TALES YOU WIN

GRIM & BEAST DUET - BOOK ONE

BEA PAIGE
TALES YOU WIN
 CONTENTS

Foreword
Book Playlist
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author Note
About the Author
Also by Bea Paige
Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige to be identified as author of this work has been
asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
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for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige
First published: 30th April 2022
Cover Design by Everly Yours Cover Designs
Photograph by Michelle Lancaster
Cover Model: Chase Cassels
Title Page Artwork: STOCKE @stockysartworks on IG
Created with Vellum
 Dear Reader,
Beast wants you to know that he’s a ride or die kinda man.
If you don’t enjoy riding his dick (even if it is in your
imagination) then he’ll die of fucking shame.
Grim wants you to know that if you ever try riding his dick
(even if it is in your imagination), she’ll cut it off and bury him
and his womanising dick six feet underground.
They love each other really…
Happy Reading!
Love Bea xoxo
“You are mine, and I am yours, and no one in the world can
alter that.”
― Jacob Grimm, quote from Grimms’ Fairy Tales
 FOREWORD

Dear Reader
For those of you who fell in love with Beast and Grim in
the Academy of Stardom series, this one’s for you! I’ve been
wanting to write about their love story for some time now. In
fact, when Grim first appeared in the Academy of Misfits
trilogy, I knew then she was a character who deserved her own
story, but it wasn’t until her voice, and that of Beast’s, grew so
loud in Academy of Stardom that I had the real need to write
their story.
Initially I wanted this to be a standalone, but it soon
became apparent that one book would not suffice, so now
they’re getting a duet. Heads You Lose, book two of the duet
will be out early summer. This will conclude their story and
introduce some old friends.
If you’re a regular reader of mine, you know that I LOVE
a book playlist. This time I’ve decided to do something a little
differently and give each chapter a specific song. Each song is
listed at the top of the chapter with a link to the playlist. I hope
you enjoy them!
In addition, this story opens with a prologue which is a
letter written by Grim (aka Kate) to her daughter, Iris, and
refers to something that happens at the end of the Academy of
Stardom series and plays out in Their Obsession duet. If you
haven’t read either of these two series, it may be a little
confusing. However, it was imperative to pull these three
separate series together, and will make perfect sense to those
of you who’ve read both Academy of Stardom series and
Their Obsession Duet.
If you’ve not read either, then you may scratch your head
and wonder about the contents of the prologue. Firstly, I hope
it intrigues you enough to read Academy of Stardom and Their
Obsession Duet (in that order), but if it doesn’t, then the rest of
the story won’t be spoiled by it. You can absolutely read this
book without reading the other series.
Like I’ve said, Grim & Beast have been around in this
world I’ve created for some time, so there are lots of
crossovers in this duet with characters that already have their
own story.
My recommended reading order is:
Brothers Freed trilogy
Academy of Misfits
Beyond the Horizon
Finding Their Muse
Academy of Stardom
Their Obsession Duet
Beast and Grim Duet
 BOOK PLAYLIST

If you’re familiar with my books you’ll know that I love a

book playlist. Each chapter of Tales You Win has a song that
I’ve selected which is specific to that chapter, but if you want
the playlist in full, then you can find it on Spotify here: Tales
You Win.
 PROLOGUE

Dear Iris,

I’M NOT great with words. I act. That’s what I’m doing now.

You see, my sweet baby girl, I have a sister. Her name’s Christy and
she’s in trouble.

Real bad trouble.

Some men have taken her, stolen her away and locked her up in their
castle.

They’re bad, bad men and they’ll hurt her.

I have to rescue her. I have to bring her home.

That’s what I do. I protect my own. Family means everything to me.

Everything.

Which means I have to do the one thing I hoped never to do and that’s
leave you behind. I can’t put you in danger.

I won’t.

Instead, I’m trusting my friend Pen and her men, Xeno, Dax, Zayn and
York to take care of you whilst I’m gone. They’re good people, the best.
They will love you and care for you whilst your dad and I go slay the
monsters.

You’re too young to understand how dangerous this is. We might never
come back. It hurts my heart to admit that I may be making a choice where
you are left an orphan with no parents.

It hurts me beyond repair, and I will live with the wound forever,
whether I live or die.
 But I have to go. We have to go, your dad and me.

I have entrusted you to my friends who will love you until we return,
and if we don’t… will love you always.

If this is the end of your dad’s and my story, then so be it.

Either way, I’ve left you a gift.

It’s my story.

Actually, it’s our love story.

Your dad’s and mine.

His words, and mine. His memories and my memories, all scrawled
down on the pages of these notebooks.

You see, Iris, a long time ago a coin was thrown.

A coin that would decide my fate.

Tales you win.

Heads you lose.

I won, and my dad, your grandfather, lost.

Though admittedly it didn’t feel that way at the time.

What I do know is that everything happens for a reason. Your dad and I
were always supposed to be together, it just took a while to get there.

This might not be the perfect fairy tale, but it is our fairy tale, and now
it’s yours.

Ma x
 CHAPTER ONE

It started with a… kiss fight.

“Fists up, protect your face, keep light on your toes,” the
growly bastard yells at me.
“I’m trying!” I snap, stomping my foot against the canvas
in frustration as I drop my guard and glare at Beast, my dad’s
enforcer and my fucking bodyguard. Sweat trickles down my
spine and between my tits, causing my t-shirt to stick to my
chest and back.
“Has Princess had enough for one day?” he asks, snorting
with laughter as he pulls off the boxing pad and tussles my
hair with his huge hands. We’ve been training regularly for the
last six months and I’m getting stronger and fitter with every
session, but Beast still runs me ragged.
“It’s Grim,” I protest, slapping his hands away.
Beast cocks his head. “Nope, still Princess to me.”
“I’m not a princess, you arsehole!”
He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Now are we done?”
“Not nearly, Roger,” I retort, shoving him off me and using
his given name because I know it pisses him off. Ever since
my dad aka The Boss, aka Carter Davidson, aka the ruler of
Tales—an underground fight club—started calling me Grim
after my love of reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales, Beast and the
other men who work for my father started calling me Princess.
It’s fucking annoying.
 His smile drops. “You ain’t too old to be put over my knee
and given a spanking. Don’t push your luck, kid.”
Kid? Okay, that’s worse than being called Princess, the
fucking twat. In a month I’ll be eighteen. Besides, I haven’t
been a kid for a very long time. Comes with the territory of
being a gangster’s daughter.
“Ha! As if you would. I think my dad would have a few
things to say about an old wanker like you getting his rocks off
over spanking a kid!” I sass back, knowing I’m pushing all his
buttons and loving every minute of it. Firstly, he’s not all that
older than me, maybe around twenty-three. Secondly, he’d
never raise a hand to me, unless it’s in the ring and he’s
teaching me how to defend myself. Thirdly, he might be a
fucking maniac and kill people for a living, but he isn’t a
predator. The guy’s a straight up saint when it comes to
women. In fact, I’ve heard he’s a gentleman, except in bed
when, apparently, he’s an animal or rather a beast, but only to
women who are well over the age of consent. Not that I’ve
asked around or anything. My cheeks flush at the thought, and
I preoccupy myself with trying to pull off my gloves, which is
no easy feat when you don’t have the use of your fingers.
“You know that mouth of yours is gonna get you in a
shitload of trouble one of these days,” Beast remarks,
chucking the boxing pads he was holding at Dom—my dad’s
third in command—who catches them easily.
The reflexes on that man are insane. I witnessed him
catching a knife by the blade once. Straight up thought it was
going to bury itself in his forehead. It didn’t, though. Dom’s
got a four inch scar on his palm for the trouble. In fact, he’s
covered in them. He’s been involved in more fights than the
local tomcat and that tomcat takes on dogs. Both of them are
certifiably insane, like all my dad’s men, or ‘soldiers’ as he
calls them. Funnily enough he looks like more of a beast than
Beast does with a shorn head, squashed nose from it being
broken so many times, and missing half an ear from when it
was ripped off by an opposing fighter in the cage.
Yeah, the fights get bloody at Tales.
 “What do you mean going to get her in a shitload of
trouble?” Dom asks, winking at me whilst I glare back at him.
“She’s already causing a fucking problem with the local
hoodrats. That fucker Hudson came over today sniffing around
for Princess.”
“Hud is my friend, not a hoodrat, and I am NOT a
princess!”
“Touchy subject, Princess?” Dom teases.
“Fuck you, Dom-I’ve-got-a-limp-dick,” I retort with a wan
smile.
“Oh Princess, my dick most definitely limps. Have you
seen the way it drags across the floor when I walk?”
Beast roars with laughter as my eyes stupidly drop to
Dom’s crotch and the very sizeable bulge he has there. What is
it with these men and their dick appreciation? If I had a sack of
skin swinging between my legs like some elephant trunk, I
wouldn’t be bragging about it. Fucking ugly if you ask me. I
much prefer tits. Not that I have any… Maybe I’m a lesbian? I
mull that thought over as I glance back at Beast who is
watching me with a sudden intensity that makes my skin cover
in goosebumps, my stomach lurch and my traitorous pussy
tingle. Okay, so definitely into men then.
“Fuck sake,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s the matter, Princess, cat got your tongue?” Beast
asks, his voice low and lethal sounding.
I gulp. “Nope. Perfectly fucking fine, thank you very
much,” I reply, arching a brow.
“I’ll leave you to lock up and get Princess home, yeah?”
Dom asks, completely ignoring me and smirking at Beast.
“Yep. I got this,” Beast replies, turning his attention back
to me as the door to the gym slams shut and Dom leaves us
alone together. He stares at me, his leaf-green eyes bright in
the fluorescent lights as I continue to struggle to remove my
boxing gloves. “So you were saying something about me
getting off on spanking kids?”
 “It was a joke,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning my back
on him as I stride over to the other side of the ring. Only I
don’t make it that far as Beast lifts me up and chucks me over
his shoulder. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” I scream from my
upside-down position, my face practically pressed against his
ridiculously firm arse.
“I thought that was obvious,” he retorts with a low, rumbly
chuckle that has my insides fucking squirming.
Jesus, I need to get a grip. I do not like Roger Smith, a
bland name for a man who’s far from it. “My dad will kill you
if you even think about raising a hand to me.” I punch him on
his arse and the back of his tree-trunk thighs. The fucker
doesn’t even flinch.
“Your father has given me free rein to do whatever the
fuck I want…” he warns, his voice dropping an octave or two
and sounding far more sexy than it has any right to. “…Inside
the ring.”
“Fuck that, you moron! Put me down!”
He chuckles, clearing his throat, then drops me
unceremoniously onto the stool situated in the corner of the
ring. I let out a whoosh of air from the impact and immediately
stand, not liking, or perhaps liking too much, the fact that he’s
towering over me all sweaty and big and fucking sexy as sin.
He’s tall. Six foot five to my five foot seven. A fucking giant,
no… Beast.
“Urgh, you’re an arsehole!” I say, punching him as hard as
I can on the nearest bodily part which happens to be his very
wide, abnormally firm, stomach. I mean there’s six packs and
then there’s six packs, and his happens to be accompanied with
a V muscle that turns all women’s insides liquid. Except mine,
because once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, and
every fighter at Tales has one.
So I’m immune.
Except his muscles are covered in tattoos, and my
immunity stops there. Tattoos are my weak spot and I happen
to find them insanely attractive. My eyes rove over his bare
chest, all slick with sweat as I drink in the familiar geometric
patterns that criss-cross his chest and stomach, and the single
eye staring at me from his right pec. Not to mention the
beautifully detailed side profile of a lion, its gaze focusing on
his navel. God, his tattoos are fucking epic…
“Are you gaping at my dick?” Beast asks, chuckling.
“What? No!” I reply, quickly lifting my gaze and rubbing
at my sweaty, flushed cheeks.
“Then don’t be staring like that, Princess. You might give a
man the wrong impression,” he says, placing his large, bear-
sized hands on my shoulders. “Sit!”
I sit.
Dropping to his knees before me, he reaches for my gloved
hands and starts untying them. His thick fingers are nimble
and mesmerising despite their size, and don’t even get me
started on his hands with his wide palms, the thick wrists, the
veins and the tattoos. You know what they say about a man
and his hands… Wait, perhaps it’s the feet? Fuck, whatever.
Either way, big hands, big dick.
“I don’t fancy you, Roger, if that’s what you’re getting at,”
I say, lying through my teeth. “Your physique might turn the
average bimbo with fewer brain cells than a gnat on, but not
me. I prefer my men with more upstairs. Know what I mean?”
Beast scoffs and I can’t help but smile at the way he yanks
at the string of my gloves. “Are we back to that Hudson prick
again? Jumped-up shit who thinks he’s gonna run the world,
that one. More balls than a rugby team playing at Twickenham
stadium, but a lot less sense.”
“Hud is smart,” I counter. “Don’t underestimate him.”
“Princess, I make a habit of never underestimating anyone
because I am smart.”
“Says the man who has ride or die tattooed on his lower
stomach. Yeah, smart. More like fucking obvious,” I scoff. “Is
that the male equivalent of a tramp stamp?”
 Beast’s fingers still. “No, just the fucking truth. I’m a ride
or die kinda man, both in life and in the bedroom. Any woman
I invite into my bed can vouch for that,” he says, and I have to
grit my teeth and lock down the urge to squirm. I do not want
to give him the satisfaction.
“Well, whatever. I prefer the smarts. Besides, Hudson’s
about a thousand times more attractive than you…” And
whilst that’s not strictly true as they’re both equally attractive,
just in different ways, he doesn’t need to know that.
Beast snorts, back to concentrating on what he’s doing. “If
you’re trying to offend me, don’t bother, Princess. I’m not
interested in the slightest. You’re my boss’s daughter,
underage and entirely off fucking limits. So let’s just get back
to being cool, okay?”
“What, as opposed to hot? Are you saying I’m hot, Roger?
Do you want a nice tight piece of underage arse?” I don’t
know why I push him like this, but I can’t seem to help
myself. Not to mention the fact I’ll be eighteen in a couple of
months and officially classified as an adult, so there’s that.
This time he does look up, and I swallow hard at the look of
anger in his eyes.
“Even if you were of fucking age, I still wouldn’t touch
you.”
“You do realise that the age of consent in the UK is
sixteen, right?” I say, taunting him.
“I don’t give a fuck what the law says. My age of consent
is firmly fixed at twenty, got it?”
“Why twenty? You’re also considered an adult at eighteen
in this country.”
“Just because…” he replies, refusing to explain. “Besides,
you’re not my type.”
Removing my gloves, his fingers curling around my
wrists, all warm and firm and, surprisingly, soft. For a couple
of seconds he just stares at the spot where our skin touches and
I wonder if he feels it too, that electric current humming
between us.
 “No?” I question softly, my heart racing in my chest as he
leans in close. I’m pretty sure he can feel my pulse racing
under his fingers.
“No,” he repeats, whispering in my ear. “I like my women
with a bit of meat on their bones. Come back to me when
you’ve turned into one, yeah?” I suck in an offended breath
and he laughs, letting me go. “I’ll call you a cab,” he says,
standing abruptly.
“I thought you were taking me home?”
“Nope.” He strides over to the other side of the ring and
ducks between the ropes, dropping to the floor.
“Where are you going?” I shout after him, hating the way
my voice catches and my skin burns from his touch.
“I’ve got work to do.”
“What work?” I ask, frowning.
“Carter has got wind of some news he ain’t happy with.
Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“News?”
Beast ignores me “Babysitting duties are up. Catch you
later, Princess.”
And with that he’s gone.
“It’s Grim!” I yell after him.
Staring at the door that Beast just left through, I grind my
teeth. He’s the only one of my dad’s men who knows how to
really push my buttons, the arrogant, cocky bastard. Then
again he’s the only one of my dad’s men that really knows me
at all. As I try to calm my thrashing heart, I reassure myself
with the fact that there will come a time when I’ll be queen of
this fight club and Beast will be answering to me. Though
whether that’s as my lover or as my soldier isn’t clear just yet.
 CHAPTER TWO

