Falling for the Beast

by Victorine E. Lieske

  Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped its lively song as she waited. She blinked and stared at the door. She was going bonkers. Acting like a spoiled child. Why was she even fighting for this job? He treated her badly, and it was just a stupid cleaning job, anyway.

  But there was nothing else available in Pleasant Hills. She’d have to start applying for jobs in Carson. She’d probably get stuck working at Walmart. The thought made her frown.

  With one last ditch effort, she called up to him. “Are you that much of a coward, you have to have someone else do your dirty work? Can’t you look me in the eye while taking away my only source of income?”

  The house sat so still, she wondered if she had imagined the curtain moving. Maybe he was asleep in his recliner. She fought off the urge to shake her fist at his house. He probably wasn’t even aware she was there. Stupid.

  She climbed back into her car and started the engine. Now what was she supposed to do? She had no job, no prospects, and no money. She stepped on the accelerator. “Come on, Bunny. We know when we’re not wanted.” The trees blurred as she sped down the winding road to the highway, letting her anger fuel her speed.

  Thaddeus Walker could rot, for all she cared. He was a selfish, mean man. How could she ever have fantasized about kissing him? She was delusional. He would always be alone, an angry man, bitter over whatever had happened in his past.

  A deer stepped out of the trees onto the road, its eyes trained on her. She startled and swerved, slamming on her brakes. She couldn’t hit a deer. She couldn’t bear the thought of killing an animal like that. The car caught some loose gravel and she slid, screaming. The deer shot off into the woods. A terrible crunching of metal sounded as her Rabbit careened into a tree. Pain flashed through her head as she collided with the windshield.

  An eerie stillness settled in as she lay over the steering wheel in an awkward and painful way. Her head throbbed and her chest felt like it was on fire. The car sat at an unnatural angle, but she couldn’t lift her head to look at the damage.

  Warm blood trickled down her face. She was going to die. The thought didn’t alarm her as much as she had expected. The pain would stop, and she would be at peace. She could see her father again.

  A low purring noise interrupted her thoughts, and she listened as it grew louder, but her brain couldn’t connect the sound to reality. She closed her eyes as the sound stopped and other noises took its place. A loud grinding of metal sounded, and then a crash.

  “Aribelle?” His low voice was almost a growl, and she knew it immediately. Thaddeus. She couldn’t answer him, although she tried. Her lips wouldn’t move. He cursed and she felt him lift her, and then her world went black.

  Chapter 8

  Thaddeus swore under his breath as he carried Aribelle up the hill. Was his life doomed to repeat itself? Was he forever going to watch in agony as the people he dared to care about were torn from his life? Why did fate have to take Aribelle, too?

  He walked faster, willing her to stay alive for a few more minutes. He couldn’t do what he needed to do until he was in his home. Aribelle had to live, even if it meant giving up all his secrets.

  He reached his door and carried her to the living room, gently laying her on the rug. He placed his hands on her forehead and warmth flowed out of him. Intense pain tore through him and he screamed but forced himself to continue. He’d never tried to heal anyone with such extensive injuries before. Her skull was smashed in and her lungs had been punctured. He wasn’t sure he would live through it.

  As Aribelle awoke, she became aware of the heat coursing through her skull, over her shoulders, and down into her chest. It wasn’t uncomfortably hot. It was more like a radiating warmth that started at the top of her head and moved down, like someone pouring warm water over her.

  The sensation lightened, and tingles started taking the place of the warmth. She felt a pressure on her forehead. Unsure of what was happening, Aribelle stayed still. Was she in the hospital? Or was this what dying felt like?

  No, she wasn’t dying. The pain was gone, but she was fully aware of her body. Aware of someone else with her. He screamed, a primal kind of sound, and she knew who it was. Thaddeus. The pressure eased and she suddenly felt drowsy. Too sleepy to stay awake. Her consciousness faded and she passed out.

  When she was once again aware of herself, she blinked, trying to remember what had happened. It was dim. Too dark to be daytime. Had she slept all day? She slowly sat up, the car crash coming back to her. Her hand flew to her head, but she felt no injury. No scabs. Nothing. Only the crusty feeling of dried blood. Her chest was fine as well. She looked around, wondering where she was.

  And then she saw him. Thaddeus lay on the floor beside her in a pool of blood. She stifled a scream and put her hand on his shoulder. “Thaddeus? What happened?”

  A jagged gash across his forehead oozed blood. The top of his skull was bashed in as if he had been the one driving without his seatbelt. She would have thought he was dead, except his shoulders moved slightly up and down as he took in a breath.

  The facts swirled around in her head. She’d been in a terrible accident and hit the windshield. Yet, she had no injuries. Her shirt was soaked in blood, though. Thaddeus had come for her. She remembered hearing him. Why did he look like he’d been the one in the accident?

