Page 54 of Wicked Beasts
“Amara…”
A voice calls to me, soft and distant.
“Amara Rose….”
The words barely rise above a whisper, but the wind seems to carry the tune, weaving around me like a haunting lullaby. Her voice envelops me, a delicate serenade that lingers in the air, tugging at something deep. It’s a voice at the very distant edge of comfort, but an unsettling feeling remains twisted in my stomach that something isn’t quite right.
“Amara…”
In the blink of an eye, she’s at the window, her pale hand brushing my cheek. Her mesmerizing blue eyes lock on to mine, sharp and unwavering, as though she can see straight into the hidden corners of my soul, unearthing the secrets I thought were buried for no one to find. She’s very beautiful and yet somehow ordinary at the same time. High cheekbones, an upturned nose, and the sharpest of eyes, but I wouldn’t be able to pick her from a crowd.
“Such a beauty… You care for him, don’t you?” she asks, her voice a haunting melody, echoing the faint call that reached me before.
“Who?” I reply without thinking, the word slipping from my lips.
“Thebeast,” she whispers. Though her tone remains soft and lyrical, there’s an icy edge to her words that sends a shiver down my spine.
Her hands, cold and delicate, slip into mine, pulling me gently out of the window, urging me into the darkness beyond her.
The woods. Lovely woods, dark and deep.
“Don’t worry,” she soothes as I climb over the windowsill. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
My feet find the rosebush below. Somewhere, I’m conscious of the thorns cutting into my soles, but I register no pain as she leads me into the shadows of the forest. She walks beside me, her presence a quiet comfort, her hand gently brushing strands of my dark hair from my face as if in admiration—or jealousy.
Who are you?I want to ask, but the words can’t seem to find the strength to leave my throat. The question is trapped in my mouth. From my own fear or the force of her power, I can’t be sure.
Her cold fingers lace with mine, her touch soft as she traces a line down my arm with delicate strokes. “I think you’re falling in love,” she says, her voice smooth and gentle, as if the words are nothing more than an observation. She meets my gaze with her piercing ocean eyes, searching for any sign of acknowledgment. I try to keep my expression neutral, but she catches the flicker, and a small, knowing smirk tugs at her lips.
“Who? Tristan?” I scoff, the words coming out too quickly. “I barely know him.”
She laughs then, low and wicked—not quite a cackle, but throaty and rich with disbelief. She doesn’t believe me. “Darling Amara… Naive Amara… You know him far better than youthink.” She stops suddenly, her hand tightening its grip on mine. “Think,” she says again, stronger, a challenge in her voice.
I begin to shake my head, my eyes never leaving hers.
“I don’t—what do you mean?”
She loosens her grip and lets our hands drop between us as she leads me further into the darkness, her steps fluid and knowing, careful not to trip on wild roots, while I stumble to keep up.
“You read, do you not?” she asks, a faint edge of condescension in her tone, though I can’t help but wonder if it’s just my own insecurity clouding my perception.
“Yes, I read,” I bite back, the words sharp on my tongue. “I write, too.”
She responds with a daring smile, her eyes still glinting with defiance, as if urging me to speak again. I get the sense she knows she’s hit a nerve, and it clearly amuses her.
“Oh, a writer. How…quaint,” she says, her tone laced with judgment. I furrow my brows, scrutinizing her expression as she scrutinizes me. “So you’re a romantic.”
I stiffen slightly. I want to pull away from her icy touch, but I can’t seem to.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” I say.
“No?” She phrases it like a question, but she doesn’t believe me. “Do you not dream and fantasize about being ravished and adored by the master of Black manor?”
My face flushes with embarrassment. How could she possibly know that? Is she toying with me, waiting for me to slip? I feel like I’m being tested.
“Are you C?” I finally force the words out of my mouth.
Her smirk widens into a full grin, and she throws her head back, laughing loudly. The sound bounces off the gnarled, skeletal trees, echoing through the forest, a sharp, unsettling cackle that hangs in the air long after it fades. Soon enough, shetilts her chin down and gazes at me, her eyes remaining an icy bright glow in the darkness.
