The Beast

12

LORD RONAN

I can practically sense a disturbance in the estate. I've walked these halls at night for so many years that they became an extension of my body.

I'm in the office when it happens. A strange shiver runs down my back. I grip my hoodie that's always draped over my face, fearing that a gust of wind will blow it away.

Then I hear the disturbance. Yells and a set of footsteps running toward my office. I know that one of my trusted staff members is coming. Very few are allowed this close to my office.

There's a rapid knock on my door. "Lord?" Janice, one of the elders of the estate, calls for me.

"Come in."

She enters, keeping her eyes on the ground as always. Even after all these years, our eyes have met. I don't know what color hers are. She cared for me in the darkness when a fever took root a decade ago. Treating me as if I was her son although she had never seen my face. We're still strangers to each other, but she respects my space and reasoning. She never questions me because she knows I will always protect the estate.

She struggles to catch her breath. I'm tempted to walk to her side to offer her an arm and support her, but I'm rooted to my spot. Our skin hasn't brushed in years.

She's not a friend or a maternal figure. She's an employee.

If only it was this fucking easy to recite this rule when Hazel is involved. But I keep forgetting she's my employee.

"There's a dispute in the southern kitchen. A girl is accused of skipping the wall. They are calling for her banishment."

It feels like my hoodie falls off and my face is revealed to the world. Like I'm at the mercy of the sunlight.

I don't know why I feel shocked. I knew this day might come. Hazel isn't a trained spy. She's a curious, clumsy girl. A daydreamer. Trusting and innocent.

Now I'm left to uphold the rules of the estate. To uproot the life of the girl that aroused mine. The girl that splashed color into my grey, dull existence. I don't see much color under this hood that covers my face. But Hazel is as her name dictates: vibrant.

"Her name?" I ask Janice, hoping for a stroke of luck. Praying that another servant was caught.

"Hazel."

I exhale. There it is. The reason for my demise.

"How did she get caught?" I ask. It's not normal of Hazel to skip the wall so early in the day. She has duties to tend to and wouldn't neglect them as that would raise suspicion.

"A guard was captured in her bedroom. He confronted her for skipping the wall and she attacked him."

Something isn't right. Hazel is a tiny little thing. My guards are not. The only reason for her to fight would be self-defense.

I walk out of the office, having heard enough.

"Lord. Lord! It's daytime!" Janice yells as if I'm blind under this hood. As if I can't see the halls I'm walking.

"I know," I reply, my steps coming faster.

Today, I won't walk the halls at night. Today I'll face the daylight and my servants. Anyone that stands between Hazel and I.

It takes a few minutes to reach the southern kitchen. Every pair of eyes find me, and a trail of whispers clings to my shadow. The servants know who I am although they've never seen the hooded figure before. I've never shown myself before, no matter how urgent the situation. Today is the first and only exception.

My footsteps fall louder than ever on the tiled floor. And I swear the statues I walk past are staring at me, too.

When I turn the corner, the loud clamoring of a crowd stops. There are dozens of servants here. Hazel is forced onto a chair, and two of my mistresses pin her down by her shoulders.

She's trying not to cry. Trying to not give them anything. But her skittish, red eyes and trembling lips betray her.

Her eyes find mine, and the fear is momentarily forgotten as shock takes over.

"What are you doing here?" She mutters in the silence. She hasn't connected the dots yet. Hasn't realized that the hooded man she fell for first is the Lord of the estate.

"I will say this once. This servant was overseeing an investigation on my behalf and it was compromised. She was authorized to leave the premises and has no punishment to answer to. You are all dismissed. Return to your posts."

I don't mask my voice this time. Don't try to pretend to be a different man for Hazel. Based on her gaping lips and the tear that strikes down her cheek, she knows the truth.

I stand before her wearing a black hoodie with long sleeves that cover my fisted, scarred hands. With long black jeans and shoes. But she knows the sound of my voice. Knows my height and the sculpting of my body which she learned as I pressed her against a wall and kissed her.

The servants scatter, bumping into each other as they're unable to pull their eyes away from me. They know there will not be another chance in this lifetime to see me.

"Didn't you hear? Dismissed," I growl to the mistresses that keep Hazel pinned to her chair.

They share a look of disbelief.

"But lord..."

"But she..."

Hearing enough, I cross the distance and rip their sleeves, removing their ranking stripes and dropping the cloth to Hazel's feet.

I have stripped them of their titles of mistresses. A title that was rendered useless since I met Hazel. I haven't fucked anyone since.

"Be gone."

There's a sniffle before they scurry away, leaving me with Hazel, who rises from her seat. Her long skirt slightly trembles. "You're the same," she whispers. "The same man."

"I am," I reply.

The one who rescued her at the bar. Who kissed her, protected her, watched her.

"All this time..." she shakes her head.

I can't imagine what's going through her mind. The confusion and embarrassment she must feel. I didn't want this day to come, but our worlds are so different that they were bound to crash.

"You must tell me what happened with the guard," I order.

"No," she grits, taking a step back and pushing the chair away. "You will tell me what games you've been playing with me, Ronan. You will answer questions."

She spits my name. Curses it.

I reach a hand out and palm her cheek. Lifting it quickly so she can't see the scars.

"Careful," I grumble. "Don't forget that no matter how many times I've protected you and how many secrets we've kept, I'm your master. You won't disrespect me in my home, Hazel."

She's got power over me, I'll give her that. But although I'm attracted to her and let her run around, I can't let her tongue be set free, too. I respect her. That's why I haven't seduced her. Why I haven't bent her over and buried my ugly fucking face in her pussy and ate her out. She will respect me, too.

"What will you do? Banish me?" She swats my hand away, glowing in her anger.

"Yes," I growl, finally snapping. "Banished to my damn quarters until I figure out what's going on."

Until I know the mistresses won't poison her. Until I know what that fucking guard did to her.

"Janice!" I shout, knowing that she's peeking out of a hall and watching intently. "Take her to my bedroom. Keep her there. I have business."

"I will not go!" Hazel counters as Janice rushes forward.

"There is no choice," I say as I walk away. "Within these walls, you are mine," I growl. "Ours."