Jungle
“Start talking or I’ll cut off another damn toe!” I growl,
swiping the back of my hand against my sweaty forehead.
Cutting bone is fucking hard work, plus there’s no air-con
down here in the basement of Tales and it’s as hot as a
hooker’s coochie in summer.
The cocky prick who’s strapped naked to the metal gurney
spits, a glob of saliva and blood hitting the concrete floor by
my feet. “Fuck you!”
I lift a brow, impressed. This is one tough motherfucker.
Normally just being strapped to this table and showing them
the blunt edge of a well-used knife is enough to get the fuckers
talking. Not this man. He’s kept his mouth shut, and he’s now
minus both big toes for the trouble. “I ain’t saying shit!”
“Yeah, I’m getting that impression,” I muse, a note of
respect in my voice.
Either he’s got a very high pain threshold or he’s high as a
fucking kite on some kind of opioid. I’m guessing the latter
given the size of his pupils.
“Listen, mate. You could walk… hobble,” I correct myself,
glancing at his ruined feet as Carter snorts with derision from
the other side of the room. Obviously, this guy walking out of
here ain’t gonna happen, but usually the possibility of it gets
them singing like a canary. “Carter is happy to let you hobble
on your way,” I continue, cracking my neck. “So long as you
give us the name of the prick who’s been organising sly bets
on our fights right under our fucking noses.”
“You’ll let me go?” The guy scoffs. “I’m not an idiot, but I
am pissed off that it’s your face I have to see before I die.”
“Then you’re a fucking martyr covering for a man who
doesn’t deserve it!” I retort, losing my patience. “I mean
Saxon, for fuck’s sake, would sell out his own mother just to
save his arse!”
The guy laughs hysterically, flicking his gaze to Carter.
“And you think he’s any better? And people say you’re
smart…”
“What’s that supposed to mean, you little prick?”
Before I even know what’s happening, Carter strides over
to the trolley loaded with torture implements, picks up a
screwdriver and slams it into the guy’s shoulder. “Tell me what
I want to fucking know, you piece of shit!”
“I ain’t no grass!” the little twat roars back, adrenaline and
the drug he’s taken keeping him from passing the fuck out.
I ease Carter away from him, shaking my head. “Boss, I
got this.”
“Fucking cunt!” Carter snarls before pulling a cigarette
from his packet and lighting it up. He drags in a deep breath
and blows out a stream of smoke. “The next time you
disrespect me, I will drive that screwdriver through your
fucking eyeball!” He looks down at his Armani suit, which is
no longer pristine given droplets of blood have splashed over
the lapel, and frowns. “Fuck sake! If you weren’t already
going to die, I would’ve killed you my fucking self for getting
blood all over my suit!”
I’m about to say it’s not really the guy’s fault that he
stabbed him with a screwdriver but I hold my tongue. I need
this over and fucking done with, and getting into a spat with
the boss ain’t gonna make that happen. Besides, I’ve got a
major case of blueballitis that has been plaguing me ever since
Princess provoked me during training a couple of days ago.
She’s been playing on my damn mind ever since, and I cannot
and will not travel down that road. Hence needing to get out of
here quickly so I can relieve some of the pressure in my pants
with anyone other than her.
“Listen, mate, on any other day I’d be impressed with your
loyalty, but I’ve got plans tonight that include sinking balls
deep into some top class stripper pussy, so do us a solid and
tell us what we want to know!”
“And I told you, I ain’t no grass!”
Shaking my head, I glare at the prick. “Look, you hairy
scrotum, I’m normally a patient fucking man, but I got pussy
waiting on me and I’m fucking starving, so start fessing up!”
The dickhead has the gall to laugh. Fuck me, he really does
have a death wish.
“Fuck this, Beast! Cut him up into little pieces and deliver
them to Saxon. We all know that cunt is behind this,” Carter
snaps, his dark brown eyes flashing.
“Boss, you hired me for my ability to break the toughest
motherfuckers. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do my job. We
need to hear it from the horse’s mouth or we can’t make a
move. You know that.”
Carter narrows his eyes at me through a plume of blue-
grey smoke, but he knows I’m right. I’m really fucking good
at my job. “Fine. I’ve got business to attend to anyway. I’m
heading home for a bit before the next fight tonight. Swing by
my place once you’ve confirmed a name, and pick up Grim on
your way over. She’s with Hudson.”
I give Carter a surprised look. “You approve?”
He shrugs. “He’s a smart guy, it’s the only reason he’s still
alive. That and the fact I know he ain’t interested in Grim.”
“He’s gay?”
“Nope, he’s focused. He’s only got one thing on his mind
and it certainly ain’t pussy. He hasn’t got time for a
relationship, not whilst he’s trying to claw his way out of the
gutter.”
“You sure? I could rough him up a bit, warn him off?”
 “Positive. I’m keeping a close eye on Hudson Freed and
his brothers, they might come in useful at a later date. Know
what I’m saying?”
“Yep.”
“Anyway, enough of the chit-chat. Get me proof.”
“Got it,” I reply, waiting for the heavy iron door to click
shut before I turn my attention back to this stupid fucking cunt
who is rapidly ruining my night.
Rolling my head, I drop the serrated knife onto the metal
table, droplets of blood splattering across the surface as I pick
up a pair of gardening shears. Rusty and covered in dried
blood, they’re about as sharp as a butter knife, making them
perfect for what I’m about to do next. I don’t profess to like
chopping off a man’s dick, not because I feel bad about it or
anything, but because it makes my own dick metaphorically
shrivel up, and that ain’t good for my mental or physical
health, particularly not the way my balls are feeling tonight.
“Just fucking kill me and be done with it, coz I ain’t
talking,” the guy mumbles, bashing the back of his head
against the metal table like he’s trying to do the job for me.
I lean over him and press my palm against his forehead to
hold him still and get real close. “Okay, I’ll level with you.
You were right, you ain’t walking, or hobbling, or fucking
crawling out of here for that matter. These will be your last
few minutes on Earth, so I’m gonna give you a choice. You
tell me what Carter wants to know, and I can make this quick.
Or you can choose to hold out on me, and I’ll make sure you
bleed out slow. But I can assure you, you’ll tell me what I
want to know regardless. So what’s it to be?” I ask.
“Go fuck yourself!” he shouts, the veins in his neck
straining as he bares his teeth at me.
“Yeah, I figured that’s what you might say,” I reply,
lowering the shears towards his dick. “But that’s alright, I can
get some pussy later. I’m more than happy to wait until the
drug you’ve taken has worn off and all your nerve endings are
back to firing properly.”
 There’s a flicker of fear in his eyes, and whilst that isn’t
unusual given the circumstances, I recognise that fear for what
it is. This man ain’t afraid to die, but he is afraid of what will
happen if he talks and we all know that grassing usually ends
with not only your death but the death of your loved ones too.
If that cunt Saxon is behind this, then he’ll already have a
marker on this man’s family. No question.
“Fuck, man! I never wanted to bring them into this.”
“Okay, spit it out,” I demand, tapping his limp dick with
the shears. “Whose life has Saxon threatened if you talk?”
He meets my gaze, his fear barrelling out of control now.
Bingo.
“My kid sister. She’s only fucking ten.”
“Ah fuck.” I let out a heavy sigh. Dealing with toerags like
this man ain’t usually an issue for me, especially when they
work for a prick like Saxon, but when you start bringing
innocents into the mix… “You know what, sometimes I hate
my fucking job.”
“What?” he asks, blinking up at me.
“Does she have anyone else?”
“Anyone else?” he asks, a flash of confusion crossing his
features.
“To look after her?”
“She lives with my aunt.”
“Not with you?”
He shakes his head, his teeth rattling now with adrenaline.
Looks like talk of his sister has sent his system into a
downward spiral. Believe it or not, physical pain can often be
controlled by people in situations like this. I’ve witnessed a lot
of men take their fair share of torture before cracking, but as
soon as you bring up something that will fuck with their head
and their heart… Yeah, most don’t last five minutes.
“Where?”
“Essex.”
 “Address?”
“Why?” he asks, suddenly testing the restraints. I know
he’s wondering if he can somehow escape and get back to his
little sister. We both know that ain’t happening.
“Because, Einstein, I’m gonna send some men to go
collect her and your aunt. We can protect them.”
“Why would Carter do that?” he asks, surprised.
“Carter wouldn’t. I would.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re innocent and don’t deserve to die
because you’re affiliated with the wrong fucking man. Do you
want their deaths on your conscience?”
“No! Fuck! I’m all they’ve got!”
“Well not anymore,” I say, dropping the garden shears onto
the table. “Just confirm that it’s Saxon who’s pissing in the
wrong territory, and give me the address of your family and
I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
He meets my gaze. “You promise?”
“Yes.”
He nods. “15 Southside Road, Chelmsford.”
“Good man,” I mutter, pulling out my phone and sending a
quick text message to Connall, my go-to in situations like this.
He’s not Carter’s man, he’s my oldest friend and one of the
O’Briens, a well-known, not to be fucked with, Irish mafia
family who own all of the Irish pubs in London and a few
dodgy side businesses involving bootlegged liquor and
firearms. Not that I give a shit. We go way back and it’s not as
if I’m clean. You could lock me away for three life sentences
given the amount of shit I’ve done in the name of my boss. It’s
why I’m head of security and his most trusted soldier, hence
the babysitting duties with Princess. He trusts very few people
with his baby girl. I don’t fucking blame him. Princess has a
way of burying her sharp little claws into your skin.
And your dick…
 “Fuck!”
“What?! What did they say?”
“Don’t worry, your sister and aunt will be taken care of,” I
reply, tucking my mobile phone back into my pocket.
“What’s gonna happen to them?” he asks, his teeth
chattering so loud I can barely make out the words.
“I’ll get them to a safe house”
“But they don’t have much money…”
“Is that why you started to work for Saxon… Money?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“And you think selling drugs to minors is the right way of
going about that? I heard that a kid not much older than your
baby sister took one of his dodgy pills and died. What do you
think about that, huh?” I ask, gearing myself up to the fact that
I’m gonna end this prick’s life any second now. I ain’t sad for
him, he’s just another cunt who’ll do anything for money, but I
do feel bad for his kid sister and aunt. No doubt they love him
and he keeps his nefarious shit away from them. Until now.
“It wasn’t me that sold the drugs to that kid.”
“But I bet you have, right?”
He doesn’t answer and I nod, grabbing the Glock 21 semi-
automatic pistol and pressing the muzzle against his temple.
“Name.”
“I have money stashed in the floorboards of my aunt’s
spare bedroom. She doesn’t know it’s there. Make sure my
aunt takes it. It’ll be enough to get her and my sister set up
again.”
“I’ll make sure she gets the message. Name,” I repeat.
“It was Saxon. He’s been doing it for months now.”
“Thank you,” I reply, then pull the trigger, not flinching as
brain and skull matter explode out of the side of his head,
painting the floor and wall scarlet. “What a fucking waste.”
 Holstering my pistol, and giving him no more than a
cursory glance before I stride from the room, I send a quick
message to Dom so he can get the cleaners in to clear up the
mess and dispose of the body.
My phone rings. It’s Connall. “Sorted?” I ask.
“Yeah, we’re on our way over to pick them up now. How
long will they need the safe house?” he asks me.
“Until Saxon’s dealt with and we can organise somewhere
more permanent for them both.”
“My guys will take good care of them.”
“I know it. Thanks, Connall.”
He chuckles down the phone. “You know you’re a bit of a
bleeding heart these days.”
“Tell that to the fucker missing two toes and half his head
blown off. Pretty sure he’d disagree with you.”
Connall scoffs. “You can act like a beast all you like, but I
know there’s a heart of gold inside that hairy as fuck chest of
yours.”
“Shut the fuck up. I ain’t hairy,” I grind out, his laughter
echoing through the loudspeaker as I punch the off button and
climb the stairs.
Flicking a slither of flesh off my bare arm, I head towards
the changing room, understanding that taking a shower isn’t
going to wash away my sins, but knowing that a ten year old
girl and her aunt are going to be safe sure as fuck helps ease
my conscience a little. Besides, I can’t be covered in blood and
gore when I go pick Princess up, I’ve got some standards.

“I’M outside Hudson’s place. Where are you?” I growl into my

phone an hour later, rattling the door even though I know
they’re not inside.
 “Obviously not at Hud’s flat,” she replies, laughter in her
voice. I can hear chatter in the background and music, and
groan internally. I’m not in the mood to go and drag her arse
from a club.
“Princess!” I warn, pushing off from the door and striding
back to my car. “You’ve got two seconds to tell me where the
fuck you are, or so help me I’ll—”
“Jesus, calm down, Roger. Bad day at the office?”
“You could say that,” I grind out, yanking the door to my
car open and climbing inside. Not even the heated seats and
sleek lines of my Mercedes G Wagon can cheer me up tonight.
I’m in a bad fucking mood and Princess is making it worse.
“Look, Carter sent me to pick you up. He was expecting you
to be at Hudson’s place. You’re not. Do I need to give him a
call and tell him his daughter’s out past her bedtime?”
“Oh, screw you! I’m a fucking adult. I can do what I
want.”
“We both know that isn’t true. Carter says—”
“I don’t care what Carter says!”
I blow out a breath, trying to maintain my cool. “Why the
fuck do you call your dad Carter anyway?”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“Okay, fine, you’re not in the mood to talk. Guess what,
neither am I. So here’s the thing. I was planning on getting
thoroughly screwed by a beautiful woman tonight, but you’ve
managed to fuck that up being where you shouldn’t be. You
owe me,” I say, pressing the console on my dash and
connecting to bluetooth so I can have this stupid conversation
handsfree whilst I drive the damn car.
“I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t ask you to babysit me.”
“Princess, just tell me where you are.” She goes quiet and I
can hear the muffled sound of a male voice. I know it’s
Hudson, and fuck if it doesn’t piss me off. “Princess!”
“Macey’s Bar. We’re just having a drink. It’s not a big
deal.”
 “I’ll be there in ten,” I reply, disconnecting the call before
putting the car in drive and hitting the gas. Fuck this bullshit. I
did not sign up to look after a tempestuous smartarse who
happens to look good in gym gear and gives me fucking ball
ache. Fuck, no I did not.
Exactly eight minutes later the bouncer at Macey’s Bar
greets me with a welcoming slap on the back. “Good to see
you, mate. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy with work these past few weeks,” I
say vaguely.
“I know exactly what you mean,” he replies with a grin,
waving me through ahead of the waiting patrons.
“Sure,” I mutter, highly doubtful. He’s a bouncer, I’m an
enforcer. There’s a big difference in our line of work. Namely
a shit load of dead bodies.
“Have a good night!” he calls after me as I take the stairs
down into the club and head towards the bar. I need a drink,
then I’ll go get Princess.
Ordering a Jack and Coke from Suzy, the hot blonde
behind the bar, I rest against the counter and sweep my gaze
over the room. It’s busy, but I sensed Princess’s whereabouts
the second I stepped onto the floor. She’s sitting with Hudson
and another bloke I don’t recognise in a booth on the other
side of the room, laughing and chatting like she hasn’t got a
care in the world. I’m pretty sure she clocked me as I walked
in too. The way we know where each other is in a room
without really trying fucks with my head, in all honesty. I
don’t need or want that kind of connection. If she were anyone
else and past the age of twenty, I would’ve fucked her and got
her out of my system, but as it is she’s not in the cards, or on
the table, or against the motherfucking wall for that matter.
Besides, I don’t do relationships. Never have.
Taking a sip of my drink, I watch her from behind the rim
of my glass as she throws her head back and laughs raucously
at something Hudson’s just said. He grins, wrapping an arm
around her shoulder and pulling her into his side in a hug.
Jealousy spikes in my chest, and it takes a great deal of control
not to storm over there and punch his fucking lights out. Not
because I don’t want to punch the turd, but because no matter
what I feel about Hudson Freed, Grim cares about him and she
isn’t the type of girl to let many people in. That says a lot.
Truthfully, when she’s not verbally sparring with me, she’s
guarded and cautious. It’s no surprise given who her dad is and
the environment she’s grown up in, so I can’t begrudge her
their friendship, not to mention I’ve no right to. But one thing
I do know for certain is that if he ever fucks her over, he’s a
dead man walking.
“Penny for your thoughts,” a posh, but very sexy, female
voice says from my left.
I give whoever’s trying to chat me up a cursory look,
clocking a leggy brunette with big blue eyes, lips pumped full
of filler, and breasts just as fake. She’s attractive, and I have
nothing against a woman changing their appearance to make
them feel better about themselves, but I’m suddenly not in the
mood to hook up with a stranger, despite my severe case of
blueballitis. Keeping my gaze firmly fixed on Kate, I knock
back the remains of my Jack and Coke and say, “Love, you’d
need to pay me a lot more than a penny to get inside my head
right now.”
She reaches for my arm as I place the empty glass on the
bar. “Is that so? Well, I happen to be loaded.”
I meet her gaze and grin. “I bet, beautiful. Thing is, I ain’t
no one’s bit of rough. Paid or otherwise. Though it’s been nice
to meet you…” I say, bringing her delicate hand up to my lips
and kissing her knuckles as I wait for a name.
“Lucy.” She blushes, and any other night I’d be kicking
myself in the bollocks for not tapping that, but I’m too
distracted by Princess’s laughter that seems suddenly too loud
for her to still be over on the other side of the room.
“And there’s me thinking you were here to take me
home… ”
Sighing, I drop Lucy’s hand, ignoring her look of
confusion, and turn my attention to Kate who’s looking pretty
damn cute in a faded Guns and Roses t-shirt and cut-off denim
shorts paired with fishnet tights and biker boots. “Princess.
Grab your shit and let’s go.”
“You’re here now. Why not have a drink first,” she replies,
nudging her way between me and the posh bird, Lucy, who
looks up at me with a question in her eyes.
“She’s my job,” I say by way of explanation, which only
seems to confuse her more.
“And he’s a daily pain in my arse,” Kate adds with a sultry
voice, false smile and a wiggle of her butt in my direction.
“Got it,” Lucy replies, backing away from Kate and
disappearing into the crowd of people dancing.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask, turning sideways to
face the little vixen. As I move, her upper arm brushes against
my chest, and that minor contact sets off my dick in a way I
wish it fucking wouldn’t.
“Was what necessary?” she replies innocently as she waves
over the barmaid and orders her drinks.
“Being such a bitch.”
Kate snaps her head around and narrows her eyes at me. “I
just did you a favour, you ungrateful arsehole.”
“Yeah, and how did you work that out?” I ask, loving the
way her anger flares to the surface. There’s something about
pissing Kate off that amuses me, and I can’t help but stoke the
fire.
“She’s an upmarket escort and has had more dicks inside
of her than you’ve dipped your wick in other women, and
that’s saying something.”
“And there’s me thinking she wanted to buy me for the
night.”
“What?!” Princess snaps, murmuring her thanks to the
barmaid who’s loaded her order of drinks onto a tray.
I chuckle. “Like I said, I’m pretty sure she was willing to
buy me for the night and, honestly, I would’ve banged her for
free.”
“Urgh, you’re incorrigible,” Kate scoffs, grabbing the tray
and somehow expertly weaving her way around the crowded
dance floor without spilling a drop. I follow her, ready to grab
her and go the second she’s settled the tray on the table.
“Big words tonight, Princess. I like it when you talk dirty
to me,” I say before I can rein my fucking neck in. Really
though, what the fuck is wrong with me?
She makes a kind of strangled noise that’s a cross between
a laugh, a snort and a groan. I’d find it cute if I didn’t want to
throat punch myself for overstepping the mark. She’s my
boss’s daughter and I’m her fucking bodyguard. I need to
remember that.
Reaching the booth, Kate slides the tray into the centre of
the table. I don’t bother to acknowledge Hudson or his mate,
my focus is completely consumed by Princess and the heated
way she glares at me.
“You alright, Grim?” Hudson questions, earning him a
death glare, which he doesn’t cower from like others would.
He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.
Not sure I like the look I’m getting from the guy sitting
next to him either. Haven’t seen him around before, but I’d
remember a man with eyes so blue they cut through the dim
light of the club. He’s a good-looking fucker, with a mixed
background given his skin tone, and has the same kind of aura
about him that Hudson has. Smart, streetwise, and confident.
I’d appreciate that if I didn’t want to drop kick them both for
just breathing in the same air space as Princess.
Fuck, man. I’ve got to get a grip.
“Grim?” Hudson persists, pissing me off even more. I’m
no threat to her.
“Of course she’s—”
“I’m going to dance,” Kate says, cutting me off before
pushing through the crowd and into the centre of the dance
floor.
 “For fuck’s sake!” I mutter.
“Look, Beast. Don’t be pissed at Grim. I suggested we
come here tonight. This is on me.”
I snap my head back around and glare at Hudson. “Is that
right? Well, you can explain to Carter why the fuck she ain’t at
your place like she was supposed to be. I mean the sheer fact
he lets her hang out with you is beyond me, but that’s neither
here nor there.”
“Carter’s alright with me,” Hudson replies with a shrug.
“He knows I’m not like that with Grim.”
The guy next to him grins, winking at me. It doesn’t look
like he’s all that convinced either, the shithead.
“You got something you want to say, pretty boy?”
“The name’s Cal, and nope, nothing to add.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face
of yours,” I reply, briefly considering doing just that. “Lucky
for you I’ve had a pissy day and I need to go home and get
some sleep. So we’ll bench this…” I wave my hand between
us, scowling, “For now.”
“Fair enough,” Hudson says with laughter in his eyes—the
little prick—before jerking his chin towards the dance floor.
“Looks like some dude’s getting handsy with your Princess
though.”
“The fuck?!”
I spin on my feet, my gaze honing in on the tosser who
looks like a secondhand version of that bloke from the Lord of
the Rings movies minus the fae get up. Like Hudson said, he’s
got his hands all over Kate and what’s more, she seems to
fucking like it.
Striding through the crowd, I tap the bastard on his
shoulder as Kate peers up at me, a smirk on her face. “Take
your fucking hands off her, Orlando!”
 CHAPTER THREE

