Another day passed, then another, and another. Kat failed to see the Beast, and even the men in the portraits were gone. She avoided spending much time in front of them anyway, weighted as she was by the thought that one of them could be K. She was convinced that if she'd watch the portraits too long, she'd pick one to be him, even if she was wrong.

She didn't want that. She didn't want the silence and the pressure, the fear and the uncertainty, the loneliness and the feeling that the Beast couldn't be bothered by her presence.

So, one morning, once the sun shone on her face and across her huge bed, she just refused to get up. She wasn't hungry, wasn't excited to discover more of the castle, had no one to talk to, no one to write to. She was utterly alone and unimportant and she just wanted to go home and be ignored by her father.

At least she knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, that deep down, he loved her. In this castle, love was gone, if it had ever set foot in there at all.

In the complete silence, she could hear the crows cawing outside her window, in the trees of the dead forest. For a moment, she imagined the sound of birds in the spring as they would play outside the window. The thought that she might actually get to hear them made tears slide down her cheeks.

"I want to go home," she whispered to no one in particular.

The sun waned outside her window. There wasn't much of it anyway. Time ticked by the hours, soon it was dark, with only the light of the full moon bathing her chamber, and still she hadn't risen from her bed, not even to drink water or use the wash room.

It didn't matter. Just like she'd anticipated, no one cared. Everyone had abandoned her, and it hurt so much that she couldn't discard her old life and do the same. Though, to be honest, everything that had happened before her imprisonment felt like a half forgotten dream.

But even so, she missed her father, missed Sophie. She even missed Donnie and his silly jokes, his energy and his excitement to marry her. Even if most people in her village thought she was peculiar and shunned her father, she hadn't realized how much she appreciated the simple fact that they knew who she was, sometimes exchanged a few words with her.

Here, she only had portraits to talk to. And while the painted men were nice to her, with the exception of Joey and William, and sometimes the young Dustin, the others were mostly away and not overly interested in her.

Since her work implied moving around a lot and she avoided the gallery anyway, she couldn't talk to Joey too much.

The Beast only growled and was never around... She'd never dreamed she would actually desire his company. She'd always been fine on her own, so she hadn't even dreamed she could feel lonely. Abandoned.

But she did; she now craved any company. Even if she'd tried so hard to adjust, to find purpose for herself, it had all been a lie. A ridiculous lie. She should have focused on escaping and getting home more.

Her chest ached with the thought of her father, with the worry regarding his fate, the guilt of not thinking about him more, not trying to escape more. She just wanted to close her eyes and leave behind her imprisonment, her pain.

Someone knocked on her door. Her body jerked from the sudden noise, but her mind didn't react.

The Beast knocked again. It wasn't like it could be anyone else. She refused to answer.

"Kat?" he asked, the voice the normal one, lacking the growl.

She was a little surprised he knew her name, but Joey probably told him, so it wasn't a shock.

"Kat, are you alright?" he called again, actual worry in his voice.

It was a bit surprising that the Beast could be worried. Strangely refreshing. A part of her wanted to move and open the door, assure him that she was fine, but she lacked the energy to even answer. Also, a part of her was curious what he would do.

"If you don't open this door in five seconds, I'm coming in," he warned.

Good luck with that. The door was locked. She heard him pressing the handle, heard the door protest as he pushed, but it didn't open.

"You'd better not be in there," he growled, "or be dead."

Before she could process his words, a loud crash sent her into a sitting position. Her head swam from the lack of food and water, but she could clearly see the Beast in the doorway, a lantern in his gloved hand, the broken down door swinging pathetically in its hinges.

The wolf face was as expressionless as ever, shadows dancing across it from the lantern held too low, but she could feel the anger bouncing off him.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing? Why didn't you answer when I called?"

He reminded her of the man she'd seen giving out orders to the portrait, being assertive and interested in the running of the kingdom. Something stirred inside her, something akin to admiration. But even so, she had no words.

She just shrugged, too drained to argue. Now that she had company, she wanted him gone.

"You're not here on vacation. You don't just take a day off and disappear," he raged on.

"I want to go home," she whispered.

He faltered at her words, the anger sipping out of him, his broad shoulders slumping. And at that point she noticed he wasn't wearing his cloak and he could actually see the outline of his body.

He wore hunting trousers, high boots and a simple shirt, and really was as tall and broad as she'd suspected. He also looked very human, his anatomy hinting at nothing wolfish from the neck down. She focused on his gloved hands but still couldn't tell if they were normal or not. For some reason she suspected they were. Maybe because she wanted, needed him to be human, to be like her.

"You can't go home," he finally said, setting the lantern somewhere on the floor. His massive shadow looked like a demon on the ceiling. "I think we've already established that."

Yes, they had, even if she still couldn't fully understand why. "I need to know that my father is alive."

"And you're telling me all this because..."

He was confused. She could tell he had no idea what to do in this given situation. He'd probably been alone for years and his social graces were a faded memory. It made him uncomfortable to deal with her. And she enjoyed it.

"Because I need that to move on. I can't clean your castle if all I keep thinking about is that I've abandoned my father." That everyone has abandoned me.

"For crying out loud," the Beast said, and he sounded truly exasperated. "He's a grown-ass man, Kat. He should be able to feed himself."

She blinked. He froze too, his body so still it almost blended into the wall. That affirmation... It sounded too familiar, too much like he knew what her life outside the castle was like. She had mentioned he couldn't clean, but hadn't exactly been very specific about all the things her father couldn't do. Feeding himself included.

