Page 58 of Wicked Beasts
“Thisisthe project.” His lips twitch in a bitter smile. “I’mthe project.”
“You?” I walk over to him to close the distance between us. Even when I’m standing right in front of him, he feels miles away.
“I do, you know,” he says quietly, gazing up at me.
“What?”
“You asked me if I like you. I do.” He turns away for a moment, his eyes flickering, as though he’s unsure whether to meet my gaze. “I’ve just…I’ve been trying not to. I’ve been trying to keep my distance from you.”
“Why?” I ask as I take a seat on the desk beside him.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. He takes everything from me.”
“Who does?”
“Dr. Shadow.”
I tighten my jaw, suddenly haunted by the nights we shared as guilt washes over me.
“That isn’t foryouto decide, Mr. Black. I’m not athingthat can be taken.” I try to steady my breath, forcing my frustrationdown, but it lingers. The realization he kept himself from me—out of fear, out of some misguided attempt to protect me—stings.
“I know,” he says, so softly, I barely hear him over the heat of my annoyance.
“You don’t get to decide for me, and it’s not fair that you were trying to take that choice away from me.” I get up from where I sit and cross my arms tightly over my chest again. I inhale sharply and spin around to face him. “You’ve been incredibly selfish.”
“I have. Because you are my weakness, and in that weakness, you arehisgreatest strength.” His hazel eyes roam over my face, studying me as though trying to memorize every detail. His hand gently brushes up against my arm, and I slowly uncross them, letting him take my hand within my own as he draws me closer. For a moment, his eyes meet mine before drifting down to my lips. “Do you mind?” he asks, his voice low. We’re mere inches apart now. His fingers caress my cheek as he brushes a few strands of hair out of my face.
I blink slowly, caught off guard by his gentle question.
“What?” I whisper.
“If I’m selfish with you, one last time?”
I nod, and Tristan’s mouth crashes into mine. His lips are soft and inviting as I feel myself melt into him. I am suddenly awakened from my haze as the fog lifts and realization washes over me. Dr. Shadow has never once kissedme. Never once have his lips pressed against mine. His tongue has delved between my lips to tease me with the taste of my own pleasure, but never once did he let his lips touch mine. Never once did he kiss me tenderly, passionately. Passion was not about love to him, but power.
And I gave it to him. Had I told him any more secrets?
Had I betrayed Tristan again during those nights his presence darkened my sheets?
No, I couldn’t have.
I had no more to tell.
I pull Tristan to me and savor the taste of his lips.
Fifty-One
My mind is a storm of thoughts, all swirling together in a dizzying haze. The taste of Tristan lingers on my lips, haunting me long after the kiss has ended. He pulls back, almost bashful, yet his eyes show no regret—only an unspoken longing. His gaze drops to the floor, avoiding mine, but there’s a soft smile curling on his lips. He drags his tongue slowly over his lower lip, as though savoring the taste of me, and I feel the fluttering of my heart, the way it swells then falters under the weight of his quiet, intimate gesture.
“I probably shouldn't have done that,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a guilt-laden whisper. His eyes lift to meet mine, and in the flickering candlelight, they burn with a hidden desire. “But I'm glad I did.”
I want to tell him that I, too, am glad—soglad—but the words can’t seem to find their way out of my mouth. Instead, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. My fingers tighten around the fabric of his sleeves, taut over the muscles of his arms. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, my pulse quickening as I nod, unable to tear my gaze from him.
I am perched on his lap, my knees pressed against the cold edge of his desk, the hard wood beneath me somehow groundingwhile his strong hands rest at my waist, his fingers twitching against the delicate fabric of my dress, as though fighting the urge to pull me closer. The world outside this room feels distant—blurred, almost irrelevant, as if time itself has stopped, leaving just the two of us, tangled in the comfort of this moment. I refuse to let the memory of my nights spent with Dr. Shadow creep into the warmth of our embrace.
“My birthday is tomorrow,” he says in his low voice, the words hanging in the air between us like a soft, tempting promise. His voice dips, gentle and inviting, pulling me in closer still. “Will you have dinner with me? I want you to tell me a story.”
His words wrap around me like a scarf, and I feel the weight of them, of him, settle deep inside my chest. The invitation is a thread, delicate and dark, leading me deeper into the labyrinth of his world—a world I have wanted to enter since I stepped foot into his home. A world he is finally opening up to me.
