"Prince Chevalier?"
Ivetta's nervous voice woke me from my restless sleep. I'd been tossing and turning all night, thinking about her when I was awake, dreaming about her when I was asleep. She had to have seen the blood, but she hadn't run away. I'd hoped that would be enough. I'd known it wouldn't be.
"Prince Chevalier, are you okay?"
"It's too early," I mumbled. As I'd expected, she was concerned about me.
"I'm sorry, Prince Chevalier, but the blood-" The bed shifted as she sat on the edge beside me. "Are you hurt?"
"Go away," I muttered tersely.
"What?" she asked, surprised. She put a light hand on my shoulder. "Prince Chevalier-"
I sat up suddenly, shoving her hand away. "I said, go away," I growled threateningly.
A flicker of fear passed through her green eyes, but she shook her head. "What's wrong, Prince Chevalier?"
I couldn't put it off anymore, and I couldn't let myself think about it, either. It had to be done. I grabbed her arm and yanked her down, straddling her and holding her still with a hand pressed firmly in the center of her chest. Her heart was pounding under my hand, the fear growing in her eyes, but she didn't move.
"I don't want you here anymore," I snapped, applying pressure to her chest. "Leave, or die."
I knew it was hard for her to breathe, but she shook her head again. "You won't kill me, Prince Chevalier," she gasped.
"No?" I leaned over her, my other hand wrapping around her neck. "Have you forgotten who I am?" I asked, my voice low and threatening.
Her eyes were wide, her heart racing, but there was still a hint of concern in those eyes. "What's going on, Prince Chevalier?" she asked in a small, trembling voice.
"I killed an assassin," I said, frustrated by her response. My heart was pounding, bile rising in the back of my throat, but I knew what would scare her worse than anything. I smiled cruelly at her, removing the pressure from the hand on her chest, sliding it up across her exposed skin to her shoulder. All traces of concern vanished from her eyes as panic flooded them. I pulled her collar aside and leaned in even closer so I wouldn't see the bruises, or her eyes, and I whispered in her ear, "I am the Brutal Beast, after all." The hand I had around her neck slid up and turned her face away from mine. I couldn't look at her anymore if I was to continue. And I had to. Until she shoved me off and bolted out the door. "But you're right. It would be a waste to kill you." She flinched as my fingers caressed her bare skin. "You may still be of some use to me."
"Prince Chevalier," she pleaded, her voice choked.
"You are in a dangerous position, little dove." My hand slid down the back of her shoulder, eliciting a whimper from her. Why wasn't she fighting me? A tear slipped down her cheek, and I laughed mockingly.
"Don't tell me you want this?" My voice was cold and harsh, my finger lightly stroking her cheek. Her breath was coming in short bursts, like the day after the assault. I hated this. I hated everything about this. But she still wasn't fighting me, so I slid my hand further down the back of her dress. She arched her back away from my hand, her body pressing up into mine. I hated myself even more for enjoying how that felt.
"No," she squeaked, tears streaming down her face. I began rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Please stop," she gasped.
"Say it," I said, sharply, but I was losing my nerve. I withdrew my hand, redirecting it up to tangle in her hair. "Say who I am."
This was tearing me apart. But it was for her own good. It was this, or have her risk her life to stay here. I couldn't let her do that. But what else? She was already terrified. How could I make her fight back? She couldn't still trust me, could she?
"Please-"
No. That single word was going to derail me completely. I lightly pressed my teeth into her skin just below her ear, grazing down her neck, not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to interrupt her, stop her before she could finish her plea. Her cry of terror shot straight through my heart.
"Say it," I hissed in her ear.
"I can't," she whimpered.
I grabbed her chin and turned her to face me. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her cheeks wet with tears.
"Look at me," I demanded. "Look at me!"
She opened her eyes and looked up into mine. I saw my reflection there, the fierce visage of the Brutal Beast plainly displayed.
"What do you see?"
She just stared up at me, her green eyes full of anguish and fear, and something else. Betrayal.
"How far do I have to take this for you to understand?" I growled, frustrated. "I told you to leave. Why won't you just leave? Why won't you fight back?"
She didn't speak, didn't even try. Her eyes said it all. The tears streaming down her cheeks said it all. And I couldn't do it anymore. I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly to me.
"You're not safe here. I'm not safe. You have to leave. Don't you understand?"
Her heart was pounding against mine. Why wouldn't she run away?
"I'm going to the bathroom, and I want you gone when I come out. Do you understand?"
"I…"
"Stop being so stubborn and just run away!" But I tightened my grip around her even more, crushing her against me. "I don't ever want to see you again!" My voice was wavering, desperation creeping into it.
"Then let me go," she finally gasped.
I stiffened and released her, climbing quickly out of the bed, away from her. She rolled onto her side, hiding her face in her hands as she sobbed. I stared down at her, my hands trembling, but I made another attempt with an exasperated sigh. "Are you really so weak and foolish that you won't run away?" I asked, my voice sharp and mocking. She didn't react. I could only look at her for a few more seconds, and then I sighed again and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
I put my hands over my face, shaking all over as the privacy of the enclosed room allowed me to drop my facade. That had been so much harder than I thought, and it still hadn't worked. I hated myself. Hated myself for ever putting her through that, for touching her, for causing her so much fear and pain. My cheeks were wet, my breathing ragged. I stumbled over to the tub, starting the water so I couldn't hear her. Cold water. Because, to add to my guilt, there was a tiny part of me that enjoyed her skin, enjoyed her body arching up into mine. I truly was the Brutal Beast. For the first time in my life, I hated that name.
I went to the sink, gripping the cold porcelain as I glared at my reflection. Messy blonde hair, narrow pale blue eyes, tears on my cheeks. Tears. When was the last time I cried? Infancy? I should have died then. I didn't deserve the air I was breathing.
Glass shattered as my fist collided with my reflection. Blood trickled down the broken glass, dodging shards in the sink as it flowed down into the drain.
More injuries to hide under my gloves.
I rinsed the glass from the cuts and tore off my clothes, smearing them with blood as I dropped them onto the glass underfoot. It didn't matter. The cold bathwater would be swirling with blood soon enough, too.
Surely, she would be gone when I finished here. She'd been frozen in terror, as in the hallway outside of my office that horrible day, but she'd snapped out of it after a few minutes and bolted for her life. Any time now, I'd hear that door slamming. Maybe Leon would catch her in the hall and come in here to kill me. I deserved nothing less. That look in her eyes - the complex mix of fear and betrayal - it haunted me. She'd never forgive me for this, nor should she. I'd never forgive myself, either.
I sat in that tub for over an hour, tearing myself apart the whole time, but I couldn't hide there forever. Finally, I got up, carefully avoiding stepping on glass as I dried myself off and wrapped a towel around my waist. Unnecessary. She wouldn't be out there. She couldn't be.
But she was. She still lay there in my bed, her face buried in my pillow.
"What are you still doing here?" I asked condescendingly, summoning everything I had left for another desperate attempt.
She sat up, wiping her face with her apron. Her green eyes flashed as they met mine.
"Don't you ever do that to me again," she said, her voice trembling with anger.
I stared at her in shock. She got up, shoving me out of the way and slamming the bathroom door shut behind her, and I heard her vomiting. The sound made me sick to my stomach. Why was she still here? Why wasn't she leaving? I stood, frozen in place, staring at the crumpled bed sheets where she'd lain.