Chapter 8
Challenge Accepted
Isaac
Istared at the roofing estimate, rereading the same line half a dozen times.
She kicked me out. She kicked me out.
So? Focus.
I crumpled the paper and threw it across my office with a growl. I shouldn’t be dealing with that kind of paperwork anyway. Other investors playing at my level had an assistant—teams of them—handling this kind of work.
That would require me to live like it was the twenty-first century. Own a cellphone. Manage my accounts online. Use Wi-Fi that didn’t involve sitting in a library parking lot.
Saul would die of a heart attack.
The monster inside me stirred, a warning curling in my chest.
Like I cared what he thought.
It was also his opinion that he should eat, sleep, and piss wherever he wanted.
Kill because he was irritated.
Take whatever he pleased.
I saw the confident tilt of Tara’s chin as she handed my pants back.
I ran my hands through my hair for the tenth time, shuddering at the feel of gel sticking between my fingers. It was time for a shower. No one was going to see my stupid hair today anyway.
I kicked back from my desk, taking the hallway in three strides, and leaning into the glass shower to turn the heat up. I waited until steam was swirling along the tiled floor, obscuring the view within, before shucking my clothes and climbing inside.
The temperature was too hot, and I hissed, forcing myself to stay underneath the spray as my skin turned pink. Inside me the beast thrashed and howled. He hated my tight-fisted control, but he loved the pain.
My vision changed, colors shifting back and forth as he grappled for a hold. Muscles swelled in my arms, hair standing on end as it thickened.
I clenched my teeth, swallowing down the bestial sound that was caught in my throat.
Scents tangled with the steam—the stink of hair gel, my own sweat, and the faintest musk of the beast as he tried to make himself known.
Beneath all of that, even as water sluiced over my skin, I picked up a brief whiff of her—Tara. I flared my nostrils, haunted by something that was entirely imagined.
I shouldn’t want to see her again.
The beast increased his fight, vying for dominance. He hated me—hated being bested.
My fingers stilled around a bar of soap.
That was it.
A challenge.
She was still winning.
I relaxed in the water, slanting my head back with an exhale. The beast didn’t mirror my relief, stealing my moment of calm the way he stole every good moment in my life.
I twisted the shower off, letting the cold air bite at me as I swung the glass door open. Hair stuck up in all directions when I finished toweling it off. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the same face I’d seen for more decades than I cared to count.
The faintest fine lines had formed around my eyes from the sun and salt. Less pronounced than Eli’s, probably because I didn’t smile nearly as much as he did. Every strand of hair was a dark shade of brown, not a grey in sight.
Some days it felt like a blessing. Most days, it felt like exactly what it was—a curse.
I stood there for long minutes, watching the subtle shift in my features that revealed the monster under the surface.
Most people couldn’t pinpoint what it was about us Barbeauxs that set them on edge.
They could see the sharper angles in our face, maybe even noticed the light catching unnaturally in our eyes, but it wasn’t enough to identify why we sent goosebumps over their skin.
Some animal part of their brain would label us other—predator.
It was only polite society that kept them from responding to that base fear in a way that would spell destruction for our quiet lives.
Sometimes, I wished they would react. Come to our door with pitchforks raised. Chase us out of this bayou—out of the whole damn state—and let that be the end to Barbeaux bayou.
But they never would. And we would never leave.
My eyes burned brighter, flecks of gold dancing in my irises as the beast flooded me with his fury. He would kill anyone that tried to take what was his. Every last person in Port O’Henry, if they threatened him.
Except one.
I took the bottle of hair gel off the counter, snapping open the lid and hovering it over my palm.
Did Tara notice? Did she sense that I was a monster under it all?
Most women didn’t. Not at first. Only at the end of the night, as the beast grew restless. He didn’t like it when I lingered. I never got more than a few minutes of freedom before he was tearing at my insides.
I closed the bottle of gel, ruffling my wet hair and letting it fall where it wanted. A pit formed in my stomach as I tried to remember that violent feeling after my time on the beach with Tara.
But I couldn’t recall it because the beast was quiet.
I tossed my towel into the hamper, storming into the closet of my office, where spare clothes hung beside my filing cabinet.
There was nothing special about her.
