Beast (MC Fables #1)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

B ELLE

The moment I close the bedroom door behind me I sag against it. Damn him. He’s got me right where he wants me, and it makes me want to murder him a thousand times over.

Wear something nice.

His demand grinds my last gear. I might be stuck here but I’m not some biker barbie he can dress up and parade around.

I look at the three dresses draped on the bed. One is a tight black dress that doesn’t even make it to the middle of my thigh. The second is also black and is slightly longer but wouldn’t hide my underwear if I bent over. The third dress is silk and has a cute halter neck and a hem that reaches my knees. In my normal life—the one where I am not a prisoner of an annoying bike gangster—I would have died for a dress like this. It’s so soft and high quality and probably cost a bundle.

But I drop it like it’s a hot stone. Because that’s not my life anymore. I’m no longer free and these dresses are a reminder of that fact.

I cross the massive room to the large dresser and stare at my reflection. I’m still in the jeans and T-shirt Mya gave me this morning. I sit down in front of the mirror and stare at my makeup-free face and windswept hair. I have no choice about being Beast’s fake fiancé. But I certainly have one about how I look when I’m doing it.

Sliding my fingers through the roots of my hair I start to mess it up even more so it looks like I’ve just rolled out of bed, then pull it up into a messy bun. Next, I rummage through the makeup bag Mya left on the dresser until I find the mascara and dab a little on my lashes. While it’s still wet, I smudge it beneath each eye, giving myself a subtle pair of panda eyes. Lastly, I pick at a tiny blemish on my chin, enough to make my skin pink.

Sitting back, I admire my handiwork with a smile.

I’m a mess and it’s perfect.

What I’m doing might seem immature and petty. But I need to regain some sense of control back and right now this is it.

Choosing how I look and what I wear is the only thing that stops me from feeling completely powerless.

There’s a knock at the door, and thinking it’s Beast I call out, “Come in if you’re gazillion feet tall and currently keeping me prisoner in your castle.”

But when the door opens it’s not Beast who walks in, it’s Mya. Shit . I will have to curb my need to be a smart ass in the future. If it was anyone else who wasn’t in on the charade then I could fuck this up, and that wouldn’t be very good for Uncle Maurice.

“Sorry, I thought you were Beast.”

Mya looks alarmed. “You’re not dressed.”

“I’m ready.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re wearing that?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You didn’t like the dresses I left on the bed for you?”

“They were gorgeous, thank you. But I’m more comfortable like this.”

“But we’re going to a party. Don’t you want to dress up and sparkle when you meet everyone?”

She’s so adorable. It almost makes me want to get dressed up just to please her.

But I have a point to make here.

If Beast wants a wife then he’s got one. But how she looks in public will be how she chooses.

“You know I’m not here because I want to be, right?”

Mya’s face falls. “You’re doing this to provoke him.”

“No, I’m doing this to show him that I can’t be bossed about. I might have to be here but I will do it on my terms.”

She sighs. “At least let me brush your hair.”

I mock gasp. “But it’s the piece de resistance of my outfit.”

“You look like Cinderella,” she says. “All that’s missing is the chimney soot.”

I give her a cheeky grin. “I mean, if you could arrange some that would be great.”

Mya rolls her eyes but grabs my hand. “Come on, we’re already late.”

“Beast isn’t taking me to the party?”

“No, he’s got some last minute club business to attend to. He’ll be joining the party later."

We leave the bedroom and walk through the castle toward the music. Metallica. “Enter Sandman”. As we get closer, the debauchery of what I’m about to walk into becomes apparent. Leaning up against the railing, a biker in a Knights cut is having his cock sucked by a girl wearing a bikini and heels. His head is tilted back as her mouth moves up and down his long cock. He’s groaning and muttering as he tugs on her hair.

Farther down the hallway, another biker has a girl in a short skirt pressed up against the wall. They’re kissing wildly, but it’s not until we get closer that I see she’s got one leg wrapped around his waist and he’s balls deep inside her. They’re too preoccupied to notice Mya and I as we walk past.

“Ready for your first Knights of St. Bon party?” Mya asks with a bright smile.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, stepping aside as two bikers tumble out the door leading into the bar. Drunk and laughing, one of them spills beer all over the jeans I’m wearing.

A beautiful woman with wild blonde curls appears behind them. “Sticky, you asshole, you just spilled your beer all over this young lady.”

The biker who must be called Sticky stops and turns to look at me. He sways on his feet as his glazed eyes sweep up and down my legs. “Well then, let me help you out of them, darlin’,” he slurs, taking two steps toward me, but then two steps sideways. He finally loses his footing and falls over.

“Serves you right, you pervert.” The blonde woman laughs. She brings her gaze back to me while the other drunk biker helps Sticky to his feet. “You must be Mya’s cousin who just moved here. It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. My name is Isla.”

Mya’s cousin who just moved here. That’s how Beast’s explaining me.

“I’m Belle. It’s nice to meet you too.”

She winks at me. “Don’t mind those boys, they’re simply blowing off some steam. Someone will find them passed out in the garden tomorrow morning.”

Mya smiles and hooks her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

We step through the doors, and I’m immediately hit with the heady scent of weed and tobacco smoke, mingled with leather and sweat and testosterone.