Ain’t No Other Man

“Orlando?” the guy scoffs, turning around to face Beast and
almost choking on his tongue when he gets a good look at the
man who drives me insane.
“Yeah, you heard me. Take your motherfucking hands off
of her. NOW!” Beast bellows, making the poor guy practically
jump out of his skin and the people dancing nearby give us
some space. I have to hold in a laugh, because despite how
irritating Beast is, the look on Orlando’s— I mean, John’s face
is priceless. Well, I think he’s called John, I couldn’t quite
catch his name over the music.
“Woah!” John replies, letting me go and holding his hands
up. “She didn’t say she had a boyfriend.”
“She? Who’s she, the cat’s fucking mother?” Beast grinds
out, grabbing his scruff and getting in his face. The guy
practically pisses himself.
“I meant Alice. Fuck, man. Sorry!”
“Alice?! Who the fuck is Alice?”
John peers over at me, and this time I can’t help but laugh.
It breaks out of me like a bubble bursting. “Sorry, I wasn’t
about to give you my real name,” I say, biting down on
another laugh as I point towards Beast. “You can see why,
right?”
Beast narrows his eyes, then lets John go with a shove.
“Get the fuck out of here. I catch you coming onto Alice again
I’m gonna fuck you up so bad you’re gonna look more like
one of those ugly fucking orcs than that pretty, long-haired fae
boy.”
John shakes his head looking thoroughly confused and it’s
only then I realise the connection—Beast thinks he looks like
the actor Orlando Bloom—which causes another bout of
laughter to burst out of me. I practically bend over in half, I’m
laughing so hard. By the time I’ve calmed down enough to
straighten up, Beast is staring at me, his thick arms crossed
over his chest. A furious expression on his face.
“What the fuck is so funny?” he exclaims.
“You. You’re hysterical, do you know that?”
“Yeah I’m full of laughs. Now get your shit and let’s go!”
I cock my head and pretend to think about it, then smile.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Beast’s top lip curls up in a snarl that is way too sexy to be
intimidating. “You don’t have a choice. Do as you’re told.”
I roll my eyes ready to cuss him out some more when the
DJ starts playing Ain’t No Other Man by Christina Aguilera.
The girl knows how to write a mean arse song, and her voice?
Pure fucking sex.
“I came here to dance. So I’m dancing,” I retort, then turn
my back to Beast, bend my knees and drop it like it’s hot.
“Princess!” I hear him warn, but it only spurns me on as I
push back upwards, raise my hands in the air and dance,
shaking my arse right in his crotch.
This song is about a woman claiming her power, and her
man, and that’s exactly how I feel in the moment, even though
I have no right to. Beast isn’t mine, but I can’t deny that I want
him to be. I have for a while now. Maybe it’s the several shots
of vodka I’ve knocked back, or maybe I’m digging the way he
handled that guy just now. Either way, I’m feeling suddenly
confident in my ability to pull Beast despite what he said to
me in the gym the other day.
 “If you don’t stop wiggling your arse like that, I’m gonna
have to take drastic action, Princess,” he says, his rumbling
voice vibrating up my spine as my arse presses back against
his crotch harder.
“Do you mean like this?” I ask sweetly, looking back up at
him whilst doing my best impression of the strippers at Nine
Lives, the club my dad owns. Those women know how to
move their bodies to make men weak. There’s a power in that,
and I respect them immensely for it even if it does piss me off
that most of them have rubbed up against Beast in the same
way, naked and in his bedroom.
“Princess, I’m in no mood for your shit,” he grumbles,
attempting to put space between us, but I just step back against
him once more.
“Oh come on, dance with me. Why not let your hair down
for once and loosen up a bit?”
“Loosening up isn’t the fucking problem, Princess,” he
growls, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him.
I throw my hands up automatically to stop myself from
colliding with his body. My fingers curl into his shirt as I glare
up at him.
“Then what is your problem?” I snap, all the fun of the
moment leaving me with a rush of anger.
“You,” he mutters, squeezing my arm a little too tightly.
Not that I care, because despite my anger, I want his hands
on me. So I take a step closer towards him, not away. “This
dickish behaviour is beginning to piss me the fuck off. You’re
not like this with any other woman. What gives?”
“You ain’t special, Princess. If that’s what you’re getting
at,” he argues.
“No? So leave then. Hud and Cal will drop me off at
home.”
“Not happening!” he snaps. “Now move your feet before I
move them for you.”
“Seriously, Beast, what gives?” I ask in frustration.
 Yes, I know he works for my dad and there’s certain
expectations, but would it really kill him to hang out with me
for a bit? I might not be his type, but I’m pretty fun to be
around when given the chance. We could at least be friends. I
don’t have many of them and could use some more.
“Princess.”
Another growl, another warning.
Everything about this whole situation is screaming for me
to take a step back. He’s angry, that much is obvious, and I
should be wary.
But I’m not.
I know he’s not going to hurt me and that makes me bold.
We glare at each other, and with every intake of breath I
seem to edge closer to him until Christina Aguilera’s voice is
drowned out by the rushing and thumping of my pulse beating
loudly in my ear.
“Well?” I prompt, my heart galloping as he releases his
grip on my arm and his palms find their way to my hips. His
hands are so huge that they practically meet over the bottom of
my spine. For long, agonising moments he just stares down at
me, an unreadable expression on his face, and whilst I stopped
gyrating like a stripper the second he flipped me around to
face him, I’m still swaying from side to side wanting to dance
with him, daring him to dance with me too.
“We should go,” he says, but to my surprise he mirrors my
movements and the steady thump of my heart misses a beat as
he pulls me even closer. It’s all I can do not to press my lips
against his throat and slide my tongue across his tattooed skin,
but I do take the opportunity to breathe him in, his masculine
scent of whisky, sweat and leather stirring a longing deep
within me.
“Dance with me,” I whisper against the column of his
neck, and this time he doesn’t deny me.
Heat builds beneath my skin where our bodies touch, and
in the places I wish he would touch, and for a few blissful
moments we leave behind our personas and just move fluidly
together. Right here in the middle of a packed dance floor, in
this grimy basement club, he’s no longer Beast, the man who
kills for Carter, and I’m no longer Grim, the woman who is
destined to take her father’s place. In this moment we’re just
us. Just two people attracted to one another. Two people who
might belong to each other if the world we live in didn’t get in
the way.
And it feels good.
My cheek presses against his chest, my fingers curling into
his shirt tightly as he wraps his arms around me in an embrace
that simultaneously gives me strength and protects me from all
the things that could hurt me, of which there are many.
I’m not used to feeling safe, but in his arms I do.
“Princess…” he murmurs, cupping the back of my head,
his fingers curling into my hair and tugging gently. He looks
down at me, a fierce kind of agony in his eyes as he lowers his
head and presses his lips against my ear. “It’s time to go.”
“I just want…” I reply, a little breathlessly if I’m honest.
I’ve never been a woman to pant after a man, but Beast is the
only man who’s ever made me lightheaded and a little crazy.
There’s no way I’d let anyone else get to me the way he does.
“You just want, what…?” he asks, his voice low, gruff, as
his hands slide down my back and his fingers curl around the
waistband of my jean shorts, pulling the material so tight that I
can feel the seam between my legs rubbing against my clit.
“I just want…” I gasp, unable to finish the sentence.
You.
My voice trails off as he pulls me closer, his whole body a
wall of muscle and masculinity that scrambles my head and
makes my knees weak. The pull he has over me is like nothing
I’ve felt before. It’s an attraction, yes, but it’s also so much
more than that, and it’s terrifying because for all my flirtation,
I’m not exactly experienced. Not that he needs to know. I
would rather cut out my own tongue than admit that.
“I know, Princess. I know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing
over the top of my head as he speaks.
 “Just a little longer…” I say, but it comes out like a plea,
and I hate myself for it.
Knowing that I want him is one thing, but being vulnerable
like this is quite another. Maybe it’s the tone of my voice, or
maybe it’s the sudden realisation that he’s gotten way too close
to his boss’s daughter, but either way he stiffens and takes a
step back.
“Carter wants you home, so home it is,” he says, then
picks me up and chucks me over his shoulder, breaking the
spell and reminding me that I don’t live in a fairy tale, but in
the real world with men who wear tattoos like armour and
have no problem throwing a woman over their shoulder when
the mood takes them.

