Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
B ELLE
I wake up the next day to find my bedroom door still locked.
I don't know why I thought it wouldn’t be. Beast knows I don't want to marry him, and he thinks I’ll run away or at least try to escape.
Which in this case, he’d be right. Because the moment the opportunity presents itself, I’m out of here. I’m going to find my uncle and get us the hell away from this town and this motorcycle club.
My heart aches at the thought of my uncle. What did Beast do with him? Did he help him, or did he leave him tied to the chair, beaten and dying?
No, Beast wouldn’t do that.
Surely.
I fight the onset of tears. My uncle is all I’ve got in this world.
I draw my knees to my chest and watch the sunrise from my bedroom window and try to find the silver lining in my situation.
Across the lawn is an old stone chapel.
Beyond that, below the hill, St. Boniface comes alive in the golden pink rays of dawn. Streetlights turn off and cobblestone streets gleam in the early morning light. People go about their lives driving into the city to their jobs. Children go to school. Husbands and wives go about their day. Life goes on. But for me, I'm stuck here in an impossible situation. I didn't sleep well last night. My dreams were fractured. I was haunted by images of Gaston’s ugly hollow face. I could smell him. Hear him. Feel the cold hard sting of his palm against my skin. Felt him rip open my underwear. Felt his rough hands violating me. But when I sat up with a rush, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear. It was relief.
I am safe here.
Which is a ridiculous thing to think.
Because my instincts are good, and I have a feeling I’m not safe anywhere.
Hearing voices outside, I climb off the bed and cross the room to the window. On the lawn below, three bikers are standing around a woodchopping stump, while another brings the axe down on a log. Except he misses and the three bikers watching him start to laugh. He’s young. Maybe college age. Not as confident as the older ones but trying to be.
He misses again, and his cheeks redden when the other bikers laugh at him.
But the bikers stop laughing when Beast appears. I watch as he saunters toward them. The younger biker attempts to break the log but his cheeks flame with embarrassment when he strikes at the log and misses again.
One of the older bikers says something, and his two friends burst into laughter.
I open the window so I can hear what they are saying.
“I remember a time when you couldn’t even lift this axe,” Beast says to him, which shuts him up.
Unable to look away, I watch as Beast takes the axe from the younger biker and begins to show him how to do it. With barely any effort he brings the axe down on the log and it explodes into pieces.
He loads up another log and slams the axe into it and it too explodes. He does it again and again, and again until the morning sun is too warm, and he pauses. He leans the axe against the stump and reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and lifts it over his head, and holy mother of God, what am I looking at?
I’ve seen men’s bodies before but nothing like what I am looking at now.
Beast is huge, and damn, is that an eight-pack?
He lifts up the axe again and brings it down on another log.
I want to look away. But a shirtless Beast swinging an axe and splintering the thick logs like they’re matchsticks is like drinking a tall glass of cold water on a hot day.
My gaze trails the length of his shirtless torso, across the thick slabs of pectoral muscles and down the deep crevices of his eight-pack, farther down to the deep V disappearing beneath his jeans.
I lick my lips.
Thick arms gleam with sweat as he brings the axe down on one log after another. He grunts as he pounds the steel blade of the axe into the wood and my mind starts to wander, and goosebumps spread across my skin when I imagine the sounds he makes when he pounds into?—
Oh for fuck’s sake, Belle, get a grip. This man is keeping you prisoner and forcing you to marry him.
But even that isn’t enough to dampen the heat stirring in my core.
Geez, I really need to get laid.
I steal one last look at him. He’s about to swing the axe, but before he does, he stops and looks up at the window, and his gaze lands right on me.
Mortified I’ve been caught staring at him, I drop down to the floor and pray it opens up and sucks me down to a brand new hell—far, far away from this one.
The bedroom door opens, and Mya breezes in carrying a breakfast tray.
“Morning Belle…oh my goodness, what are you doing on the floor?”
I quickly scramble to my feet.
Stupid kidnapper.
Once I smell the coffee, my spirits instantly lift.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Mya says, sweeping across the room like Tinkerbell. “I didn’t know what you like so I brought you toast with jam, some waffles Mrs. V prepared especially for you, and a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Mrs. Who?”
“Mrs. V is the clubhouse cook. The best cook in the world if you ask me.” She places the tray on the bed in front of me and stands back with a big smile on her sweet face. “Are you feeling happier today?
Honestly, it’s hard to hate on someone who is pure sunshine, even if the circumstance warrants it.
Still, I have to remember that I am being held here against my will and at least try to show some resistance.
I look from the tray back to her. “Do you really think I can be bribed into submission with a tray of food when I’ve been kidnapped and held prisoner?”
Mya’s bright smile fades. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Her brow wrinkles and her big eyes fill with sadness and I feel like I’ve just run over a unicorn.
And just like that the fight goes out of me.
For now, at least.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you.” I give her an apologetic smile because damn, hurting Mya feels rough. “If I’m honest, you had me at coffee.” I reach for the coffee pot and pour myself a big fat cup. Note to self: don’t crush Tinkerbell.
Relieved, Mya smiles, and everything feels right in the world again. No dead unicorns. No crushed Tinkerbell. Just me still being kidnapped.
“I brought you some clothes too,” Mya says as she untwists the carry bag hanging off her wrist. “You’re about the same size as me so I brought you some jeans and shirts. There’s brand new underwear in there too and some toiletries.”
