Page 12 of The Beast Between Us (Once Upon A Forever #2)

I pause, then add, “Many were my mother’s. She believed every home needed more stories than silence.”

“She was right,” Ella whispers, still turning slowly in the candlelight. “Would it… I mean, if it’s okay…”

“Out with it, Ella,” I say, smiling despite myself.

She stops. Just looks at me. Eyes wide. Smile soft.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile,” she murmurs. “What a wonderful thing to witness. Even more so than a hundred times a hundred books.”

I rub absently at my chest, where something tight and unfamiliar tugs.

“Your question?” I ask, trying to sound stern, but my voice is quieter now.

“Oh!” she laughs, a soft, delighted sound. “If I promise to be very gentle, would it be possible for me to borrow a book or two?”

“My sweet Ella,” I say, voice low but sure, “you can read every book on these shelves if you so wish.”

Her eyes brighten even more, lighting up the entire room. “That could take me years.”

“Then so be it,” I murmur. “Years it is.”

As I watch Ella search for her first book, fingers trailing reverently over the spines, eyes full of wonder, it hits me.

I love her.

I love her with every beat of my beastly, broken heart.

As a man, I would court her with flowers and stories, with whispered promises beneath moonlight.

As a man, I would hold her close and show her just how radiant she is, inside and out.

As a man, I could marry her.

But I am not just a man.

There is a monster in me.

Clawed hands. A snarling shadow. A storm waiting for an excuse to break.

How could she ever love this ?

We could never be together. Not truly. Not while there is still a Beast between us.

“Mate.”

I ignore my Beast’s claim and lean against a shelf, watching her from the corner of my eye. I’ve had to remind the fool several times these past few days that we lay no claim to Ella.

But as always, he doesn’t listen.

He fights me at every turn.

The battle leaves me drained by nightfall, my energy worn thin from holding him back.

“I’m going for a snack,” I growl. “Stay as long as you like. I’ll take care of the candles before bed.”

***Ella***

He leaves without another word, his broad back disappearing down the hall like a storm fading into the distance. The sound of his boots fades too, though the air still feels charged, like thunder is waiting just outside the window.

I let out a slow breath.

There’s something about him. Something that unsettles and calms me all at once. He can be sharp-edged and growling one moment, then thoughtful and silent the next. One heartbeat, he’s terrifying. The next, he’s handing me the key to his sanctuary.

I trail my fingers along a nearby spine, the leather worn and soft from years of use. He trusted me with this room. That has to mean something.

And yet… what was that flicker in his eyes when he watched me? Was it his Beast? I’ve only ever seen his eyes glow red when he was angry. But this time, his eyes were somewhere between red and brown. More golden.

They say the Beast is cursed and cruel.

But that’s not all he is.

I’ve seen glimpses of something more.

Something lonely.

I curl up in one of the large chairs, pulling a worn and very loved book into my lap and tucking my legs beneath me. It smells of parchment, old ink, and just a trace of firewood smoke.

It smells like freedom.

He told me I could stay as long as I liked.

So I stay.

And I read.

And for the first time in years, I let my mind wander without fear of getting punished.

***Thorne***

She’s fast asleep in the library when I return.

Her book rests forgotten in her lap, one hand still loosely curled around its edge. Her breathing is soft. Even. At peace.

I should call for Oswin to carry her back to her chambers. That would be the proper thing to do.

But I don’t move.

If I’m being honest with myself, truly honest, I just want to hold her. To feel her tucked safely against my chest. Even if it’s only this once.

I pause, reaching inward. The Beast… is quiet.

Calm.

Content, even.

A strange feeling flickers through me. Could this be an opening? A moment of clarity where I could try to tip the scale…to pull control back in my favor?

I freeze, considering it.

Never has he been this… subdued.

If I move fast, I could use this moment. Push harder. Take more. Maybe even all.

But then I look at her.

Sleeping. Trusting. So fragile in this moment.

No.

To wrestle the Beast now would trigger another war within me. One that would no doubt end in destruction. And if she were caught in the crossfire…

I couldn’t bear it.

I shake my head and sigh quietly. I will not risk her.

Grabbing the book, I look to see what she chose. It’s a journal my grandfather wrote of his many adventures. One of my favorites to read as I grew up. I place the book gently on the table, careful not to lose her place.

Carefully, I reach down and lift her into my arms.

She fits perfectly there. Light. Warm. Safe.

For a moment… just a moment… something inside me clicks into place. The Beast doesn’t resist.

He retreats. Further than ever before.

And I…

I feel almost whole.

I carry her through the halls in silence, careful to keep my steps light and steady. The storm outside has quieted, mirroring the stillness inside me.

Halfway to her chambers, she stirs.

Her eyelashes flutter before her eyes open, drowsy and unfocused at first. She blinks slowly, then looks up at me.

Not a scream.

Not a gasp.

No fear.

Just… a sleepy little smile.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs, head nestling against my chest again as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

I can’t speak. If I try, I’ll say something foolish.

When I reach her door, I nudge it open with my shoulder and carry her inside. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of the fire Oswin must’ve tended earlier.

I ease her down onto the bed, careful… so careful not to let my claws catch on the soft blankets. I pull them up to her chin and smooth them over her gently like she’s made of glass and moonlight.

“Thorne?” she whispers, voice barely audible in the hush of the room.

I still.

“Can we be friends?”

Her eyes are so open. So sincere. Not a trace of mockery. Only hope.

The word scrapes at something deep inside me.

Friends.

It’s not what I want.

But it’s what she’s offering.

And I would take anything from her.

“If that is what you wish,” I say quietly.

She smiles, small and sleepy, and her eyes begin to close again.

“Good,” she whispers. “Because I need one. And, I think you need another one as well.”

I don’t move until her breathing evens out again.

Only then do I whisper into the night.

“I think so, too.”