“YOU’RE A DICK, YOU KNOW THAT?” I say, still fuming

as he parks the car outside my house half an hour later.
“Putting me over your shoulder like some caveman. It was
embarrassing!”
“I’m just doing my job, Princess,” he replies, but I can’t
help but notice the heaviness of the sigh that follows. He
makes no move to get out of the car, so neither do I.
“What is it?” I ask him.
Unclicking his seatbelt, he twists in his seat to face me.
“So now you want to talk? You’ve been giving me the silent
treatment all the way back from the club.”
“You pissed me off.” You made a fool out of me.
“I do that a lot, it would seem.”
I frown. “Don’t pretend you’re upset about it. You love
winding me up, makes your day go quicker, right?”
He gives me a half smile, swiping his hand through his
cropped brown hair. “You got me there.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I say, smarting a little, but covering up my
hurt by rolling my eyes. “I’m just a source of amusement for
you. That was well played.”
“Princess…”
I wave my hand in the air pretending I don’t give a shit.
“Whatever. I’m already over it.”
He chews on his lip, glancing at his phone charging on the
dash. This G Wagon has all the latest electrical gadgets and I
briefly wonder how much my dad is paying him. Must be a
shit load to be able to afford this beauty and to put up with my
antics, I guess.
“This is bullshit,” he mutters after a while.
“Do you want to tell me what’s up? Something’s clearly
bothering you.”
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
“Tell that to your bottom lip,” I scoff, glancing at the tiny
bead of blood where he’s gnawed at it.
“What?”
“You have a tell. You chew on your bottom lip when
you’ve got something on your mind.”
“I do-fucking-not.”
“You’re bleeding.” I point out.
He reaches up and swipes at his lip with his thumb,
widening his eyes when he sees the blood. “Interesting.”
“What is?” I ask. “The fact that you didn’t realise you had
a tell, or the fact I noticed?”
He doesn’t respond, just stares at his thumb like he’s never
seen his own blood before, and I have this sudden,
inexplicable urge to climb onto his lap and take his mind off
whatever’s bothering him. I don’t. Instead, I reach forward and
gently press my fingers against his knee. “Beast?”
“I killed a man today,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his
face as he looks back at me. There’s a haunted look about his
eyes that I haven’t seen before now.
 “Ah fuck,” I whisper, drawing my hand back, not because
I’m disgusted with him, but because I’m finding it
increasingly hard not to smooth my palm up his thigh. Now is
not the time to seduce him, or make a fool out of myself for
that matter.
“Yeah.”
For a moment he doesn’t say a word but tells me
everything with his silence. Beast has a reputation for being a
cold-blooded killer, and that’s true, he is. But there’s more to
him than that. Over the last year I’ve been watching him
closely. He’s loyal, protective, funny when he allows himself
to be, and a good leader even if he acts like a caveman
sometimes. I know that I’ve only just scratched the surface of
who he really is and I want to know more.
“What did he do to warrant his death?” I ask instead.
“Carter needed information,” Beast replies. “The guy I
killed had it.”
“Right.” I nod, picking at a piece of non-existent lint on
my jean shorts.
It’s not like I don’t know my dad’s a bad man. I do. But
he’s still my dad. He’s still the man who took me from a
deadbeat mother when I was a baby and brought me up the
best way he knew how. He’s still the man who wants to teach
me how to be a savvy businesswoman who can survive in a
world full of cutthroat criminals.
“He was selling drugs to minors…” Beast says, as though
he’s trying to convince himself that killing that man today was
a good thing, and given what he just said, it is. Adults can
make their own decisions, but it takes an extra special kind of
arsehole to deal drugs to kids like they’re fucking sweeties.
“He sounds like a piece of work. What a dick.”
“Would it have made me a better man for killing him
because of that reason?” he asks me.
“You feel bad about killing him?” I throw back.
 He lifts his gaze to meet mine, his green eyes glinting in
the light coming from the porch. “I should, but I don’t, and I
ain’t sure if that’s because I’ve lost the ability to give a shit
about the value of human life after years of fucking taking it at
the whim of other men, or if it’s because I really don’t give a
shit that he’s dead.”
“He sold drugs to children. You’ve probably saved a few
lives by taking him out even if that wasn’t why you killed
him.”
“Yeah, until the next man steps in to take his place.”
“I didn’t know you—”
“What, care?” he snorts. “I don’t, not for dirtbags like him.
Except…”
“Except?” I prompt, cocking my head to the side as I study
his face.
“He had a kid sister, and an aunt.”
“Every bad man has a family,” I say with a shrug even
though there’s this tightness in my chest that makes me feel
like a victim somehow. Especially when Beast looks at me like
that’s exactly what I am. I frown, not liking the feeling.
“I’m well aware of that fact, but his choices aren’t their
fault. They loved him regardless, and that’s what I have
trouble with. I’ve taken someone they love even if he was a
bad man.”
“Then they’re better off without him, right? He’d only
bring trouble to their door eventually.”
“Which is why we’ve got them somewhere safe.”
My eyes widen with surprise. “You have?”
“He was working for Saxon, and that guttersnake will have
a target on their heads just because they were related to the
prick who grassed on him. I won’t have their deaths on my
conscience too.”
“Wow. How did you even pull that off?”
 “I have my ways. For now, they’re out of Saxon’s reach.
Once we take him out, they’ll be safe.”
“I didn’t realise Carter did stuff like that,” I say,
completely shocked that my dad would even care about some
small-time drug dealer’s family.
“Yeah, your dad’s a good man,” Beast says, giving me a
smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Beast?” I question, seeing the lie written boldly across his
face, but his phone beeps with a new message and he grabs it
from the dash, swiping his finger across the screen, ignoring
me.
“Fuck!”
“What?”
“I gotta go. Out you get,” he bites out.
“Is it the little girl?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. Something’s going down at
Tales. Your dad’s already there.”
“Then I’ll come.”
Beast shakes his head. “No.”
“Beast, it’s my club too.”
“Not yet it ain’t. Get out of the car, Princess.”
“You can’t protect me from this life. This is my future,
Beast. I’m coming.”
“THE. FUCK. YOU. ARE!” he snarls, shoving open his
door and striding around the car to the passenger side. He
yanks my door open, ducking inside to unclip my seatbelt and
haul me out of the vehicle, slamming the door closed behind
me.
“Get your hands off me!” I yell, and without thinking it
through, I throw a punch that hits him square in the jaw.
A snarl rips out of his mouth as he backs me up against the
side of the car, his hands gripping the roof either side of my
head as he crouches slightly so that his eyes are at the same
level as mine. They flash with anger, but also the kind of pain
you never want to see in the eyes of someone you care about.
“Don’t you ever raise your fist to me outside of the ring
again, you hear me?”
“Then don’t manhandle me like I’m a piece of damn meat.
It goes both ways!” I snap back, refusing to back down.
His nostrils flare, but after a moment he nods. “You’re
right. I’m sorry.”
“You are?” I reply, shocked at his apology frankly, but
given he’s big enough to do so, I decide to do the same. “Fine,
I’m sorry too. I know you’re only doing your job.”
He shakes his head. “No, if I were doing my job I’d be
bringing you along right now just like Carter wants me to do.”
“What?” I question as he reaches up and trails his fingers
over my cheek, heat tracing over my skin from his touch as he
stares at me intently.
“Carter’s got Saxon and he’s about to execute the fucker. I
don’t want you there.”
“You don’t want me there?” I shake my head incredulously
as his hand drops away.
“Yeah, me.”
“I don’t need protecting, Beast. Don’t you understand that?
This is my life and I’m not some feeble woman who’ll cry at
the first sight of blood. I know what will happen tonight. I’ve
been preparing for it my whole life.”
“I know you’re not feeble,” he retorts, biting down on
whatever else he wants to say but is stopping himself from
doing so. I wish he’d just come out with it.
“Look, this is going to be my business one day and I won’t
be seen as some weak fucking crybaby. I’m coming!” I argue,
pressing my hands against his chest as I try to shove him away.
He shakes his head, pushing back against me, his hips
pressing against mine, keeping me in place. “I know you’re not
weak. I know this is your life. I know you don’t cry, that you’re
strong, capable. I know you can handle a gun, that you would
go up in the cage against the best of us. I know you’re gonna
be Queen of Tales one day. I know all of that, Kate.”
Kate.
His use of my real name makes my stomach flip over. I
both hate my name and love hearing it on his lips. Kate was
the name my mother gave me and the girl I’ve been trying to
separate myself from for a long time now, but hearing Beast
use it makes me feel differently somehow.
“Then what are you trying to prove?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to—”
“To what?”
“To give you more time.”
“Time?”
“To be Kate.”
“I don’t understand.”
He draws in a deep breath, stepping back away from me.
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t. Explain.”
“Princess is the girl I’ve been hired to protect. Grim is the
woman your father wants you to be, but Kate… She’s the
person who has a chance to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Fuck! A different life! A better one without men like your
father, like me within it. Make the right choice before it’s too
late,” he says, before striding around the car and climbing in
the driver’s seat. His words sink beneath my skin and burn
into my bones as he hits the gas and speeds out of the drive.
As I watch him drive away, one thought pops into my
head…
It’s already too late. I’ve made my choice.
I want to be Queen of Tales, and I want Beast too.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Lean on
“Where the fuck is she?” Carter asks the second I step into
Tales without Kate. He’s in the cage, Saxon kneeling before
him, his face a bloody, pulpy mess. Rodriguez is with them, a
new guy who Carter brought in a couple of months back. He’s
a little bit older than me, has connections to the Perez crime
family that settled in North London, and not someone I’ve had
much chance to spend time with. As far as I’m concerned he’s
Carter’s bitch and not one of my men.
“I left her back at your place,” I reply, shrugging out of my
jacket and tossing it over one of the chairs nearby. I roll up the
sleeves of my shirt as I stride towards the cage.
“What do you mean you left her back at my place? I
specifically told you to bring her here!”
“She ain’t ready,” I say, eyeing Saxon as he groans, blood
oozing from a split lip and eyebrow, as well as a nasty gash to
his cheek. Given the way his nose has collapsed against his
face, I’d say that it was broken too. Rodriguez has certainly
made a good start in my absence.
“What do you mean she isn’t ready?” he snarls.
“What I said. She ain’t ready to see this shit yet.”
“She’s a motherfucking Davidson. She was born ready,”
Carter explodes, and if the human body were capable of
making steam come out of its ears in anger, I’m pretty fucking
positive he’d be a human choo-choo train right now.
 “I made a call. I don’t regret it.”
“You think you know my daughter better than I do?” he
questions.
I know I do, I think.
“No,” I reply instead. “I think you hired me to protect what
matters to you the most. She ain’t ready.”
Carter scowls, taking his measure of me. I wait for
whatever it is he’s going to say, rolling my shoulders and
loosening up my muscles from clenching them so tightly.
Dancing with Kate has got me in fucking knots. Today I let her
in more than I should’ve, and now I’ve got to deal with the
consequences of that.
“You’ve been training her,” he says finally, and it’s more
of an accusation than a statement.
“To protect herself. Not to kill.”
“Same difference,” he snaps, eyeing me. “You know as
well as I do that in this life you’re fighting to survive. She
needs to be prepared.”
“And she will be, just not yet,” I insist.
“I hired you as my enforcer and as her trainer,” Carter
replies sharply. “Not someone to psychoanalyse my own
fucking daughter.”
“And you’ve also hired me to look out for her,” I remind
him. “I’m doing that now. Kate isn’t ready.”
Carter’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t pursue it. Instead he
motions for me to step inside the cage. “Get in here.”
I’m not fool enough to believe that this conversation is
over, Carter isn’t the type of man to let disobedience go, but
for now his mind is back on Saxon.
“You got it,” I reply, flicking my gaze to Rodriguez who’s
watching the exchange with interest. Too much interest. I
don’t know the fucker, and right now I don’t want to know
him given the way he’s smirking. “Got something to say, el
cabrón?”
 The smile slips from Rodriguez’s face, but he jerks his
chin. “Not a thing, Beast.”
“Good because I have no issues wiping that smirk off your
face… permanently.”
Climbing inside the cage, my gaze drops to the growing
pool of blood spreading out over the canvas floor beneath
Saxon. He mutters something as I approach but it comes out
garbled as cherry-red blood drips down his chin. That’s way
too much blood loss for a few missing teeth.
“I cut out his tongue,” Rodriquez says, answering my
internal question as he points at a slab of bloody muscle beside
Saxon’s leg.
“You cut out his tongue?” I ask, not surprised per se, just
taken aback that Rodriguez was the one who did it.
“He was spouting bullshit lies. I was tired of listening,”
Carter interjects, pressing the muzzle of the gun against
Saxon’s forehead. “Rodriguez got the job done.”
“What kind of lies?” I ask, ignoring his veiled dig.
“The kind that gets a man’s tongue cut out,” Carter snaps
back, unwilling to share, or at least unwilling to share right
now.
I flick my gaze to Rodriguez, who’s removing his knuckle
dusters and avoiding eye contact with me. Not sure I like the
fact he’s stepped into my shoes so fucking easily. I’m Carter’s
enforcer after all, the punk can fuck right off if he thinks he
can wiggle his way into my fucking role. He’s not the first to
try and I doubt he’ll be the last, but he’ll learn pretty fucking
quickly where his bread’s buttered and that ain’t at Carter’s
side.
“Got it.” I nod, knowing that now is clearly not the time to
push the subject given everyone’s being so fucking cagey. “So
what did you need me for then?”
Carter makes a snorting sound. “I needed you to bring me
Grim.”
 “Next time?” I offer, maintaining eye contact with him
because if there’s one thing I know for sure about Carter
Davidson is that he doesn’t like a pussy, and whilst I might
enjoy eating pussy a great deal, I ain’t one.
“There’s no need for a next time…”
The. Fuck. She. Didn’t.
My head snaps around as Kate enters the gym. I open my
mouth to tell her to get the fuck out, but slam it shut just as
quickly. What the hell does she think she’s doing here?
“Grim!” Carter says, surprise in his voice.
“Carter,” she responds, a tight smile plastered to her face
as she nods in greeting to her father and Rodriguez,
completely avoiding eye contact with me.
“How did you get here?” I grind out as Saxon gurgles and
splutters, trying to speak. An uneasy feeling settles in my
stomach as he motions to Kate, as though whatever the fuck
he’s trying to say is aimed at her.
Carter flicks his gaze to me, jerking his chin at the fucker. I
know what that look means. Without missing a beat, I raise my
fist and punch Saxon as hard as I can. He falls to the side,
shaking his head as droplets of blood splatter the canvas and
our clothes. Kate takes it all in, her eyes dropping to Saxon,
then slowly rising upwards to meet my gaze.
“I called a cab,” she replies as calm as fuck.
“You called a fucking cab?” I reply.
Carter chuckles, a smirk pulling up his lips as he motions
for her to join us. “Grim ain’t ready, my arse,” he says,
flicking his gaze to me before motioning for her to join us in
the cage.
It’s all I can do not to level the cunt.
I know she isn’t ready. Kate is here to prove a point, but
it’s the wrong fucking one. This is bravado and bluster. He
doesn’t see how her fingers are curled into fists to stop her
hands from shaking, or the way she keeps licking her lips and
flicking her gaze to the man who’s about to die. She’s fucking
terrified. Kate might’ve noticed my tell earlier, but she’s got a
few of her own. Glaring at her, I hold back the words I want to
say and reach over, grabbing Saxon by the hair pulling him
upright.
“What now, boss?”
“Now Grim is going to shoot the bastard thief,” Carter
replies, as Kate steps into the cage.
Her step falters, but only briefly. If Carter were paying any
kind of attention he would see that she didn’t expect to be the
one to kill Saxon. Witness his death, yes. Kill him? No.
Fuck no, according to the glimmer of fear stuttering across
her features that she shuts down in the four steps it takes to
reach her father’s side.
“Did you get what you needed from him?” she asks, the
slightest tremor in her voice only noticeable to those who
know her well enough. Either Carter notices and doesn’t give a
shit, or he really doesn’t know his own flesh and blood. Right
now I’m having a hard time figuring out which is true.
“To a degree,” he answers, holding out the gun to her. “But
what I really want is this prick to pay. That will only happen
when his brains are splattered across this canvas.”
Grim looks at the proffered gun then back up to Carter
who’s watching her closely. This is a test, that much is
obvious. Taking someone’s life ain’t easy, no matter how
much you psych yourself up to do it. I remember my first kill
and despite the dicksplash being a murdering cunt, I will never
forget how it felt to see the life leave his eyes. Never.
It changes you, permanently, and there’s no turning back.
“Grim?” Carter questions.
She swallows hard. “I—”
“I’ll do it,” I say quickly. Too quickly, given the way
Carter snaps his head around to look at me.
“I said, Grim is going to do it. After all, she’s the one he’s
stealing from.”
 “I am?” she replies.
“Tales is going to be your club one day, Grim. So you need
to send a message out to anyone who thinks they can fuck over
the Davidsons. Understand?”
“Yes,” she nods tightly, taking the gun from him. Her
tongue peeks out of her mouth, wetting her parched lips. I bet
her mouth is just as fucking dry. “Where?”
“Where what?” Carter replies, kicking Saxon in the
stomach as he tries to grasp his suit jacket. Saxon doubles
over, his chest heaving.
“Where do you want me to shoot him?” Kate asks as
Carter moves out of her way so she can step in front of Saxon.
He slowly pushes up from the floor, his hands reaching for her
now. I step in and slap his hands away.
“Hands off!” I growl.
Rodriguez snorts, earning him a narrowed look from Kate.
“What’s your problem?” she asks.
“You asked where you need to shoot him. It’s obvious, no?
In the head,” he replies with a wink.
“Don’t you want to… Fuck him up some more?” She turns
to look at her dad, a question in her eyes, and maybe a plea of
sorts. Despite her now steady voice, she can’t hide her true
feelings. At least not from me. I was right. She ain’t ready to
kill a man.
“No, we’re done here. Shoot him in the head,” Carter says
offhandedly.
Kate nods, then presses the muzzle against Saxon’s
forehead. Her hand is shaking and she tenses every muscle in
her body in an attempt to get a hold of herself.
“Carter…” I begin, but he holds his hand up, cutting me
off.
“She’s ready,” he insists.
Kate swallows hard, gritting her teeth as her focus is
pinned on the bloody and beaten man kneeling before her.
Saxon stares back, his bloodshot eyes begging her not to kill
him. In one last ditch attempt to save his pitiful life, he puts his
palms together and attempts to form a sentence, his tears
mingling with the blood that pumps from his severed tongue.
“Carter…” Kate says, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
“Pull the damn trigger, Grim,” he grinds out, patience
waning.
Her nostrils flare, and I want to ask her why she came,
why she didn’t listen to a damn word I said, but I don’t. I
can’t. Not here. Not now. Later maybe when this is fucking
over, I’ll get the chance.
“Do it!” Carter orders.
She wavers on her feet and her indecision fucking kills me.
She’s in way over her head right now. “Let me,” I interject.
“The fuck you will,” Carter snaps, stepping up beside her.
“Kill the motherfucker, Grim. Show me you got what it takes
to run this place alongside me. Do it. Now!”
“Dad,” she whispers.
It’s a plea, one he chooses to ignore. She’s shaking so
much that she has to cup her hand holding the gun to steady
her aim.
“I said do it!” he shouts.
Kate jumps, and without giving it a second thought, I press
my chest against her back and slide my hands down her arms.
Grasping her hands in mine, I reposition the gun, helping her
to hold it steady against Saxon’s head.
“The fuck, Beast?” Carter spits, but I ignore him.
I don’t give a fuck what this looks like. Right now the only
person I give a shit about is Kate. If her dad’s not willing to do
what’s right, then I will. I fucking will. I’ll steady her hand
whilst she takes a life.
She releases a breath from her mouth, her muscles relaxing
the tiniest amount, telling me that for whatever reason she
feels safe in my arms. For the briefest of moments I allow
myself to bask in that knowledge, then I lower my mouth to
her ear, and not giving two fucks who’s watching, whisper,
“Choose.”
She knows what I mean even if no one else does.
Kill Saxon and become Grim. Step away and remain Kate.
She chooses.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Princesses Don’t Cry

