Page 22 of Beast
Beast kept his handon the small of Pixie’s back as they stepped outside the clubhouse, the cool night air doing little to chill the fire still burning in his chest.
She hadn’t said much since the incident, her silence telling him more than words ever could.She was scared—shaken—and Beast hated the fuck out of that.
She looked up at him when they reached his bike, hesitant.
“You don’t have to go back to your place tonight,” he said, keeping his voice low, rough.“You can stay with me.”
Pixie lifted her brows slightly, surprised, but she didn’t argue.After a heartbeat, she nodded.Beast felt his chest loosen just a little.
They rode in silence, the kind of silence that spoke volumes.Her body leaned into his back, hands holding him tightly, like he was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.When they pulled into his driveway, he felt her shift behind him, her gaze lifting to take in the house.
Her quiet voice reached him as he cut the engine.“It’s ...big.”
He looked at the place, at the stone and timber, the wide porch and warm lights glowing inside.“I built it for someone else.”
Pixie turned to him slowly.
“For Evelyn,” he admitted, his voice gravel.“Years ago.I wanted to give her everything.Then she died, and I spent years convincing myself there was nothing left in me worth giving.”
She stayed silent, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes.
Beast ran a hand down his face.This wasn’t easy for him.Vulnerability wasn’t something he let anyone see, but Pixie deserved more than walls.
“I thought I was done feeling anything real.Thought I’d buried the best parts of myself with her.”His eyes met hers.“Then you showed up.This stubborn, fierce-as-hell girl with nowhere to go and fire in her eyes.And suddenly I wanted everything again.”
Pixie blinked, her lips parted, as if she didn’t know how to take it.But her hand slipped into his.She didn’t pull away.
Inside, the house smelled like cedar and smoke.Warm.Lived in.She walked in quietly, her eyes scanning the space—open floor plan, big windows, worn leather furniture, and a large stone fireplace.It felt like him.
“C’mon,” he murmured, tugging her hand gently.“You need a shower.”
Pixie didn’t argue.The bathroom was spacious, the shower big enough to fit three people.But it felt suddenly small when Pixie stepped inside, and Beast followed.
The hot water beat down on them, steam curling around their bodies as he helped her peel off her clothes, then his own.
It wasn’t sexual at first, just intimate.He shampooed her hair, his big hands gentle.She leaned into his touch, trusting him.Needing him.And it wrecked him more than he expected.
She tilted her face up to rinse, water streaming over her delicate features.Beast couldn’t help it—he leaned down and kissed her.Slow.Deep.Like it meant something, because it did.
Pixie kissed him back, her fingers threading into his hair, her body slick and warm against his.They kissed like they’d always known each other.
By the time they climbed into his bed, wrapped in nothing but towels and each other, Beast’s heart was beating too damn hard.
He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone like this, not just for the sex or the comfort, but because he didn’t want to let them go.
Pixie curled against his chest, her cheek pressed to his skin.She still smelled faintly like his soap.Her fingers rested over the ink on his ribs, just above his heart.
“Why me?”she whispered into the quiet.
Beast didn’t answer right away.He stared up at the ceiling, his arm wrapped tight around her, afraid to loosen his grip.
“Because the moment I looked into your eyes, I knew,” he said finally.“You walked into my world like a storm.And I’ve been waiting for that storm my whole damn life.”
Pixie’s breath hitched softly, and her fingers curled tighter into his side.Beast looked down to find her eyes fluttering shut, exhaustion finally dragging her under.But her body didn’t tense, didn’t brace like it used to.She was soft in his arms now.Safe.
And that undone, vulnerable part of him—the part he thought was buried with Evelyn—felt exposed all over again.He brushed his lips over her temple, tucked the blanket higher over her shoulder, and held her tighter than he ever had anyone.
You’re not going anywhere, he thought.Not again.Not while he was breathing.Beast lay there long after Pixie fell asleep, his chest rising and falling under her, his arm around her waist, his free hand resting over hers.