"He was sick," she said instead, just wanting that awkward silence to go away.

"Don't really give a kobold's ass. You'll get dressed and make me dinner."

"About that... No."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you got your manners back?"

They stared each other down. Well, she stared him down because his damned face was as dead as ever.

"I thought you didn't ask for food," she pressed on, playing her advantage.

"Well, you got me used to it and now anything I attempt for myself tastes like shit."

Victory. And in under a week. She should be proud of herself. Instead, all she wanted to do was never cook for him again. See how he liked having something he loved be taken away.

"I'm happy you enjoy my cooking. You're not getting any more of it."

He just stared some more, as if he couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth. She couldn't either, but she was so past the point of caring for her own life, it was actually entertaining to see him so clumsy.

"Do you want me to kill you?" he growled.

Damn, she wished his snout would move or he'd show his fangs or something. She was even a little intrigued by how he could talk if nothing about his face moved at all.

"Knock yourself out."

"Knock myself out?"

"I don't know. I read it in a book somewhere. It means do it if it pleases you."

The Beast shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gloved hands curled into balls of frustration. And she was having the time of her life. Most likely the last few seconds of her life.

"You're impossible," he finally said, his tone empty. "Stubborn, insanely brave and too smart for your own good."

She wasn't sure what exactly had been smart about this entire conversation, but she took the compliment with a shrug.

He hesitated for what felt like forever, his fingers clenching and unclenching, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Like he was trying to gauge something. Probably how to best wring her neck.

Finally, he took a step back, drenching himself further in shadows. "If you get out of bed and cook me dinner, and then join me for eating it, I'll get news about your father."

The simple words had her mood shifting, and she was sure her entire face had lit up. "You can do that?"

"It's not going to be easy, but yes, I can find out if he's alive and well. But just that." He let out a disgusted huff. "You're lucky you're not done cleaning and I have no desire to scrub your blood off the walls."

She didn't care. Didn't even hear him properly. She would get news of her father! She tossed the cover aside and jumped out of bed. The moment her feet hit the floor, her knees buckled under her and her head swam.

The little light in the room dimmed and everything turned hazy and confusing. Kat clenched her jaw, preparing to hit the floor. Too fast. I stood too fast. No food and water for an entire day were taking their toll.

A pair of arms wrapped around her and stopped her fall. Heat swallowed her body whole as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Her vision glazed over and she wasn't sure whether she was still falling or upright. The only discernable feeling was the heat.

The Beast had caught her before she hurt herself. He was touching her.

Her hands propped themselves against his chest, though she knew she shouldn't touch him back, but it was a reflex. Both to feed her curiosity and keep him away from her.

There was nothing odd or awkward about his grip, about the heat she felt both on her hands and where his hands touched her. Her waist and her back. Such intimate places touched by something she wasn't even convinced was a man.

Yet, she could feel no fur through his shirt, under her fingers, just muscle and heat. His arms felt normal, safe... Right. As if they were meant to hold her.

Had he been a man, she would have risen her face and searched his eyes to try and determine if the contact stirred a storm of emotion inside him as well. Because it did for her. She felt safe, comfortable... As if she belonged.

But she didn't. It was the loneliness speaking, the confusion, the lack of food. Yet she couldn't look up, couldn't ruin the illusion. She wanted to pretend that this very human interaction didn't crash and burn once she would start analyzing small things. Like the passage from skin to fur or where other patches could be.

Or that she only wore a light nightgown, very comfortable for sleeping but almost transparent.

She should be pushing him away.

She wanted to hear his voice again, without the growl, but with the commanding note to it.

He should be letting her go.

But neither of them did. A whimper escaped her lips. His hands tightened their grip in response, but in a reassuring way, not as if he wanted to hurt her. How could his actions be so different from everything he said, from the way he behaved? He was like two different men wrapped in one. The rude Beast and the assertive leader.

"I'm okay to stand," she whispered.

The moment the words were out, he positioned her firmly on her feet and stepped back. The heel of his boot most likely caught the lantern on the way because the thing shattered, leaving him in the dark and her bathed in the moonlight falling through her window.

She had no idea what made her think so, but she was sure he was watching her from the shadows as he always did. Except this time, it was different and she wished she knew what he was seeing. Hoped he found her beautiful.

Then there was a powerful cracking noise, as if a bone had broken, and a low growl filled the room.

"Stay in tonight," he finally said. His voice was more distorted than ever. "Tomorrow." The last word was barely discernable.

Kat stepped back until she hit her butt against the wardrobe, but there was no reason to fear. He was gone, the remainder of the door swaying pathetically in his wake. It no longer closed on a night when she might have needed it most.

She watched the wood swing back and forth, but her mind was on his voice. He'd never sounded more dangerous, more unlike himself.

And the strange feeling she'd had on the day he'd turned her from prisoner to servant re-emerged. After tonight, it was more than obvious that he did not want to hurt her. But something told her that he might not have a choice.

She sat and hugged herself. Maybe it was part of the curse. Maybe he craved blood. But he had tenderness in him and he'd showed her that, planned or not.

He had feelings.

And all she wanted was to know what they were.

This is totally not where I was going with this chapter. I even changed the title twice. I wanted to have it at a much faster pace, but then decided against it because you'll see why when you get to the twist.

Plus I love writing them interact. It's so deliciously awkward.

I'm curious what you got out of this scene. Also, how's Kat coming along? Does she make sense to you?

I'm hoping to do what I was planning to do for this chapter in the next one so you can get a major plot twist reveal 😅

Tap that star and give me writing juice!