Peeling off my clothes, I climb into the shower and let the
scalding water saturate my hair and run over my body before
picking up the shower gel and squeezing a generous amount
into my hand. I wash myself harshly, scrubbing at my skin
with a loofah until it’s dusted pink all over. Then repeat the
process again before washing my hair.
By the time I turn off the shower an hour has passed and
there isn’t one inch of me left unclean.
Not that it matters.
I’ll never feel clean again.
Ever.
And that isn’t because I put a bullet in Saxon’s brain, it’s
because I didn’t.
I feel dirty.
Tarnished.
Ashamed.
When I’d withdrawn my hands from Beast’s and handed
him the gun, my father gave me a look of pure disgust. I’ve
never felt less of a Davidson in my life than I did when Carter
looked at me like I was nothing, like I was a disappointment. I
chose to be Kate in that moment and look how that turned out
for me. Swiping at the mist covering the mirror, I look at my
reflection remembering the harsh words my father had uttered
when I’d allowed Beast to do what I should’ve.
“This is a prime fucking example why women are the
inferior species. Bleeding from their cunts as well as their
hearts.”
My anger flares, hot and fiery as I stare at my reflection.
I’d never felt smaller in my life but I’ve only got myself to
blame. I should never have listened to Beast. Shaking hands
and dry mouth aside, I made the wrong choice. I should’ve put
a bullet in Saxon’s head and sucked it the fuck up. Whilst I
don’t appreciate the shitty derogatory remark—because fuck
you Dad for bringing my sex into this—I get where he’s
coming from. Weakness is not tolerated in our line of business,
and mercy is out of the fucking question when you’ve been
wronged.
“Fuck!” I grind out, so angry at myself that I could fucking
cry.
Which I won’t do. Ever.
Grabbing a towel, I dry myself quickly then pull on my
leggings, vest, grey hoodie, and a pair of warm socks before
running a comb through my hair. I yank at the strands until I’m
satisfied I’ve got all the tangles out, then head into my
bedroom and pick up my copy of Grimms’ fairy tales, opening
it up on the story, The Juniper Tree, a gruesome fairy tale
about a young man murdered by his evil stepmother who
cooks the boy and feeds him to his father.
Nothing like a dark story to take my mind off everything.
Getting under the covers, I turn on my side and read, too
engrossed in the twisted minds of the Grimm brothers to
notice someone entering my room.
“Are you asleep?” Beast asks, making me jump.
“Jesus Christ, ever heard of knocking?!” I snap, sitting up
in bed to face him.
“I did. You were too busy reading…” he replies, eyeing the
book left discarded next to me. “Which story are you reading
tonight?”
 “What do you want?” I retort, not wanting to talk.
Beast steps towards the bed, and I narrow my eyes at him.
Things could’ve gone so differently tonight if he hadn’t put
thoughts in my head. I need to prove to Carter that I’m not a
bleeding heart. That I can, and will, be able to run Tales by his
side, and Beast clearly isn’t the man who’s going to help me to
do that. I’m not sure why that makes me feel both unutterably
safe in his presence and simultaneously furious. It’s confusing
as fuck.
“Carter wanted me to pass on a message.”
“And why can’t he do that himself?” I ask, shifting in bed
as I draw my knees up and clutch them to my chest, only to
promptly let them go when I realise how fucking pathetic it is
to self-comfort myself in this moment.
Beast frowns watching me as I shift about. “Because he’s
gone to Nine Lives.”
“Of course he has.”
“Yeah. Said he needed to forget about what went down
tonight and… unwind.”
“What, inside one of the strippers?” I snort, ignoring the
way my stomach turns over. “Yeah, sounds about right.”
Carter isn’t an apologetic man so his actions shouldn’t surprise
me in the least, but it still stings that he can’t even bear to be
under the same roof as me.
“He also wanted me to go over the rebuild plans for Tales
with you.”
I blink in surprise. “After everything that happened tonight
he still trusts me to handle it?”
Beast nods. “You’re smart, Princess. Capable. He’d be a
fool not to notice that. The plans are on the kitchen table. I’ve
made coffee.”
“But I’m also the inferior species, right?” I scoff, shoving
back the covers, climbing out of bed and moving past him into
the hallway.
 “That was a low fucking blow,” Beast admits as we stride
down the stairs.
“True though, at least part of it,” I say as I reach the
kitchen table and glance at the plans laid out there.
“None of it’s true,” Beast argues, pulling out a chair and
sitting down next to me. He hands me a mug of coffee with
cream. I take a sip, tasting the sweetness of honey.
“You know how I take my coffee?” I ask.
He cocks his head to the side. “I pay attention.”
“Hmm,” I mutter, glancing at him behind the rim of my
mug as I drink the perfectly made coffee and try to unravel
everything that’s gone down tonight. If he knows that I’m
staring he doesn’t make a point of it. Instead he takes a sip of
his own coffee and looks at the plans, a little crease forming
between his eyes.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask eventually.
“Sure,” he replies, focusing back on me as he places his
mug on the table.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to be Kate and not Grim?”
Beast chews on his bottom lip, then remembering that I
know it’s his tell, frees it from between his teeth. “Because
you’ve got a good heart.”
“So you think I’m a bleeding heart as well? Figures,” I
snort, shaking my head and focusing back on the plans, not
really taking any of it in. Carter has been wanting to fix up
Tales for a while now, and a couple of months back he gave
me the responsibility to oversee the build starting in a few
weeks. Of course I jumped at the chance. Now my heart isn’t
really in it. The fucking irony.
“No, I don’t. But I do think you have the potential to be so
much more than—”
“What? A criminal?” I roll my eyes.
 “Well, I was gonna say a murderer, but yeah, that too,” he
says with a straight face.
“Pot, Kettle… Are you suddenly getting a conscience or
something?” He doesn’t break out into a smile at my response,
or have that usual twinkle in his eyes. Tonight he’s serious as
fuck, and it’s more unnerving than when he’s pissed off or
angry. “What?” I press.
“Do you think I wanted this life?” he asks me, adjusting
his chair so that he’s facing me. His knees brush against my
thighs, and my stomach does a little flip at the slight contact.
Frowning, I adjust my position too, so that I’m facing him
more. “You didn’t?”
“No one chooses this life, Princess.”
“They don’t? Could’ve fooled me. Have you met the
patrons of Tales?”
“Okay, so maybe some people walk into this life with their
eyes wide open,” he concedes. “But a lot of them ended up
here because there was no other way. They were either brought
up in it and they really didn’t have a fucking choice, or they
fell into it because they couldn’t see any other way.”
“And here’s Carter calling me a bleeding heart,” I sass,
trying to make light of a serious discussion.
Beast sighs. “I don’t enjoy killing people for a living,
Princess.”
“No?” My brows shoot up at that because a part of me
always wondered.
“No.” His finger taps at the table as he considers what to
say next. “I’m numb to it now, and it’s true that taking
someone’s life doesn’t affect me, but I’ve never gotten any
kicks out of it. I do what I need to do for myself or for the
people I’m loyal to. That’s it. That’s all.”
“So you’re a lover not a fighter?” I joke, trying my
damndest to make him smile, because serious Beast makes me
way more nervous than any other version of him that I’ve met
already.
 “I’m both,” he smiles then. It’s a small, sexy smile, and I
try my hardest not to stare at his handsome face for too long.
“But I’m also a cold-blooded killer.”
I grin, nudging his knee with mine. “You don’t scare me,
Beast.”
The look he gives me next has my smile slipping from my
face. “I know and that’s a huge fucking problem.”
“Why?”
“Because you should be scared. I’m not a good fucking
man, Princess. None of us are. There’s a darkness in me that
I’ve come to accept. That will never go away. Not ever. I can’t
be saved, and I’ve long since lost the ability to fucking choose
the man I want to be. This life, my life, is nothing to aspire to.”
“You’re well respected. Dom and the guys look up to you,”
I argue.
“Maybe so, that doesn’t mean I’m not a bad man.”
“They like you.”
“Perhaps that’s true, and maybe that’s only because they’re
just the same as me. But how much can you truly like a man
who could end your life just like that?” he says, snapping his
fingers. “I’m respected, yes. Liked…? That’s a matter of
opinion.”
“Connall would say otherwise.”
“Connall is like a brother to me. We knew each other
before.”
“Before?” I ask him, keen to find out about his past and
where he came from. All I know is that he was a fighter at
Ransom’s club and he grew up in Birmingham before moving
here to work for my dad a year ago.
“Connall was a childhood friend. He lived in Shirley too.
Moved to London a couple of years before me to work for his
family. One of the reasons I took the job was so I could hang
out with him again.”
“You went to school together?” I ask.
 Beast laughs, and this time his eyes twinkle. “We skipped
school together. Got up to the usual shit.”
“Like what?”
“Like pulling girls older than ourselves, smoking weed,
getting into fights. You know, that kind of thing. Wherever
trouble was, so were we. Best fucking years of my life.”
“I can imagine.” I grin, but when his smile drops, mine
does too. “What is it?”
“I didn’t make things easy for my mum. She was a good
woman, and for a while I caused her a lot of grief. I regret it.”
“Was it just you and her?” I ask tentatively.
His expression darkens. “I had a dad too. He was a dick.”
I nod. “That bad, huh?”
Beast scrapes a hand over his face. “A womaniser and a
fucking drunk. Mum got sick with cancer, and he left us to
look after each other. She died when I was seventeen.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for him. My fingers wrap
around his arm, squeezing gently. “That must’ve been hard.”
“It was. Watching her waste away before my eyes with
stomach cancer was the single fucking hardest thing I ever had
to endure.”
“Your dad didn’t help at all?”
“No.” Beast’s jaw tightens at the memory. “But he did
have the gall to turn up at the funeral half cut, saying how
much he fucking loved her when he hadn’t seen either of us in
two fucking years. I lost my head and almost beat him to
death. If Connall wasn’t there to pull me off of him, I
would’ve.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, meeting his gaze and feeling his rage
like it’s my own. To have to take care of your mum whilst
she’s dying of cancer is bad enough, but to do it alone?
Fucking unforgivable.
“That day I went to the funeral as Roger, and left as Beast.
I made my choice, and here I am.”
 “And your dad, is he still alive?”
“Barely. Last I heard he was living in an abandoned
warehouse wasting away from liver disease and addiction. I
don’t give a fuck, honestly. He deserves whatever shitty life
he’s barely living.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“You know, I often wonder if things would’ve turned out
differently had my mum still been alive.”
“Would they have?”
“Maybe. She was a straight talking woman. A good
woman.” He sighs, scraping a hand over his head. “And I
might’ve been a good man for her. Or at least tried harder to
be.”
“You are a good man, Beast.”
“I think you’ve got me all wrong, Princess,” he scoffs,
shaking his head.
“I don’t think I do. You have a moral compass. Look what
you did for that little girl and her aunt…” I say, knowing deep
down that was all on him and had nothing to do with Carter.
That thought stings, because for a long time Carter had
been my idol of sorts. Of late my rose tinted glasses have been
removed, and I’m beginning to see him as others do.
“That was guilt,” he mutters, taking another sip of his
coffee.
“No,” I disagree. “Maybe there’s more of your mum inside
of you than you think.”
“It’s a nice thought, but I know who and what I am,
Princess, as should you.”
“But I do.”
“You don’t. But that’s irrelevant.” He gives me a guarded
look then asks, “Why did you come tonight when I told you
not to?”
 “Because no one tells me what I can and can’t do,” I reply,
twisting my body away from him, and blindly staring at the
plans.
“Maybe that’s part of it, because we all know you’re
stubborn, but there’s more to it than that.”
“Carter wanted me there,” I shrug. “I figured it would be
for a good reason.”
“Yeah, to put a bullet in Saxon’s brain. He was testing
you.”
“And I failed.”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
“On whose point of view.”
“Carter’s point of view is the only one that matters.” Even
as I say the words I hate the way it sounds.
“Really, the only one?” he questions, stealing another
glance at me.
“Yours then?”
“Fuck no.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “What I think is
irrelevant when all is said and done.”
“Yet you didn’t want me to go to the club tonight. You
didn’t want me to shoot Saxon.”
“Of course I fucking didn’t.”
“Why? Why does it matter to you so much?” I ask.
“I just wanted to give you time to make the right choice for
you,” he says with a wry smile. “I thought that was obvious.”
“I get that, but why does it matter so much to you whether
I make the right choice, for me?” I press, needing him to give
me something, anything. There’s an attraction between us. I
felt it. I feel it. He cares for me beyond his role as my
bodyguard. I know he does.
“Because sometimes all we need is someone to guide us in
the right direction in order to save us from ourselves.”
 “And you’re that person for me?”
“In this case, I guess I am.” He side-eyes me, adding,
“Don’t think too much into it. I don’t want you to get the
wrong impression.”
“And what impression would that be?”
“Tonight I overstepped.”
“What, so now you’re saying you shouldn’t have said
anything?”
“No, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact
we danced at Macey’s Bar.”
“It was just a dance,” I reply, knowing full well it was way
more than that. I felt the way his heart hammered beneath my
cheek, how warm his hands felt on my skin, how hard he was.
He frowns, shaking his head. “Whatever it was, it ain’t
happening again.”
“Sure thing,” I take a sip of my coffee pretending I don’t
give a shit.
For a moment we fall silent, but then I ask, “If you could
go back and change the fact you beat up your dad, becoming
Beast, would you?”
“Fuck no. I’d make sure I finished the job.”
“Same applies to me,” I reply. “If I could do tonight over
again, I would. I should’ve shot Saxon. I should’ve shown
Carter what I’m capable of. Now I just look like a fool. A
woman who can’t handle her emotions, who listened to her
bleeding fucking heart instead of her head.”
“You made the right choice,” Beast insists, as I huff out a
frustrated breath.
“No. I didn’t. Whether you like it or not, I’m a Davidson.
This life, this is who I am.” Standing, I push back the chair.
“Thanks for the coffee, but I’m suddenly not in the mood to go
over the plans tonight.”
“Princess…” Beast begins but I shake my head, cutting
him off.
 “It’s Grim, okay?”
“But I kind of like the way Princess rolls off my tongue,”
he says, back to the flirty banter. It’s like a security blanket for
him, and it successfully puts an invisible barrier between us. I
roll my eyes, but when I move to walk away, Beast grabs my
wrist, his fingers wrapping around me tightly.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to say.”
My gaze flicks from his face to his hand squeezing my
wrist. I swallow hard ignoring the way my skin heats from his
touch. “Go on then.”
“I appreciate the chat tonight. It’s been a long time since
I’ve talked with anyone about my mum. Thank you,” he says
earnestly.
“No problem,” I reply, my stomach flipping over as his
thumb glides over the sensitive skin of my wrist. I can feel my
cheeks heating, but I ignore it. “Thank you for the coffee.”
He looks from the heat creeping up my neck and cheeks
down to his hand holding my wrist and blanches like he’s only
just realised he’s touching me. Dropping my wrist, he clears
his throat and says, “If you’re intent on being Grim, then I
won’t stop you. If that’s the choice you make, then I’ll watch
your back. Always.”
“I appreciate that.” My expression softens, my heart
thumping at his promise. He notices.
“But I’ll do it in the same capacity as I do for Carter, as an
employee. I’m not and never will be anything more than that to
you. Are we clear?”
“Perfectly,” I reply, moving to walk away. Only after a few
paces, I stop and twist on my heel to face him. “But are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Clear?”
“I just said—”
“Oh, I heard the words that came out of your mouth, Beast,
but perhaps you need to have a chat with your body, because
that’s telling a whole other story,” I reply, before striding out
of the kitchen and back to my room.
 CHAPTER SIX

