Beast (MC Fables #1)

Chapter 47

CHAPTER 47

B ELLE

By the time I leave, the rain has stopped but the wind picks up the moment I step outside onto the front steps.

I look up and there he is.

Waiting for me beside his bike.

When I see him, a deep longing washes over me. I want to run to him. I want to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. I want to beg him to tell me Gaston isn’t his brother.

Instead, I’m cautious as I approach him.

“You came,” I whisper.

“You are my wife, little one. That might not mean anything to you, but it does to me.”

I struggle to swallow the guilt. I remember the look on his face when I told him I didn’t want him. “It does,” I say softly. “I was angry. What Gaston did?—"

He gently touches my face, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. “I don’t share my brother’s perversions or penchant for pain. You are safe with me.”

This is why he let me go so easily. He knew I needed time to put things in perspective. And instead of fighting me and forcing me to do something I didn’t want to do, he gave me the space I needed to figure it out.

“It hurt me,” I say.

“I know, and I should’ve told you. If I could go back in time, I would tell you earlier.”

He draws me closer to him. I don’t want to melt against his touch, but I do. Because I need the comfort only his touch can bring.

“What can I do to help you get through this?” he asks.

“Can you take me somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I want to see the house.” I swallow back the guilt and the sadness I feel deep in my chest. “I want to see where Gaston did what he did.”

I slide onto his bike behind him and it instantly feels like home. His warmth. The sheer size of him. The power emanating from him. He is a wall of protection in front of me. I slide my arms around his waist and settle in behind him. Here I am safe. Here I belong.

We ride into the cold morning, leaving Uncle Maurice and the mansion behind us. There is an ache in my chest for leaving my uncle behind but he is safe and happy and being cared for, because Beast ensured it from the very beginning.

I tighten my arms around Beast and press my cheek into his broad back, and it’s how I stay as he rides us through the wet cobblestone streets and past the familiar landscapes near the house on Prince Street.

When he pulls up beside the slanting white picket fence with the peeling paint and weeds poking through the wooden pickets, he kills the engine and guides me off the back of his bike.

I stand beside the letterbox and look at the crooked pathway leading through the tiny front yard and up to the front door, and a cold trickle works its way down my spine. With every step I take closer to the house, an unease blooms inside me, making my pulse race and my palms sweaty.

Wakey wakey, princess.

I close my eyes. I can still smell him. Still feel his disgusting breath on my skin as he bent me over. Still smell my uncle’s blood as Gaston reached for my panties.

My eyes flick open.

The kitchen window Beast crashed through is boarded up, and the shattered glass is gone. I don’t know who did it. I’m assuming it was someone from the club.

If he hadn’t crashed through that window…

Fear coils in my chest, and I rub between my breasts trying to wipe it away, but it’s buried so deeply inside I don’t think it will ever leave.

But Beast walks up behind me, and I know Gaston will never be able to finish what he started. Beast will make sure of it.

“You don’t need to do this.” His deep voice is gentle.

“I do, or it will always have some kind of power over me.”

The spare key is still under the garden gnome in the little garden beside the front door, and I use it to let us in.

Immediately, the smell of bleach and Lysol rush at me, mingled with the familiar smells of the house that used to be my home. Inside is dark, and one flick of the light switch tells me the power is off.

I look around. Everything has been straightened. Except for the board over the kitchen window, there is no hint of an assault taking place in this house. It’s very tidy and clean.

“The prospects cleaned up.”

“I will thank them,” I whisper, still looking around at the little house. We never had much money. The furniture is threadbare and old, and the carpet has seen better days. Even the glass in the windows is warped by age. But it was home once, and despite our lack of money and the weight of my uncle’s addictions and illness, these walls have seen a lot of happy times too.

Like when I came home from middle school to find my uncle had created a party for two to celebrate me winning a prize at the science fair.

Or the many times he would put a JJ Cole record on the old record player, and we would dance around the room, laughing and feeling free.

When I was little, he would sit with me on the couch in front of the fire and read all the fairytales to me, making funny voices for every one of the characters.

There were happy times here.

That’s when I remember the secret hiding place.

It’s behind a loose brick in the hearth. Leaving the couch, I kneel in front of the fireplace, jimmy the brick free, and reach into the dark cavity. I pull out the small enamel box with the cluster of roses on the lid. Inside is the locket my mom gave me for my fourth birthday.

I kept it hidden in the secret hiding place because I would die if someone broke in and stole it so they could pawn it for a couple of bucks. It’s all I have left of my mom and dad.

I pry it open with my fingernail, and inside is a photo of each of my parents.

“I don’t remember anything about them,” I say when I feel Beast looking at me. I study the photos. My father was handsome and my mom was very beautiful. “It’s like my life only started after their accident. I can’t remember a moment with them in it.”

I tuck the locket into the back pocket of my jeans. They are the only photos I have of my parents. After they were killed, our house was burned down in the fire that almost destroyed St. Boniface, and everything we owned was lost.

I look at Beast. “My uncle is all I have left.”

“No,” he says in that rumbly voice. “He’s not all you have.” He takes my hand. “You’re not alone, Belle. You have a family waiting for you.”

He’s right, and warmth spreads through my chest when I think of the friends I have made in the last few weeks. Mya and the club girls. The old ladies. Even Annika.

They are my family now.

And Beast.

My husband.

I turn to him and wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t care who his brother is. To me, Beast isn’t Gaston’s brother. He’s my husband. The man who saved me that night.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his neck.

He claims my mouth and kisses me, and it’s sweet and gentle, and a reminder that this man is so much more than the beast people think he is.

I pull away to look up at him. “Let’s go home, Beast. Let’s go back to the clubhouse.”