Falling for the Beast

by Victorine E. Lieske

  She entered the room, touching the spines as she went. Some of the books looked to be quite old, and some of them were newer but still at least ten years old. A worn chair sat by the window, and she imagined Thaddeus in here, sitting and reading. Her heart soared. She wondered if he would let her borrow a book? She saw several she wanted to read.

  She slid one out that had a well-worn spine. The cover was faded but showed a man in the forest, a dark look in his eyes. Intrigued, she flipped the book and read the back. It looked like her kind of book. Paranormal monsters, romance, and a bit of a mystery. She slid down into the chair and without thinking, started reading. It was about five o’clock anyway, so he shouldn’t mind. She allowed the story to take her away.

  The old grandfather clock in the living room chimed. Startled, she jumped up and looked at the clock. Seven? Had she really been reading for two hours? Man, that was a good book. No wonder it looked like someone had read it a few thousand times.

  She placed the book on the table and went to check on Thaddeus. Still sleeping. Was he okay? Wasn’t there something about not letting a person sleep too long after a head injury? She couldn’t remember, but seeing him lying in the same position as he’d been in hours ago, started a slow panic in her chest.

  She pulled out her phone and called up Web MD, reading everything she could about head injuries and concussions. This didn’t look good. Sleeping too much was a sign that something was wrong. He really needed to go get checked out at the hospital, but she knew he would be livid if she even suggested it again. And she couldn’t force him to go.

  The website said he should be watched, to make sure he didn’t start convulsing or throwing up. She chewed her fingernail. If she stayed the night, she could keep an eye on him, and if anything happened she could call 911.

  Her skin prickled as she pulled a blanket from the closet. Web MD said she should try to wake him, but would he be mad? Probably. He might yell. But she couldn’t leave him there alone. She needed to make sure he was okay.

  She crept back into the living room and covered him with the blanket. He didn’t move. His long hair hung in his face, and he still clutched the washcloth from earlier. She gently removed the cloth from his hand and set it aside. “Mr. Walker?”

  When he didn’t respond, she nudged his shoulder. “Mr. Walker? Are you okay?”

  He moaned and rolled over. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. At least he responded. Plus, his face looked better. The bruises weren’t so swollen. She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and a straw. He probably was dehydrated. It took a little prodding, but finally, he sipped some water from the glass and she was satisfied.

  Glancing around the room, she wondered if he would mind if she camped out on his recliner for the night. It didn’t matter. He was out of it, and it didn’t look like he’d be up anytime soon. She pulled another blanket out, grabbed the book from the library, and made herself comfortable.

  Thaddeus woke when the clock struck midnight. How long had he been asleep? His stomach growled and he tossed the blanket off, moaning at the dull pain that stabbed through his head. Wait. Where did the blanket come from? His gaze fell upon Aribelle sleeping in his chair, and his heart thumped in his chest.

  He should wake her and chase her out, but his heart wouldn’t let him. She looked so peaceful sleeping there, her dark hair spread out, her red lips—he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t need to be thinking about her lips.

  It hurt to eat, but he forced himself to have a bowl of cereal. Then he showered and washed off the blood from last night. How out of it had he been? He didn’t even remember getting home. At least he hadn’t slept in the ditch, like he did sometimes. But it worried him that Aribelle had seen him like that.

  As he dressed, he assessed his injuries. The bruises on his arms had healed. His face looked a lot better. His eye was no longer swollen shut, and his lip had started mending. Of course, he could already see the scar forming in its place.

  He toyed with the idea of not going out tonight. Staying with Aribelle, to make sure she was okay. But guilt bubbled up in his chest and he shrugged into his jacket. He was being self-indulgent. He slipped out into the night and mounted his motorcycle. He needed to forget about the girl.

  Chapter 4

  Aribelle heard a motorcycle roar to life and she jerked awake, her heart in overdrive. The motorcycle revved a couple of times. What was going on? Was someone stealing it? She stared at the couch in disbelief. The blanket lay on the floor in a heap. Thaddeus was gone. She ran to the window and saw Thaddeus speed off down the driveway.

  What did he think he was doing? He was in no shape to go out riding. And in the middle of the night? The clock read one-thirty. Did he always go out riding at night? Was that why he was always asleep on the recliner?

  In a moment of haste, she grabbed her purse and ran out the door. Her heart pounded as she slid into her Rabbit, the cool night air raising goosebumps along her flesh. What was she doing, following him? That had to be a bad idea, yet she started her engine and took off down the driveway. She wanted to see what he did at night. How he kept hurting himself.

  He was speeding down the street so fast it was hard to keep him in sight. Plus, she didn’t want to follow too closely, or he would notice her. Her fingers hurt as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep his taillights from disappearing. The winding driveway could be dangerous if she went too fast.

  He turned onto the highway and she followed. Why was she doing this? He was a volatile man. It was possible he was going out drinking at night and getting into fights. It made sense, and yet, she didn’t think that was the answer. Something prompted her to dig deeper.