  Unless…

  Had he somehow healed her? And if so, had he taken her injuries upon himself? How could that be? And yet, here he was in front of her. She was whole. And he was…

  Fear ignited in her chest. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? It had been careless to drive without her seatbelt. And even stupider to be going so fast. And now look at what the consequences were. Thaddeus had healed her, but at what cost? Why had he done it? She was the hired help. He should have left her.

  But he didn’t. A wave of compassion filled her. He’d put himself through this…for her.

  She had no idea what to do for him. She couldn’t call an ambulance. He was—well she didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t human. She remembered how he’d reacted when she’d mentioned the hospital last time. And now she knew why. It wasn’t an option.

  She’d witnessed him heal extraordinarily fast. Would he heal from this as well? It didn’t look like it was possible, and yet, she would think it impossible that he was even alive. His shoulders rose again with another breath and she stood, not wanting to sit there and stare at him.

  Unsure of what else to do, she grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned up the blood from his face, then cleaned the floor. She didn’t want to move him, nor did she think herself capable, so she carefully slid a pillow under his head and covered him with the woolen blanket from the closet. Then she curled up on the floor beside him and prayed he would heal.

  Every hour she checked him. Cleaned up more blood. Gave him sips of water from a glass, and made sure his injuries didn’t look infected. In the early hours of the morning, she fell asleep beside him. The next time she awoke the sun was up. She turned to find his eyes open, and he was staring at her.

  “Thaddeus.” She scrambled to sit up. His skull looked normal again, and she gasped. “Are you okay?” She reached out to touch his head and he grabbed her wrist.

  “Don’t.”

  The harshness of his voice startled her, and she shrank back from him. He released her wrist, the severity fading from his eyes. “It’s not healed yet.”

  He tried to roll over, and pain flashed across his face.

  “Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”

  He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “I don’t need anything.”

  “Then rest.”

  He closed his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She watched him breathing for a few moments. As she pondered what she was going to say to him, a hint of a smile played on his lips. “You snore,” he said.

  “
What?” Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I do not!”

  He chuckled and then winced at the pain.

  “Stop it. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  He sighed and threaded his fingers, placing them on his stomach. Her back hurt from sleeping on the floor, and she stretched. “Can you eat?”

  “Not hungry.”

  She curled her legs under her. “Mind if I eat breakfast?”

  His eyes opened. “Please do.”

  She busied herself in the kitchen, making herself a bowl of cereal and then cleaning up the dishes he’d dirtied over the weekend. She checked on him again, but he looked to be asleep. That was good, right? He seemed to heal faster when he slept. She crept upstairs and showered to get the grunge from yesterday off her. She put her jeans back on but borrowed one of his hooded sweatshirts to replace her bloody sweater.

  After lunch, she walked down the road to check on her Rabbit. It was further than she’d thought, and the wind whipped through the sweatshirt, making her wish she’d also borrowed his coat. As she approached, she could see the back end of her car sticking up from the ditch. The driver’s side door was gone, and she stared at the gaping hole. How had…? She searched and found the door several yards from the crash site. It appeared as if he’d ripped it off with his bare hands and tossed it into the woods. The thought startled her and sent a new wave of apprehension through her.

  Several feet from her car she found his motorcycle, discarded. She climbed into the car to retrieve her purse and found her car keys dangling from the ignition. An odd sensation filled her as she looked at the crumpled front end and the spider-like webs that cracked the windshield.

  She touched the cloth seat and a sense of loss enveloped her. Why was she blinking back tears? It was just a car. She shouldn’t feel so emotional over a car, yet she couldn’t help it. Bunny was gone.

  She removed the keys and put them in her purse along with her other personal belongings. She tried to walk the motorcycle up the hill, but it was too heavy for her, so she left it. She didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle, nor did she want to try.

  When she got back, she found Thaddeus awake again. He didn’t move, but his gaze followed her as she entered the house.

  “Well, poor Bunny is toast,” she said, hoping to get some conversation out of him.

  A quizzical look crossed his face. “Bunny?”

  “My car.” She blew out a breath. “She’s a goner.”

  “You named your Rabbit Bunny?”

  “Seemed appropriate.” She sat down beside him, cross-legged.

  A single chuckle escaped him, and he closed his eyes. “Nice shirt.”

  She grinned. “Thanks. Thought it looked good on me.”

  “It does,” he said without opening his eyes.

  She waited for him to say something else. The seconds ticked on, and he finally looked back up at her. “You have questions.”

  “Yes.” She picked at a loose strand of thread at the edge of the rug. How could she start?

  “I can’t answer them,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  Her mouth fell open. “That is so not fair. You can’t possibly expect me to—” She stopped when she saw him silently laughing. “Oh, not funny. You don’t know how bad I want to pull that pillow out from under your head and smack you with it.”

  He sobered. “Please don’t.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Okay. I won’t.”

  After a moment, he said, “All right, ask them.”

  Staring down at the rug, she wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe she should start with a simple one. “How did you know I had the accident?”

