Rachel stirs. “What about Adam?” she asks.
My heartbeat stutters. I press a hand to my chest.
“Daphne? Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I force out. I don’t have time to be sick right now. I have to be okay. “I don’t know what to do about Adam.”
I finally face her. She’s perfectly dressed and coiffed as usual, but she’s wrapped one arm around her middle and the other crossed over her chest, protecting and comforting herself. Her face is wan and pale.
“I don’t want to see him right now.” Funny how I’m rushing back to Logan, the Beast who locked me up, but I can’t stand the sight of the man who gave me a diamond ring.
My intuition is telling me something. I’ve numbed myself to it for years, but now it’s waking from slumber.
Maybe that’s why I’m so eager to head back to Logan. Somehow, somewhere in that castle I’ll find my truth. It’s been buried far too long.
Rachel holds my eyes for a long moment before she presses her lips together and nods. “Okay. Leave Adam to me. I’ll hold him off.”
“Thank you.” I rush to hug her.
She squeezes me, then pulls back to look in my eyes. “Don’t thank me. Just...take care of yourself, okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Then, before I lose my nerve, I wheel my suitcase out the door. The cab is waiting to take me back to the castle.
Back into the arms of the Beast.
Because while he’s the Beast, he’s also...Logan. Sometimes the two barely fit together in my head and other times, I think, of course it was Logan all along. Of course only Logan could have ever made me feel so safe while I explored such wild things.
Only Logan would I have trusted to catch me when I leapt into the unknown. Only Logan could have known me better than I knew myself and how to draw me out.
Only Logan...always Logan.
Seven
8 Years Ago
Logan
I storm into the lab, that bastard Adam’s voice ringing in my ears as he bragged about banging yet another college co-ed who was ‘barely legal.’ What a fucking bastard. I can’t believe I ever considered that guy a friend.
When we both started working for Dr. Laurel, Adam showed me the same face he shows the rest of the world, polished golden boy, perfect in every way.
Until he realized I’m a nobody from nowhere. Then he didn’t see the point and started shirking his work off onto me, not showing up, but still expecting to take equal credit for what’s essentially become my work. Not that Dr. Laurel will hear a word against Adam, not the perfect Adam Archer. All he says is that we need to learn to get along if I want to keep my spot in the internship.
Fucking infuriating.
The door slams behind me and I hear a small yelp from the corner. I look up and freeze.
Because she’s there.
Dr. Laurel’s daughter. Soon to become a doctor herself, she’s so close to getting her Ph.D. even though she’s just a few months past eighteen.
She looks up at me, her eyes even larger and more luminous through her round bottle-glass lenses, which she immediately pulls off. But then she squints and puts them back on, running a hand through her hair and shyly saying, “Hi Logan.”
“Oh. Hi.” I cross the room over to the small study carrel at the edge of the lab where she has four huge textbooks open and a notebook with tiny scribbled notes covering the page.
As she looks up at me, her chest heaves up and down like breathing is suddenly becoming an issue for her.
And I’m immediately transported back to the ball a month ago. Walking up to her in that luminous toga that hugged all of her womanly curves, and watching the way she flushed so prettily when I spoke to her.
Not that it stopped her from gathering the courage to ask me to dance.
I don’t dance. Not even for you, I told her.
I meant to say more, to invite her to go for a walk, maybe out to one of the balconies where we could hear ourselves think beyond the unnerving roaring chatter of the ballroom.
But no.
Adam fucking Archer swept in and grabbed her, smirking at me as he led her onto the dance floor in my place.
He doesn’t care about Daphne. He barely speaks to her. But she was beautiful, the center of attention, and he could tell in that moment I wanted her.
But he’s not here right now. It’s just me and her.
And unlike him, even in her oversized sweater, tortoise shell glasses and her hair in a haphazard bun, I can see that she’s just as beautiful now as she was the night of the ball.
Her face has thinned out as she’s transformed from girl to woman while the rest of her body has softened. The tight leggings she’s wearing show off her curves as she curls up in her chair, one knee to her chest.
“What are you studying?”
“Ugh.” She makes a face. “Stem cell research applied to Myelodysplastic syndrome. I mean, it’s really fascinating. And it could have implications towards Dad’s research trying to help Mom. They harvested stem cells from my cord blood when I was born, knowing it might help Mom—”
I close the books and her notebook. “When was the last time you ate?”
It seems to me her whole life, her Dad has considered his wife’s needs before his daughter’s. Maybe it’s not my place. I don’t know what I would do if my spouse was sick, but he barely spends any time with Daphne, when she kills herself to please him studying, getting early degrees so she can join him in the lab, and spending all her free time nursing her sick mom.
She looks distracted, her eyes going back to her books guiltily like she feels like she ought to be studying—as if even the thought of taking a break seems selfish.
Which makes me grab the back of her chair and pull it out from the carrel. “No more excuses. We’re going out for a bite.”
Her bright green eyes flash up at me. “We are?”
I give a firm nod. “We are.”
A small smile lights her face. “Okay.”
