I can only stay away for so long. The elevator opens and I stumble slightly as I walk out into my home. Perhaps I tried to drown my sorrows a little too deeply tonight, but thoughts of Isa plagued me even as I tried to forget. An evening out with Herne and Zane usually does the trick, helps me keep my mind off things I'd rather not think too hard on. Unfortunately, I forgot how well they know me. It only took one look for them to ask me what was wrong, like they could sense it was something serious, something different. And I, in my weakened state, made the mistake of divulging the situation with Isabelle.

My mind wanders back to our conversation.

"Perhaps you should add a few more...duties...to her list," Zane suggests with a smirk. "After all, you want to make sure the amount of debt forgiven is worth it."

I shake my head. As much as I want Isa, I don’t want her to be with me because I force her. She loves her father, using that against her in such a manner... No.

Then Herne chimes in. "Women like you," he says, a twinkle in his eye. "I have no idea why, with that ugly face. But they do. You don't need to add anything to her list." He leans forward with a charming grin. "Just make sure to spend more time with her while she's around the house. Let her see that you want her. She'll be warming your bed in no time. And you'll stop moping around like a schoolboy."

I would take offense to that last comment but it’s true. Unfortunately, the advice is not at all helpful. Isa would have to be a dimwitted fool not to notice how much I want her. And a fool she is not. I get irritated with their suggestions and they only tease me harder about Isa. Like they know it will get under my skin.

"I don't see the problem here," Zane says, shrugging. "Seduce her, claim her, make her your own. Problem solved." He raises his glass with a wink. "On to the next."

If only it was that simple. The temptation of having her under my roof, sleeping just a few doors down from me, it drives me mad enough to abandon my own home in search of some kind of peace. Perhaps it was a mistake to bring her here when I know how much I want her. How much I crave her. It's like nothing I've ever felt before. If it was just lust, just desire for her body, I could control it. I have in the past without much of a problem. I've had beautiful women and I've never felt this pull, this urge to have more than her body. To have the female herself. I've never felt this mixture of respect, admiration, and lust all for one person. It's all encompassing. It's too much and I fear it's growing into even more the longer she’s around. How can I not be drawn to her intelligent mind, her fierce protectiveness coupled with such vulnerability?

And all of that wrapped in such a temptingly attractive package. I groan. I shouldn't have made her wear that dress. It shows too much the length of her legs, the slender softness of her neck, the curve of her waist cinched tight with that tiny excuse for an apron. But I also know the dress isn't the problem. Not really. It's the person wearing the dress. It's her. Isabelle Stone.

Moving deeper into my home, I run into a table and quickly shuffle to the side, shaking my head. This is what poets speak of. The desire, the anguish, the turmoil. I am falling in love. Falling for the human female I essentially paid to live with me, to be my servant. Falling for the female that doesn't even want to be here. Growling, I rake my fingers through my hair. I need to let her go. I want her too much. More than anything I've ever wanted. She's always on my mind, I'm preoccupied while working, while spending time with my friends. Hell, even while I'm sleeping thoughts of her just won't leave me! I dream of those big, warm eyes, that defiant chin. That curved body. And that is exactly why I need to let her go. I know I do. My beast is already too close to the edge, my control a tight band just waiting for the slightest increase of force to snap irrevocably.

If I try to make her mine and she rejects me— I know I couldn’t handle it. My beast couldn’t handle it. I will go feral, become an outcast among the Singarti, a pariah to society. I will be locked away, a threat to myself and others that cannot be allowed to walk freely. An abomination that none of the others wants to see or acknowledge. The Singarti, we like to pretend we are civilized creatures, that our urge to spread farther and farther from our home planet stems from the urge to explore, to learn. Not from the urge to conquer. Not from the urge to expand territory. Both urges very familiar to our inner beasts. So we hide the examples that show the truth of that half of our nature and caution our children to moderation. To living within a rigid set of boundaries. All the while hoping not to end up on the other side of those bars, lost to the beast we try so hard to hide. Even from ourselves.

I shake my head. I already skate the edge, my appearance drawing concerned and judgmental looks from my peers. And now even Herne and Zane. They didn't bring it up again tonight, but I saw the concern and worry shading their expressions even as they teased me about Isa. There’s no hiding how close my beast is to the surface. And while I call those very same people small-minded and almost relish their fearful looks at times, I know deep down that they are at least partially right. That I am a cause for concern.

I blindly put my hand out to lean against the wall, my head hanging as an internal war surges through me, ripping me apart where nobody can see the destruction. Keep what I most desire close? Risk losing myself completely if she can't see past the beastly exterior? Or let her go. Protect her from myself, from my raging lust and barely leashed internal beast. I know what the safe option is, the path I should take. The path that is most likely the best for us both, that will keep us both safe.

I raise my head, wondering if I have the strength to choose that path when I want her so badly. Am I this weak? So weak that I cannot prevent myself from making an almost assuredly disastrous decision? I take another step. Maybe a shower will clear my head. I’m running around in circles, traveling the same mental loop over and over again. Determined, I start moving with more purpose but then I freeze as I catch something from the corner of my eye. I turn my head in disbelief. The door to my study is open. I never leave it open.

My heart clenches, I am immediately sober, like a bucket of cold water was dumped on me. I rush across the room to the door, shoving it open, scanning the familiar space rapidly. My familiar space. My sanctuary, where I am free to be myself without others watching. But it has been broken into. Violated.

My eyes land on Isa. She is sitting in front of the fireplace, with a book in her lap. I look at the book, at the familiar binding and my stomach drops. No. It can't be. My eyes dart over to my desk in the hope that I am wrong. I must be wrong. But I am not. There is no open book on the desk. She has my journal. Isa has my journal and she's clearly been reading it. My private journal, where my innermost thoughts spill out freely. No filter. The words are meant for my eyes only.

I slowly turn to meet her eyes, raw and exposed, all of my protective layers and armor ripped away. Leaving my soft, vulnerable self completely at her mercy. No. She cannot see this part of me. If she sees my inner self— if she knows the true me and still rejects me, I will lose myself to my beast. Forever. I am so much more vulnerable now to her. How could she do this? My fear fuels my anger as I stalk forward.

"What part of never come in here did you not understand?" I say in a quiet, biting voice.

"I—" she starts, licking her lips nervously. "I just thought—"

"Get out," I snarl, taking the book from her limp hands. "Get out!"

I pull her out of the chair, her gasp burning me in my rage. Even as the anger surges through me, the idea that she is afraid of me doesn't sit well. But she cannot be here, here where I cannot hide from her. Where she can see right into me.

"Leave! Now!" I bellow, closing my journal with a snap. There’s fear in her eyes as she backs away. "You do not belong here! Go!"

Whirling, she finally sprints out of the room, her dress fluttering behind her as leaves my sight. Snarling, I cross the room and slam the door shut behind her. But even alone, with the door closed, my sanctuary is no longer so calming. It has been breached. It’s no longer a safe haven and I can still smell Isa's scent with every breath I take. It's too much. I scream, all of my emotion boiling out in that hoarse burst of sound. What has she done?

I look down at the book, at my hair covered hands.

What have I done?