Page 10 of The Beast Between Us (Once Upon A Forever #2)

“It’s most definitely not nothing,” I say, eyes wide. “There are more dresses in my new room than I’ve ever owned. And they’re far more beautiful than anything that I’ve ever had.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then…

“And yet, you chose to wear the one Oswin brought to you yesterday.”

I flush, warmth rushing to my cheeks.

“I just love this dress,” I say, running a hand down the fabric. “Your mother was quite skilled with the needle and thread.”

“She was,” he replies, moving aside his empty bowl and digging into his second.

There’s a pause before I say, with more curiosity than caution, “Do you think I could take a bath in your tub one day?”

He chokes. Literally coughs on his stew.

“Why on earth would you want to do that?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

“Oswin said your water comes from a tank on the roof,” I explain, smiling. “I had a bit of fun with the kitchen water while I was cleaning earlier… but I’d love to see it fill a whole tub.”

I lift a hand, half-teasing. “I’m kidding. I wouldn’t use that much water. Promise.”

He just stares at me, his soup cooling by the second.

“Maybe one day, when you’re not very busy, you can show me the pipes,” I say with a smile. “How do you heat the water? Are you being cooked while in the tub?”

“Cooked?” he repeats, frowning. “No. The water is heated as it passes through the pipes running through the furnace.”

“Oh,” I say, brightening. “I’d like to see that too.”

He stares at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m genuinely curious or simply trying to kill him with innocent persistence.

Finally, he clears his throat and mutters, “You can use the tub if you want.”

I blink. “Really?”

“I don’t care how much water you use,” he grumbles, grabbing a slice of bread like the conversation hasn’t made his claws twitch. “The tanks refill themselves with rain. It’s not as if we’re rationing.”

A smile tugs at my lips, and I lean in just slightly, teasing. “So I can take a long bath?”

He groans under his breath. “Take seven, if it’ll stop the questions about plumbing.”

I laugh softly…and this time, he doesn’t look away.

He just watches me. Quiet.

And then, as if nothing strange or significant had just passed between us, he returns to his stew.

“Pardon the intrusion, Sire,” Oswin says from the entrance to the dining hall. “You have a guest.”

“Tell them to go away,” Thorne mutters, not looking up from his bowl.

“I already did, Sire,” Oswin replies evenly, though he smooths down the front of his crumpled shirt.

My brows knit. Oswin’s clothes are never anything but perfectly pressed.

“But… he was rather crude.”

I stand abruptly, ignoring the sharp pain that flares in my back and side.

“Did he grab you? Did the guest hurt you, Oswin?”

Thorne’s head snaps toward him at my words, his eyes narrowing like a blade being drawn.

“T’was nothing I couldn’t handle, my Lady,” Oswin says quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile.

“That is most assuredly not the point, Oswin,” I snap, already marching past him toward the front entrance. “There is absolutely no reason someone should lay hands on you just because they showed up uninvited and didn’t get what they wanted.”

“You mustn’t, my Lady,” Oswin says, voice rising with urgency as he follows.

“I’m just going to share a few words, that’s all,” I say, already reaching for the door latch.

“Sire…” Oswin calls out behind me, panic thick in his voice. “It’s Lord Byron.”

The name means nothing to me.

Whoever he is, he shouldn’t be grabbing my friend.

I throw open the door without hesitation, the wind instantly whipping through the entryway, catching at my hair and the skirt of my dress.

Rain pelts the stone steps. A tall man stands just beyond the threshold, his grin wide and smug beneath the hood of his riding cloak.

“Well, now,” he drawls, eyes gleaming. “A new little bird in the cursed tower.”

Behind me, I hear the scrape of a chair against stone… and then the low, unmistakable growl of something barely restrained.

I ignore it.

All rational thought flees as I step into the doorway, fire in my chest, and rain soaking my sleeves.

“Listen here,” I snap, voice sharp. “What possible reason could you have for grabbing my friend? Have you no shame in hurting others just to get your way?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, his eyes trace my face…slow, assessing.

Then, with a smug smile, he reaches out and lifts a single tendril of my hair between his fingers.

“Pretty little thing,” he murmurs. “Much too soft for a place like this.”

The storm doesn’t just grow louder.

It erupts.

Thunder crashes like cannon fire above us. Wind shrieks through the hall behind me, slamming a door somewhere deep in the manor.

And from within the shadows…

A roar.

Not human. Not even close.

“It seems I’ve awakened the Beast,” the man laughs, clearly amused by the chaos brewing above.

“You are a guest,” I snap, refusing to flinch. “And you are to show respect to the people you visit. Now, apologize to my friend.”

He chuckles, low and mocking. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

Before I can step back, his hand lands on my shoulder. Firm. Unwelcome. He uses it to press me backward as he crosses the threshold.

“Why don’t I take you away from this cursed place,” he murmurs, stepping inside as if he owns it, “to somewhere full of life… and warmth?”

The floor beneath us shudders.

The candles in the hall gutter violently, flames bending toward the source of something vast and enraged.

And then…

A voice.

Low. Rough. Angry.

“You will remove your hand from her…”

A pause. Thick. Dangerous.

“Or I will remove it from you .”

Byron doesn’t flinch.

