I peer at the food he brought—some bread and a bowl of water. There’s a skim of ice on the water’s surface.
The blurry face of the Beast studies me a moment. Waiting for me to beg for mercy?
Holding my gaze, he slides the door shut. The lock clicks home.
“You think this will break me?” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I can handle cold and hunger. But if the temperature drops much more, I might not survive the night.” I can list the exact effects of exposure on the body, but I bite my tongue.
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust a word you say.”
“I’m not the one who’s broken my word.” He starts to turn away.
I launch myself at the bars, wincing as my fingers close around the cold metal. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is!”
He stops with a foot on the stairs. “I want you to be the girl you once were. One who keeps her promises.”
“I keep my promises. All my life, all I’ve ever done is what I’m supposed to do.” What my father expected of me.
“You did what they wanted you to.”
“Is that so wrong?” I throw my hands up in the air. “My research will save lives.”
“Not if I destroy your company.” His lips curl under the mask. Such a cruel smirk. So why does his mouth mesmerize me?
He descends a few more steps. I slump to the floor. “You want me to become someone I never was. My father shaped me to follow in his footsteps. Continue his research. You want someone who was pure, untainted? You should’ve met my mother.”
“I did.” He hasn’t moved, hasn’t descended any lower. His face is on the same level as mine.
“You knew her?” I press my face against the bars, ignoring the chill. “Tell me how you knew her!” It’s been years since she’s died, but I’m hungry for any memory I can get.
“She was kind to me. When few people were.”
“She was like that.” I try to study his features behind the mask. “Wait. Were you in love with her?”
His forehead creases. He takes a moment to answer, as if considering my question. “I loved her as a child loves a mother. As a prodigal son loves the parent who welcomes him home.”
“Then who hurt you? How can I know what I did if you don’t tell me?” I mumble, staring at the floor. He wants humble? I can do humble. It’s getting hard to hold myself up and the flagstones look soft.
My skin feels numb. Frostbite setting in? Soon I won’t feel anything at all.
“You made a promise, then you broke it.” Suddenly, he’s looming over me. The bars are gone. “But now it’s time for you to make amends.”
The Beast is carrying me. He lifted me easily into his arms and strides smoothly down the spiral staircase. Guess his size isn’t just for show. I’m too tired to fight, so I nestle in his arms, resting my face on the soft cashmere.
The further away from the tower, the warmer it gets. I relax.
“I was right,” he mutters. “You have no tolerance for suffering.”
“I’ve suffered. You have no idea.”
“You grew up in the lap of luxury.” He scoffs as he glides us through another door and down another staircase. “I’ve seen Thornhill.”
He knows my family’s home?
“Just because we lived in a big house didn’t mean we had the means to heat it.” We pass a massive fireplace and I struggle upright in his arms, drawn to the fire like a moth to a flame.
In an unusual act of kindness, the Beast sets me down on the carpet in front of it. Immediately I hold my hands out to the blaze.
“I remember winters at Thornhill,” I tell the Beast. He grabs a large, heavy looking chair with a back higher than he is, and drags it over like it weighs nothing. Seating himself, he motions me to go on.
“My father would scrounge the forest for wood to burn in the fireplace. My mother would heat stones on the hearth, and tuck them in bed with me, to warm my feet.” One of those bricks sounds great about now. My fingers tingle painfully as they warm up. I blink back tears.
The Beast leans forward and captures my hand in his. His large fingers are surprisingly gentle as he rubs life back into mine.
I realize I’m kneeling at the Beast’s feet while he holds my hand. Up close, I can see the mottled skin at the edge of his mask. Some scarring. Is he a war victim? Was his flesh burned? Did he use a medicine my company invented and suffer horrible side effects? Is that what all this is about?
His dark eyes challenge mine and I dart my gaze away, clearing my throat.
“So, yeah, that was life at Thornhill. It was hard, but it was home.”
He releases me, sitting back in the chair. With his long fingers steepled in front of his face and profile gilt in firelight, he looks like a monarch in repose.
And I’m the supplicant at his feet. I don’t like sitting here, but my legs are too stiff for me to move.
Or I could pretend we’re a happy couple, just back from a walk in our winter garden. He built up this fire for me like my dad used to, and we’ll stay up late, lounging in front of it together…
“What are you thinking about?” I ask when the silence stretches. I can’t forget he’s my captor, and I’m at his mercy. Any chance to get in his head, I should take it.
Not fantasize that we’re a couple, ala Stockholm Syndrome.
“I’m surprised your father didn’t sell out sooner.” I must be used to his deep voice, because it’s soothing. “He would’ve done anything for your mother.”
“Yes. But he couldn’t. His research was her only hope.” I flinch as I always do when talking about my mother’s disease. The Beast is studying me so I quickly add, “Besides, we didn’t need more than what we had. We had each other.”
“A touching story.” he sneers at the fire. “I suppose love kept you warm?”
I raise my chin. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I understand perfectly. Your mother died. Your father turned into a shell of his former self.”
I flinch with each denouncement as if he’s struck me.
“Is that why you no longer remain true to your vow?”
“What vow?” I cry out, finding the strength to rise to my knees.
“To remain pure.” He seizes my shoulders. “Tell me, Daphne, why, after all these years, do you whore yourself for a rich man?”
I twist out of his hold. “I don’t whore myself to anyone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? The nights out? The fine dining, the symphony? When did you spread your legs for him… after he gave you this?” He grasps the necklace I wear. The chain digs into my neck and I cry out, flailing at his arms.
“Stop it! My mother gave me this, you…you Beast.”
“Beast.” He lets me go and I fall back, tucking the rose charm away. “Fitting. I suppose that’s how you see me.”
“You’re crazy.” My voice is shaking. I was stupid to let down my guard with him, even for a second. “You’re a Beast because you act like one.” I run a hand through my hair. Why am I even bothering to explain? “I don’t care how you look.”