  She shook her head as she drove. Why was she following him? Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly due to lack of sleep. That must be it. Tomorrow, in the light of day, she would think herself foolish.

  He turned off the main road and onto a side street in Carson, and she slowed. It was too dark and too deserted. No other cars were on the road. She couldn’t follow without him noticing. She continued past the turn, debating whether to try to find him again or go back in a few minutes, hoping to see where he’d gone.

  After thinking about it, she decided she had to know what was happening to Thaddeus at night. She needed to interfere, even if he found her following him. He could yell all he wanted. She didn’t care. She turned around and headed toward the side street.

  Her stomach clenched when she slowed to turn. The street lamps were few and far between. Dark houses on each side showed no sign of life. Where had he gone? The street continued past dark and silent homes. One porch light came on as she passed, and she slowed, straining to see if Thaddeus’s motorcycle was parked outside the home. Nothing. No movement from within. The light must have a motion sensor. She passed by it, now worried she’d never find him.

  Intersections came and went, and she was unsure which one to take. Ten minutes later the street she’d been following ended, and there was no sign of Thaddeus. He must have turned off somewhere. He hadn’t come back, she would have seen him. The dark houses stood in a row, mocking her. She’d lost him.

  Frustrated, she flipped around and headed back to Thaddeus’s house. If she couldn’t follow him, at least she’d be able to find out how long he stayed out at night. She parked her car back in the same place and snuck back into his home, making herself comfortable on the recliner.

  She must have nodded off, because the noise of the front door opening was the next thing she heard. She tried to remain still, pretending to be asleep. His footsteps crept down the hall and grew louder, stopping by her chair. She didn’t dare move.

  He stood by her for several moments, and she wondered how long she could stay perfectly still. He let out a sigh and left the room. She heard him climb the stairs, and then the noise of the upstairs shower turned on. She peeked at the clock. Seven-thirty. What had he b
een doing?

  She stretched and rubbed her shoulders. Best to get up and do something. Breakfast sounded like a good idea. She folded her blanket and put it away in the closet. The refrigerator was not well stocked, but she found some bacon and eggs. She turned on a burner and started the bacon frying.

  She wasn’t sure how he liked his eggs, but she figured scrambled was safe so she grabbed a bowl and started beating. When she turned and found him standing in the doorway, she yelped, clutching her hand to her chest.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  His leather jacket hoodie was up, but not low enough to hide his face, and his eyes smiled at her. It didn’t quite reach his lips, though. Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him. “Your face…”

  He turned away.

  “No, I mean…” She set down the bowl and reached out, gently turning his face. Her fingertips tingled where she touched his skin. His eye was no longer swollen. His bruises were small and yellow like the injuries had happened a week ago. His split lip had turned into a tiny scab. “You’re almost healed. How?”

  “It looked worse than it was.”

  She must have had a skeptical look on her face because he added, “And I heal fast.”

  Aribelle stared up into his eyes. They were mesmerizing. Remarkably green. They could be colored contacts, but something told her they weren’t. His words sunk in and she looked down, picking up his hand that had been bandaged. There wasn’t even a scab. Several scars marred his skin, and she wasn’t sure which had been his most recent injury. She touched the biggest one, extending from his thumb to his pinky.

  He pulled his hand away.

  Too many questions swirled around in her head, but she knew he would become angry if she asked them. She turned back to the bowl. “The eggs will be ready soon.” She poured the mixture into the pan and it sizzled.

  He nodded and made a grunting sound as he walked into the dining room. She wanted to shout, “You’re welcome!” but refrained. She was being paid, it wasn’t like she was doing him a favor.

  She served up the bacon and eggs on two plates and brought them to the table. She sat across from him again. Sitting beside him was too intimate somehow. He forked a pile of eggs and put them in his mouth. She watched him for approval. He nodded and kept eating.

  Was that all the thanks she would get? Oh, well. At least he didn’t yell at her. She picked up her fork. After a few moments of silence, she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Does it hurt?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “What?”

  “Your face.”

  He shook his head and turned back to his plate. “Not anymore.”

  She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Do you have any family?”

  “No,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

  “Must be lonely.”

  “I like being alone,” he said, in almost a growl.

  “Why?”

  He glared at her. “It’s quieter.”

  Okay then. She could take a hint. She concentrated on finishing her breakfast. When they were done eating, she cleared the table and washed the dishes. Thaddeus went into the living room and plopped down on the recliner.

  As she worked, she couldn’t help but wonder what he had done last night. Where had he gone? Or had he spent the night racing his motorcycle down the quiet streets? And how did he keep hurting himself? She didn’t see any new injuries this morning. Maybe that was a good sign. But why had his face healed so quickly?

  Chapter 5

  Thaddeus tried to sleep on the recliner as Aribelle cleaned, but couldn’t. He was too aware of her smell. Her every move. He could hear her breathing. Her heart beating. If he wanted to torture himself, he was doing a good job of it.

  Why had she stayed the night? The logical answer was that she’d been worried about him, but that couldn’t be it, could it? He’d been rude to her. Worse than rude. He’d been awful.

