Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
"I'm sorry," Jennifer says, unable to look at the fresh crisscross of scars on my face as she strikes the fatal blow into my heart. "But I just can't do it."
She puts the diamond ring in the palm of my hand.
She’s leaving me.
Feeling destroyed, I’m ready to beg. "Jennifer, please don't leave me."
It’s been two months since I left the hospital. I've had six surgeries to repair my wounds since the horrific night Guinevere took to my face with a knife. But with each operation, my hope fades. One side of my face is still a mass of scars and it’s not going to get much better.
Jennifer has tried to love the new version of me. Tried to hide her revulsion when I touch her. But she can't.
I'm losing her and the pain of it might actually be the thing to finally fucking kill me.
Since I left the hospital, she hasn't let me kiss her or make love to her.
I thought she just needed time to adjust.
But apparently not.
"I'm still the same man you wanted to marry," I say through the cold ache in my throat.
"But you're not. The man I was going to marry was...different."
"You mean he looked different," I say darkly.
She doesn't try to deny it.
"It’s not my fault," she says, still not looking at me. "I can’t help it if I don't feel the same way anymore."
I feel my heart die and turn black in my chest.
Jennifer leans down to pick up the overnight bag she’d packed earlier. "I'll be back to collect the rest of my things later when you're not here."
My gut twists with agony.
"But I love you," I rasp.
She looks ashamed. "You shouldn't. I don't deserve it because I can’t love you back. I can’t even look at you." She lowers her lashes. "It makes me shallow and probably cruel. But I accept that about myself. You need to accept it as well."
She lifts her long lashes to finally look at me, and I see the pity in her eyes. Pity and…repulsion.
She’s repulsed by me.
She adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder, “Goodbye, Adam.”
And without another word, she leaves the room and walks out of my life forever.
CHAPTER 41
BEAST
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Belle whispers, her lashes glittering with tear drops.
A warmth spreads across my body and a thousand butterflies take flight in my gut when she reaches up and brushes her delicate fingers across the scars on my face.
Her touch is soothing and so fucking addictive, I don’t ever want her to stop.
“I was careless,” I say.
“It doesn’t mean you deserved it.” Her voice is still a whisper, but it’s also strong as she trails her fingers along the silvery scars. “You were young and foolish but that doesn’t give anyone the right to take anything from you.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine as she speaks her words with determination. “No one has the right to make you feel unworthy.”
She continues to trail her fingertips over my face, and I close my eyes. Her touch goes deeper than the surface of my skin. I feel it all over. But nowhere more than the cold corners of my heart.
“Has there been anyone since Jennifer?” she asks.
My eyes open. I think of the thousand lonely nights I’ve spent since then, and a knot tightens in my chest. “No.”
Her perfect brows pull together when she realizes what that must mean, and again her expression fills with empathy.
“Why would you do that to yourself?” she asks softly. “Why would you deny yourself the chance to be loved?”
It’s a question I’m used to. Over the years, my brothers have asked me the same thing.
Granted, when they ask it’s less eloquent and blunt. Why the fuck would you deny yourself pussy?
But when Belle asks it, it feels like I’m being flayed open with the same knife used to destroy my face. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s the gentleness in the way she asks that reminds me of what I’ve denied myself. Or the expression of sadness on her face telling me the soul-destroying loneliness I’ve put myself through hasn’t been worth it.
“Beast,” she says with a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”
I look into her beautiful face. “Anything.”
She brushes her fingertips down my cheek. “Do you believe you are worth loving?”
And just like that, another piece of me is flayed open and exposed, and suddenly I feel very vulnerable. As if I am lying here cut wide open, with my pain and fears spilling out from the wound in my chest for her to see, ready for judgement. Ready for scorn.
“Love hurts,” I whisper.
Her smile is soft as her fingers graze my lips. “Not when you love the right person.”
“That sounds like a fantasy,” I say.
She runs her finger across my lips. “Can I ask you another question?”