Page 19 of Wicked Beasts
The day stretches before me like a shadowy specter, moving both slowly and swiftly in a disorienting dance. Each hour drags on yet somehow slips through my fingers like smoke. As I await our time together, I try to immerse myself in my writing on my laptop in the library. But no matter how hard I concentrate, I manage only a few terrible sentences while the cursor mocks me endlessly.
With a sigh, I finally type a paragraph, only to delete it moments later, the words vanishing like they were never there at all. My heart races as I glance at the clock, its hands ticking away. Realization strikes—time has cruelly betrayed me. I hurriedly shut my laptop, the sound of the screenclosing echoing in the silence, and dash to my room, urgency thrumming in my veins.
It’s almost time.
I struggle to suppress my excitement as I approach my wardrobe.
While I know this isn’t a date, the urge to wear something that might catch his interest is undeniable. I want to strike a balance—I don’t want to overdo it or seem too eager.
After a moment’s hesitation, I settle on a black and burgundy plaid mini pinafore dress, layered over a black, textured mesh, long-sleeve, high-neck top, complemented by fishnet leggings. It’s a playful yet subtle ensemble, just the right mix to intrigue without revealing too much. I see myself as fairly creative, emotional, even impulsive at times; the more I glimpse of Tristan, the more I find his steady dedication to science grounding. No matter how hard I try, I can’t help but be impressed by the glimpses of his work I see—his meticulous thoughtfulness and tenacious determination to find answers to whatever seemingly unanswerable problem he’s facing… How could I not find that attractive? Why shouldn’t I want to put a little extra effort into my appearance around him?
As I slip it on, the fabric clings to my form in all the right places, accentuating my curves in a way that feels both playful and seductive. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging above my writing desk, the light casting soft shadows across my skin. I run my fingers through my long, brown hair, letting it cascade in loose waves like a dark halo framing my face.
I decide on delicate silver earrings that glimmer like stars against my hair, adding a touch of sparkle. My heart races as I fasten a simple silver bracelet, its cool touch grounding me in the moment. I sit down on my plush bed and pull on my black platform boots to give me a little more height and decrease the space between us. With a final glance in the mirror, I straightenmy posture, drawing in a steadying breath. The anticipation beats within me like a dark melody, and I feel ready to step into the afternoon I will be spending with the one and only Tristan Black.
I stroll through the hallways, lit only by the flickering sunlight seeping through the cracks of the heavy curtains as I search the manor for Tristan. I spot him in his study, standing at his desk, flipping through the pages of what appears to be an old journal.
I lift my hand and gently rap my knuckles against the door.
He looks up almost immediately.
“Oh, hello—I was just packing my things,” he says, a smile crossing his lips as he shuts the journal and places it in the desk drawer. “What is it you would like to do this afternoon?”
“Perhaps we could go for a walk?” I suggest, using my thumb to point at the front door as I linger in the doorway. “I haven’t had the chance to really explore the grounds, but they seem rather extensive. Maybe you could show me around? Manu doesn’t seem like he likes me very much. Otherwise, I would ask him.”
In his typical crewneck and jeans, Tristan only smiles as he moves around the desk. The way it pulls into his cheeks makes my knees weak. “It would be my pleasure.” As he comes closer, my breath hitches in my throat. His gaze drops, taking in my outfit. “You look lovely.”
My face grows hot.
“Thank you,” I say quietly before I trail after him toward the front door.
Outside, the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, the vibrant colors seeming to twist into something sinister. The lush foliage, normally bright and inviting, takes on a darker hue, the deep greens mingling with shadows that stretch like skeletal fingers across the ground.There’s a golden beam over the front steps, and as I lift my gaze to meet his, the sunlight makes his hazel eyes shine with life of their own.
I quickly turn away as I watch my feet descend the stairs, careful not to trip. “So, how come your afternoon suddenly opened up?” I ask as I briefly glance his way, unable to make eye contact.
“I had a study group that got canceled,” he says simply, his voice smooth and easy to listen to.
“Oh, lucky me,” I say sincerely as I glance over at him. Yet, he studies me with that same intensity, as though he’s trying to catch me in a lie. He always looks at me like he expects dishonesty. I quickly place my hand over my heart. “Not sarcasm, I promise.”
He tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his beautiful hazel eyes. “Why is it you wish to spend time with me, Miss Amara?”
I can’t help but smile at his insistence on calling meMiss Amara. The way he talks so formally and utters my name sends a delightful, enticing shiver down my spine, infusing the name with a warmth Mrs. Wong or Mortimer could never summon. In his voice, it transforms from a mere title into something intimate.
“You fascinate me,” I confess, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird as I look up toward the sky. It deepens into a bruised purple, clouds gathering ominously overhead, but rain is common in the valley. “And you worry me a little.”
“Fascinate?Worry? That’s an interesting choice of words,” he replies, a spark of amusement playing on the corners of his mouth. I notice him wet his lips with a slow, deliberate motion of his tongue, causing my breath to hitch. I quickly avert my gaze.
“Well, you do,” I assure, tucking my hair behind my ear as I try to fixate on the conversation at hand. “You’re incredibly smart, so elusive—you hired me as your assistant, and thenI barely see you. When I do, you’re remarkably composed,” I continue, my words tumbling out like autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze. I stare at the ground for a moment, careful not to trip over my own two feet. “You have this air of confidence, but not too bold that it’s arrogant. I can see how passionate and determined you are about your studies. You work so hard—all the time—at work that can undoubtedly help so many people. It seems so selfless and dedicated. It’s inspiring, but yes, I’m a little worried you work a bittoohard.”
As I speak and lift my gaze, I notice the way his lips curve into a soft smile. Surrounded by the golden glow of the fading afternoon light, I can’t help but feel there’s a connection igniting between us.
“You’re very kind,” he says, his voice gentle and sweet.
I shrug my shoulders. “Just being honest.” I’m a little embarrassed I've said too much. “You’ve made a very good first impression, and I just wanted to spend some actual time with you to see if I’m right,” I add feebly.
We walk along a path lined with wildflowers, their vibrant petals darkening in the fading light, transforming beauty into sorrow. The chirping of birds becomes a distant echo as we venture around the manor. There’s a haunting allure to the garden, the natural light dancing with darkness in a perpetual embrace. A bright blue butterfly floats across our path, its wings sparkling in the dying light. I glance over at Tristan, his hands casually in his pockets as he walks, the sun adding a contour to his face that highlights his cheekbones and sharp jawline. I wonder what kind of darkness lies within him. He is so perfect on the outside, so calm, studious. Intelligent. Kind. His allure has its hand tightly wrapped around my neck.
How is he soperfect?