  And yet, she held compassion for him. Had made him breakfast without asking. And when she touched his face…he’d felt an electricity he hadn’t felt in a decade. She made him feel something. Things he’d buried long ago.

  He listened to her lightly humming to herself. She probably didn’t realize she was even doing it, and it made him smile. She had a happy disposition. He liked that.

  She brought a light into his home. A light that hadn’t been in his life for quite a while. He scowled. Why was he thinking such things? It was stupid.

  He inhaled again. Her hair smelled of pear and clementine, with a touch of honey. Her skin had a fresh, soap scent. He suddenly realized why he could smell her so acutely. She’d spent the night in his recliner.

  Growling, he got up and went up to his room. Lying on his bed wasn’t as comfortable because of his injuries, but he couldn’t sit around and smell her all day.

  He dozed off for a while, but another smell woke him in the early afternoon. He got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. Aribelle stood at the counter spreading mayonnaise on some bread. She glanced at him and smiled. “Thought you might like a sandwich.”

  He leaned against the counter, not saying anything. Why was she being so nice? It’s not like he deserved it. His stomach growled.

  She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. “Hungry?”

  He tried to suppress a smile but couldn’t, and she grinned at him. She finished putting the sliced ham and cheese on the bread, then handed it to him on a plate. “Enjoy.”

  He was enjoying. That was the problem. He took the sandwich and went into the dining room, scowling at himself. He was in trouble.

  Aribelle thought she’d seen a smile on his face, but he quickly turned back into a grump, eating his sandwich in silence and running away from her the first chance he got. He hid out in his room the rest of the day. She sighed. This job wasn’t supposed to be fun. It was simply a way to pay the rent and save up for school. Who cared if her boss ignored her? It was better than yelling at her constantly.

  She finished her work and left without seeing him again. When she got home, Gavin was hanging around the parking lot. She decided to park on the street to avoid him. Her apartment was cold when she entered, and she turned up the heat.

  The next morning, when Thaddeus let her in, she reviewed him for more injuries but didn’t see anything. She was relieved. Maybe things were going to settle down.

  “Where would you like me to start today?” she asked.

  “The music room,” he said, motioning down the hallway. He plopped down on the couch and closed his eyes.

  She went down the hall and found a lovely room with a baby grand piano that looked to be as old as the other furniture in the house, but the wood was polished and she could see her reflection in it. Two ancient couches and a matching chair sat against the wall so the person playing could have an audience.

  The piano sat on a rug, but the hardwood flooring around the piano needed sweeping. Dust bunnies flew as she used the broom. After the floor, she dusted the lamps and the end tables. Then she started on the adjoining room, which was an empty ballroom.

  It may have been empty, but the room was stunning. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. The stained-glass windows let in a beautiful soft light, and the flooring had an ornate wooden inlay pattern that she loved. She swept the floor and dusted the crystal sconces on the wall. When she was done, she didn’t see Thaddeus on his recliner and figured he must be upstairs in his bedroom.

  Not wanting to disturb him, she entered the library with the duster and started cleaning the shelves. It soon became apparent that the duster wouldn’t do the job, and she ended up taking the books off and wiping the shelves down with a damp cloth. She hadn’t gotten half way before Thaddeus walked in and folded his arms, a scowl on his face.

  Before he could say anything she blurted, “I know, you didn’t tell me to clean in here. It’s just…I
hate to see the books sit in so much dust.”

  The glare softened. “It’s okay.” He glanced around the room. “You’re right. It was dusty in here.” He walked over to a shelf and pulled out a book, a look of reverence on his face she hadn’t seen before.

  “You like to read?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t yell at her for prying.

  He slipped the book back in its place. “I used to.”

  She continued to slowly wipe the shelf, amazed that he was talking to her. “Not anymore?”

  A sadness filled his eyes, and he shook his head, turning toward the window.

  The action made her feel like he was shutting her out again. She felt the urge to say something to bring him back. “I love to read. Paranormal, mostly. I love a good vampire or ghost story, although sometimes I read fantasy.” She was babbling, but she didn’t care.

  He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

  “I used to curl up on my couch and read an entire book without getting up to eat. My father would tease me that I’d waste away if he let me go to the library too often.”

  Thaddeus regarded her for a moment before sitting in the chair. “This used to be my sanctuary.”

  “From what?” she asked quietly.

  He shrugged, not answering. That was all she was going to get.

  “Someday I hope to be a writer,” she said, trying to draw more out of him.

  “Someday? Why not today?”

  “Well, I don’t even have my degree yet.” She looked down to the wooden floor. “I’ve been taking online classes, but with my financial situation, I’ve had to put school on pause while I work.”

  A look crossed Thaddeus’s face. “Writers write. It’s what they do. Doesn’t matter if you’ve finished school.” He stood from the chair and started crossing the room.

  She stared at him, her mouth open. Who was he to say that? He knew nothing of her life, of her struggles to get her degree. And he dismissed it without so much as a thought? “I was taking classes to better myself and my writing,” she said, trying not to sound snippy.