Medicine
“I don’t fucking care, Grim!” Carter shouts from inside his
office, a week after I shot Saxon in the head not more than a
few metres from this spot. “You need to learn to toe the damn
line!”
“Toe the line?” she scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping her lips
as I push open the door without bothering to knock. Thank
fuck the gym cleared out half hour ago, otherwise the patrons
would be having a field day listening to this shit.
“What the fuck do you want?” Carter shouts as I step into
the room. The vein in his forehead bulging with anger.
“Just a reminder that you’ve got a meeting scheduled in an
hour.”
Meeting, my arse. Carter’s got an appointment with his
regular fuck at The Crib Club, and an evening of gambling
with his friends. Of course, that’s a truth he’d rather keep to
himself.
“And you couldn’t fucking knock first?” he retorts,
scowling.
“I did, you didn’t hear,” I lie.
The fact of the matter is, they’ve been arguing for the past
ten minutes about Kate’s extracurricular activities after Carter
sent her to his strip club a few days ago to go over the books
and learn a few things about running a successful business
with Matilda, the manager. Only she ended up learning more
than he’d bargained for. According to Matty, as we all call
Matilda, she’s really good at pole dancing. All that upper body
strength she’s gained from sparring in the ring with me, and
yoga shit she likes to do, has given her the perfect tools to spin
around a pole. She’s flexible and strong.
Clearly, Carter’s just found out and is pissing fire about it.
Can’t say I blame him. The thought of Kate spinning
around a pole in heeled platform shoes has got me feeling all
kinds of ways too. Mostly dick-as-hard-as-rock ways,
combined with whose-eyes-do-I-need-to-gouge-out ways.
Seriously, the fuck?
Carter scrapes a hand through his hair and eyes Grim.
“We’ll talk about this later. I’ve got work to do.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about. I was having fun. The
club was empty apart from the girls. It was no big deal. It
wasn’t as if I flashed my tits at a bunch of desperate men like
him,” she argues, folding her arms across her chest in anger as
she jerks her chin at me.
Desperate? Rude. But also, thank fuck. My inner
possessive arsehole takes a calming breath now that he knows
the club was closed.
“Excuse me?” I raise a brow at her sass, which of course
she fucking ignores. “I’ve never been desperate in my life.
Women flock to me, not the other way around.”
She smirks. “Whatever you tell yourself to make you feel
better.”
Carter’s fist lands on the table with a loud thump, making
Kate jump. “I don’t give a fuck if you were having fun. You’re
a Davidson,” Carter seethes, thumping his fist against the table
to drive the point home. “You act accordingly. Do I make
myself clear?”
“Crystal,” she bites out.
“Good because I’m done with your shit tonight.” Carter
stands, pulling on his suit jacket and grabbing his phone and
wallet from the desk, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. I
can see the rage bubbling beneath her skin and she opens her
mouth to argue, but I cut in.
“I’ve got the car pulled up out front.”
“Good, I’ll get Dom to drive me. You can take Grim home
and make sure she fucking stays there.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!” Kate argues, taking the words
right out of my mouth because I sure as fuck don’t want to
babysit her either. Every time we’re alone together something
stupid fucking happens and I need to keep my distance.
“What you need is a lesson in respect!” Carter roars, his
face turning red as he stalks around his desk and strides over
to Kate. She stands her ground, too stubborn to back down.
“Carter—” I begin.
“Stay the fuck out of this!” he shouts, turning his rage back
on Kate. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
She glares back at him, her fire meeting his. “You once
told me that I need to stand up for myself. That I should never
let anyone, no matter who they are, walk all over me. I’m
doing that now, Dad,” she adds with as much venom as she
can muster.
Fuck me, she’s fierce tonight.
I wait for Carter to explode because the only thing he hates
more than being disrespected is being called out. I ready
myself to grab him, because whilst he’s my boss and I respect
him, I don’t respect any man that hits a woman. They face off,
nose to nose, and then Carter does something that surprises
me, he laughs. Tipping his head back, he roars with fucking
laughter. Kate’s as shocked as I am by his sudden change of
attitude.
“Carter?” she questions, looking far more bothered by his
laughter than she was by his anger.
“You’re right, I did,” he eventually says, chuckling now.
Kate frowns. “Did what?”
 “Tell you not to let anyone walk all over you, and whilst
I’d like to point out that I’m not walking all over you, merely
protecting our motherfucking name,” he scowls, giving her a
warning glare that quietens the words forming on her tongue,
“I’m your dad and I know this world better than anyone. Don’t
act like a slut, or you’ll be treated like one.”
A slut? The fucking prick. “Carter,” I warn, unable to help
myself. Kate’s no more of a slut than I am a fucking virgin.
“And you,” he says, turning on me. “Do your fucking job.”
“My job? And at what point haven’t I done my job?” I ask,
as calmly as humanly possible because what the actual fuck is
this bullshit?
“Grim has a name to uphold. You know that. Making
friends with the strippers at Nine Lives and spending her time
there spinning around a motherfucking pole isn’t what gets the
job done, and neither is backing off from shooting the cunt
who dared steal from us. Do. Your. Job!”
“His job?” Kate blurts out, as shocked as I am.
One, I’m not her dad, he is. Two, fuck him if he thinks I’m
the kind of man who will mold a woman to suit my needs.
Admittedly, I didn’t like the thought of her dancing for another
man, and am relieved to find out she was just having some fun
with the girls, but who the fuck am I to tell her what she can
and can’t do? Ultimately that ain’t my fucking business.
“You’re my eyes and ears when I’m not around to watch
over her,” Carter continues. “Where the fuck were you when
Grim was spinning around a pole, huh?”
Dragging your sorry arse out of The Crib Club, half-cut
and ten grand down after losing a game of cards and shagging
some top class pussy, I almost say, but hold my tongue. That
answer will likely get me shot, and I’d rather not die tonight if
I can help it.
“Noted. I’ll do my job better,” I say, even though it grinds
my gears to do so.
Kate shakes her head, barking out a laugh and earning a
glare from me. I don’t need her going off about the fact I
wasn’t really doing my fucking job when I danced with her at
Macey’s the other night. I do actually want to keep my
bollocks.
“Good!” He starts to move towards the door, then stops,
spinning on his heels. “Actually scrap taking Grim home, you
can start doing a proper job with her right the fuck now.”
“What are you thinking?” I ask, because let’s face it, I’m
on unsteady ground here. Who the fuck knows what he’s
getting at. Carter has always had a short fuse, but I’ve never
seen him go off on Kate like this before and I ain’t about to get
myself fired for not reading his fucking mind correctly.
“Take her to the shooting range. Don’t leave until she can
handle a gun.”
“I know how to handle a gun, Carter,” Kate protests, and
she does. Carter’s been teaching her how to shoot since she
was a kid. What happened the other night had nothing to do
with her form and everything to do with the thoughts I’d put in
her head. “Carter, I know how to handle a gun,” she repeats.
“That’s what I’d thought. Only looks like you need a
fucking reminder. Maybe you’ll pay more attention if Beast is
teaching you instead of me?” he asks, looking between us.
Neither of us respond. Not sure what point he’s trying to
make here, but I ain’t about to second guess that either. Pretty
sure if he thought I was fucking Grim I’d be dead already.
“Don’t wait up. I expect it to be a long meeting,” he adds,
before striding from the room.
The second the front door to the club slams shut, Kate lets
out a frustrated scream and storms into the gym taking her
anger out on the punch bag hanging in the corner of the room.
Her fists aren’t wrapped and it isn’t long before she’s cursing
the air blue from the splits to her knuckles.
“Not the wisest decision you made,” I remark, leaning
against the wall as I watch her pace up and down in fury, her
knuckles dripping blood.
“Don’t you fucking start! I was just having fun!”
 “I wasn’t talking about you pole dancing, though I’d like
to have seen that.” I smirk, and she picks up a discarded
boxing glove and chucks it at my head. I catch it easily and
drop it on the mat at my feet.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Biting back the laugh that threatens to spill from my lips, I
approach her. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine,” she says, turning her back to me.
“You’re bleeding,” I point out, stepping around her. “Let
me see.”
She huffs out a breath, and realising I’m not going to give
up, holds out her hands. “What have I taught you?” I ask,
gently inspecting her wounds.
“Clearly, I’m shit at being a student as well as a daughter,”
she sasses back, hissing when I press on her middle knuckle
that’s not split but clearly tender, and will no doubt bruise.
“That hurt?”
“Not in the slightest,” she lies.
“I don’t think they’re broken, but I will clean and wrap
them up, that should help when we go to the shooting range.”
“I’m not going,” she says stubbornly.
“You’re going,” I reply just as stubbornly.
“What’s the matter, scared you’re going to get fired if I
refuse to go with you?” she asks, as I grasp her elbow and
walk her over to the small medical room just off the gym.
“Sit down.”
“Oh my God, you are, aren’t you?” she laughs. “The great
Beast is really a fucking pussy.”
“Sit the fuck down, Princess!” I growl, losing my fucking
patience as I gather up some cotton wool pads, iodine solution
and a bandage to wrap her knuckles once I’ve cleaned them
up.
 She’s on a downward spiral tonight, and whilst I get where
she’s coming from, understanding she feels trapped by her
father and resenting the fact that she can’t let loose like any
other person her age can, there’s a line she’s crossing with me
right now and I’m not fucking cool with it.
“Or what?” she counters, picking a fight, clearly needing
to take her frustrations out on someone, and that someone
happens to be me.
“Or nothing. I’ll leave you to fix yourself up and wait
outside. Then I’ll drive you to the shooting range just like
Carter asked me to do.”
“You didn’t do what Carter wanted you to do the other
night though, did you? Pretty sure he’d have something to say
about you slow dancing with me.”
“Listen, Princess,” I snap, striding towards her so quickly
that she stumbles back, her arse dropping to the gurney. “If
you think for one second I’m going to stand here and listen to
this bullshit, you can think again. You’re angry at Carter, I get
it, but don’t take your shit with him out on me. I’m just doing
my fucking job!”
She snorts with derision. “Like you were doing your job
the other night?”
“We’ve gone over this already. It won’t happen again.”
We stare at each other, a series of mingled breaths and
heavy breathing as I stand between her parted legs, my hands
flat on the gurney beside her hips as she leans away from me. I
hadn’t even realised I’d gotten so close, and right now I can’t
seem to back the fuck up either.
“Why not?” she asks eventually, and her voice is so quiet,
so tinged with disappointment that I can’t help being affected
by it.
Fuck, I want to pull her in my arms and reassure her that
one day I’ll be the man who will treat her the way she deserves
to be treated and not talked down to or ridiculed like her dad
has been doing lately, but I don’t, because what’s worse than
hope… False hope. So, instead I give her the truth.
 “I can’t get involved with my boss’s daughter.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“So you’ve thought about it?”
“What gave you that impression? I overstepped once,” I
counter evenly. If she thinks she can get me to admit I’m
attracted to her, she can think again. “Now give me your damn
hands.”
“I’m pretty sure this is overstepping,” she murmurs,
shifting forward an inch as I move closer.
“Nope, this is me taking care of you,” I reply, pressing my
hips against the edge of the gurney so that I can keep my
bastard dick in check.
“Exactly. This isn’t part of your job description.”
“I’m your bodyguard—”
“Babysitter,” she interrupts.
“Bodyguard,” I insist, trying not to pay attention to the
way her inner thighs rub against my legs as she shifts on the
gurney, but failing spectacularly. “And it’s my job to keep you
safe, to take care of you.”
Her eyes twinkle at that and I ready myself for her smart-
arsed reply. There’s a lot that I like about Kate, and that starts
with her fiery nature and continues with her smart mouth,
everything else is just gravy. She makes me smile like no one
else. She’s like a medicine to my grumpy arse, moody-as-fuck
nature. I shouldn’t like that but fuck, I do.
“Tomayto, Tomahto,” she replies with a huge grin.
“Pretty sure you’re getting on my last fucking nerve,” I
grumble, unscrewing the cap of the iodine solution and
soaking the cotton wool, refusing to acknowledge how she’s
affecting me, but secretly loving it.
“Ditto,” she replies, eyes dropping to my crotch and rising
back upwards. She’s smirking now, and if she were anyone
else, I’d lay her over my lap and smack her arse for being so
damned infuriating.
“Hand,” I demand.
Rolling her eyes, she rests her palm in mine. “Fine.”
I do my damndest not to react to the way her touch makes
my dick jerk and my balls tingle. Instead, I concentrate on
blotting her skin and clearing up the blood. When I’m happy
she’s cleaned up, I gently press against each knuckle, and the
bones in her hand and fingers to make sure she’s not got a
fracture.
“I think you’re good,” I say, and grabbing the bandages,
wrap her knuckles, tying them off. My fingers linger on her
skin longer than they should and, of course, she takes this as a
perfect opportunity to push the boundaries between us some
more.
“Don’t I get a kiss better too?” she asks, a small smile
tugging up her perfect cupid’s bow lips.
Damn her.
If she were mine for the night, the things I’d do to her. I
imagine sliding my hands into her hair, fucking her mouth
with my tongue and dry-humping her on this gurney until she
comes, just to show her that she shouldn’t ask for something
she can’t fucking handle. Then I’d give her all those things,
until she was so turned on that she’d be begging me to make
her come again and again and again.
“Beast?”
“We should head over to the shooting range now,” I reply,
blinking away those dangerous thoughts. I chuck the bloody
cotton pads in the bin and put the iodine solution and cotton
wool back in the medicine cabinet.
She sighs, standing. “Yeah, I guess we should.”
With my back still turned to her, I take a moment to clear
my head and will my dick to deflate. Every time I’m alone
with her things get intense, and it’s a sucker punch to the gut
every damn time. I don’t like the feeling of wanting something
I can’t have. It’s fucking with my head.
“Look, I’m sorry if I was out of order tonight,” she says,
sensing my change of mood. It’s a genuine apology and I take
it as one.
“No need to apologise to me, Princess,” I reply, giving her
a tight smile as I turn around to face her.
Her returning look is one that I can’t interpret, and one that
makes me a little uncomfortable if truth be told. I take pride in
being able to read people well, or at least get a handle on their
motivations for doing something, but with Kate it’s not so
easy. Sometimes she’s an open book, other times she’s so
closed off it’s hard to know what she’s feeling, let alone take a
punt at what she might be thinking. Either way, right now
she’s shutting down in a way that I don’t particularly like but
have no business trying to prevent her from doing.
“Shall we go?” I ask her as she chews on the inside of her
lip.
“I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
“No,” I agree.
“And yet the other night you tried to convince me that I
did, that I could walk away from this life. Only we both know
that’s impossible. You think it’s because of Carter and his hold
over me, but I know the truth.”
“And what’s that?”
“Despite my frustration today, despite the fact I hate Carter
curbing my fun and controlling my actions, I want to be Queen
of Tales, and I will do whatever it takes to get there.”
I frown. “Even killing someone?”
“Yeah, even that.”
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Secrets and Lies

