How Beauty Loved the Beast

chapter Seventeen



No one had seen Hauk in over an hour. Jolie glanced in his room and found it empty except for a lingering smell of patchouli. The only other place she knew to go was the forge. With a full heart, she turned her feet that way.

Eddie had skimmed the material. His eyes had lit up and he said he’d get back to her. She’d seen that look before. He was fascinated.

Good.

Now she had to confess what she’d done. She had something else to confess, though, and this time she wouldn’t let Hauk stop her. With her soul bared and everything right between them, they could get through tonight, get his name cleared and start a life together.

The door to the forge was wedged shut. Hauk did that sometimes when he wanted to be alone. She knocked anyway, hoping she would be an exception. “Hey, babe. It’s me.”

A grunt that sounded vaguely like, “Justasec.” The flame of a blowtorch. A light clank on the ground. Then another.

He was walking without shoes. In the forge?

The door opened. Hauk stood in the frame, blowtorch in hand, face-shield down and a pair of scandalously short shorts hanging on his hips.

She swallowed a laugh. “Umm...”

He knocked up the face-shield with his free hand and tugged her into the room. “Yeah, yeah. Catch-me-f*ck-me’s are hilarious.” He resettled the chair against the door and headed back toward the bench, his cheeks red from more than the heat.

“Catch-me-f*ck-me? Is that a request?”

“The shorts. Standard PT issue for Ranger training. Most intimidating part of Ranger School is walking in on someone doing sit-ups.” He sat on the bench with an embarrassed smile. “They’d look a helluva lot better on you.” Turning, he slid his mechanical leg onto the bench.

Jolie had never seen it before and approached curiously. The front was solid, gleaming metal from thigh to ankle, but the back was a silver cage housing brass gears and colorful wires. She couldn’t see it, but Hauk had told her wires and tubing surgically connected the device to the nervous system in his thigh, allowing it to respond like a normal leg. The whole thing attached a few inches below his hip with a metal cincture. The way he moved, it was impossible to tell his leg was missing if you didn’t see the metal beneath. Tally had built a miracle unmatched by modern science.

He crooked his knee, picked up a silver sheath from his workbench and fitted it over the back of his calf. “Hard to get this project done in my leathers, hence the getup.” He dropped his face-shield and pointed to a wall, where safety garments hung on metal hooks. “There’re more over there if you want to get any closer.” After sparking up his welding torch, he began soldering the metal skin over the cage of his leg.

Fascinated, Jolie grabbed a rubber band from her pocket to stuff her hair back into a bun and headed across the room for a mask and gloves.

When she got back to the bench, he was finishing up the second side. Unlike most of Hauk’s work, with its fanciful lines and hammered textures, the metal was smooth and contoured in precise realism. He’d been working on these for a while.

“They’re beautiful,” she said in awe.

Another grunt as he contorted, trying to reach the line where his calf met his knee. Finally he frowned. “Don’t suppose you know anything about welding?”

She opened her mouth in surprise. “No.”

Annoyance twisted his face as he tried to find an angle that would work.

“How hard is it?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t care if it’s smooth, just that it’s on. So in this case, not very.”

Nothing about this project said, “I don’t care.” The pieces were not only beautifully crafted, but fitted seamlessly into the casing. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m willing to try, but I don’t want to mess up your work.”

He gave her a smile with a touch of weariness in it. “It’s the back of my knee. Nobody’s going to see it but you.”

There was something deeply important to him about having this done. She wasn’t sure she could do any good, but she’d give it her best.

They spent a few minutes with scrap metal so he could show her how to use the torch and have her practice. Her seams were bubbly and uneven, but the procedure was easy enough. After a few tries he declared her work solid enough to hold.

“Are you sure?” she asked again, pushing the welding mask up from her latest zig-zagging line. “We could get Tally in here—”

He dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “No Tally. Just you. Please.”

She looked from her messy efforts to his gleaming silver leg and up to his face. He was serious. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Lie down.”

“I’m not going to be able to get the last piece, either. I’ll help you set it in place, but...”

She nodded and pushed him toward the bench. “In for a line, in for a square. We’re good. Just don’t be pissed when it’s uneven.”

He lay on the workbench on his stomach, cheek resting on his crossed arms so she could see his smile. “It’ll match the rest of me better.”

With a laugh, she dropped her face-shield and bent over the project. As she touched the metal casing, steadying herself for the weld, she realized how close she was to him. For the first time, he was letting her touch his leg. He couldn’t feel her fingers, but he knew she was there. Not just to touch but, in a way, to heal him. She ignited the fire and bent to work, determined to do him proud.

The last line of the calf went easier than she’d expected, and she moved on to the back of his thigh.

“I love that you sing,” he said.

She stopped mid-hum, just now realizing she was doing it. “Oh, I hadn’t meant to.”

“I can tell. I love that about you.”

Her eyes watered, and she paused to blink away the tears before turning the fire back to his casings. “I love you.”

He went very still, his eyes boring into her.

She focused on her work. “You wouldn’t let me tell you last night, but I want you to know. I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it. It’s been true for a long time.” She started the next line, concentrating carefully on metal and fire as she said the words she’d been practicing. “The only good relationship I’ve ever seen is Papa Marcel and David. But David died when I was thirteen and, well, of course they weren’t married, this being Texas and all. Papa Marcel never dated seriously again. To say the least, I don’t know how this is done.” She finished the last line, shut off the fire and pushed her face-shield up. “Stay there while it cools.”

