Beast (MC Fables #1)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

B ELLE

When we get outside, the Uber is gone.

Of course.

“We’ll have to walk,” I say to Uncle Maurice.

He doesn’t mind. His grip on reality is slipping. Sometimes he is so lost in his own world, he has no clue what is happening around him. He’ll think of this as an adventure.

“At least the rain has stopped,” I say, as I loop my arm through his and we leave the shelter of the casino. We step into the rain-soaked night, huddled together against the cold. Streetlights glimmer in the puddles on the sidewalk and cold night air whips about our face.

St. Boniface is a beautiful town. Postcard perfect. At night, its skyline shimmers like jewels on the shoreline, and its cobblestone streets offer a charming glimpse into the old days when the bustling town was the biggest seaport in the country.

Unfortunately, the casino is in the seedier part of town called Bracken Grove. It’s full of shadows and shady dealings, not to mention plenty of stairwells leading down to the hundreds of underground tunnels running beneath the town.

We walk quickly toward our apartment in Port Town knowing we are being watched by eyes in the shadows, but we keep our heads down and our steps quick.

Steam coils up from the underground tunnels and turns to wispy white vapors in the eerie dusk, casting the streets in an spooky light.

An unnatural tingle takes up in the base of my spine, a warning that something is about to happen.

We hurry on, heads down, coat collars pulled up.

That’s when they find us. On a narrow street. Three figures, dressed in black. All the air seems to disappear like a giant vacuum has sucked it out of the night and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, boys?” The larger of the three steps forward.

He steps into the ribbon of light coming from the streetlamp. He’s handsome. With a strong jaw and high cheekbones. But his eyes are cold, and the moment I look into them, I know this man is nothing but trouble.

“G-Gaston,” Uncle Maurice stammers.

I jerk my head toward my uncle. He knows these men?

“What a surprise to find you out on the street on this cold night and not perched on your stool at the casino,” the man called Gaston says. He smirks and an icy fear trickles down my spine. There is nothing good behind that smirk.

“We’re just on our way h-home,” my uncle says hurriedly.

“And here I was thinking you were on your way to see me,” Gaston says, a menacing gleam in his cold eyes.

I frown. Why would this man with cold black eyes and the energy of a cemetery at night expect a visit from my uncle?

Uncle Maurice what have you gotten yourself into?

“I will come see y-you l-later,” Maurice stammers, unable to meet his eyes, or mine.

Fear curdles in my gut. I don’t know who this Gaston person is, but he’s making my uncle nervous. He doesn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands. He tries to step around the man with the hollow cheeks but Gaston puts his hand into his chest to stop him.

“Not so quick, old man.”

“What do you want?” I demand, not liking this situation one little bit. My instinct is screaming at me to get us away from this man and his scary friends.

Gaston slowly turns his head, his expression full of menace as those dead eyes roll over my face. “And who might you be, pretty lady?”

I feel my uncle tense beside me.

“Now, s-she’s no c-concern of…of…of yours,” he says. “I’m w-who you want to t-talk to. She has nothing…nothing to do with this.”

Gaston throws him a dark scowl before bringing his attention back to me. He takes an intimidating step closer, but I stand my ground because I refuse to be intimidated by these thugs.

I lift my chin. “Leave us alone.”

Gaston looks amused. He glances over at the two men with him and the three of them start to chuckle. But when he pulls his gaze back to me, the smile fades on his cruel, thin lips. “And who the fuck do we have here?”

“Not that it’s any concern of yours, but I’m his niece,” I say with more bravery than I have.

“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.

I stare out the massive window into the backyard and watch the torrential rain machine-gunning the concrete path with fat bursts of water.

The encounter with Gaston has me left me rattled and a ghostly finger runs up my spine. I can still see the menace in his eyes. The way they had swept up and down my body, shamelessly undressing me. Just the thought of him makes my skin ripple with goosebumps and nausea curdle in my stomach.

“Oh, Uncle Maurice, what have you gotten us into?” I whisper into the lonely kitchen.

The night feels unsettled.

Something tells me morning can’t come quick enough.