I latch onto the feel of his touch and immediately become grounded in the here and now.
“Easy, baby,” Beast rumbles, voice low, steady as a heartbeat in a raging storm.
Up close, his vibrant tattoos of blues, greens, and reds seem to pulse with life against the stark white of his clean cotton tee. The vivid ink sprawls up his forearms, all the way beneath his neckline, a kaleidoscope of violence and survival. I know people get inked to reflect something they survived and from the looks of it, the man who pulled me out of hell tonight has been there personally, too.
I’m not used to being protected. Not like this. His presence fills the room with an aura of calm. Outside, thunder rattles the city, rain slapping the glass hard enough to sound like gunfire.
I flinch, causing the coffee in my hands to spill over.
Beast notices and takes the coffee to place it on the low table. His brows knit together, eyes fierce and impossibly gentle all at once. He reaches out, slow and careful, to tuck a damp strand of my hair behind my ear. His knuckles graze my cheek and a shiver trails down my spine that embarrassingly enough has nothing to do with fear.
He leans in, his voice controlled and low. “You’re safe here, Layla. No one knows where we are and if they do find us, no one is putting their hands on you again. That’s a promise.”
I want to protest. I’ve spent the last five months in the hands of an evil man’s violence. I know what they are capable of and I have the bruises and nightmares to prove it. But Beast's hand slides around the nape of my neck and strokes a thumb along my pulse in a way that makes my words and fears fade. Instead of arguing, I simply nod once because it’s all I can manage.
He searches my face like he’s memorizing every freckle behind my glasses. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in me, something battered and tired, unclenches just a little.
For the first time in months, I let myself believe I'll be okay. I let myself breathe.
Beast takes my glasses and puts them on the table. He lifts me from my seat, discards my damp towel and settles my naked form over his lap. He reaches around and tucks a blanket around me. His warmth surrounds me like armor. I let myself hope thatmaybe—just maybe—the monster guarding me is exactly the kind of danger I need.
I curl into him, the heavy blanket slipping down my bare back as I settle my cheek against his shoulder. The heat of his hand moves over my thigh, a slow, possessive stroke that makes every nerve ending sing. I want more. Not just the heat, but the connection. The sense of belonging to someone after being nobody for so long.
I trace the curve of his jaw with my fingertip, studying the deep lines and the bristle of his stubble. His strong arms wrap around my body tighter and he pulls me in.
“Tell me something true, Elias,” I whisper. “Something no one else knows about you. I’ve told you so much about me, but I know nothing about you.” Heat hits my cheeks. “Except that you are a great kisser and you can make a girl orgasm hard enough to think the stars of the Universe have fallen over them.”
His smile is instant. “Never heard it put like that before.”
He lets out a long breath. His arms tighten around me, the blanket falling to pool at my hips.
That one movement is all it takes for me to realize the crackling energy simmering between us has resulted in giving him an incredibly hard erection.
His grin turns pure molten lava, and there’s not an apologetic bone in his body. “I can’t seem to help my reaction to such a beautiful woman in my arms.”
My eyes widen and his growing grin is nothing less than sinfully wolfish. The thin material of his sweats does nothing to hide the fact that he’s solid steel beneath the cotton material.
His warm hand engulfs my face, and he pulls me in for a slow, tender kiss. When I sit back up, I bring the blanket with me, covering my breasts. If I want to know anything about the man, I’ll have to cover temptation.
“Beast?” I say softly, leaning forward and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “Tell me.”
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“Either was mine.”
He brushes the wet hair from my face and starts.
“I lost my twin brother young. We were fifteen at the time. He got into some nasty shit and it didn’t end well. After that, my mother disappeared into her grief and my father walked out. He couldn’t handle the pressure. I didn’t get the luxury of falling apart. I had a sister to raise who needed someone, and I was all there was left of our little family.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “It was a long time ago.”
“That may be, but the pain always lingers. I settle my hand over his heart. It’s not like I can take the pain away, but I want him to know I understand grief.
“Thank you, baby. Anyway, a few years later the Marines gave me meaning and structure instead of the chaos I was living in. That’s where I met Reaper. After we were both honorably discharged, he gave me brotherhood with our crew. The Savages gave me a place where loyalty still means something. It took a bit to trust others, but here we are.”
“I wanted that kind of family growing up. You know, a sibling to share secrets with and cousins to run off into the woods and cook up secret witchy potions of mud and whatever else we could find.”