She moved to the side where she could see his eyes and the ardor inside them. His emotion, unconcealed as always, helped her speak her own. “I do know I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I know that my day is better when I wake up next to you. I know that with you I feel safer, more cared for and like a better person than I’ve ever been in my life. Sex means more than it ever has. And it’s better. I’d be happy with you and only you for the rest of my life. I want it that way. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I’m wearing a welding hat and gloves.” She took them off with a self-conscious laugh. “Sexy.”

“You have no idea,” he rumbled. There was something anguished in his expression as he pulled her down to his level and kissed her.

She wanted to clear all his sorrow away, help him find a new life. A happy one. With her.

His lips brushed her forehead like a benediction. “I love you, too. I will love you for the rest of my life. And beyond if there is one.”

* * *

Hauk let go of the woman he loved as bittersweet emotion flooded him. Jolie spoke the sweetest words he’d ever heard, and if his premonition was right, they would hurt her more. “Let me get some water to cool this.” It would make the joints more brittle, but she didn’t know that. He only needed it to last a little while.

She smiled merrily as she helped him spray cold water on the jointures. Together they put away tools and scrap. He scrubbed down the table, the last chore to do. While he finished up, she pulled the rubber band from her hair and shook her head.

Flame-red curls fell around her shoulders. Light from the hearth danced across her face, lighting the freckles he loved to kiss. His heart stuttered. She captivated him. He’d never imagined himself with a beauty like her, even for a night. And yet she loved him. If somehow he did make it through this, he’d put the ring on her finger tomorrow.

He reached down and felt the seams on his legs. Cool enough that it wouldn’t burn her. It was time to fulfill his vow. Despite his resolve, apprehension made his motions clumsy as he gave the table one last polish and put the brush away.

As if she read his mind, she stepped up to him and put her head against his chest. He wrapped her in his arms and buried his lips in her hair. She was lightness itself as he picked her up and set her on his workbench.

Jolie tried to pull him closer but he stepped back. Suddenly shy, he grabbed the hem of his shirt. He’d said he would do this. He was practically naked now, thanks to the stupid-ass shorts, the only thing he owned that allowed him to work on his leg. But still, his gut heaved nauseously at the idea of standing completely naked before anyone. Air touching him from every angle. Fire lighting each grotesque pockmark.

But it might be his last chance to fulfill his promise. And Jolie loved him. He drew from her words the courage he needed to pull the hem up, baring his chest and back. The shirt dropped to the ground. He didn’t look at her face—couldn’t—as he grabbed the waistband of his shorts. His heart pounded; his hands shook. He dropped the rest of his clothing to the floor.

He stepped away from the fabric, aware of the crackle of the fire, the heat flickering across him, the hushed intake of her breath. Head bowed, he clenched his eyes shut. Hope, damned emotion, kept him on the edge of panic. If he didn’t care so much he could box up his feelings and make this unveiling bearable. But nothing had ever mattered as much as the next few minutes. If Jolie could accept this, all of him, then maybe he, too, could find a way to see past his own skin. If she couldn’t...

He spun slowly, displaying the whole of himself—the squared-off patchwork on his abdomen, the only place they were able to harvest skin. The stark ridges over his lower back and glutes, where the fire had raged the worst. The thigh juncture where skin met metal, replacing nearly a fifth of his body with science.

It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to give her. He finished the turn. Breath held, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

She waited for the eye contact, a smile on her lips. “I love it. You are perfect to me.”

He breathed again. Her arms stretched toward him. Gratefully, he walked into them. After a moment, he tugged at her shirt, and she lifted her arms. He stripped her efficiently until they were both naked. Unlike his, her smooth body glowed in the light. He ran his calloused fingers over her soft skin, marveling in her supple perfection.

“Join me,” she said.

He climbed onto the table next to her. Her fingers were unhurried as they explored him again. Not demanding or frenetic like last night, but comforting and sure.

Her skin was already slick with sweat from the heat of the forge, allowing their bodies to glide against each other. Her skin tasted of spice and salt, her kiss of mint. She returned his kiss with a longing that matched his own as her touch drove all dark thoughts away. Her body was all he needed, not a new leg or face or skin. He let her hands do what pleased her as his mouth wandered her body. He reveled in the softness of her neck and belly, the pebbled firmness of her nipples, the wet heat of her sex.

“Please,” she begged.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t want anything between us. Not this time.”

Neither did he. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him as he joined his body to hers in naked perfection. Her face nestled against his neck and she moaned. Her hands tightened around his back as her legs wrapped around his. Together, as tight as they could be, he touched inside her. Her pleas escalated as they moved faster, striving together for bliss.

She stiffened, digging her fingers into him. “I love you,” she cried. Her body clenched around his. His own orgasm crashed into him, and he yelled her name.

Her fingers stroked his face as she shuddered against him, and he held her tighter, relishing every caress of her closeness. Whatever happened tonight, he had this perfect moment to carry with him, whether it was back home to her and the ring he’d made or across the veil to the peace of the other side.