"...What?"

"If you had died," he says, "I would have made myself love her, and then if she loved me and I was free I would have killed her, and if she did not and I was not I would have killed her when the rose died."

"I - I cannot begin to understand why that would be. Any of it."

"I want to be free," he says. "But I hate her. But you can love someone and hate them. It's even easier, in some ways. But I don't want to if I have another chance. Because I hate her."

"I don't think I know how to love someone and hate them." She snorts softly. "But then - I don't even know how to do the first alone. Still. It sounds harder, not easier."

"Only in some ways."

"What are the other ways?"

"Sorry," murmurs Belle.

"So," he says. "I could love her, and it would hurt, and I would kill her. Or I could just kill her now and not have to worry about it."

"I might manage to love you soon, though," Belle whispers. "And then we could all go. I doubt she's dangerous to her friends, when she can go where she likes."

"...If you want to kill her I will not stop you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I want to stay with you more than I want to go and kill her."

"She might come out of her room eventually," Belle points out.

"And if I still feel like killing her next time I see her, then I will."

He curls up with her and starts purring softly.

The Beast doesn't bother exiting his comfortable snuggle to chase after her.

Even with the personal ward on, the Beast hardly strays out of sight of Belle, and never farther than the other side of a door.