Page 34 of Wicked Beasts
“Don’t worry about it.”
The voice is warm and smooth, a kind of effortless charm that immediately pulls my attention. I look up, meeting the gaze of a tall, dark-skinned local with sun-kissed, wavy hair. His smileis easy, disarming, and his green eyes catch mine with a spark of playfulness. He’s wearing a loose shirt, the sleeves cut off to reveal the muscles beneath.
I quickly brush the crumbs from my lips, feeling flustered as I glance at Gisella, who’s nearly finished with her own cookie, blissfully unaware of the effect this stranger has on me.
“We’re performing next weekend at the Village Market,” he says, holding up a flyer. “There’s food trucks, craft and retail vendors, a beer garden, and—” he pauses, giving me a slight grin that makes my heart skip a beat, “live music by yours truly. See you there? I’ll forgive you for bumping into me.”
Before I can respond, Gisella snatches the flyer from his hand, practically glowing with excitement. “We’ll be there,” she says eagerly.
His grin widens, and he gives me a lingering glance before nodding. “Looking forward to seeing you both there.” The smoothness of his voice remains in the air like the echo of a song, and for a moment, I’m caught off guard. His confidence is almost intoxicating, and I can’t help but wonder what his voice would sound like singing live.
He steps back, effortlessly weaving through the crowd as if he’s a part of the rhythm of the place, not bumping into anyone as he goes. With a playful salute, he disappears into the mall, and Gisella bursts into giggles beside me.
“He was so handsome,” she says, fanning herself with the flyer as she latches on to my arm again. “And he was totally attracted to you.”
I smirk, trying to hide it behind my cookie, though a small part of me feels the flutter of attention in a way I don’t often allow myself to acknowledge. It’s nice—just for a moment—to feel seen bysomeone, especially since Tristan would prefer to ignore my existence, and I’m still not sure what to think of myinteraction with Dr. Shadow. At least for now, I can distract myself with something else.
Or someone else.
I glance back over my shoulder, but the mysterious stranger is gone.
Twenty-Nine
Afew hours later, we’re back at the mansion, and the stranger is nothing but a forgotten memory tucked away in the dark crevices of my mind.
Gisella and I are in the library as she asks me about my favorite authors. I’m engrossed in the books I’ve pulled from the shelves, and due to her own boredom, she notices Tristan’s entrance long before I do.
“I don’t know why you asked if you don’t actually care,” I say, looking up at her, but her eyes are focused on something else.
I shift my gaze to follow hers. Stiffening my posture, I return my attention to the anthology I have cradled in my arms.
He lingers toward the back of the library, strolling between the imposing bookcases that tower like walls, his eyes fixated on the shelves overhead, shelves I’d need the ladder to reach. I can see his shadow dancing on the floor before he rounds the corner, slowly making his way toward us. He crosses his arms defensively, his eyes watching me from behind his glasses.
“Miss Amara, may I speak with you?” he asks finally, his gaze shifting to Gisella for a moment. “Privately?”
“Of course, Mr. Black,” Gisella says as she swiftly turns away and his eyes fixate on me again. Her hand gently squeezes my elbow as she steps toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”
My breath hitches as I watch her blonde hair disappear, the door shutting behind her. Slowly and deliberately, I return my attention to Tristan, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Black?” I ask as I close the book, though I’m not sure what to expect. We haven’t spoken much, and he’s avoided me as best he could since I asked about Dr. Shadow. My heart begins to quicken as his brother floods my thoughts. I can feel the heat between my legs as the ghost of his touch kisses my skin. I can’t think about this right now.
I hug the anthology tightly against my chest, like I’m trying to create a barrier between us, something to protect me from his coldness.
“I wanted to apologize,” he says, his voice low, almost reverent. My heart skips, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness in his tone. His hazel eyes, luminous and molten beneath the gleam of his glasses, hold me captive. “As it turns out, my…brotherhas been a little more social recently.” He says the word like it’s foreign in his mouth, like it doesn’t belong there, like he shouldn’t be saying it out loud, like he’d do anything to not say it again. His voice hardens, a flicker of resolve taking root. “I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of you. I won’t do it again.”
Tristan turns away from me, breaking the intense eye contact between us. We haven’t held eye contact like that—ever—and I definitely would have remembered.
A strange unease tightens in my chest as he speaks again, his voice measured but with an undercurrent of something darker buried just beneath the surface.
“I fear my attempts at maintaining professional distance may have caused you to feel…unwelcome. Or perhaps apprehensiveor unsettled?” His words seem carefully chosen, each one deliberate, as if weighing whether to reveal something more than he intends. “You deserve to feel at home here. I apologize if he—or I—made you uncomfortable in any way.”
“You’re my boss, not my friend,” I reply, the words almost sounding like a challenge, though I’m unsure what exactly I’m challenging.
He doesn’t flinch. Instead, a faint flicker of something—perhaps amusement or regret—passes over his face, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I wouldn’t really consider myself yourboss,” he murmurs, his voice softening, as though to make the line drawn between us even more blurred, even more fragile. The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but he doesn’t. Before I can reply, before I can even gather my thoughts, he shifts the conversation with unnerving abruptness. "Have you seen him recently?" His voice has darkened again, like a shadow slipping between us. The shadow of his brother.
I shake my head.
