The Beast

18

HAZEL

Ronan sinks his hands and knees on the bed, lurking forward like a beast ready to strike. My illustrated novel is shoved beneath the sheets. I was just finishing chapter two when Ronan abruptly appeared. The chapter was eerily similar to this situation. The college student in the novel had been caught masturbating to a picture of her professor. The professor found her and closed in on her, just like Ronan is doing to me.

I didn't get to finish reading the chapter. Ronan interrupted right as I got to the good part. I suppose I can only blame myself. I should have been alert, anticipating his arrival. But as I read, my heart pounded in my ears, masking the sound of Ronan's approaching footsteps. Now that he's on the bed with me, lurking forward like a like a grim reaper, my blood rushes so loudly in my ears that I'm practically deaf. But in the booming sound, I hear sounds of the future. Moans and groans that would fill this room if I gave in to this man.

Ronan has made his intentions clear many times. If I offered myself to him, he would snatch me with those paws of his and devour me in ways that I can't envision. In ways that the author of the novel couldn't picture, either. Ronan's darkness surpasses the female imagination. So many secrets surround him that I'm sure he's got plenty saved for the bedroom.

"It's a surprise," I blurt, my left hand gripping the novel until I'm sure nail indentations will be printed on the leather cover. "I'm working on something for you."

I'm not lying to him. It would be a fool's errand. He has stripped me naked without even meeting my eyes. His powerful aura and his paradox of being greedy while having it all are enough to peel back all my layers. I'm terrified but rooted to my spot. Poisoned by a curiosity that burns and insists on only being exhausted by his cum. The same cum he spilled on his thighs as he slept beside me.

He stops advancing, slightly tipping his head to the side. "What surprise? What are you working on?"

"A gift," I whisper truthfully. If I finish the book and gather the courage to apply what I learned, I will gift him my body. "Just give me some time to prepare it, please."

Let me finish reading chapter two and learn how Professor Lennord fucks his student in the ass.

I blush just thinking about it. Would Ronan be interested in...Of course he would. He doesn't seem like the man to shy away from anything.

For a moment–for a brief, breath-stopping moment that secures me a spot in hell, I picture us fucking. I'd be stuck on the hole in the wall–the one I crawl under to skip the wall. My butt would be perched in the air, and Ronan would be buried in me. Fucking me as my upper torso is on the other side of the wall, and my pelvis is on the estate grounds. Fucking me while everyone on the estate watches from the tall windows that I've cleaned hundreds of times.

"Hazel?" Ronan calls for me.

"Y–yes?" I replied, snapping out of my outrageous fantasy.

"I said that I look forward to this surprise."

He's withdrawing. Letting me live another day because the humiliation of him seeing my novel would surely kill me.

"Okay," I whisper, turning to my side and sliding the novel under my pillow. I lay down and shut my eyes, afraid that the wrong move would re-engage him.

Ronan stands and disappears into the bathroom. I release a breath, feeling relief for just a brief moment. But I know that my peace will end once he returns.

– • –

Over the next three days, I realized how much I underappreciated my job as a maid. I stay in Ronan's bedroom, reading the novel that's certainly entertaining, but it's not enough. I miss having a job, but I have no one to blame for my boredom. Ronan isn't keeping me captive. He told me I'm free to wander around as long as I don't try to jump out of any windows. But I'm not ready to run into anyone I know. They must think all sorts of things. My mom made it clear that she's disappointed. I have yet to hear from her.

At least Gwen stops to see me every day. She's slowly treating me like she used to when we were roommates. She hasn't entered the bedroom, too terrified about the Lord to step inside. But we spend half an hour every talking in the hall. She tells me about Dakota's emotional breakdown. She's seething at the thought of me sleeping beside the Lord. There are also rumors of how I met Ronan and seduced him. Some girls are convinced he found me mopping in the library, dutifully cleaning. I was wearing bright red socks under my black shoes, humming a song. Ronan allegedly fell in love since then. As a result of this nonsense, all the girls have been sporting red socks and cleaning like their lives depend on it; the estate has never been cleaner. They fight over each other to clean the library, and the estate is colored with their singing and bright red socks.

I chuckled at the silliness. I met Ronan far away from the estate. In a bar, where I nearly got drugged and trafficked. If the maids knew this, I suspect they would tackle the wall down as they stormed into the town.

I sit up on the bed when the doorknob turns, and Ronan enters. He wears his typical hoodie, which fails to cover his tall, broad frame. I see why all the maids are crazy about him. When he marched out to the daylight to save me from Dakota's claws a few days ago, he looked like a dark knight in black armor.

"Good evening," I say, rising from the bed to shut the window. I've learned that he doesn't like when the curtains are open.

A shocking gust of wind blows, scattering the curtains. I hear a deep growl of frustration and turn to face Ronan. He clutches onto his hood, securing it over his face so the wind doesn't blow it. He turns around and grips the doorknob to leave.

"Wait," I blurt.

It has been days, and he keeps hiding from me. I want to get past the hoodie. I want to see the eyes of the man who makes me feel so vulnerable and naked.

"What?" he grits.

I'm treading dangerous waters, but I've always done so, and I haven't died yet. I won't stop now.

"Let me see you. I don't want you to hide anymore. You're not a monster."

I don't know what accident got him his scars, but they weren't able to destroy the man he is inside. I've noticed the small things he does for me in the bedroom. Like adding products he never had so I could enjoy my baths, adding pillows to a bed that only had one before I got here, setting a notebook and pen on my nightstand, and replacing the broken mirror on his dresser. Most importantly, he keeps wearing the hoodie I made for him. He has worn it three consecutive times since I moved into his bedroom.

"No," he replies and yanks the door open.

"Please!"

He stands by the door, hesitating. He steps forward, and I'm sure he will walk out. But then he shuts the door and turns around, falling to his knees before me.

He sets his hands on his thighs and lowers his head. "Go on, then. Lift the hood. Satisfy your morbid curiosity and run away from your monstrous Lord."