Page 18 of The Beast of Ashwood Manor

“Trustme.” Gil’s voice raised.

I clenched my jaw, not liking his tone. “Fine. Sorry I brought it up. And sorry for interrupting your night.”

“I didn’t mind,” he muttered. “But I am tired. Good night.”

“Night.”

I blew out a breath of air as he left. Tomorrow would be a fresh start. I was going to get out of here one way or another, even if it meant forcing this man to love someone or myself.

Livingwithoneextraperson under my roof came with a tension that made me nervous and frustrated. I watched my back constantly with Cale. He seemed to know when I came out of my room for meals, and he had attempted to talk to me, but I tried to ignore him.

Sometime near the end of his first week there, he cornered me on my way downstairs to get something to eat.

“Are you eating with everyone else tonight?” he asked.

I glowered at him as I trudged down the stairs. “No. I only eat in my room.”

He tried to match my speed on the stairs and tripped on the last step. “But you ate with me before.”

“Out of obligation.”

That seemed to shut him up, and he didn’t follow me into the kitchen. Good. He needed to get the hint and stay away.

If only he’d realized I didn’t want to continue talking to him, for the next day, he approached me as I made my way to the slaughterhouse. It wasn’t a very big building, but we kept it to the side of the house, out of sight of the main windows.

“I can learn how to do this,” Cale said, following me.

“I doubt that,” I muttered.

“You could teach me.”

“Me, teach you how to do something?” I shook my head. “I think not. Now get out.”

He opened his mouth again to say something more, but when I grabbed a chicken and chopped its head off with a butcher knife, he winced and rushed out of the building, and I shook my head, annoyed at his persistence.

Cale was too adamant about breaking this curse, and I didn’t know how else to tell him I wanted no part in it. He simply didn’t understand.

But by the end of the week, he’d found a way to corner me in the kitchen, and by that point, I had had enough.

“Your plate’s not done yet,” Cale told me as he checked the pot of stew boiling in the cauldron.

“Then I’ll wait outside,” I said, throwing up my hood as I made my way to the door.

“But it’s pouring out.” Cale blocked the door.

I stood tall and glowered down at him. “Move,” I said.

“What for? Your food’s almost done. Can’t you just wait in here? I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway.”

“Have you considered that perhaps I don’t want to talk toyou?”

His face fell, and I clenched my teeth for being so harsh.

“So, that’s it then? You just go up into your room and don’t come out or talk to anyone?” he asked.

Licking my lips, I bent down until my face was right in front of him and said, “Move.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and finally, he stepped away so I could go outside. I banged the door open, my blood boiling by his persistent nature to try and win me over. It was too obvious after our talk, and I wasn’t buying it.

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