In fact, he smirks.

“I see the curse hasn’t dulled your dramatics, Thorne.”

He casually withdraws his hand from my shoulder…but not out of fear. More like amusement. Like he’s playing with fire on purpose, just to see how close he can get without being burned.

“You’re still brooding in the dark, snarling at every shadow,” Byron continues, voice full of mock sympathy. “It’s been what? A decade? You’d think you’d have learned to share your toys by now.”

Behind me, I feel Thorne drawing closer.

The air thickens…heavy with magic and barely restrained fury.

But this time, he doesn’t growl.

He steps into the light.

Massive. Shadowed. Half-beast, half-man. His presence consumes the space behind me like a second storm.

Then he’s right behind me. His clawed hand grips my side. Gentle. Careful.

He says nothing as he eases me back, guiding me behind him with a reverence that stuns me more than the storm raging outside.

Then his voice cuts through the air. Quiet, cold, and final.

“The next time you lay a hand on anything or anyone that belongs to me, your family will be in mourning, Byron.”

Byron laughs as if Thorne’s fury is entertainment.

I lean over and peek around Thorne’s body to better see.

“Oh, Oswin isn’t a frail man, Thorne. I didn’t hurt him. I simply wanted his attention.”

He shifts his gaze, and I feel it slide over me like oil.

“And as for your new little guest…” His smirk sharpens. “What do you want for her? I can pay in gold or servants. Whichever you’re in need of most. And we both know it isn’t gold.”

The temperature drops.

The very floor seems to hold its breath.

I feel the question claw its way up through my chest before I can stop it. Thorne wouldn’t sell me to this man… would he?

But then…

“You are not welcome here, Byron,” Thorne says, voice low and ragged with restraint. “And if I ever catch your scent anywhere near this place again…”

He steps forward, shadows coiling at his feet.

“…I’ll rip your Beast from your skin and bury it in pieces.”

Byron’s smile twitches, but his eyes gleam with something darker now.

Does he have a Beast, too?

It’s said that most Lords do. But, for some reason, the idea of anyone other than the Lords of Evermere having one never crossed my mind. I’ve never heard speak of one outside of Evermere Manor.

As Thorne speaks, Lord Byron’s irises flash brown to red, then back again.

He does.

Fascinated, I move further from behind Thorne’s back to get a better view.

Thorne glances back at me and growls.

I understand immediately.

Without a word, I shift fully behind him, stepping out of Lord Byron’s view.

My beast isn’t cruel like this man.

No matter what the rumors say.

“Still can’t control your Beast, I see,” Lord Byron says. “Just be lucky you still have the strength it gives you. Without it, I’d have ended you years ago. Set this town free from its terrifying monster.”

“Even without my Beast, Byron, you wouldn’t stand a chance,” Thorne growls. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a shifter. A predator in the worst sense. Hurting women simply because you can. You’re far more a monster than I am.”

“Rumors,” Lord Byron says casually. But I hear it.

The smile.

The satisfaction.

Thorne speaks the truth.

Lord Byron hurts women.

And he enjoys it.

“Still… my offer stands,” Byron says, voice slick with mockery. “If you ever change your mind and want to be rid of that small beauty of a burden hiding behind your back… I’ll gladly take her off your hands.”

I can feel his gaze even as I hide behind Thorne.

“Anyhow, I was passing through and just wanted to see if you were still alive. I’ll be off now. See you next time, Beast. ”

He turns, chuckling as he descends the steps.

“Beauty and the Beast,” he laughs to himself. “And Oswin, of course. Can’t forget Oswin. Strange little group.”

Thorne slams the door shut with a thunderous crack that rattles the windows.

Then he turns…his fury no longer aimed at Byron… but at me.

“Prepare for bed,” he growls.

His voice is sharp, final. A warning.

I know better than to push him right now. So I turn and head for the grand staircase in silence.

But then…

“And Ella…”

I freeze.

But I don’t turn around.

His voice drops, low and dangerous.

“Never do such a thing again,” he growls. “You have no idea what could have happened to you had I not been here.”

I grit my teeth, heat rising in my chest. I turn slowly, trying to hold onto my composure.

“But he grabbed…”

“I don’t care if he tossed Oswin across the room,” Thorne snaps, stepping closer. “Oswin knows how to handle himself. Even against someone like Byron. You, however…”

His voice falters for a beat.

“You would have paid a horrid price had he grabbed you and left.”

I remain silent.

His words echo through my mind, heavier than the storm outside.

You would have paid a horrid price…

I look into his eyes, still glowing faintly, still wild, and see something beneath the fury.

My anger slips away, replaced by something quieter.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t think. I just… I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Thorne exhales slowly, deep and shaky like he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

For a moment, he looked…

Afraid.

Not of Byron.

But for me.

He straightens. The fire in his gaze dims, just a little.

“Go,” he says, voice rough. “Prepare for bed.”

I nod, but as I turn to leave, his voice stops me again.

“And Ella…”

I glance back over my shoulder.

“Meet me in my study when you’re finished. By the fire.”

His eyes flick briefly to my side, where the pain still lingers beneath my ribs.

“We still need to talk about who hurt you.”

Sighing, I do as he commands.