“Well that was fun,” I remark dryly as Beast and I step out of
the shooting range and head towards his car. We’ve spent the
last hour shooting the shit out of the bullseye paper target.
Pretty sure we’re evenly matched in terms of accuracy and I’m
more than positive I can handle a fucking gun.
“Your form is good, Princess. I’m impressed,” Beast
replies, reaching for the passenger door before I can open it
myself.
His fingers brush against mine and I remove them quickly,
shifting slightly out of the way so that I don’t do something
crazy like step into him and drag my nose against the open
collar of his shirt just so that I can breathe him in. He smells
good enough to eat and I find my gaze dropping to his crotch
and lingering there. I’ve never given a man a blowjob, but I’m
pretty sure I’d enjoy giving him one.
“Princess?” Eyes snapping up, I give him a bland smile
that he returns with a broad one of his own. “In you get,” he
says, pulling the door open.
Since when does he open car doors for me? I wrinkle my
nose, not sure how to take this gentlemanly behaviour. Is this
how he treats all his women? No wonder he’s so popular with
the ladies. “Thanks?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, chuckling as I climb
into my seat and pull the door shut.
 “What was that?” I ask him the minute he climbs into the
car.
“What was what?”
“The whole opening the door for me thing.”
Beast snorts. “Why does it bother you so much? I was
being a gent.”
“You’ve never done that before,” I reply.
“Then I apologise for being a shitty human. I will
endeavour to open more doors for you in the future.”
“Have you taken something?” I ask, side-eyeing him as he
puts the car in drive and we head out onto the street. “You’re
acting weird. First the compliment, then opening the door for
me. It’s not like you.”
“Not taken a damn thing,” he shrugs.
I study his side profile, waiting for him to burst out
laughing. He doesn’t.
“That’s good then,” I reply lamely as I look out of the
window and blink away the image of his straight nose, cut
cheekbones and sharp jaw covered in a two day old stubble.
His kind of attractiveness should be outlawed. I’m pretty sure
he’s a danger to my health.
Turning my attention to the passing scenery, I try to push
all thoughts of Beast’s attractiveness out of my head and focus
on my rumbling stomach that’s decided to make itself known.
I haven’t eaten since breakfast and my stomach feels like my
throat has been cut given it’s now dark and pushing eight
o’clock in the evening.
“Hungry?” Beast asks.
“Starving,” I admit, glancing over at him.
“I know a place. Want to join me for dinner?” he asks all
casually like it’s no big deal, and it didn’t just sound like he’d
asked me on a date. Probably because he hadn’t.
It’s not like we haven’t eaten together before. Beast spends
an awful lot of time over at my house purely because he’s
always needed by Carter for one thing or another. He’s even
got a room at the house in case work meetings go late and he
needs a place to crash. That and the fact that Carter insists I’m
not left alone whilst he does fuck knows what, with fuck
knows who. When I said Beast is a glorified babysitter, I
meant it.
“Sure, why not?”
“Great.”
Half an hour later we’re parked down a quiet side street in
Soho. I jump out of the car before Beast can open the door for
me. It feels weird waiting for a man to do something that I can
do for myself just as easily. Besides, I’m getting hangry and
need to eat something before I set on someone.
“This place serves food?” I ask, looking up at the
nondescript building in front of me. It has blacked-out
windows and a boarded-up door.
“It’s a speakeasy,” he explains.
“You’re shitting me?!”
“Nope. It’s owned by the Ricci family.”
“The Ricci family? Aren’t they Italian mobsters?”
“Ain’t we gangsters?”
I laugh. “Point taken. How do you know about this place?”
“I know a lot of people, Princess.”
“And this speakeasy doubles up as a restaurant.”
“Best Italian food in London, for those with the password,
that is,” he replies with a smirk as he strides over to the
boarded-up door and raps his knuckles against the wood. A
wooden slot slides open at about eye level and dark brown
eyes with thick black eyebrows peer out at us. They crinkle at
the edges when they notice who’s standing at the door.
“Password?” a thick, heavily accented male voice
commands.
“Amore,” Beast replies.
 Love.
Having an Italian housekeeper has come in handy it would
seem. The question is why is Beast taking me to a speakeasy
where the password is love. Am I reading too much into this?
“Welcome Beast, I see you’ve brought a friend,” the voice
replies as the sound of several locks unclick and the door
swings open revealing a handsome, smartly dressed man of
about thirty years old with neatly groomed black hair and
perfect white teeth.
“Good to see you, Romeo,” Beast replies as the two men
shake hands. “This is Miss Davidson. Carter’s daughter.”
“Ah! Yes, I’ve heard much about you.”
“You have?”
“Beast speaks very highly of you,” he replies with a wide
grin as he opens the door and steps aside to let us in.
“Welcome to Sapori.”
I glance up at Beast, a frown pulling my brows together.
“You do?” I whisper.
He just shrugs, a smile in his eyes as he rests his hand on
the small of my back. “Ladies first.”
My skin tingles beneath his touch and I’m hyper aware of
his nearness as we follow Romeo down a darkened hallway
and a set of stairs. The walls and floors are painted black, and
a strip of red LEDs running either side of the hallway gives us
just enough light to see where we’re going.
Stopping in front of a door at the bottom of the stairs,
Romeo turns to me with a warm smile that really doesn’t befit
his reputation, then says, “I think you’ll enjoy what Sapori has
to offer, Beast certainly has in the past.”
“Thank you,” I reply, not quite sure how to interpret that
comment, then suddenly not caring as Romeo opens the door
and we look down into wonderland. “Wow!” I exclaim, totally
taken aback by what I see before me.
“You like?” Romeo asks, moving to one side to allow us to
step onto the balcony overlooking the room below.
 “It’s incredible,” I say, my gaze taking in every detail with
more than a little bit of awe and wonder.
The whole room is wrapped in floor to ceiling stained
glass windows that are backlit by spotlights instead of daylight
given this is a basement. Splatters of prismatic light filter
through the different coloured panes of glass and it’s as though
an artist has painted the room in a flurry of colour that is both
sensual and rich all at the same time.
Couples sit at every table, candles flickering between them
as they eat, enjoying the sultry sound of a woman singing. Her
voice is pure, undiluted sex, and I search the room, finding the
owner of such an incredible voice perched on a stool next to a
baby grand piano in the corner of the room. She sings whilst
an older gentleman with slicked back grey hair and a
handlebar moustache plays.
“Who’s that?” I can’t help but ask as Romeo guides us
down the ornate gold staircase to a small table tucked into the
corner of the room that’s slightly set back from the main
dining area affording more privacy than the other tables.
“That’s my brother’s wife, Nina Ricci. She’s outstanding,
don’t you agree?”
“I’ve never heard anyone sing so beautifully,” I reply in
awe, staring at her like the rest of the captive audience is.
Not only does her voice sound like pure sex, her figure is
to die for. She has the kind of dips and curves and softness that
most, if not all, men find attractive. My figure is far more lean
from spending the past year training with the fighters of Tales
and sparring in the ring with Beast. I’m envious of her milky
white breasts confined in a corset top that jiggle when she
sings and can’t help but appreciate her auburn hair that falls in
waves around her face. She’s wearing a fascinator with thick
black lace attached, covering her face. There’s something
about the way she holds herself that’s melancholy, and I have
the urge to get a closer look at her, to set eyes on the face of
the woman who sings like temptation personified.
“Take a seat. I will bring you our finest red wine produced
in my family’s vineyard back home in Oltrepò Pavese,”
Romeo says, his gaze flicking to his sister-in-law on the other
side of the room. I want to ask why a woman who sings like
she does isn’t in the spotlight, but hold my tongue. It’s not my
business to know.
“Sounds good, Romeo,” Beast says, pulling out my chair
so that I can sit down.
I blink up at him, completely thrown off guard by his
continued gentlemanly behaviour and the wonder of such a
place. It’s a far cry from what I’ve grown up used to. Tales is a
fight club filled with sweaty, testosterone fuelled men, and on
most weekends, blood and spilt booze. This place oozes
sophistication. It’s classy, reeks of money and refinery. I love
everything about it.
“This place is amazing,” I exclaim, my head filling with so
many ideas for the future of Tales, and the Davidsons’ family
business. Imagine a fight club that’s just as sophisticated as
this place? We could have the rawness and grit of a bloody
fight between two worthy opponents set against a backdrop
that reeks of elegance and finesse. Perhaps we could even
provide similar entertainment like this between fights?
“It is, isn’t it? The Ricci family know their shit. Good
food, fine wines, great entertainment and a club to be envious
of.”
“Do you know her well?” I ask, wondering how friendly
he is with Nina Ricci. She’s married, and if I know Beast as
well as I think I do, he doesn’t go after married women,
especially women married to acquaintances of his. That’s a
whole mess I think he’s got the smarts not to get embroiled in.
“I’ve never met her formally, though we’ve been in the
same room on occasion over the years. Her husband Alfonso
keeps her to himself mostly. She only sings here when he’s in
London on business, and never mingles with the guests. I
didn’t know she’d be singing here tonight. We got lucky, I
guess.”
I nod, smiling up at Romeo who’s returned with a bottle of
wine.
 “Would you like to taste it first?” he asks, uncorking the
bottle and pouring a drop into my glass, not Beast’s. That
small token of respect makes me like him even more than I
already do from first impressions. I’m so used to everyone
speaking over me to Carter, or any other man that I might be
accompanying, including Beast, that him not offering the first
taste to Beast is a good sign. This man is respectful of women.
I like that.
“No, I’m sure it’s delicious,” I reply, feeling my cheeks
heat from his attention. He’s a good looking man, but far too
clean-cut for my tastes. I like my men a little rough around the
edges.
“Very well,” he replies, pouring us both a glass then sets
the bottle on the table between us. “Tonight we are serving a
selection of antipasti to start, including tender grilled octopus
with zesty salmoriglio sauce. For primi we have a creamy
mushroom risotto with truffle and for secondi, a beef brisket
with red wine sauce on a layer of fluffy potato.”
I flick my gaze at Beast whose expression remains
deadpan. When he asked if I wanted dinner, I thought we’d
swing by the local chip shop. I wasn’t expecting a fine dining
experience.
“Wow, that’s a lot of food.”
“I’ve not finished yet, bella,” he continues with a wink.
“There’s more?”
“Sì, we have formaggi e frutta and dolce.”
“Whatever you serve, I’m sure it’ll be banging,” Beast
says.
“Perfecto,” Romeo responds, taking that as his cue to
leave. “I shall return with the antipasti shortly.”
“Thank you,” I reply, watching him as he strides across the
room, stopping to talk briefly to other couples as he makes his
way to the kitchen to place our order. “He’s very attentive.”
“He’s a very astute businessman,” Beast says, picking up
his glass of wine and taking a sip. “A Good looking fucker
too.”
I tip my head to the side. Is that a thread of jealousy I
detect in his voice? Deciding that I need to have some fun with
Beast, I bite my bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth before
letting it go with a slight smile. “You’re right, he is. I didn’t
see a wedding ring…” I muse, allowing my gaze to find
Romeo in the room.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Beast replies, taking the bait just
like I knew he would. “He’s old enough to be your dad!”
“What can I say, I’m partial to an older man… Besides I’d
say he’s more in the age bracket of an older brother, rather
than a dad, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t much give a fuck either way. He’s not for you.”
“What’s the matter, Beast? Jealous?” I ask, returning my
attention to him. “I’m betting with a name like that he’s
outstanding in bed too.”
Beast clamps his mouth shut as Romeo returns with the
antipasti, laying the dishes out on the table. My stomach
rumbles, and I give him a sheepish smile. “It smells so good,
thank you, Romeo,” I say, giving him my most flirtatious
smile.
Out of the corner of my eye Beast’s fingers curl into fists
and I suppress my glee. You can’t tell me that there’s nothing
between us when he gives me cues like that. Either he’s
playing games with me or he’s fooling himself. Maybe it’s a
bit of both?
“You’re welcome. Matteo, my head waiter, will serve the
rest of your dinner. I need to speak with Nina for a moment. If
you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course, thank you for your hospitality,” I say, smiling
up at him as he rests his hand briefly on my shoulder in a very
platonic way before striding over to Nina who’s currently
lingering by the bar nestled in the corner of the room. Piano
music still plays, but without her voice harmonising it’s just
not the same.
 “Romeo is a fair man, but he can be ruthless. You might
want to remember that when you give him fuck-me eyes,”
Beast says evenly, and even though his voice is level, calm, his
shoulders are stiff as he leans forward and helps himself to a
forkful of octopus.
I wait for him to put the food in his mouth and chew before
commenting. “And you might want to remember that you’re
not my dad. You’re just my bodyguard, right?”
He chews slowly, his jaw working as he stares at me.
Watching him eat shouldn’t be a turn on, but it is. God help
me, it is. My eyes track to his tattooed throat, watching as his
Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. Why am I so
obsessed with his throat and the intricate tattoos that darken
his skin there? Why am I so obsessed with him full-stop?
“Eat,” he demands.
I smirk then allow my gaze to fall to the dishes laid out
between us, not sure where to start first. Picking up my fork, I
decide to try the octopus too. Spearing the meat, I lift it to my
mouth instantly tasting the garlic followed by this tangy hit of
lemon. It’s delicious and I can’t help but hum in appreciation
as I chew.
“You like that?” Beast asks, shifting forward in his seat
and resting his elbows on the table as he watches me, his gaze
flicking from my eyes to my mouth and back again. The way
he asks the question seems filled with so much more than a
general interest in whether I like what I’m eating.
“So much,” I reply, needing more. I go to spear another
piece of octopus, but instead he pinches a large green olive
stuffed with capers between his forefinger and thumb and
holds it to my lips.
“Try this.”
“I can feed myself, you know,” I say, locking eyes with
him. His returning look is one that makes my skin heat and
sends tingles of awareness scattering down my spine.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies softly, the candlelight flickering
in his eyes as he regards me. “I just thought maybe your
knuckles might still be sore.”
“They’re not.”
“Still…”
The tension between us grows as he swipes the olive
against my bottom lip. Without thinking too much about it, I
allow the tip of my tongue to taste what he’s offering before
pulling back slightly and saying, “I think this goes way beyond
your duty as babysitter.”
He smiles with something more than friendly banter
glistening in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Don’t babysitters
usually have to feed the kids they look after?”
And there he goes again, pushing my buttons.
“I’m not a kid—!”
But my sentence is cut short when he places the olive in
my mouth and I find myself too distracted by the taste of the
olive exploding on my tongue to hold onto my anger.
“Chew,” he instructs with a smirk.
I chew, and his eyes don’t leave my lips the whole time
that I do.
“More?”
“You want to continue to feed me?” I ask.
“Only if you want me to.”
“If this isn’t overstepping, I don’t know what is,” I say,
spearing a prawn soaked in oil.
His smile falters, as if he suddenly realises what he’s doing
and reality sinks back in. I see him hesitate, his hand lowering
and an apology hovering on his lips.
“This is just a bit of fun, right? It doesn’t mean anything?”
I ask, lifting the prawn to his lips. “What’s the matter, Beast,
afraid you might like it?”
“Nah, but I am worried you might like it a little too much,”
he retorts in an even tone that belies the flicker of
apprehension in his gaze.
 “We’ve established that you’re a tease and that I’m game.
Why don’t we just bench the complexities of our relationship
and just go with the flow?” I suggest as calmly as possible.
He narrows his eyes at me, studying my face as though
he’s waiting for me to crack and show how I’m truly feeling
beneath the calm facade.
I don’t.
There’s something to be said about playing it cool, and
whilst on the surface I might appear to be at home in my skin,
confident in my actions, I’m really a fireball of lust and want.
My knickers are soaked. Drenched, in fact.
As soon as I get home I’m going to relieve the tension
that’s been building between us all bloody afternoon. For now,
squeezing my thighs together will have to do.
“I’m not a tease,” he says and this time it’s my turn to
laugh.
“Yeah, and I don’t have a piercing in my clitoral hood.”
When his mouth drops open in shock I take the
opportunity to fill it with the prawn. “Chew.”
He chews, chasing the prawn down with a glug of wine,
swallowing hard.
“Tell me you’re joking,” he says.
“Tell me you’re not a tease.”
“I’m not a fucking tease.”
I grin, a smile pulling up my lips. “Yeah, and I don’t have
a piercing in my clitoral hood.”
He narrows his eyes at me then stabs a prawn with his fork
none too gently. “I think you need to try one,” he says, lifting a
prawn to my parted lips.
I take it between my teeth, a droplet of oil sliding down my
chin as he slowly removes the fork from my mouth. Reaching
up, I try to swipe the oil away, but he gets there first, the pad
of his thumb gliding up my chin and capturing the droplet. He
brings his hand to his lips, and sucks the oil free from his
thumb. His plump lips taking it all the way into his mouth, his
cheeks hollowing out as he sucks, before he pulls his thumb
free. It takes every single last drop of restraint not to melt in a
puddle right here on the chair. Fortunately for us both, I’m
better at keeping myself in check.
I think.
“Delicious,” he mutters, and I can’t help it, I let out a
nervous laugh that sounds far too mocking than I’d intended.
“What’s so funny?”
“Seriously, you don’t know?”
“Know what?” he asks as he grabs his glass of wine and
knocks it back in one long gulp. I’m pretty sure his cheeks are
flushing, though I can’t be one hundred percent certain, given
all of the dappled light from the stained glass windows. I don’t
think I’ve ever seen Beast blush, it’s endearing.
“This,” I say, waving a hand between us. “You’re flirting
with me.”
“I’m not,” he retorts, grabbing a slice of bread and
slathering it in aioli before taking a huge bite, the sauce
dripping out of the corner of his mouth. All the refinement of a
moment ago of gently spearing the food and tenderly feeding
it to me is now gone. He’s acting more beast than gentleman
and I can’t help but find that amusing. I’ve unsettled him.
Good, now he knows what it feels like.
“Oh come on, admit it. We’re on a date. You’ve taken me
on a date,” I tease.
“No, I haven’t,” he argues. “You were hungry and so was
I, figured we could eat together.”
“So bringing me to an intimate speakeasy and feeding me
all whilst staring into my eyes like it’s me you want to feast on
wasn’t what you were doing just now?” I ask with a sweet
smile, internally giggling at how flummoxed he is.
“I—” he splutters, dropping the slathered bread onto his
side plate and swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
 “Because as much as I’ve enjoyed this meal so far,” I
interrupt, “Maybe it’s me who should put some boundaries
between us, given everything you’ve already said tonight? You
can’t and won’t make a move on your boss’s daughter, right?”
“Princess,” he says, and it comes out like an apology that
makes me feel far more awkward about what’s happening
between us than his flirty behaviour ever has. I don’t like the
sound of regret in his voice. It pisses me off.
“Look, I’m not someone you can come onto one minute,
then disregard the next. I’m not your plaything, Beast,” I say,
and despite the relaxed smile I give him, I mean every word.
“You’re right.” He nods, swiping a hand over his face.
“Looks like I need a lesson in chivalry. I wasn’t thinking. I
meant no harm. I apologise.”
“You’re only human,” I reply with an easy shrug. “Can’t
say I blame you for wanting what I’ve got to offer.”
Beast shakes his head, and I see him shutting down, all the
flirtatiousness making way for seriousness once more. “And
now that I’ve been effortlessly put into my place, shall we just
eat using our own forks this time?”
“Sure,” I reply, digging into the food, the rest of our
conversation drowned out by Nina’s seductive voice singing as
we eat.
I feel Beast’s eyes on me throughout the whole meal and
there’s no denying that Beast wants me as much as I want him.
He can lie to himself all he wants, but I know his secret.
I also know what it means for us.
Nothing good, at least not where Carter’s concerned.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

