Chapter 4 Bound To The Beast

• CAMILLE
• I woke up to the weight of something warm beside me.
• My eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Klaus.
• Peaceful. Bare chest rising and falling slowly, face relaxed like he wasn’t the same man who barked orders, and killed without blinking.
• I didn’t remember how I got into his bed. The last thing I recalled was soaking in the bathtub, trying not to overthink the mess I was in.
• I turned on my side, just staring at him.
• God… he was so handsome. Dangerous, yes. But right now? He looked almost innocent. With his smooth chestnut brown hair, parted pink crush lips, and long lashes that softened his harsh face.
• I wanted to touch him—just a little. I run my fingers along his beard and trace the tiny scar at the corner of his mouth, almost invisible. Not because of the deal I made with his father. Not out of obligation.
• Because I wanted to.
• I wanted to help him, to bring his humanity back.
• There was something broken in him. Something buried deep.
• And for a second, I thought…maybe I could reach it.
• But as I leaned closer, my eyes landed on his hand. Blood.
• It painted his knuckles, dried and dark. His bed sheets were black, but it couldn’t hide the evidence.
• I jerked upright, heart skipping. His eyes opened halfway, sharp even in his half-asleep state.
• “You’re awake, Peach,” he said, voice rough and low.
• Peach?
• That… was unexpected.
• I blinked. “What?”
• He furrowed his brows, still watching me. “You don’t like it? You said not to call you a dog. So, what should I call you? Demon? Bunny? Or are we sticking with Peach?”
• I smiled in my head, so he listens now?
• I smirked, despite myself. “Peach is fine. Weird… but better.”
• He shrugged like he didn’t care either way, following my gaze as I stared at the blood.
• “What happened to your hand?” I asked, voice softer now.
• “Probably killed someone,” he said casually. “He wasn’t dead when I left, but he should be by now.”
• “What?” I gasped, eyes wide. “You’re not serious.”
• “Why wouldn’t I be?”
• He lay there like nothing he said should shake me. Like murder was just another Tuesday.
• “Killing someone is nothing to you?” I whispered.
• He turned his head to look at me, something cold flickering in his gaze. “Remorse doesn’t bring back the dead.”
• “That’s not the point, Klaus. It’s about who you’re becoming…what you’ve already become.”
• “You’re not here to save my soul, remember?” he snapped. “You’re just here to do what my father said, whatever that is. So shut it. You talk too much.”
• “Well, maybe I am here to save you,” I said, chin up, meeting his eyes. “Maybe that’s exactly why I’m here.”
• He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Then he laughed a dark, low chuckle that sent heat straight to my chest.
• “You? Save me?” he scoffed. “You petite little thing—you’d burn yourself trying.”
• I am thick, not petite.
• “Why?” I whispered, ignoring the insult. “Why do you think you can’t be saved?”
• “Because it is too late,” he said simply. “And anyone who tries to help me dies trying.”
• For a moment, the room was quiet.
• Part of me believed him. The other part…the stubborn, stupid, hopeful part…wanted to prove him wrong.
• I shifted on the bed, remembering how I fell asleep in the bathtub. I glanced at him again. “Did you carry me here?”
• He smirked. “Who else has the strength?”
• “You should’ve left me there.”
• “Why? Embarrassed, I saw you naked?” he teased, eyes glinting. “Funny, coming from someone screaming ‘my husband-to-be’ in front of my father.”
• I flushed, my face burning. Before I could argue, I shifted, accidentally leaning closer.
• Too close.
• His face was inches from mine. He didn’t move. Just stared—like he was reading something on my skin.
• I could feel his breath. I remembered the kiss.
• My cheeks turned redder, and my body betrayed me…I tripped over the sheets and landed against his chest. His arms caught me before I hit the mattress too hard.
• “You’re so weak,” he muttered.
• I wanted to kiss him again.
• Not out of desperation. Not even lust.
• Something deeper. Warmer.
• But the second he noticed the look in my eyes, he shoved me back, hard enough to make me stumble.
• “Don’t you dare kiss me again,” he growled.
• He got off the bed like it had burned him. “Get your lazy ass out of my bed. In fact, get out of my house. Don’t come back. Don’t follow me. Don’t find me.”
• I stood up, slowly, pulling on my robe with shaky fingers. Then I gave him a smile—soft and taunting all at once.
• “You know that’s not possible,” I said quietly. “We’re made for each other. W
• hether you like it or not.”
• “In your dreams,” he spat.
• And maybe he was right.
• But I wasn’t giving up that easily