Page 97 of Unravelling The Beast

When we’re at my car door, I wait for it to lift before awkwardly bending down and placing her inside.

She curls up in a ball, her messy boots on my flawless seats, but I don't fucking care right now. I wrap the seat belt around her before clipping it in and then moving around to the driver's side.

As the door closes, I settle in my seat, removing my drenched balaclava, and start the car, immediately turning on the heater.

As I drive us home with one hand on the wheel, I can’t help but keep glancing her way, thinking about how fucking difficult it is going to be to break away from her. I already know it. All my dark and fucked-up thoughts seem to vanish when I'm fucking Wren or even in her presence. I don't know how she does it or what it is about her, but she manages to stop my grief for that single second, and I'm addicted to it. I'm fucking addicted to her.

Not only do I have to marry that cunt, Savannah, whom I loathe and refuse to touch, but I'll also need to withdraw from Wren and what she does to me. I'm not sure how this is going to work out; she'll never forgive me for this shit, and I don't blame her; I'll probably never forgive myself either.

When I pull up outside of my house, I jump out of the car and stroll around my car to Wren. I scoop her tired body up in my arms again, lock my Lamborghini, and carry her to the door before entering.

I take her straight upstairs to my bedroom, and when we enter, I kick off my shoes before taking her over to the bed and laying her down.

I remove her dirty boots, glancing at her pale face occasionally, and pull off her wet raincoat from her body before throwing the thick, black duvet over her.

I observe her as she closes her eyes and snuggles into the plush material while I undress out of my damp clothes. When I'm naked, I climb into the bed beside her, and she immediately turns around, shuffles closer, and snuggles her cold, naked body against mine.

I allow her to do it yet again as I stare up at the ceiling, thinking like I do every night since I must be a fucking vampire or something because I never sleep. She suddenly speaks in a quiet, sleepy tone while rubbing her palm up and down my abs.

"Arlo?"

I remain silent as I continue to stare into oblivion, but when she lifts her head and turns to face me, my eyes dart to hers instantly, and a smile spreads across her plump lips while her eyes are heavy with tiredness.

"How did you find me?"

I carefully lift my hand before grabbing her face and pushing her back onto the bed. I hover over her, propped up on my elbow and attempt to not smile. We exchange looks, and when I lower my face down to hers, I speak against her lips.

"No matter where you fucking are, I'll always find you, and that's a promise."

My thumb slides gently over her jaw as she smiles in response before we share a deep and passionate kiss while I pull her naked body closer to mine by wrapping my arm over the small of her back.

When I open my sleepy eyes the next morning, I'm lying on my stomach, my arms under the pillow. My attention is drawn straight away to Arlo, who is lying next to me on his side, facing me with his eyes closed.

I just stare and admire his handsome, sleeping face for a while without moving to avoid waking him up. He always appears to be so tired. I'm curious what goes through his mind on a daily basis. I don't think I've ever seen him asleep. When I go to sleep, he's always awake, staring into nothingness, and when I wake up, it's the same.

My thoughts return to last night and how much fear, pleasure, and pain he instilled in me, but also how much I surprisingly relished every second of it. I remember how he looked after me afterwards when he didn’t have to, but he did.

When he suddenly gently opens his dark eyes, they immediately lock on mine. We remain in the same position, staring at one another, and as I absorb his features, that’s when I unfortunately begin to feel something for him. But I don't want to feel anything for him; how can I? He doesn't give a damn about me and has always made it clear that we're nothing more than incredible sex.

Sometimes the way he touches and kisses me makes me think that maybe, just maybe, there's something more between us, but I'm foolish; Arlo could never be the one I imagine my future with; he can't be my soulmate; he doesn't even have a soul.

After some stillness, I decide to turn my head and face away from him in an attempt to push my deep feelings aside.

I lay there absolutely silent until I felt his warm palm creep across the bottom of my back, and he curled his fingers around my waist before dragging me towards him.

He rests his arm between my breasts, his hand relaxed on my throat, as my back is curled up against his body. When I feel him breathing heavily in my hair, possibly falling back to sleep, I lose track of time, but I try to get enough confidence to say something.

"What is this between us, Arlo?"

I feel and hear him stop breathing immediately as soon as the words escape me, but he remains utterly silent and doesn't respond to me. I continue to wait for him to say something, anything, but he doesn't, and I get to the point where I toss the duvet off ofme and get out of bed.

I head straight towards the bedroom door to leave, but his stern voice stops me.

"Don't make this fucking complicated now, Wren."

My brows furrow in confusion, and I shake my head.

“Complicated? Hasn't it always been fucking complicated?"

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