Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“That’s why we’re in the parking garage, princess.”
He leads us down a ramp, and once we reach the bottom, I stop in my tracks and stare in awe at the rows and rows of gleaming motorcycles.
Chrome and flawless black paint gleam under the yellow glow of the fluorescent lights.
Beast keeps walking and I have to jog to catch up to him.
Of course his bike is a massive beast of black and gleaming chrome and an intimidating leather seat. He swings a giant leg over it, and with a flick of a wrist the massive machine barks and rumbles and comes to life.
“Have you ever been on one of these before?” he asks.
“No,” I reply. I've always wanted to, but I've never had the chance.
He offers me a hand to guide me on. His touch is oddly comforting and strangely gentle as I slide onto the back of his bike.
I get settled but maintain distance between us.
“You’re gonna need to get closer than that,” he says, taking me by the wrists and wrapping my arms around his waist.
His body is a thick wall of muscle in front of me. His back is broad and strong. His shoulders are giant boulders clad in leather. I can feel the slabs of muscle beneath the leather cut, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric, and the sheer strength of him supporting me as we roar out of the parking garage and into the cold night.
It's warm as we make our way down the winding driveway that cuts through the clubhouse grounds and onto the sweeping road that leads down the hill toward St. Boniface.
“Relax, it will be more comfortable for you.” Beast’s voice is strong enough for me to hear against the warm air as it whips past my face.
I inhale in a deep breath and will my muscles to relax. I'm not scared. In fact, I feel more alive than I have in a long time. An electric thrill zips through me as the machine tears down the side of the hill towards the twinkling lights of the town below, and a smile curls on my lips. I feel free, which is ironic considering I’ve been kidnapped. But I can’t help it. For the first time in a long time, I feel fucking free.
Up ahead is the famous St. Boniface memorial statue, and as we approach it my smile fades. Twenty-five years ago, seventeen people died in a massive fire that ripped through the town and almost burned St. Boniface to ground. I remember it was twenty-five years ago because the fire happened the day after my parents died.
Beast slows down as we pass it and make our way into the quieter streets of the village, but the Harley is still a rumbling beast in the quiet. The slower speed allows me a chance to brush my hair from my face and take in the sights and sounds of the village around me.
A strange comfort settles over me, and before I realize what I’m doing, I rest my head against Beast’s broad shoulders. I feel him tense but then relax. I know it’s an odd thing to do, but something about this feels so natural.
It's almost as if being on the back of his bike is…where I belong.
Okay, what the hell, Belle?
Clearly I have developed Stockholm Syndrome overnight.
Have you forgotten this man is keeping you prisoner?
Still, I don't take my cheek from his shoulders. In fact, I tighten my arms around his waist and relax into his warm body, feeling safe and content.
I don’t know what is going on with me but something about this feels…familiar?
We ride to the outskirts of the town, along the cliffs that overlook the sunset over the ocean before Beast pulls into a huge parking lot and parks the Harley.
I hadn't realized we’d pulled up in front of a beautiful country estate. I remember it from my childhood growing up in St. Bon. From memory, it’s owned by an old widow who no one had seen in many years. When I was a kid there were rumors about her. That she was a witch. That she would lure children into the house and eat them.
I cast a glance around us, taking in the beautiful old mansion.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
Not one for words— let alone answering any of my questions—Beast silently guides me off the bike and I follow him up to the front door.
When we reached the top of the front steps the glossy blue door opens and an older lady wearing a nurse's uniform greets us with a warm smile. Beast greets her with a cordial nod. “Are we too late for visiting hours?”
The older lady, whose name badge reads Annie, smiles and playfully swats his massive arm. “Oh my goodness, don’t be so silly. You know this place is open all hours to the Knights. I take it you have come to see the most recent of guests?”