Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning

I looked to Beast, waiting for him to ruin it all. He gestured to the seats. Gingerly I stepped forward and took the nearest one. While he was seating himself, I scanned the rest of the rooftop. On the other side I could make out covered seating. It was hard to tell in the winter, but there appeared to be a covered pool as well. The hot tub was open though.

I swallowed.

“Thirsty?” he asked, holding out a bottle.

“Hot chocolate?” I gasped. He poured the liquid into a mottled gold mug in response. Tendrils of steam whispered into the air. A covered silver platter contained something I couldn’t see, but that smelled absolutely divine. Awestruck, I turned my head to his.

“What is this?” I asked, confused. Heat lamps kept us warm, though the occasional gust of wind set my flesh with goose bumps. He took my black-gloved hand in his own bare hand. I stared as his hand encapsulated mine. So much raw maleness just in those fingers.

“It’s dinner,” he replied.

“You’ve been busy,” I said. “I haven’t seen you since the funeral.”

His eyes flashed. “Miss me?” The Beast was dressed impeccably, as usual, wearing a charcoal colored fitted suit with hair falling in waves behind the corded muscles of his neck. His eyes were deep and shadowed but somehow glowing in their intensity. It was his jaw that had me captivated, though, because it was ticked up in a smile. I focused on that, my stomach fluttering. Even though it was small, barely even a smirk, it changed his entire face. His eyes softened and warmed, and I melted.

I wanted to be on the couch like Gabby and Levi. I wanted him holding me. I wanted to feel his arms wrap around me.

“I…” I stuttered, suddenly realizing the downside of being drunk. My thoughts spun from me and my tongue flapped without warrant. “Only curious…is all…”

“I had work.” His eyes bore into mine and it was as if he were digging a hole into my soul. I could feel the grinding, the turning, the bits he ripped up to get deeper into me.

“You make me sleep in your room and then you’re gone all day,” I said. “All we do is sleep.” Words kept tumbling out of my mouth like vomit. I couldn’t stop them. I was seeing through this rosy, drunken haze and for some fucking reason, I thought I could speak freely. All we’d been doing lately was sleeping; it was so peculiar. He didn’t even try to force my orgasms anymore. I was so lost in

this house. Ever since the funeral—no, since after the dinner—he had been distant.

Which is good. I smacked those words into my brain like I was running into a wall head first. I should like it. I should want him to be distant.

“We don’t do anything but sleep,” I continued, despite the voice in my head screaming for me to shut the fuck up.

“Are you asking me why I don’t fuck you, Frankie?” His eyes narrowed on mine.

My eyes widened. “Of course not! That’s not what I want. I would never want that.” I tugged at my hand, but he gripped it tighter. Then all at once he dropped it.

“If you didn’t want to be my slut, maybe you shouldn’t have given your life up for such a worthless one.” He opened the silver platter, placing some kind of meat with sauce on his plate.

“He is my father,” I said. “Something you apparently cannot understand.” The minute the words came out of my mouth, I knew they were a mistake. I hadn’t meant it to be an insult. To me the Beast existed in a world without any love, so how could he understand my love for my father? The Beast paused and I stilled with him, waiting for his response.

“I may be an orphan,” he replied. “But I understand fathers well enough. I know yours to be worthless.” Beast nearly threw me with that—orphan? He didn’t have any parents? Was he raised in some kind of home?

All alone?

Still.

I understood that Papa wasn’t the best father, he wasn’t even the best person, but he was worth more than me. I was sick; my body probably wasn’t going to last long. Sure the doctors said I was fine now, but I didn’t know. I was more tired than most people. Occasionally I would get fevers for no reason at all. My heart beat faster than normal, but because I wasn’t passing out all the time they didn’t care. It just wasn’t right, letting him die when my life was so worthless.

I would go back and do it again, and again, and again.

I was a community college dropout going nowhere with my life. I lived under a staircase. I’d never had any boyfriends or any real friends. All I’d ever been in life was sick.

At least now I could say I’d done something with my life.

I saved Papa.

“He is twice the man you will ever be,” I said, voice getting louder.

“Oh really?” The Beast continued his meal, chewing with simultaneous poise and ferocity.

“He is good and kind!” I yelled, filled with drunken courage.