Page 58 of Beauty


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Is this what life could’ve been like if I hadn’t been born into my father’s world?

I swallow away the lump in my throat as I fill a cup of fresh water from the sink.

Every sip reminds me that I can never take something as simple as water for granted. Or food.

We don’t have much, but we’ve made do with what was still there from previous vacations. Before my life was replaced by one I barely even recognize.

Just like the girl staring back at me when I look in the tiny mirror hanging on the wall in the hallway.

There’s something about her, something about me, that’s changed.

That girl no longer wants to hide.

She has this kind of … courage.

And it scares me.

I put down my glass and approach Beast, who stares at himself in the mirror, his fingers tracing his scars. He’s wearing only a towel, and it’s so damn hard not to gape at his rigged muscles, especially knowing what he can do with them.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Our eyes connect through the mirror. He tilts his head and touches the base of his neck. “I need this thing … out of me.”

I rub my lips together. Right. The device Lex uses to keep him under control.

“But I can’t reach it myself,” he says, staring at me intently.

Oh God. He wants me to do it?

My stomach drops.

“Aurora.” The way he says my name makes goose bumps scatter on my skin. “Help me.”

Wow.

He’s never asked me for help.

And it almost sounded like … begging.

How can I say no to that?

When he turns, I feel queasy.

I swallow and nod, but the more I think about it, the more anxious I get.

He walks past me and heads straight into the kitchen, fishing one of the bigger knives from the cupboard. “This should do the trick.”

My eyes widen at the size of that thing. “You want me to … cut you with that?”

With a nod, he pushes the knife into my hands, then sits down on the stool and stares at me like I’m wasting time.

I gulp and approach him, but the closer I get, the more nervous I become.

Oh God. Am I really going to do this? Can I really cut into someone’s flesh?

“Sanitize it,” he says. “With fire.”

I nod and carry it to the stove. Turning on the burner, I heat the blade so it’s sterile. Then I stand behind him. He tilts his head even farther to the side, exposing the skin where there’s an obvious scar. “There.” His breath is steady, while mine is completely unhinged.

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