I shoved my legs into a pair of running shorts, sliding on a T-shirt I stole from Eli’s scattered collection. It was suitably worn, and had just the right amount of stains to make me look the part—normal, like my brother pulled off so naturally.
I needed control back.
Then I would walk away.
Miles stretched between my office and the little rental on the edge of town. It was one of my first purchases, and it wasn’t much to look at—even after the fresh coat of paint and kitchen renovation—but I was proud to see it appear on the corner of Jefferson Street.
The house sat on stilts, high above the rugged grass, offering a teasing view of the bay from the far corner of the porch. Too far from the beach to matter to the weekenders who sped through town every Friday night with a truck loaded with more beer than fishing gear.
That was the appeal for the other kind of out-of-towner. The duck hunters. The widower snowbirds.
I slowed my pace as I neared the steps, raking my hands through my still-damp hair and forcing my breath to shorten. The run from my office was long, but not long enough for the beast to have fully settled.
Pushing myself used to help. Grueling runs, punishing weight routines, hour-long walks out on the island with Eli—none of it was working anymore.
I paused at the base of the steps, a frisson of doubt winding into my pounding pulse. Was I safe to be around Tara?
Was I safe to be around anyone?
The beast was suddenly frozen inside me, so still that I could almost imagine he wasn’t there. That I wasn’t pretending anymore.
I didn’t know what it meant, except that he was clearly making a point.
Tara would be safe with me—as long as she wasn’t the type to get overly attached.
I scoffed, remembering the way she slammed the door on my backside. Apparently, she was even more attachment averse than me.
My legs climbed the stairs two at a time. Silence answered on the other side of the door when I knocked. After a long stretch, I heard her tiptoeing toward the door. When she opened it a crack, her eyes were round and her pulse was racing.
Confusion had her opening it wider, standing with a hand on her hip and scowling. “Isaac?”
I wasn’t the one she was afraid would be on the other side of that door. Who was she expecting?
Her blonde hair was tied back, and she was wearing a simple set of leggings and a sweater today. There was no makeup highlighting her features, and somehow that made her more beautiful.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and for a second I forgot why I was here.
“What are you doing here?”
The beast surged forward with a growl, and I remembered myself. Putting on my most winning smile, I stepped past her and said, “Thought I would grab a quick shower.”
“What? You can’t just let yourself in here,” she spluttered.
She closed the front door despite her objections, following me into the bedroom and watching as I peeled the shirt over my head.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I smirked, leaning into the shower to turn it on. Each word was emphasized as I repeated, “Taking a shower.”
“Do you invade the privacy of all your rental guests, or am I special?”
You’re special.
I slid my hands into the waistband of my shorts instead of answering. They came down slowly, Tara’s eyes following them past my hips. When she got to my cock, she forgot about the shorts, staring at me with wide eyes and licking her lips.
I stepped into the shower, turning my back to her and letting the hot water soak my hair. “Aren’t you getting in?”
Tara’s lips parted, and I watched from the corner of my eye as she grumbled about my audacity. She wasn’t ready to admit to herself that she liked it.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an incorrigible asshole?” She asked, even as she shimmied out of her leggings.
“Not with those exact words, no.”
“You are so full of yourself. You think having one hot night together—"
“Two.”
“Two hot nights together gives you permission to just let yourself in here?” Her sweater went flying across the bathroom, followed by her bra.
I swallowed dryly as she stepped into the shower beside me, pushing me none too gently out of the spray and letting the hot water splash over her breasts.
“You could always kick me out.” I couldn’t fully keep the snarl from my lips.
“Where would the fun be in that?”
This was such a dangerous game to play.
Right now, it was only physical. A challenge that I had no choice but to accept.
What if it got worse, and the beast decided to show her exactly how fiercely he guarded his territory?
Inside my chest, he clawed for his freedom, already enjoying the idea too much for my liking.
I lost focus on that thought, and almost lost my hold on him completely as Tara dropped to her knees on the wet tile and sucked me into her mouth. She pulled back, glaring up at me with burning blue eyes, and hissed, “Asshole.”
I groaned, my soul almost leaving my body as she sucked harder, pulling me into the back of her throat. My head fell back against the wall of the shower, my vision blurring like I was drunk.