  “I heard it,” he said softly.

  She wasn’t expecting that answer. “You have superhuman hearing?”

  He frowned. “More like an animal.” He peered up at her, assessing her reaction.

  She smoothed out her features, careful not to seem like it mattered to her. “I see. And how did I get in here?”

  “I carried you.”

  She had figured that’s what had happened, and she nodded. “And how…?” She pointed to her head, and then to his.

  He looked away. “That’s more complicated.”

  Of course it was. What did she expect? She tentatively reached out and picked up his hand, the one with the diagonal scar. He didn’t pull it away. “You got this scar from healing someone?”

  He was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

  She traced the marred skin lightly with her finger. “And the others? The same way?”

  “All of them.”

  “It hurts you.”

  It wasn’t a question this time, but he answered it softly anyway. “Yes.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  He frowned and pulled his hand away from her. “I think we’re done with the questions.”

  “I’ve upset you.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his stubble, took in a deep breath, and exhaled. “It’s not you. I just don’t have an uncomplicated answer.”

  Aribelle wanted to reach out to him again. Touch the jagged scar on his face. Tell him he was beautiful, even with the scars. Maybe even because of the scars. But she didn’t know how to say it, so she leaned back on her hands. “Are you hungry?”

  A small smile lifted his lips. “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’ll make us some soup.” She stood.

  “Make, or heat up?” A full grin appeared.

  “Oh, you’re making fun of my cooking now?”

  He chuckled. “What you do isn’t cooking.”

  “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who hired someone else to make your food.” She huffed and stepped over him on her way to the kitchen.

  She heard him quietly laughing as she opened the pantry and took out a can of chicken noodle soup. It didn’t take long to heat in the saucepan. She poured it into two bowls and brought it into the living room on a tray.

  Thaddeus grunted and rolled over on his side.

  “Hey, take it easy,” she said, kneeling beside him.

  “I feel better,” he insisted, sitting up. The wince on his face contradicted his words. He leaned against the leather couch.

  “You need to take care of yourself. I don’t want to have to—“

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, interrupting her. He pointed to the bowls. “Eat.”

  She picked up her bowl and dug the spoon in. He shot her a half-grin and did the same. As she ate, she studied his face, wondering how many people he’d healed over the years. Did he remember how he acquired each scar? How long had he been doing this? Was this all he did, sleep during the day and heal people at night?

  He drew his eyebrows together in a scowl. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  His anger surprised her. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m some kind of…hero.” He said the word like it tasted bad. “That’s not what I am.”

  She swallowed the last spoonful while keeping a steady eye on him. “Then what are you?”

  His gaze faltered and he set his bowl down. “A beast.”

  Chapter 9

  Thaddeus watched her eyes widen, her cheeks grow flushed. She shook her head vehemently. “You’re not.”

  How could he make her understand? He wasn’t what she thought. And as soon as she found out the truth, she would leave. He fought to gain control of his emotions. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Her eyes held sincerity, and it tore him up inside. She would not be looking at him that way if she knew what he’d done, yet he couldn’t keep it from her. Not now that she knew what he could do. She needed to know what else he was capable of.

  She touched his hand, and he resisted the urge to withdraw it. He would tell her, but not now. “Later. I’m tired.”

  She nodded. “Of
course. Do you want me to help you to the recliner?”

  “No,” he said, a little too quickly. “I’ll be fine on the couch.”

  “Then I’ll help you—”

  “No,” he said, holding up his hand. She looked stricken, and he softened his voice. “Thank you. I’m fine.” He eased himself up on the seat to show her he had healed enough to do it himself.

  She picked up the dirty dishes as he adjusted the pillow and made himself comfortable. By the time she came back in the room, he was genuinely tired. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  When he awoke it was dusk. He listened to her for a while, doing some cleaning in the other room. Then, she walked into the living room. He held still, hoping she’d think he was asleep. She sighed and plopped down on the floor next to the couch. He could feel her gaze burning into the back of his head.

  He rolled over and peered at her. “Did you want something?”

  “Just checking on you.”

  “You mean watching me sleep.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “More like watching you pretending to be asleep.”

  Oops. Busted. He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t work, huh?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What gave me away?”

  “Probably the way you stiffened when I walked into the room like you were hoping I’d turn back around and walk out.”

  He could see the hurt in her eyes. Guilt made his chest tighten. “Aribelle…”

  “No, it’s okay. I understand. You don’t want to talk to me.” She looked down at the floor and picked at some lint.

  “It’s not that.” He sat up, cringing when pain flashed through his head. Once the pain stopped, he patted the seat next to him. “Come on.”

  She got up off the floor and sank down into the couch next to him.

  What could he say to her? He couldn’t explain how his growing feelings for her were making him crazy. Or how he wasn’t sure he could trust himself around her. And he couldn’t tell her that after this, she would have to leave and never come back. He exhaled. “I’ve never let anyone in on this before. It’s not easy for me.”