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the bag and putting it beside me on the bed so I can start devouring Mrs. V’s waffles. She just might be the best cook in the world like Mya said. “My God, these waffles are divine.”
Giggling, Mya slides onto the edge of the bed and tucks one leg under the other. Today she’s wearing knee high black boots, tiny white shorts and a Led Zeppelin band shirt tied beneath her boobs. A diamond stud winks at me from her belly button ring. “Beast is coming to see you later today.”
“Later today? You mean I have to sit around and wait for his majesty to bestow me with his presence?”
Mya looks empathetic. “He’s the club president, there is a lot he has to take care of.”
“Then perhaps he shouldn’t have kidnapped me if he’s so busy.”
Although, maybe this is the chance for me to learn more about my enemy before our meeting.
“So tell me about him,” I say, shoveling in another mouthful of waffles and syrup.
“What do you want to know?”
What his weak points are. What buttons to push. The list is endless. “Why does he want a wife?”
Her eyes widen, and she looks around as if we’re being watched. “If a president is unwed at the time of being voted in then he needs to be married within six months.”
“You mean to tell me this Beast guy is serious about me marrying him?”
“He could lose his position in the club if he doesn’t uphold tradition.”
“Why not marry someone who wants to be the president’s wife? He’s a hot guy for a kidnapper. Surely there are women who would be happy to marry him.”
“Oh, there would be. Lots of club girls would kill for the opportunity. Not to mention the outsider women who hang around wanting to get close to a Knight.”
“Then why me?”
“He wants a marriage of convenience. Not one that involves feelings. Marrying a club girl or an outsider would only confuse the situation.”
Mya seems to know a lot about him.
“You two are close?”
“He is my prez, but he is also my friend.”
“Do you and he…” I don’t know how to ask but thankfully Mya understands.
“Never. He doesn’t indulge in the club girls. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“Since when?” I ask, trying to learn more about the man I’m meant to marry.
“Since as long as I can remember. And I’ve been here for almost five years.”
“And you’ve never seen him with a woman?”
“Never.”
“Maybe he has a girlfriend in town?”
“There’s been rumors lately because he’s been disappearing every night for a few hours. Whispers suggest he has someone in town. But I don’t know if he has or not. I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“He has a complicated past that stops him.”
I spoon in another mouthful of waffles. “Then where has he been disappearing to every night if he isn’t visiting with a girlfriend?”
She shrugs. “He hasn’t said. If I didn’t know about his past then I’d think he’d met someone, because every night he rides off on his Harley and doesn’t return for a couple of hours. But it’s very unlikely.”
I pick a strawberry off the plate and bite into it. “Go on.”
“It’s not my story to tell. I’ll let him tell you when he’s ready.”
Fair enough. Although I am intrigued as to what a complicated past means.
“And he’s never been with a single woman since you’ve been here?”
I don’t know why I’m interested. But here I am, asking away like I haven’t been taken against my will.
She shakes her head. “No.”
I can’t hide my surprise. Surely, a virile man like him would have needs. “I mean how long can that last?”
“I visited him last night,” she says. “I offered to take care of him.”
I pause mid chew. “You did?”
“I adore Beast and so I always make myself available to assist with certain needs.” She shrugs. “If I can help make him feel better, then I will.”
“You like him.”
“Not like that. Beast isn’t for me in that way. But he’s a friend.”
“But not a friend with benefits?” I don’t know why I want her to confirm it again.
“No. He doesn’t want that from me.” She doesn’t say it with any remorse or disappointment. Just fact.
And it makes me wonder.
“Is there someone else you are interested in?” I ask her, returning my attention to the waffles.
“No one special. I like the freedom of being a club girl and not an old lady.”
“Old lady?”
“A wife.”
“You’re not interested in marriage then?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh God no.”
Same, girl. Same.
Mya leans in. “Beast trusts me. That’s why I’m helping him with you. I’m the only one who knows this marriage isn’t real. If anyone else catches on, then Beast’s position as president could be challenged.”
The sudden realization that this isn’t some prank and I might actually have to marry Beast overwhelms me, and I put down my fork. “I don’t want to marry him.”
“But you have to.”
I look at the sweet girl with the short blonde pixie cut and dimples and have to remind myself that we’re not friends. That she’s helping my kidnapper keep me prisoner.
“So it would be pointless asking you to help me escape,” I say.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“No, I don’t suppose you could.” I push my plate away suddenly feeling nauseated.
This is really happening.
The giant is going to force me to marry him.
And then what?
Play house?
Be his trophy wife during the day and his lover at night?
A shiver rolls through me and I look toward the window. Not touching a woman for years will have built up his sexual appetite, and what will that mean for me as his wife?
Images of a naked Beast claiming me on his bed sends an unexpected wave of heat through me. A man of his size would be dominant and powerful in bed, and I’ve seen the size of his motorcycle boots so I don’t doubt everything else about him is big, even the parts we can’t see.
Another wave of heat hits me deep in my core and reminds me that it’s been a long time since I’ve been touched.
I rake my hands down my face, as if I can scrape the unwanted images of a naked Beast between my legs off my mind.
I’m being held against my will by the giant biker, and I should be focusing on that. Not wishing my vibrator wasn’t still in a drawer back at the house on Le Prince Street.
Feeling frustrated, I take a sip of coffee. I don’t know what to do about my uncle or how I’m going to get us out of this mess.
But one thing is for sure, I’m not hanging around to be dragged down the aisle to marry a stranger.