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)
“Well, well, Maurice, you never told me you had such a spectacular-looking niece.”
I shift uncomfortably on my feet as his eyes unpeel layers of my clothing. He licks his lips like he wants to eat what he sees.
He takes a step into my personal space, and I freeze. He curls a lock of my blonde hair around his finger. I swat it away, but he grabs my chin, and an evil snarl turns his face from ugly to terrifying. “Listen to me, you little whore—"
“Let the girl go.” A dark voice cracks into the cold night like a thunderclap. It comes from nowhere. A deep, masculine voice. One that commands total submission.
An exhilarating thrill zips through me.
“I said, let her go,” the voice demands again, this time with more thunder and warning.
Gaston releases his grip on my chin and turns to look over his shoulder. By the look on his face, he already knows who he is going to see before the giant steps out of the shadow and into the light of the street, and—
Oh. My. God.
A soft gasp escapes past my parted lips as I take in the ginormous man appearing in front of me.
He’s easily seven foot something with broad shoulders and a powerful body that could only be cut from slabs of muscle. Hair like a lion’s mane falls past a face cast in shadow. But I can make out the strong jaw and high cheekbones, and the slight cleft in his chin. It’s not until he moves further into the light that I see the twist of scars cut into his face.
I can’t see his eyes because they’re cast in shadow, but I can feel his gaze. He’s looking right at me.
I struggle to swallow. This man is not just a man. He is something so much more.
“This is none of your concern,” Gaston says with warning in his tone. “You need to stay out of my affairs.”
“What you do in this town and who you do it with is my concern. Especially if your affairs involve you putting your hands on a defenseless old man and a woman.” There is something in the giant’s deep rumbling voice that makes my body vibrate with an energy I’ve never felt before. It’s like Gaston and his men have disappeared, and I’m seeing something that could only exist in my dreams.
My gaze travels down his massive body. He wears black jeans and the largest pair of motorcycle boots I’ve ever seen. Beneath his open jacket he wears a leather vest over a dark T-shirt. He’s a biker. A giant one.
“Mind your own business, Beast,” Gaston warns.
Beast. The name suits him.
“I won’t say it again,” Beast growls. “Let them pass.”
“Or what?”
“Do you really want to risk finding out?” I feel the giant’s dark gaze like a warm caress on my skin. Something shimmers in the tight air between us. Something dark and delicious. Something dangerous.
I shiver and swallow down the strange excitement I feel prickling beneath my skin.
“Careful, Beast. You wouldn’t want to start something.”
“Don’t test me, Gaston. You’re done here.” The man I now know as Beast turns to me and says, “Run home, Belle.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice.
I grab Uncle Maurice’s hand and do as Beast says.
We run.
And we don’t look back.
We just keep running until we can’t run anymore.
We make it to Port Town, a safer neighborhood, where there is more light and less access to the tunnels beneath the town. A bus pulls up just ahead of us and we climb on, and I’m grateful for the coins in my pocket because they mean we can ride the rest of the way home in the safety of the bus.
By the time we make it to our tiny apartment on Le Prince Street, it’s raining again. And as I lock the door behind me, it’s then I realize, the Beast called me by my name.
Once inside our little house, I light a fire, then fix my uncle a bowl of the chicken noodle soup he loves.
He’s sitting by the fireplace in the old recliner chair when I take it to him.
I need to talk to him about what just happened. But since we arrived home he’s withdrawn into his shell and isn’t making any sense.
He’s getting worse.
My heart aches for him. Once upon a time, he was a revered scientist and achieved many great things in his long and prestigious career. Now he disappears inside himself more and more every day.
Some days are better than others. I hope tomorrow is a lucid day and we can talk. But for tonight, I’ll let him rest.
While he enjoys his soup, I retreat to the cold kitchen and stare at the bills attached to the refrigerator. Electricity is past its due date, likewise with the water, and somehow we’re a month behind in the mortgage.