For a second, he seems like he’s in actual physical pain. He slumps back against the headboard. “It makes a funny kind of sense. If there’s a god, that fucker is laughing his ass off at us right now.” He drags a hand over his face. “You’re not the only one to blame, Isabelle. You were never the only one to blame.”
“But—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You were right before. We agreed to that fucked up situation, and we both failed to be honest with you. I don’t know about Beast but I just wanted to be good enough for you.” He laughs a little, the sound jagged and sharp. “He calls you princess, but that’s the fucking truth of what I thought. You were a princess and if I just compressed myself enough, I could be your Prince Charming.”
It’s a truth we’ve touched on again and again in the last few days, but hearing him admit to it shakes me to my core. I reach out a tentative hand and place it on his chest. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t want a Prince Charming.”
“No, you want two monsters.” The words hold no venom.
Beast shifts closer, not quite touching either of us. “Monsters are more effective than princes when it comes to keeping what you care about safe.” His blue eyes flare. “They’re better at playing dark games in bed, too.”
I can’t quite fight down a shiver as the memories of the night crash over me. “That’s the damn truth.”
Beast seems to make an effort to bank the heat in his gaze. “We were missing something before. Several somethings. None of us were honest about what we wanted.” He finally looks at Gaeton. “And none of us were getting everything we needed out of it. Closing the triangle will solve that.”
Gaeton’s already shaking his head. “You say that like it’s that easy.”
“It is that easy. I might not have recognized that my hate for you was thwarted lust, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Beast takes my hand, his fingers playing against my wrist. “And Isabelle will never be happy in a monogamous relationship. That was our first sign to get creative, and we would have noticed if we weren’t so wrapped up in competing with each other.”
I pull back. I can’t help it. Beast holds on to my hand a second longer than necessary, as if reminding me that he chooses to let me go. I pull the blanket more firmly around myself, but it doesn’t do a damn thing against the possibilities beating against the barrier around my heart. “Is this an extension of the scene? Some kind of playing pretend?”
“No.” Beast shakes his head. He doesn’t have his cold mask on. Instead he looks almost vulnerable. “An unconventional solution, maybe, but not nearly as unconventional as some people think. I want both of you. There’s not a single fucking reason we shouldn’t be able to make this work.”
I have admitted so many dark truths to these men over the last few days, but somehow this feels like the deepest, darkest truth yet. I lick my lips. “I want you both, too. I love you both. I never stopped, even when I was helping us burn things to the ground last time.”
Gaeton still won’t look at us directly. “What happens when Isabelle gets skittish? Or you get bored? It will fall apart just like it did before.”
“No, it won’t. We’re not trying to have a conventional relationship like we were before.” Beast leans forward. “We’re not lying the way we were before. Something doesn’t work, we talk about it and figure out a way to fix it. There will be some uncomfortable conversations, but it’s a small price to pay.”
Gaeton crosses his arms over his chest. “Uh-huh. And what happens if your long-lost love shows up in Carver City? You’re going to drop us like yesterday’s trash to run off and retake Sabine Valley with him.”
Beast flinches. Actually flinches. “Cohen is dead. He’s been dead for nearly a decade.”
“And if he isn’t?”
I should jump in, should derail this line of questioning, but I’m holding my breath because I want an answer, too. I know about Beast’s ex, of course. I know that he never made it here to meet Beast and that the loss haunts him still. It never occurred to me the man could show up, or what would happen if he did. “Do you know something we don’t?”
“No. But it’s a question that needs to be asked.” He’s staring hard at Beast. “We’re his second choice. Or second and third.”
“No, you’re not second choice. And neither of you is third.” Beast looks like he wants to shut down this line of conversation, but he finally sighs. “I’m not the same person I was nine years ago. If Cohen is still alive, he’s not the same man I fell in love with. He’s my past. You—both of you—are my future. Together. No one above the other.”