“Welcome to hell, honey,” Isla says beside me.

The clubhouse bar is huge and packed with motorcycle men in leather cuts and women in tight jeans, tight dresses, or next to nothing.

Metallica changes to something I don’t recognize as Mya and Isla lead me through the crowd toward a massive bar with gleaming bottles of liquor along the far wall. Above it, a giant Knights of St. Bon emblem glows in the dim light.

“What’s your poison?” Isla asks me.

“Just an ice water for me,” I reply, glancing around the room at the action. At one of the tables, a gorgeous biker with long white-blonde hair flowing past his broad shoulders arm wrestles with an older biker who has similar hair. He’s gorgeous, with a strong jaw and piercing eyes. I watch as he battles with the older biker, his teeth gritted, his focus determined.

“Here you go,” Isla says, handing me a shot glass of something that isn’t ice water.

I take a sniff, and it stings my nostrils. “What is it?”

“Wildfire. Drink it. You look like you need it.”

Figuring she’s right, I take a hearty sip and the liquid is like fire going down my throat. Immediately, I start to cough. Isla laughs and gives me a comforting pat on the back.

“It’s the Knights’ moonshine. It takes some getting used to.”

Heat spreads through my chest, followed by a rush of comfort, and I begin to relax.

A round of cheers brings my attention back to the arm wrestlers. The younger blonde is winning. His big arm bulges, and his perfect white teeth gnash together as he slowly forces the older biker’s arm down to the table. The other bikers around him cheer him on.

“Better luck next time, old man,” he says with a gorgeous grin. Rising to his feet, he pats the older biker on his cut as he walks past.

“Who is he?” I ask my companions.

“That’s Lars. He’s the club’s enforcer,” Isla explains.

“And Beast’s best friend,” Mya adds. “Where there is one, there is usually the other.”

I glance around the room. There’s still no sign of Beast and I can’t help but wonder where he is and what will happen when he gets here.

It must be the Wildfire, but when I think about Beast and recall his muscular body when I pressed against it in the doorway, excitement spirals through me when I recall the sheer size of him and the heat of his powerful body radiating around me.

I throw back the last of the Wildfire, and it explodes in my chest. Which is good. Because then maybe it will set fire to those thoughts and my body’s traitorous response to them.

Sitting at a table behind us, a group of women watch us with looks of distaste on their faces.

“Who are they?” I ask.

“Outside interests,” Mya says diplomatically.

“We call them Outsiders,” Isla adds. “Girls who want to bang a biker. Usually dancers from one of the clubs the Knights own in town. Some of them are okay, I suppose. But they’re only here for one reason, and it’s not to make friends with their competition.”

“Is that why they look so offended? They think we’re the competition?” I ask.

“Club girls are the competition. We’re handpicked by the Knights to live here and take care of them. The Outsiders are lucky to get an invite to a party. They want what we have and will do anything to try and get it.” Isla hands me another shot of Wildfire. “Now you’re here, they’ll be sizing you up to see how much of a threat you are.”

I’m in jeans and a T-shirt with hair knots and panda eyes. The Outsiders can relax.

Suddenly the doors open, and three goddesses in tight jeans and boots walk in. No, they don’t walk in. They stride in like queens. Their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room, including me.

“And who are they?” I whisper in awe.

Mya brings her lips close to my ear. “Old ladies.”

The three women pass by us without a glance. It’s only when they’re farther away that one of them, a tall blonde with hair like a shieldmaiden cascading down her back, turns and looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes find mine, but she looks right through me before turning away.

“That’s Annika,” Mya whispers. “Ryder’s wife.”

“And the one beside her is Sophia. Rogue’s wife.”

Sophia has a mass of red hair falling around a stunning face, and she sways her hips with determination with every step.

“Beside her is Rina. She and Gambit were married last month.”

Rina is wearing a killer pair of thigh-high boots over her jeans. She’s also pregnant and rests a hand on her round baby belly as she walks.

All three of them look so put together it makes me regret not wearing one of the dresses Mya picked out for me. And brushing the wind out of my hair.

“They don’t look very friendly either,” I whisper.

Mya smiles brightly. “Oh, they’re lovely. We’re all friends.”

“They don’t mind the club girls hanging around their husbands?”

Mya looks at me like it would be a crazy idea if they did. “The first rule of being a club girl is not to hook up with a biker who has an old lady. That would upset the apple cart faster than a prairie fire with a tailwind. I’ve seen it happen only once during my time here, and it was a big blow up.”

Isla leans in. “Meaning the club girl who messed about with one of the old ladies’ men got two black eyes, a concussion, and thrown out on her ass. You want to enjoy your stay here, then stay away from the old ladies’ men. We club girls know our place, and the old ladies respect it as long as we respect theirs.”

“We’re all family here,” Mya adds.

I watch Sophia and Rina sit beside their husbands, but Annika slides onto the lap of a man with dark hair and broad shoulders. He wraps his big arms around her waist and she smiles. It’s a devastatingly beautiful smile, the kind you wouldn’t ever forget. But when her gaze comes back to me, her smile fades quicker than a whisper of smoke disappearing into the cold night air.

There is no friendship in those eyes.

Only a warning.