Good girl, I think but don’t say. The thought immediately discomfits me, though. Especially when her instant obedience has my jeans tightening. I stand back and frown as she grabs her jacket. Shit, I can’t be thinking that way about her. And not just because she’s the boss’s daughter.
Admiring her beauty is one thing, but she’s still way too young. Too naïve for the shit I’m into, especially lately.
You don’t tie nice girls like her up and spank them.
My balls tighten at the image that flashes through my head but I’m not a jackass, so I force it away.
She barely has any friends. That’s all I’m being.
She grabs her purse and then we’re walking together towards the elevator. The silence feels heavy as we ride up to the first floor. She glances my way and her cheeks turn rosy. What’s she thinking about? Is she hoping I’ll grab hold of her and kiss her like they’re always doing on those soapy doctor dramas on TV?
The thought makes me smirk and she immediately looks away, her cheeks going even pinker. So, so innocent. Which makes something in my chest hurt because it’s a rarity.
The ping of the elevator arriving at the first floor startles both of us. She laughs self-consciously and then hurries off.
We settle in at a sandwich shop across the street from the lab. “How’s your mom doing?” I ask after we’ve ordered and sat down.
“She’s doing okay.” Daphne nods enthusiastically. “I’m really hopeful about the new rounds of treatment you, Dad, and Adam have been working on. I spent the morning with her and she was sitting up and we did the crossword. Well, we managed half of it before she got too tired, but I feel like it’s progress.” She bites her lip but keeps nodding, like she’s trying to convince herself more than me.
I can’t help reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Daph, it’s me. You don’t have to bullshit with me. I know everyone else asking you always wants to hear that she’s doing better, but I know her condition. You don’t
have to put a pretty spin on shit for me.”
She looks a little surprised, maybe because I cursed in front of her, but then she nods, and finally she doesn’t look like a bobblehead. “Yeah,” she breathes out, her chest deflating a little. “It’s still really hard, actually. I mean, this morning was better than most, but it’s still…”
She looks out the window and tears film over her eyes. She immediately blinks them away, then drops her head like she was embarrassed for me to see.
Fuck, who taught her she had to be like this? I can’t stand to watch it so I scoot my chair around the table and nudge her chin up with my hand. “Hey, Champ, you know it’s okay to be sad, right?”
She glares at me and jerks back. “I’m not a child.”
“Oh believe me, I know,” I mutter darkly.
Her breath hitches. “What does that mean?”
The waitress comes by and delivers our food. “Nothing. Eat your sandwich.”
Daphne’s still frowning at me, but again, does as she’s told. She only takes a tiny, nibbling bite, though.
“Woman, you aren’t a bird. Take a full bite.”
She finishes chewing and lifts an eyebrow at me. “So you’ve noticed I’m a woman now?”
“I don’t know, Champ, you’ve only been one for what?” I look at my wrist and a nonexistent watch, “About three minutes?”
She throws her napkin at me. “Try three months.”
I shrug. “Pot-a-to, pot-ah-to.”
She mock glares at me but does take larger bites of her sandwich, though she only finishes half of it before abandoning it on her plate. In the same amount of time, I’ve devoured my entire sandwich and bag of chips, along with most of my soda. I learned early not to waste food when it was put in front of me.
When I look up from inhaling my food, I find Daphne observing me, her brow slightly scrunched. I swipe at my mouth with a napkin.
“What?” Shit, she’s probably used to more manners. Adam fucking Archer probably eats sandwiches with a silver-plated knife and fork.
“Nothing, I just wonder about you sometimes. Where do you come from? What’s your life like when you aren’t at the lab? You’re kind of a mystery, Logan Wulfe.”
I choke a little on my sip of soda. The thought of innocent Daphne knowing about my activities outside of the lab is enough to almost have me doing a spit-take.
I haven’t been with a woman for a few months…not since I saw Daphne at the ball now that I think about it, but still. Just because I haven’t had time for it doesn’t mean my proclivities aren’t a very real part of who I am.
I just shrug but she’s not about to let it go. “For real, Logan. I want to know more about you. Like, where did you grow up? You never talk about your family.”
I shrug again. “It’s cause I don’t have any. Dad was a deadbeat. Walked out on my mom when I was too young to remember. We were poor as f— We were poor. My mom tried for as long as she could but…”
I look up into Daphne’s compassionate amber eyes. “She wasn’t like you. She never had your kind of strength. The world was too much for her. She could barely take care of herself, much less me. So I mostly raised myself till she decided to check out.”
I can tell by the confusion in her eyes she’s not translating my euphemism. “She committed suicide.”
Daphne’s hand shoots across the table and grabs mine. “How old were you?” she whispers.
I shrug but don’t pull my hand away from hers. I don’t know why. I’d pull away from anybody else. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe it’s because Daphne didn’t have much of a childhood either. Her parents were just selfish in different ways, her dad at least, and her mom too sick to take care of her. As far as I can see, she raised herself as much as I did—she just did a fucking better job of it than me.
“I was twelve.”
“Logan.”
“Look, it’s no big deal.” I try to pull my hand away now but she just clenches tighter.
