Page 79 of Wicked Beasts (Lament Princess #1)

Seventy-Eight

M y eyelids feel heavy.

My breath is light and slow while my heart thumps a gentle rhythm in my chest. I can feel him next to me, the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle woodsy smell of his scent. I begin to stir as I turn my head and nestle against the pillow.

Fingers rake through my hair, brushing it gently away from my temple as I feel lips against my cheek. A small smile peeks at the corner of my mouth as I finally summon the strength to open my eyes.

I see him now, he bathes in a golden glow from the sun seeping in through my window.

His beautiful and kind hazel eyes watching me from behind those black-rimmed glasses as he sits in my bed beside me.

His hair is perfect, not a strand out of place, but there’s a very defined scar diagonally across the center of his face from one side of his forehead, across his nose, through his cheek and down his jaw.

My breath hitches as my fingers struggle to reach for him.

“What happened?” I ask, worry strikes my heart as I fear he’s hurt in some way.

He leans forward a little as he takes off his glasses, allowing my fingers to gently trace the red scar that appears to be holding his face together.

“Cordelia,” he says gently.

My fingers retract as I immediately graze them against my collarbone.“The necklace…”

He nods. “And the mirror,” he adds, his massive shoulders lifting as he inhales deeply.

“I thought if we were to finally be rid of her, it’d break this curse she placed upon me, but—” His hand briefly acknowledges the unmistakable scar across his face.

“It gave me this instead. Now, I wear my faults for everyone to see.”

“You’re still perfect to me,” I whisper as I mull over his words, a frown beginning to crease between my eyebrows.

“Tristan…” My voice comes out weak as I search his face for answers.

Did this mean Dr. Shadow was gone? Did this scar mean they had somehow merged back together as one man?

He said the curse wasn’t broken, didn’t he?

My mind swirls with a storm of questions, too many for my mouth. “Is he…”

He glances away, breaking our eye contact. At first, he pauses, my heart thumping wildly in my chest as I await an answer. Then, slowly, he shakes his head, and sudden relief washes over me, though his words don’t follow with the answer I am looking for.

“How can you care for him?” He says it like a question but delivers it like an accusation.

His hazel eyes brim with concern as his gaze briefly meets mine.

His fingers gently brush against the edge of my jaw before his eyes wander down toward my throat as if to remember what he had done.

He shut his eyes and shook his head, like he was trying to stuff something down.

“Because he is you ,” I say softly. I am no longer ensnared between two wicked beasts, instead enraptured by the complexity of his duality.

My hand covers his, drawing it gently to my lips.

I press a soft kiss to the back of his fingers, my voice barely a breath.

“I will always love the parts of you that you don’t know how to love. ”

He tenses at my words, the muscle in his jaw ticking, but slowly, his eyes open again. They are a little redder now, a little glossy. I tilt my head slightly, still waiting for my answer.

“He’s still here?” I ask, though part of me fears what he might say. It sounds like he is, but I want him to say it. I want him to tell me openly and honestly.

Tristan inhales sharply. “Not as often,” he says finally. “But yes, he resurfaces when he wants. He’s good friends with Dr. Wollstonecraft. Strange man,” Tristan adds as he glances toward the blooming rose on my writing desk, “the doctor.”

My brows furrow slightly. Dr. Shadow had only ever come out during the night, save for the time he tried to get rid of Tristan. My heart begins to race once more as I try to sit up in bed, but the plush of the mattress seems to keep hold of me, draining me of my strength.

“How many nights has it been since the cellar?” I ask. “How long have I been out?”

“A week,” he says, stroking my hair as he manages to get me to lay back down. “We almost lost you. I’m so sorry you were brought into this, Miss Amara.”

“A week?” I shriek. I try to sit up, but Tristan gently pushes me back down. Panic rises in my chest. “My father… I just left. I need to…” My brain spins with the horror of what I know my dad must be feeling right now.

But Tristan shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

My brain stumbles to process his words as he reaches over and pulls a piece of paper off the nightstand.

Unfolding it, he reveals a missing person poster with my face on it.

“Mrs. Wong saw this in town a few days after you showed up here and overheard rumors of a woman dancing in the street one night. She contacted your father. He came to visit to make sure you were alright. He didn’t want to leave, but he really needed to rest.”

My mouth opens and closes as I try to absorb the collision of my two worlds—my father and Tristan in the same room?

“He’s a very nice man,” Tristan continues, his posture relaxing as he places the poster on the desk.

“And I assured him you would call as soon as you could so he may come see you when you have the strength.” He leans forward, fingers tenderly tracing my jaw.

“I promised to protect you. I will never put you in danger again.”

Slowly, I nod and take a deep breath. “I know, but I also want you to know you are not a danger to me.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he returns his glasses to his face, his cheeks dusted a soft shade of scarlet. He shifts slightly in his chair, nodding as he does, the memory of his suicide attempt playing in both our minds.

“You saved me. How did you know?”

“I dreamed it,” I whisper. “I watched you pace. I watched you?—”

“I didn’t die,” he interrupts gently, his voice lowering to match mine in soft reassurance.

He stands and slides onto the bed beside me, his presence all-enveloping as he pulls me closer to him.

His scent surrounds me, and for a moment, I feel like I could melt into his embrace.

This is where I belong. This is where I’m safe, wrapped in his arms. “Shadow sabotaged even that.” He wets his lips as he hugs me tighter.

“I was never one to believe in magic and curses,” Tristan says quietly, resting his jaw against my temple.

“I thought I could fix this—figure it out on my own—but magic is science, with an entirely different set of rules I don’t understand. ”

“Do you think she’s gone forever?” I mutter, my eyelids growing heavy as sleep starts to take over. In his arms, I feel untouchable. Nothing can reach me here, not while I’m with him.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I wish I did. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” I murmur, my gaze lifting to meet his through half-closed, drowsy eyes. “I wonder who else you might be… Professor Midnight, Master Charcoal…” I tease as my voice fades.

He chuckles, a soft, warm sound, and presses another gentle kiss to my temple.

“Rest,” he says, his tone soothing.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.