Page 35 of Beast

“To ensure your compliance to our agreement.”

“What agreement? You told me I was to marry you to repay a debt and I disagreed. There is no agreement.”

“Then allow me to cement the deal,” he says with a dark gleam in his eyes.

I take a step back from him. I am tiny in comparison to him. No, wait,everythingis tiny in comparison to him. He looms over me but I refuse to let him see the spark of fear lighting fires all the way down my spine.

Before I can move farther away from him, he effortlessly lifts me off my feet and throws me over his broad shoulders.

“Put me down,” I yell.

Which he ignores.

He carries me back into the clubhouse, through the massive foyer and down a narrow stairwell leading under the mansion to an enormous parking garage where he finally sets me down.

“This is where you fighting me stops,” he growls.

I cross my arms. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

He takes a menacing step toward me. “Let’s get one thing straight. No matter how hard or how long you fight, I will still win. Because Ialwayswin.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not today, little one.”

I glare at him.

“Do you want to see your uncle or not?”

My arms fall to my side. “You’re taking me to see Uncle Maurice?”

“Yes, but all this aggravation is holding us up.”

Immediately, my concern for my uncle overpowers any urge to fight with Beast some more. “Is he okay?”

“Do you want to see him or not?”

My defenses drop at the thought of seeing my uncle. “Yes, I do. Will you take me to him?”

“That’s why we’re in the parking garage, princess.”

He leads us down a ramp, and once we reach the bottom, I stop in my tracks and stare in awe at the rows and rows of gleaming motorcycles.

Chrome and flawless black paint gleam under the yellow glow of the fluorescent lights.

Beast keeps walking and I have to jog to catch up to him.

Of course his bike is a massive beast of black and gleaming chrome and an intimidating leather seat. He swings a giant leg over it, and with a flick of a wrist the massive machine barks and rumbles and comes to life.

“Have you ever been on one of these before?” he asks.

“No,” I reply. I've always wanted to, but I've never had the chance.

He offers me a hand to guide me on. His touch is oddly comforting and strangely gentle as I slide onto the back of his bike.

I get settled but maintain distance between us.

“You’re gonna need to get closer than that,” he says, taking me by the wrists and wrapping my arms around his waist.

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