Her Beast (Beauty and the Captor 1)

But he pulled away and pressed down on my shoulders, pushing me back down. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Pet, but it won’t change anything. It’s out of my control now.”

I froze. What did he mean? What was out of his control?

“You’ve been sold. The transaction will take place soon. Your father will be there to see it happen. And then I will kill him.”

And then I understood why he’d taken me, why he’d humiliated and hurt me. I was his revenge.

I almost laughed out loud, thinking how poorly he’d plotted his vengeance. I should let him go through with it and watch in satisfaction as his plan failed before his eyes—what disappointment he’d feel when my father barely flinched.

But then I’d belong to someone else, some new, cruel master who thought I was nothing more than a piece of meat. And Derek would be gone—that part should have bothered me the least, but it seemed to be squeezing my heart like a vice.

“It won’t work,” I blurted out. Self-preservation, yes—of course, I wanted to convince him not to hand me over to a new master. But something else, too. I could only imagine how much he longed for the moment when he destroyed my father, and though I should want it with every fiber of my being, I didn’t want to see the hurt in him when his plan failed. I really was insane.

“There’s no point in you trying to talk me out of it, Pet. It can’t be undone,” he said, though it sounded an awful lot like regret in the undertone of his voice.

“And it won’t work,” I said with certainty, though with my croaky voice, it probably sounded less than convincing.

He sighed as if dismissing the topic and went back to caressing my face.

“Your plan won’t hurt my father, Derek,” I said, and then immediately realized my mistake. “I’m sorry,” I cried, waiting for his anger, but he let it out in a long breath and seemed to allow it to pass.

“And why not?” he said indulgently, no doubt expecting some lame excuse that he could see right through.

“He’s…he’s, not my father,” I said, and that seemed to shock him.

He eyed me as if he could assess the truth of what I’d just said in my eyes.

“He’s cared for you for a long time. It will affect him the same,” he said dismissively.

It was my turn to scoff, though I reined it in quickly. “I was an obligation, and nothing more. He’d promised my mother he would look after me, and so, when he’d learned she had died, he came for me. And he has spent every day since making sure I knew what a burden I was. I don’t even know why he did it—why he didn’t just leave me there…” It was a question I’d asked myself and my father more times than I could count, but there was never an answer. He seemed to hate my mother, so what obligation he had to her daughter was beyond my comprehension.

“God damn it, Scar,” he cursed and shot to his feet.

I scurried back, but only half-expecting his anger, and I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t lash out. It was the first time he’d used my name—the nickname that only he had ever used. Was I getting through to him?

But then he stormed out of the room, leaving me with no clear answer. And he left me there alone for hours. I paced my prison, my head too full to think clearly. He’d said it can’t be undone…but why? Because he didn’t want to undo it? He was happy to be getting rid of me, whether it served his vengeful purpose or not? If that was true, then there was absolutely nothing I could do. He would pass me onto someone else, and I’d be just as trapped, subjected to god only knew what new evils.

But maybe there was another option. Not so long ago, I would have said anyone who chose it was weak, but I wasn’t weak. At least, I wasn’t being weak now. I could plainly see the future that awaited me, and I was simply choosing not to accept it. I would not spend the rest of my life as some evil man’s lapdog.

It was different when I thought about Derek, about forever remaining his slave, his possession. I didn’t want to be just a possession to him, but I could accept it if there was no other choice. I would not die to escape it.

I shouldn’t feel that way. I shouldn’t so easily be able to differentiate between a life as his slave and a life as someone else’s. I should hate him just as much as I’d hate any other man who did what he’d done to me. But I didn’t, at least it wasn’t the only thing I felt for him. It was too complicated to put into words all that I felt, but it was suffice to say I would rather live as his slave, hoping it would one day grow to something more, than not live at all. But another man…no. No, I didn’t want that.