Taming the Beast

He’d already been an outcast in the community because of his wealth and eccentricities. Soon, he’d likely be chased from town for being a monster—as if he’d had a choice about being one.

Staring at his statuesque captive, he knelt beside the chair and draped his forearms over his knees. She’d left countless messages for him at every number he still had, asking him to get involved in some legal scheme he didn’t give a shit about. He didn’t care how the arguing parties resolved their fender bender. In all the time the men spent quibbling over details, they could have settled the mess rationally, especially since both parties had been at fault.

They knew that. Had to.

He refused to get involved, and he needed that woman—Mary—to leave him the fuck alone.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head left, then right, and grimaced at the cracks of his too-loose cartilage. His body hadn’t been quite right since before the magic had surged in him about three months prior. All he could surmise was that the animal inside of him wanted to be let out again.

He didn’t know what the animal was. When he was in that beastly shape, his thoughts were too disordered for him to remember to find a mirror to peer into. He’d never bothered learning the details of the family curse because he’d never thought he’d be afflicted. The curse hadn’t been seen in the family since the gods had pulled back most of their magic, and that had been seven or eight centuries in the past.

The woman—Mary—drew in a sharp breath, and her bright blue eyes flew open. Her pupils shrank, then enlarged, adapting to the dim light in the basement. She sprang upright and scooted to the far end of the sofa, as far from him as she could get.

Slowly, he twined his fingers together in front of his belly and cracked his neck again.

“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Why am I here?”

Gods, her voice…

She was always so crisp and professional when she left him those messages. Sunny, even. Her voice wasn’t sunny in his building’s basement, though. Her voice was low, and threaded with a warning he was sure she’d make good on. She’d try to, anyway. Their kind didn’t make idle threats.

He took in a long, deep breath, and then another, and pinned her in his gaze.

She didn’t flinch, but he hadn’t really expected that she would. She probably spoke with all manners of beasts as part of her job. Vikings. Bikers. Other assorted rakes.

“I would have thought you wanted to talk to me,” he said evenly. “Haven’t you been trying?”

She blinked and stared at him for several seconds, and then she looked down at the delicate gold watch on her wrist.

Of course she’d be concerned with the time. Her life was probably perfectly structured in a way his had never been. He’d had no need for structure. He had money—piles and piles of the stuff, and no urgent need to make more.

“I was passed out for three hours?” came her husky rasp of a voice. “What did you do to me?”

He clicked his neck again and stared. He liked looking at her. He’d especially liked looking at her generous backside as she climbed out of the window well, though he would have preferred the view better without the pantyhose.

Such a pity.

He clucked his tongue.

“Why do you have me here?” she asked.

That, he could answer. “You trespassed.”

“And so you assaulted me?”

“If memory serves me correctly, you were doing the assaulting.”

“You drugged me. That counts as assault.”

He shook his head. “I believe you were simply in too close a proximity to my hand. I’d been working with chemicals all morning. I certainly didn’t intend for anyone to inhale the fumes from my little renovation today.”

She ground her teeth and looked at him as though she were trying to decide how best to dissect him, or where she’d hide his parts when she was done. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

He pushed his lips into a grin. “I’m sure I have no clue as to what you’re accusing me of.”

“Bullshit.”

“Your word against mine. Easy enough to prove that you trespassed, however.”