Content To Be Claimed (Beauty And The Beast #1)

Chapter 52

We soon reached Victor's house. He set me down in the doorway and gestured for me to go ahead.

I stepped in, fixing my windswept hair and clothes. The house was as beautiful as I remembered, and as I walked through the kitchen to the living room, I caught the scent of delicious food in the air.

I smiled; he'd cooked for me. "Something smells good in here."

"I didn't know if you were coming," he whispered in my ear, "so I prepared."

I froze. He was so close I could feel his hard body right behind mine, with barely an inch of space between us. "What are you doing?" I asked calmly.

He leaned round me so I could look up into his playful blue eyes. "I'm taking inventory. Do you mind?"

"Of what?"

Instead of answering, he kept staring, waiting for permission. I closed my eyes and breathed out. My best friend was a weirdo. "Sure, whatever."

His long fingers slid gently into my hair, running efficiently over my scalp. For some reason, he suddenly stopped at the back of my head and rubbed a spot. He then ran both hands down my arms, then turned me to him. I gulped, finding myself standing almost in his arms. He kept one hand in mine, twining our fingers absently, as he caught my chin and turned my head this way and that, checking over my face.

"Seriously, what's up?" I asked after a bit.

His eyes focused on mine as he ghosted his fingers over the now faded bruise on my chin. "Vincent has always had a problem taking care of his toys." He raised our linked hands and pressed a quick kiss to mine, his eyes never leaving mine. "Sorry about what he put you through. And welcome back."

I smiled, touched at his perceptiveness as he walked backwards and sank into a couch. I sat down with him. "Thanks. And I'm sorry for your loss."

He angled his head. "Loss?"

"Your brother, dude," I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not." He dropped my hand and leaned back carelessly. "Especially with what he did to you."

"You don't have to act like you didn't care at all," I said softly. "He told me. That he turned you," I clarified when he raised a brow. "He told me why."

His brows dipped and there was bitterness. "He never told me. He always brushed me off when I asked."

"I think he was trying to protect you."

His eyes snapped to mine, the blue in them deepening. "Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" I asked, puzzled.

He lunged forward, running his fingers over the fang marks I'd had since prom. He sighed in relief - they had faded when Vincent died. "At least he didn't!" Then he turned me to look at him. "You got in his head, didn't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "What is with you guys? Vincent didn't like me."

Victor raised a brow. "I didn't say he did."

"Well, Warren did, and you just implied it."

He laughed, then shrugged. "You got Vince to talk." When he looked up again, he gazed at me silently, then announced, "Alright, let's get some food in you."

I nodded eagerly, remembering that Warren had basically left me to starve. As we walked back to the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of something on his back patio. I stepped back, letting it in my view again, and realised that I was looking at a painting. "What's that?"

"What?" He came back to me, following my gaze, then he stiffened. "Nothing."

"Vic -" He'd already disappeared, so I called, "Victor, stop!"