The Beast

9

LORD RONAN

I lay against the wall with Red, one of the town's prostitutes. She has been eyeing me for a while, knowing I have money. I'm finally giving her the attention she wants because she has information about an arms dealer essential to my investigation.

"I normally don't bring customers to my bedroom. But I can make an exception for you." She's digging her polished nails into my chest, trying to peer under my hoodie. But her heels make her a tad too tall, and I'm not giving her the angle she's looking for.

I wrap my arms around her, playing the part. "I know how you can make easy money. Answer a few of my questions, and I'll pay you as if you were the best lay I ever had."

"Hmm... You know I've been really into you for months. I—"

My eyes lock on Hazel. She's retreating, her short legs stomping away.

I curse as I run after her. Why do I feel an outrageous amount of guilt? We owe nothing to each other.

She wasn't supposed to see me in that compromising position. Especially since I know it hurt her. The girl considers me a friend, perhaps more. This attachment wasn't supposed to happen.

Her bag is stuffed full, likely with the damn hoodie she insists on giving me.

I latch onto her arm, stopping her. "Girl," I growl. "Why do you keep returning to this town?"

She rips her arm away. "Don't worry," she grits. "You won't see me ever again."

Those are the words I've been dying to hear from her. I want her safe and protected in the estate, away from this callous, greedy world that could devour her. But her defeat brings me no joy. She's most loyal to this hooded character of mine, not to Lord Ronan. If she stays in the estate, she won't ever see this version of me again.

"I wasn't going to fuck her," I say, shifting my weight from one leg to another. Discomfort swirls in my gut. I'm not used to explaining my actions to anyone, much less a slip of a maid with a knack for breaking the rules. A maid that I can't bring myself to punish because her eyes are full of hope and innocent curiosity that can't be found anywhere else in this damned world.

It's impossible to hate her.

"She had information I needed, and I was trying to seduce it out of her."

She trembles, her fury remaining true. "Is seducing women one of your pastimes?"

I groan. She's jealous. This isn't good.

"I didn't try to seduce you when I kissed you. I was trying to scare you away. Show you that the men outside your estate are cruel and only want your body. There was nothing else to that kiss."

She digs into her bag and pulls out the hoodie. It's dark brown and thin–likely because she lacked fabric and materials. But she still made the effort. She thrusts it into my arms. "I thought you were kind for not reporting me to the estate. I didn't think you were a liar, too."

Although I wear a hoodie that covers most of my body, she sees right through me. She knows there was more to that fucking kiss than intimidation. It started calculated, but I quickly lost sight of the goal. I enjoyed her lips. I swept in like a criminal, ready to turn her into a victim, but I underestimated her power.

She turns away and walks off. Instead of sending my bodyguard after her this time, I follow her discreetly.

She's so disoriented by her anger that she's more vulnerable than usual. I can't trust anyone but myself to ensure she gets home.

She mutters and clutches her bag as she walks to the estate. When she reaches the wall, she lies against a tree. She rests her head on her knees and draws on the soil with her index finger. She's waiting for the guard change to slip back into the estate.