Page 117 of Beast

The dark cloud on his face ripples with an emotion I can’t put my finger on. But it’s gone in seconds, replaced by a tight jaw, narrowed eyes, and flaring nostrils. He’s gritting his teeth.

“You don’t have much choice about the matter,” he says in a low, dangerous voice that is full of menace and causes goosebumps to spread across my skin.

But I’m done with being a scared little mouse. “Stay away from me.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Just watch me.”

“You promised you wouldn’t leave.”

“And you promised you wouldn’t lie.”

Shaking, I flee the chapel, and once I’m inside the clubhouse, I tear up the staircase and along the hallway to our bedroom. There, I slam the door behind me and lock it.

By now the entire clubhouse will know what is happening. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about any of them or what they think.

Blinded by my emotions, I hold onto one thought as I pack my belongings and shove them into a plastic bag. I need to pick up Uncle Maurice and get the hell away from these people.

To my surprise,no one tries to stop me from leaving. In fact, one of the prospects is waiting for me at the base of the grand staircase when I leave.

“Beast told me to take you wherever you want to go.”

My stomach tightens. Beast is letting me go? It should be a relief, but it’s not relief I feel in my chest.

“Good,” I say, ignoring whatever the stupid emotion is.

Outside, I follow the prospect to the truck parked on the driveway.

“We’re not taking your bike?” I ask.

The prospect raises an eyebrow as he opens the driver’s door. “Darlin, if I put you on the back of my bike I’d need to look for a new club. Not that I’d be able to walk. Or breathe.”

“You mean he’d hurt you for letting me ride on the back of your bike? That seems a bit over the top.”

“You’re our first lady, Belle, the only bike you belong on is our president’s.”

I frown, regret already churning in my stomach. “I’m not anyone’s first lady. Not really.”

He doesn’t reply. Just gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe me, then climbs inside the truck and closes the door.

After I slide into the passenger side, we take off toward town.

The prospect is nice. He’s always been kind and friendly to me during my time at the clubhouse. Nowhere near as scary as his president.

“I don’t even know your name,” I say as he pulls the truck to a stop out the front of the mansion where my uncle is recuperating.

“It’s Colby, ma’am.”

I force a smile. Because inside, my anger is slowly morphing into a deep, heavy sadness.

“Thanks for the ride, Colby.”

“Take care, Belle.”

He gives me a two finger salute before he drives away, leaving me standing outside the old mansion.

My heart is heavy as I climb the stairs and knock on the door.

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