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CHAPTERFIVE
Princesses Don’t Cry
Peeling off my clothes, I climb into the shower and let the scalding water saturate my hair and run over my body before picking up the shower gel and squeezing a generous amount into my hand. I wash myself harshly, scrubbing at my skin with a loofah until it’s dusted pink all over. Then repeat the process again before washing my hair.
By the time I turn off the shower an hour has passed and there isn’t one inch of me left unclean.
Not that it matters.
I’ll never feel clean again.
Ever.
And that isn’t because I put a bullet in Saxon’s brain, it’s because Ididn’t.
I feel dirty.
Tarnished.
Ashamed.
When I’d withdrawn my hands from Beast’s and handed him the gun, my father gave me a look of pure disgust. I’ve never felt less of a Davidson in my life than I did when Carter looked at me like I was nothing, like I was a disappointment. I chose to be Kate in that moment and look how that turned out for me. Swiping at the mist covering the mirror, I look at my reflection remembering the harsh words my father had uttered when I’d allowed Beast to do what I should’ve.
“This is a prime fucking example why women are the inferior species. Bleeding from their cunts as well as their hearts.”
My anger flares, hot and fiery as I stare at my reflection. I’d never felt smaller in my life but I’ve only got myself to blame. I should never have listened to Beast. Shaking hands and dry mouth aside, I made the wrong choice. I should’ve put a bullet in Saxon’s head and sucked it the fuck up. Whilst I don’t appreciate the shitty derogatory remark—because fuck youDadfor bringing my sex into this—I get where he’s coming from. Weakness is not tolerated in our line of business, and mercy is out of the fucking question when you’ve been wronged.
“Fuck!” I grind out, so angry at myself that I could fucking cry.
Which I won’t do. Ever.
Grabbing a towel, I dry myself quickly then pull on my leggings, vest, grey hoodie, and a pair of warm socks before running a comb through my hair. I yank at the strands until I’m satisfied I’ve got all the tangles out, then head into my bedroom and pick up my copy of Grimms’ fairy tales, opening it up on the story,The Juniper Tree, a gruesome fairy tale about a young man murdered by his evil stepmother who cooks the boy and feeds him to his father.
Nothing like a dark story to take my mind off everything.
Getting under the covers, I turn on my side and read, too engrossed in the twisted minds of the Grimm brothers to notice someone entering my room.
“Are you asleep?” Beast asks, making me jump.
“Jesus Christ, ever heard of knocking?!” I snap, sitting up in bed to face him.
“I did. You were too busy reading…” he replies, eyeing the book left discarded next to me. “Which story are you reading tonight?”
“What do you want?” I retort, not wanting to talk.
Beast steps towards the bed, and I narrow my eyes at him. Things could’ve gone so differently tonight if he hadn’t put thoughts in my head. I need to prove to Carter that I’mnota bleeding heart. That I can, and will, be able to run Tales by his side, and Beast clearly isn’t the man who’s going to help me to do that. I’m not sure why that makes me feel both unutterably safe in his presence and simultaneously furious. It’s confusing as fuck.
“Carter wanted me to pass on a message.”
“And why can’t he do that himself?” I ask, shifting in bed as I draw my knees up and clutch them to my chest, only to promptly let them go when I realise how fucking pathetic it is to self-comfort myself in this moment.
Beast frowns watching me as I shift about. “Because he’s gone to Nine Lives.”
“Of course he has.”
“Yeah. Said he needed to forget about what went down tonight and…unwind.”
“What, inside one of the strippers?” I snort, ignoring the way my stomach turns over. “Yeah, sounds about right.” Carter isn’t an apologetic man so his actions shouldn’t surprise me in the least, but it still stings that he can’t even bear to be under the same roof as me.