“Somebody wise once told me it’s okay to be sad.”
“Oh yeah? Sounds like a real wise ass.”
“He has his moments.” She smiles at me and it’s so genuine and from her heart it hits me straight in my gut.
Where have you been my whole life? What I say out loud is, though, “Wanna go grab dessert from that little pastry place on 4th street?”
She beams at me. “I’d love to.”
When we stand up, she’s still holding my hand.
Eight
Present Day
Logan
The cameras pick up the approach of Daphne’s taxi two hundred feet from the gates of the castle. I press the button to open them and sit with my fingers loosely threaded together as the car creeps up the long drive. My heart jolts when I catch a glimpse of Daphne’s dark head. I hate myself for missing her, but I did. This girl has always been under my skin, in my blood.
I spin in my chair away from the cameras, rising and stretching with eyes closed. Calm. Control.
This time it’ll be different. I have her stay planned down to the hour. Her tasks and trials, the way she’ll serve me. My own version of the twelve labors of Hercules, tailored to train her to my whims.
I just can’t let myself feel. The softness of her skin, her honeyed scent, the golden glint in her green eyes—nothing will move me. I am the Master. She is mine. Even when others in her life tried to steal her, she returns to me.
I turn back to the cameras. The cab is gone, leaving Daphne and her sole suitcase. Her hair blows in the wind. She makes her way to the door, her hips swaying with unconscious grace.
My heart, the stupid, weak organ, stutters. She’s returned to me.
Maybe it can be different, I think as she stands on the stoop, reaching for the iron knocker with trepidation in her eyes. Maybe we can start over.
Then she pulls out her phone, stepping away from the stone wall to get service. The fucking engagement ring glitters on her finger as she raises the cell to her ear.
What the fuck? She’s still wearing Adam’s mark. Is she calling him?
Déjà vu. A scarlet curtain falls. The mindless rage rising.
I find myself at the front door, a hand on the latch.
No! Calm. Control.
This time it will be different. I’ll stay in control. And I won’t let myself feel.
I’ll be the soulless monster she believes me to be.
* * *
Daphne
“Wait, wha—!” But Logan doesn’t wait or explain as he hoists me up over his massive shoulder, his arm a bar across the back of my legs, locking me in place. “Logan!”
I’ve only just barely gotten in the door of his castle and this is what he pulls.
“Don’t call me that,” he growls. “Call me Beast or Master because that’s all I am to you now.”
“Son of a bit—”
I yelp at the sharp smack that earns me across my ass that’s still sore from our last session. “No more spanking. I can’t handle any more. I’ve barely been able to sit down. Please.”
“Please, what?” he demands as he walks down the stairwell to the basement, not winded or off balance by my weight in the slightest bit.
I grind my teeth together but my ass really is too sore for any more abuse. “Please, Master.” Alright, so that Master might have been dripping with sarcasm. And he doesn’t miss that because it earns me another sharp smack on the ass.
I screech but then hurriedly squeak out, “Yes, Master!”
“That’s better.” I can hear the smile in his voice, the smug bastard.
I’m so off-kilter, I can barely take in my surroundings. But I still recognize it when he takes me straight to the dungeon. Because of course he does. My entire stay is probably going to be in this damn place. The stone walls, the familiar musty smell that I’ve missed even though I’ve been away from it for such a short time… Why am I excited instead of scared?
Because Logan is Master, a voice whispers from deep within.
&
nbsp; I glance around at the cross set up against the wall, all sorts of implements hanging here and there. A bench I think is meant for...for spanking. And a table that he walks straight over to and deposits me on.
“Take off your clothes.”
I bite my lip and hazard a glance at Logan. His face is cold, devoid of emotion. I glare at him and do as he says. I pull off my shirt and bra quickly and efficiently. It’s not a strip tease. I kick off my jeans and leave them in a pile at my feet. The same with my underwear.
I’m not quite sure how I manage to stand, back straight, completely naked in front of him, but I do. He doesn’t look down at my body. Doesn’t even peek.
“Get on the table.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. My heart starts racing a hundred miles an hour but I hop up on the table and lay down.
There are cuffs at the wrist and ankles that Logan begins to swiftly attach to me, tying me down.
And...and...I- I-
I’m thrilled.
I lay my head back and close my eyes as I silently admit to myself what I’ll never ever say out loud. I’m back where I belong. My toes flex in anticipation. I have absolutely no idea what Logan, what my Master, will do to me.
But I trust him. This is the boy who noticed I was lonely and took me for sandwiches all those years ago. And the man who demands things of my body I never knew I had to give. I’ve never felt more alive or in my body than right this second.
“Look at you,” Logan croons, the first time his voice has softened even the slightest bit since I’ve arrived. “Your body is quivering for my touch. You want this, don’t you?” He skims his fingers up my thigh. “You want this bad.”
I can’t help quivering in response and I try to stop my gasp but don’t manage in time.
“Well, today, little girl, is going to be your first trial. And your first lesson. You can’t always get what you want.”
I frown. What does that mean?
Logan prowls around the table.
Beauty and the Thorns Page 3