She kicked me out.She kicked me out.
So? Focus.
I crumpled the paper and threw it across my office with a growl. I shouldn’t be dealing with that kind of paperwork anyway. Other investors playing at my level had an assistant—teams of them—handling this kind of work.
That would require me to live like it was the twenty-first century. Own a cellphone. Manage my accounts online. Use Wi-Fi that didn’t involve sitting in a library parking lot.
Saul would die of a heart attack.
The monster inside me stirred, a warning curling in my chest.
Like I cared what he thought.
It was also his opinion that he should eat, sleep, and piss wherever he wanted.
Kill because he was irritated.
Take whatever he pleased.
I saw the confident tilt of Tara’s chin as she handed my pants back.
I ran my hands through my hair for the tenth time, shuddering at the feel of gel sticking between my fingers. It was time for a shower. No one was going to see my stupid hair today anyway.
I kicked back from my desk, taking the hallway in three strides, and leaning into the glass shower to turn the heat up. I waited until steam was swirling along the tiled floor, obscuring the view within, before shucking my clothes and climbing inside.
The temperature was too hot, and I hissed, forcing myself to stay underneath the spray as my skin turned pink. Inside me the beast thrashed and howled. He hated my tight-fisted control, but he loved the pain.
My vision changed, colors shifting back and forth as he grappled for a hold. Muscles swelled in my arms, hair standing on end as it thickened.
I clenched my teeth, swallowing down the bestial sound that was caught in my throat.
Scents tangled with the steam—the stink of hair gel, my own sweat, and the faintest musk of the beast as he tried to make himself known.
Beneath all of that, even as water sluiced over my skin, I picked up a brief whiff of her—Tara.I flared my nostrils, haunted by something that was entirely imagined.
I shouldn’t want to see her again.
The beast increased his fight, vying for dominance. He hated me—hated being bested.
My fingers stilled around a bar of soap.
That was it.
A challenge.
She was still winning.
I relaxed in the water, slanting my head back with an exhale. The beast didn’t mirror my relief, stealing my moment of calm the way he stole every good moment in my life.
I twisted the shower off, letting the cold air bite at me as I swung the glass door open. Hair stuck up in all directions when I finished toweling it off. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the same face I’d seen for more decades than I cared to count.
The faintest fine lines had formed around my eyes from the sun and salt. Less pronounced than Eli’s, probably because I didn’t smile nearly as much as he did. Every strand of hair was a dark shade of brown, not a grey in sight.
Some days it felt like a blessing. Most days, it felt like exactly what it was—a curse.
I stood there for long minutes, watching the subtle shift in my features that revealed the monster under the surface.
Most people couldn’t pinpoint what it was about us Barbeauxs that set them on edge. They could see the sharper angles in our face, maybe even noticed the light catching unnaturally in our eyes, but it wasn’t enough to identify why we sent goosebumps over their skin. Some animal part of their brain would label us other—predator.