Destined to the Hellhound: BEAST

Chapter 17

As soon as my feet touched the ground, I ran straight to my room. I need a minute away from his watchful eye, his smoky smell, and his mouth. I really need a minute away from his mouth. I blush whenever I look at it for too long.

Quickly stripping off the dress, I pull on the long, itchy sweater. I hate it, but it protects me. It covers me completely, like a shield. I feel safer.

Sitting in the middle of the bed, I open the book again.

Flipping through the pages, I stop at the first illustration. Cerberus, the three-headed hound of hell. The devil's watchdog. The longer I stare, the more I can see little pieces of him. The wiry black fur and piercing eyes are different but the same. I can see him—the same concentration, the same darkness.

Searching, I find the next illustration. My father. Studying each detail, I notice things I hadn't before. His hands. They're held together as if in prayer, or possibly like he's begging. The look on his face is pure desperation and agony. I've never seen him like this. Always tall and proud. I would have thought him too arrogant to ever beg anyone for anything. He demands, he doesn't ask. But here he is, pleading. He looks desperate and small.

Maybe I'm seeing what they want me to see, or maybe I'm moving out of my own way enough to see the truth. Either way, the picture is different now.

I'm doubting my own eyes. I know my father is not a perfect man. But to concede that he would do the things I'm being told he did is too painful.

He gave me to the hellhound, then tried to backtrack, go back on his word, and marry me off to someone else.

In my heart, I can't see how it could be anything else. Why else would he have tried to force me to bind myself to someone who really wants my sister? He was ready to force me into a life of misery to keep me from the fate that he designed for me. But, why? He gave me to Cerberus, why not just fulfill his end of the deal?

Turning to the last illustration, I try to make sense of it.

It's just Cerberus, in his human form, down on his knees. Smoke is rising out of his body. His head is tipped down so that I can't see his face well, but there's something about it. The clenched jawline and the way his mouth is twisted in pain is like having a hole punched through me.

I can feel it in my chest just by looking at him. A sharp, radiating sting that brings tears to my eyes.

Clutching my chest, I stare down at the page. I can't take my eyes off him. It's all pain everywhere. His clenched hands, the way his muscles are rigid beneath his skin. It's a snapshot, a moment of such endless agony that it takes my breath away.

With the book tightly pressed to my chest, I run down the hallway.

"Cerberus?" I knock on his door, tapping softly.

I don't even know what I'm doing here. I just have to come. This is a picture, he's not in this pain now, but I have to check. I have to see with my own eyes that he's alright.

When he opens the door, we just stare. My eyes locked with his, searching for some kind of truth to cling to.

"What is this?" I open the book, holding it out for him to see the page.

"That was when I gave half of my soul for you."

"I don't understand."

"Sit." He moves to let me in.

"You keep saying that, but what does it mean? You gave half of your soul for me, why?"

He sits in the seat beside mine, the golden glow of the fire dancing in his eyes, but that's nothing new. There's always fire in his eyes, flickering.