, ruggedly handsome, andseductive, exuding some kind of carnal energy that draws me in like a moth to a flame. It honestly doesn’t feel quite natural, but I’ve been on the brink of falling for weeks. The mingle of exhaustion, frustration, and unstoked desire have apparently primed me for this man.
“Is it because you…only come out at night?” I say awkwardly with a smile, trying to cut through the thick air between us. He smirks with a knowing glint in his eyes, and my heart flutters. I quickly take a swig of the whiskey and shut my eyes as it burns the back of my throat and all the way down.
“Something like that.” His voice, smooth and rich, wraps me in an unfamiliar heat. As his gaze lowers, it feels as if he’s savoring every detail of my body, his eyes tracing each curve, sparking an excitement deep within me. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing? Beautiful women shouldn’t be wandering about alone at night. You don’t know what kind of dangers are lurking in the darkness.”
My face flushes. I’m currently grateful for that darkness.
“Are you the reason there’s a curfew?” I tease, a playful yet sad attempt at banter as I place the glass beside my water cup.
“Yes.”
His voice sends a shiver down my spine, a cold whisper that tightens my jaw in discomfort. Yet, beneath that chill lies a bewildering intrigue, pulling me deeper.
Dr. Shadow draws nearer, trapping me between his imposing body and the counter behind me. My breath catches in my throat as he reaches to brush a few strands of hair from my cheek, his coarse fingertips brush against my skin as he caresses my jaw. He coaxes me to look up at him.
“Miss Rose,” he says in a low, husky rumble. He turns his hand and glides the back of his fingers down the front of my neck, lingering near my collarbone, his gaze following. His touch makes me weak. “I’ve heard a lot about you—Tristan’slittleassistant.”
“Th—that’s—ri—right,” I stammer as he lifts his intense gaze to meet mine.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks, but by his tone, he already knows the answer. “I’ve been soeagerto meet you.”
My breath hitches as his fingers trace the neckline of my thin sleep shirt.
“We—I—um—” I can’t form a proper sentence. I can hardly form a proper thought. My heartbeat quickens as he leans closer. The warm desire inside me mixes with a thin, icy thread of fear, and it thrills me.
“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, his hot breath on my neck as his strong hands find my hips, caressing just beneath the hem line as he hikes up my shirt.
I can’t.
He squeezes my waist.