She Drives Me Crazy

“Beast, eyes on the prize man,” Dom says, shoving his fist into
my bicep a few days later. “Look at that piece of ass, fucking
delicious.”
Lifting my hazy-as-fuck gaze from the bottom of my triple
shot glass of bourbon, I look up at Nancy shaking her arse
before me, the strobe lights of the strip club fucking with my
ability to see straight. Well, that and the half bottle of bourbon
I’ve sunk in the last hour. Yeah, she’s fit. Sexy as fuck, in fact,
but these past couple weeks my dick has decided to go on a
leave of fucking absence and nothing and no one is turning me
on. Which is a fucking shame because I really could use a
good fuck to clear my head.
“Pretty,” I mumble, knocking back the burning liquid and
jerking my chin towards Natalie, tapping my glass. She gives
me a warm smile that’s filled with the promise of a really good
fuck.
Dom chuckles as she walks over. “Ah, I get it. You’re after
the brunette tonight, not the blonde. Fancy a change of
scenery?” he asks.
“Something like that,” I agree, holding out my glass as
Natalie fills it up.
We’ve slept together before, several times actually. She’s a
good lay and whilst I appreciate her come-hither eyes, my
cock is in a coma, and I’m starting to worry it might never
fucking wake up again.
 “Are you free later?” Natalie asks me, earning her a glare
from Nancy who doubles-down with her provocative dancing
and starts shaking her beautiful pendulous tits in a way that
has Dom shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Fuck it, he can
have her. She knows the score, they all do. I’m very good to
the women I choose to take into my bedroom, but I’m not the
type of man you tie down.
“Sorry, sweetcheeks, I’m busy.”
Natalie nods, her fingers curling around my forearm
briefly. “Shame, I’ve missed you.”
Dom snorts out a laugh, and without taking his eyes off of
Nancy—who’s doing her best to make me jealous—says,
“Babe, get in line. Beast’s cock is legendary.”
“Oh, don’t I know it,” she laughs, pressing a cheeky kiss
against my cheek before sashaying off towards the table where
Carter is entertaining the King, aka no-one-knows-his-real-
name-because-he’s-a-secretive-certifiable-wankstain of epic
proportions. I don’t like him.
His name precedes him, and nothing about him is good. I
mean, nothing about any of us is good, but at least I don’t beat
on women. That dick has a cock so small he feels the need to
take out his underwhelming manhood on every woman he
abuses. The prick. But Carter does what Carter wants, and
despite my advice not to get mixed up with the King, he
fucking ignored me.
So, here we are.
I take another swig of my drink, relishing the burn. I really
shouldn’t be drinking this much, but Dom and the rest of the
guys have got this. Besides, it’s my day off. Kind of. Getting
pissed isn’t usually my bag, but I’m in need of forgetting a
certain someone who is so beyond off limits, it’s not even
funny.
“Hey, Beast.” Sammy, another stripper and regular fuck,
waves from the other side of the club. She gives me a smile,
coyly biting her lip like she’s an innocent virgin. I can confirm
she is neither innocent nor virginal.
 “Hey!” I grunt, tipping my head in acknowledgment.
“Fuck, I don’t know how you do it, man,” Dom says, side-
eying me. “They’re all hot for you. Every single dancer in the
club, and all the staff. Even the fucking men.”
“What can I say,” I shrug, “Everyone wants a ride on my
dick.”
“Seriously though, how the fuck do you do it?”
“That’s easy, mate. I put their needs first and no woman
leaves my bed unless they’ve had multiple orgasms. It’s a
pride thing. I ain’t about wham, bam, thank you ma’am. You
should try it sometime.”
“Dom pleasing a woman? He’s got a better chance
pleasing his mum,” Mark comments as he steps up beside us.
“Fuck you, prick,” Dom retorts with a smirk as he looks up
at his best mate who was also supposed to be off tonight, but
clearly Carter had other ideas.
“You know it’s true. Or maybe that’s me who’s got a better
chance at pleasing your mum. How is Dolly anyway?” Mark
asks, winking at me.
Dom snorts with laughter. “Funny ha ha! You’re just
jealous because your scrawny arse can’t get the girls.”
We all laugh then, because there isn’t one soldier of
Carter’s who could be classed as scrawny. Mark is a big guy
too, and with his Mediterranean heritage, his dark hair and
deep blue eyes are a firm favourite with the ladies. He’s a good
man. Solid. Fucking hilarious too, especially when he starts
winding up the fighters of Tales. He never means any
disrespect and it’s all harmless banter.
“Everything alright, Mark? Didn’t think you were on duty
tonight,” I say, fist bumping him.
“Wasn’t supposed to be, but Carter called me in given
we’ve got an extra special guest to look after tonight.”
“Yeah, he’s certainly fucking special,” I mutter, eyeing the
King as I knock back another mouthful.
 “Well, I’d better get over there. Catch you at the club for
training soon, yeah?”
“Yeah,” we both reply in chorus as he heads over to the
table.
“So,” Dom begins as soon as Mark’s out of earshot,
“You’re a selfless lover then. Fuck, I’d never have thought it.”
“Back to that again? Anyone would think that you’re
obsessed with my cock,” I say smirking, my attention drawn
back to Nancy as she drops to her hands and knees on the
small stage in front of us and wobbles her assets. Dom’s
tongue practically rolls out of his mouth at the display.
“We’re all obsessed with your cock,” Nancy says, licking
her lips before giving Dom a face massage with her tits.
“Beast is a man of his word. The last time we fucked I squirted
all over his dick. Didn’t I, babe?”
“You sure did, Nancy, you sure did.” I chuckle,
remembering only too well. That was one hell of a night. She’s
a good lay, and intelligent too. A perfect woman for whoever’s
lucky enough to nab her. That person just ain’t me.
“Fucking hell, Beast. Talk about a lot to live up to!” Dom
groans as Nancy pulls back and shimmies upwards onto her
high heels. He looks fucking bereft that her tits are no longer
smothering him. Ordinarily there’s a no touching rule in the
club, but that doesn’t apply to us. We’ve got certain perks as
Carter’s soldiers, and so long as the ladies are willing, we get
more than a lap dance.
“I suggest you take a leaf out of my book and you might
even get a rep like me. Treat a woman right and she’ll tell all
her friends. Treat ‘em wrong and you got yourself a problem.
Women can be vindictive and I quite like keeping my balls.”
The truth is, if a woman were to spend a night with me, I
would make her the single focus of my universe, but it’s never
a permanent thing. For one night I love them hard, and fuck
them even harder, but as soon as the sun rises on a new day,
I’m off. It’s better for everyone that way.
 The only woman… girl, that has had more attention from
me than any other is Kate and that’s only because I’m her
fucking glorified babysitter. I have to spend more time with
her. Well, that’s what I tell my bastard dick when it gets other
ideas about how much time I should be spending with her.
Speaking of which, my phone vibrates. I already know it’s
Kate. She’s the only one who has the balls to call me on my
day off.
“What?!” I snap, covering the mouthpiece and indicating
to Dom that I need to take the call.
“Princess?” he asks.
I nod, flicking my eyes to Carter who’s still deep in
conversation with the King. “Looks like he’s in for the long
haul.”
“Me and the guys have got this,” Dom says, waving me
away. “Besides, it’s strictly your day off. Shouldn’t you be
buried deep in some hot chick and not chasing around after
Princess?”
“Yeah, I fucking should,” I reply bitterly, wishing it was
that simple. If only I could lose myself in some sweet pussy
without feeling like I’m cheating on someone who doesn’t
even fucking belong to me and never will.
“Good luck with that, man,” Dom says, chuckling. The
fucking bastard.
“ROGER!” Kate shouts down the line in frustration, loud
enough for Dom to hear.
He barks out a laugh and I groan, striding away from him
and towards the exit. “Who the fuck do you think you’re
screaming at?” I demand, pissed off that I don’t even get the
chance to wallow in alcohol all fucking afternoon, or better
yet, some guilt-free sex.
“You answered the phone and then ignored me. What do
you expect?” she answers back.
Fuck, this girl pushes all my buttons.
 “I expect you not to call me on my day off, especially
since I was enjoying watching a real woman shake her assets
for me. What do you want?” I grind out.
She falls silent on the end of the line, and I feel like a first
class dick. I made a promise to my mum that I’d never treat
women the way my father treated her, and look at me being
that exact same dick. Fuck. But I can’t seem to get my head on
straight around her, and my feelings have become even more
fucking complicated ever since our meal at Sapori.
She was right, of course, to put me in my place, what cunt
says one thing and then does another? I’ve been giving her
mixed signals and it’s gotta stop, but I shouldn’t be an arsehole
about it. This isn’t her fault, it’s mine. I’m the one with a
fucking problematic dick that has a mind of it’s own when it
comes to Kate.
“Listen… Shit, you just caught me off guard. What can I
do for you?” I ask, striding over to my car that I shouldn’t
even contemplate driving because I’m drunk as fuck.
“Can you come pick me up…?” she asks.
There’s a vulnerability in her voice which immediately
puts me on high alert. In many ways Kate is very different
from her father, but when it comes to being tough she’s a chip
off the old block. So whatever’s upsetting her, it’s gotta be big
for her to sound so upset.
“Where are you?” I bark out, pressing my thumb and
finger against my eyelids. I really, really shouldn’t have drunk
this much.
“Eastside estate.”
“You’re at the children’s home?”
“In the abandoned car park just along the street.”
“I know the one. Why’re you there?”
“Hud got into some shit, so I went to help. He’s kinda
fucked up right now.”
“You want me to come get you both?”
 “He needs some stitches, and I think he has a concussion.”
“If it’s that bad call him a fucking ambulance,” I grunt, my
head spinning from the booze. I need this shit like a hole in the
head.
“He’s got Bryce and Max to think of. They’ve only got a
few weeks before they can leave the children’s home and live
with him, he doesn’t need that kind of attention.”
“Perhaps he should’ve thought of that before he got
himself into whatever shit he’s dragged you into. That prick
should know better.”
“He didn’t drag me into anything, I chose to help him
because that’s what friends do.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, rubbing at my temple.
“Look, Beast, he’s trying to do right by his brothers, and
I’m trying to do right by him.”
For some reason that just pisses me off more. She’s so
fucking loyal and the fact she’s giving her loyalty to Hudson, a
man not all that much younger than me, makes my blood boil.
I don’t even want to think about why that is.
“What’s up with that relationship anyway? They aren’t
even his real family,” I ask, forcing my thoughts to a less
dangerous place.
Kate lets out a frustrated breath. “And Connall isn’t your
brother? Just because they’re not blood, doesn’t mean they
aren’t family. You know that better than anyone.”
She’s got a point, which I refuse to acknowledge because
I’ve got a splitting fucking headache and a cock that keeps
fucking twitching at the sound of her voice. “Are you hurt?” I
growl instead, pressing the palm of my hand against my dick
and mentally telling it to calm the fuck down. This is not
fucking happening right now.
“Just a couple of bruises. Might have a broken rib…”
“The FUCK, Princess!” I yell, my concern for her making
me lose my calm. “You’re one royal pain in my arse!”
 “Yeah, so you’ve told me repeatedly.”
“Ah shit, I didn’t mean that,” I grumble under my breath,
yanking open the door to my car, but the buzz in my head and
the way the floor tips under my feet tell me I can’t hold my
drink as well as I thought.
“Can you come or not?” Kate asks, the crack in her voice
causing a chasm to open up in my gut. How the fuck have I let
her get under my damn skin like this? I should tell her to deal
with her own shit. I don’t.
“I’m a little drunk, Princess.”
“Of course, you are,” she retorts, getting my back up.
“It’s my day off!” I remind her.
“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll get him sorted myself.”
“Just stay fucking put—”
She hangs up without bothering to acknowledge me.
“Fuck!” For half a minute I consider letting her get on with
it. Then I remember that it’s my job to take care of her, that I
can’t see her in trouble. “She needs a good fucking spanking,”
I mutter, then groan as my dick twitches, agreeing with me.
Gritting my teeth, I fish my phone out of my jacket pocket and
swipe the screen. With one eye squinted, I pull up the number
I’m looking for and hit dial.
“Beast, what can I do for you?” Connall answers half a
beat later.
“Fuck!” I exclaim. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
“Beast? Are you gonna tell me what’s up?”
“Yeah, shit,” I reply, forcing myself to concentrate on our
conversation and not thoughts of Princess over my knee. “Can
I ask you a favour?”
“You don’t need to ask me that. Of course. What is it?” he
asks.
“I need picking up from Nine Lives. Princess has got
herself in a jam and needs some help, and I’m too cut to
drive.”
“Have you been getting high on stripper pussy?”
“No, just half a bottle of bourbon.”
“You’re drunk? That’s new.”
“Don’t lecture me, I needed to let loose a bit. Besides, it’s
my day off.”
“It’s your day off and you’re not six feet deep into some
prime pussy? Hmm, are you sick?”
“I ain’t feeling it.”
“My point exactly…” His voice trails off and I can hear
the smirk in his voice. “You sure the problem ain’t the fact that
you’re desperate for some Princess pussy?” Connall asks,
bursting out laughing. If I didn’t really need his help, I’d tell
him to fuck right off. The fact that he’s picked up on
something I’m trying very hard to deny ain’t good.
“Funny! Can I get a lift or what?” I ask dryly.
“Mate, you can’t kid a kidder…”
“Why the fuck does everyone think I’m interested in her?
For fuck’s sake. Princess is not, and never will be, anything
more than a job to me,” I say firmly.
Ever since my chat with Princess I’ve tried putting space
between us. For one stupid fucking moment, I let my emotions
get a hold of me and let her in, telling her about my mum and
my cunt of a dad. Not to mention fucking dancing with her,
then taking her out to dinner a few days later. I can’t afford to
blur the lines again.
“Yeah, and I’m not Irish,” Connall snorts.
“Fuck off. She’s my boss’s kid, not my type whatso-
fucking-ever.”
“What’s that saying…” Connall muses, then puts on a fake
posh British accent. “Ah, yeah, he doth protest too much.”
“FUCK OFF!”
Connall barks out a laugh. “Fine, I’ll be there in five.”
 “Oh, and Connall?” I say quickly, rubbing at the headache
that’s beginning to pound into my skull like an inexperienced
virgin fucking a woman for the first time.
“Yeah?”
“Bring me a coffee. I need to sober up and fast.”
Connall laughs. “To be sure,” he says before hanging up,
his laughter ringing in my ears.
I glance back at my phone, swiping the screen until I find
the tracker app that I also sneakily added to her phone after
she fucked off to Macey’s without Carter’s permission.
Clicking on it, I frown as I watch the little dot that represents
Kate blinking up at me. She’s no longer at the carpark but is
moving towards the recreation ground behind it.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I mutter,
knowing that as soon as I’ve dealt with her shit I’m gonna
need another bottle of bourbon and a willing pussy to sink my
tongue into.
Fucking Kate. She drives me crazy.
 CHAPTER NINE

Trouble
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Dougie Slimon,
aka Slimy Dickless Prick, drawls.
“Ah shit,” Hudson mutters, bending over and throwing up.
His puke splatters against the asphalt, covering my brand new
DM’s. This day is just getting better and better.
“Oh no, you got a headache, Huddy? Need a pill to ease
the pain? Better yet, why don’t I just finish the job, huh?”
“Come back for seconds?” I goad, propping Hudson
against the wooden base of the slide so that I can deal with
these arseholes once and for all. My side is killing me, but I
don’t let the pain show, I can handle a broken rib.
“You didn’t think we’d let you off that easily? Hudson
owes us five grand, and we’re here to collect.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” Hudson slurs, trying to push up to
his feet, and failing.
“Stay put!” I hiss, then turn back around to face the prick,
loving the fact that he hasn’t gotten off lightly either. His right
eye is swelling and his lip is split from where I managed to
throw a pretty hard left hook. Just a shame I didn’t manage to
knock some of his veneers out. I’d love to fuck up that
smarmy thousand pound smile he’s so well known for.
“Leave it, Grim,” Hudson warns, his gaze swimming as he
slides down the wooden frame, in no shape to stand, let alone
fight.
 “If you’d let me finish it, we wouldn’t have this problem
right now, Hud,” I reply, pissed at him for stepping in when he
did and getting his head smashed in for the trouble. I was
handling my opponents just fine before he went all knight in
shining armour on my arse and tried to take them all on
himself. I’m not scared of Dougie and his gang of cronies.
They’re just another bunch of rich pricks trying to play
gangster. In reality, they’re as far from gangster as they come.
Brought up with a silver spoon stuck up their arse and daddy
clearing up their messes, they wouldn’t know how to survive
on the street if the concrete beneath their feet rose up and gave
them a helping hand.
“Yeah, what’s up with that? Getting a girl to fight your
battles,” Dougie taunts.
“I wasn’t fighting his battles, dickhead. We were fighting
them together, you misogynistic prick,” I counter, eyeing up
his crew. There might be four of them and only one of me, but
I’ve trained with some of the toughest men in London, and I
know how to handle myself, mainly thanks to Beast. These
arseholes would’ve found that out if they hadn’t run the
second a police car went hurtling past the car park. It scared
them off enough for us to make our escape, not because I was
afraid, but because I knew Hudson needed a doctor and quick.
“He was hiding behind you. Just like he is now.”
“He’s got a fucking concussion, shit for brains. He can’t
fight, but if you really want to end this, let’s go,” I say,
cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders.
He tips his head back and laughs, then lunges for me with
his arms wide.
The fool.
I spin on the ball of my foot and kick him square in the
stomach, my steel toe-cap boot burying itself in his non-
existent abs. The surprise on his face is a picture as he falls to
the floor, winded. Not that I get very long before his cronies
pile in.
 All of my training with Beast comes to the surface, and I
duck punches and defend myself with relative ease until one
fucker—who’s a bit more streetwise than I first gave him
credit for—lands a blow to my broken rib. It knocks me off-
kilter, and I stumble a little, giving one of the others enough
time to land a punch to my jaw.
“YOU FUCKER!” I roar, losing all sense of control as I
launch myself at him.
Beast has always taught me to keep my anger under
control when in a fight. He constantly reminds me that the best
fighters, and the ones who consistently win in the cage, are the
ones who fight smart. He’d be pissed off if he saw me now.
Still, it doesn’t stop me from following through. I land a punch
to the guy’s gut, winding him, only to receive a blow to the
side of my head from one of the other arseholes.
Stumbling sideways, I fall over Hudson’s legs. Hitting the
asphalt, I glance at him and try not to panic at the paleness of
his skin and the fact he’s now unconscious.
Fuck!
“What’s the matter,” Dougie drawls, standing over me,
“Met your match?”
“You fucking wish,” I retort, pushing up onto my feet and
ignoring the ache in my rib and jaw. “I’ve eaten better fighters
for breakfast.”
He grins, his cronies flanking him. “I bet you have.
Rumour has it you regularly eat them for breakfast. In fact,
word on the street is that your dad likes to loan you out to deal
with his debts. Quite the little whore, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I enjoy a good nosh on a cock in the morning,” I
retort with a roll of my eyes, dismissing his remark.
“Fucking slut. I bet you like it hard, don’t you?”
My fist meets his cheek before he can even blink, and this
time I don’t stop throwing punches until I’m pulled roughly
off of him. Satisfaction fills my veins as he spits out a tooth,
his perfect smile ruined by my fist. Behind me one of his men
has my arms twisted up my back. I’m not worried, I can get
him off me when the timing is right.
“You fucking bitch!” Dougie snarls, swiping the back of
his hand over his face and smearing blood all over his cheek.
“Do you know how much these cost?”
“I couldn’t give a flying fuck,” I retort, smirking to hide
the stab of pain I feel in my side when the arsehole holding me
jabs his fist into my ribs.
Dougie spits out a glob of blood. “You’re going to pay for
this!”
“Yeah, yeah, like you keep saying.”
“What do you want to do with her?” the arsehole behind
me asks, his lips closer to my cheek than I’d like, the fucking
creep.
“Hmm,” Dougie replies, cocking his head as his salacious
gaze roves over my body. “What should we do with the
bitch?”
I bark out a laugh. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re
thinking I suggest you stop right the fuck now, unless you
want to be sent back to daddy dearest in a black fucking bag!”
“Now, now, we both know that I’ve got the upper hand
here…” Dougie taunts.
“You really are thick as shit, aren’t you?” I retort, then
snap my head back as hard as I can. I hear the crack of a nose
breaking right before a cry of pain pierces the air. Dougie’s
crony lets me go so he can stem the flow of blood, and I use
the opportunity to twist around and land two more punches,
the one to his temple knocking him out cold.
Then I attack.
With single-minded focus and a real desperate need to get
Hud to a doctor, I lay out the two other men in quick
succession.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t wait. I go for the kill.
 Bones snap as I break one of the guy’s legs, slamming my
foot into his knee cap. It bends backwards, and his scream of
pain reverberates around the playground. I dropkick the other
guy and then, when he’s sprawled out onto the floor, slam my
foot against his right arm, breaking it.
Then I turn on Dougie and grin at the look of horror on his
face.
“Now there’s just us,” I goad, licking my lips and cracking
my knuckles. A strange kind of energy is firing through my
blood, and I’m humming with the need for violence.
Fuck, it feels good. If only Carter could see me now.
Maybe when word gets back to him about this fight he’ll
reconsider his recent appraisal of me.
I’m not a bleeding heart. I’m a Davidson.
No, I’m Grim.
“Looks that way, Princess,” Dougie retorts with a smirk,
hiding his fear with bravado.
I’m about to respond with a cutting remark when a familiar
figure striding towards us freezes the words on my tongue.
“I suggest you take her name out of your motherfucking
mouth, wankstain!”
Beast.
For a moment, my heart stops beating. It literally stops as I
take in the man who both annoys the shit out of me and turns
me into a puddle of hormonal desire every time he’s close by. I
hate that that’s how I react to him. It pisses me off, but my
pussy, she doesn’t give a fuck. She flutters and gets all tingly
like she’s just about to have a session with my favourite
vibrator, the greedy bitch.
“What the fuck—” Dougie spins on his feet only to meet a
fist three times the size of mine. He goes down like a sack of
potatoes and when Dougie turns his head to the side, he spits
out three more teeth and a crap load of blood.
“You piece of shit,” Beast snarls, kicking him in the
stomach. Dougie groans, curling in on himself, but Beast
doesn’t stop there, he reaches for him, fisting his collar and
dragging Dougie to his feet. There’s a rage in his eyes that
speaks of only one outcome… Murder.
“He’s mine!” I snap, swiping at the blood dripping from
my lip, I hadn’t even registered that I was bleeding. “If anyone
gets to kill him, it’s me!”
Beast’s gaze meets mine and I suck in a sharp breath at the
anger I see bubbling in his eyes, anger that is aimed squarely
at me. “No!”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Beast’s nostrils flare and he jerks his head to a familiar
face standing behind him. “Connall, grab Hudson and get him
to the car. I’ll deal with this fucking mess.”
“Why is Connall here?” I ask ungratefully, glancing at
Beast’s best friend.
“The fucker was too intoxicated on booze and stripper
pussy to drive,” Connall retorts with a wink as he passes me
by. “So I’m your chauffeur. Good to see you again, gorgeous
—”
Beast snarls at him like some feral dog and Connall holds
his hands up and laughs. “I mean, Grim.”
“Connall,” I mutter back, hating the fact my cheeks are
heating at the way Beast is reacting right now, but more so
from a sudden burst of jealousy that I’ve no right to feel. He
has every right to fuck whoever he wants. He’s not mine, and
I’m certainly not his. After our meal at Sapori he kept things
strictly professional, as though that night never even
happened.
It stings.
“You did good,” Connall adds with a smile that is way
more flirty than it should be.
“Don’t fucking encourage her!” Beast snaps, shaking
Dougie like a rag doll. I can tell that he really wants to do that
to me, and probably Connall too.
 “I did what I had to do,” I shrug, flicking my gaze to
Connall who picks up Hudson and carries him off to the other
side of the park where their car is situated. The guy is just as
built as Beast, but a lot more friendly, which is just as well
because I don’t think I could handle two moody fuckers right
now. I’m already at the end of my rope.
“You disobeyed me! I told you to stay put!” he says as
soon as Connall is out of earshot.
“And I told you I could deal with this myself!” I shout
back.
“You called me first, remember?!” he argues.
Dougie groans again, and with an annoyed sigh, Beast
pulls back his fist and punches him in the face. The sound of
more bones breaking is loud in my ear, and even I wince.
That’s got to fucking hurt. Dropping Dougie, who’s now
passed out cold, he stalks towards me, all pent up anger and
tense shoulders. I can see the muscle in his jaw flickering with
how tightly he grits his teeth.
Despite the fact I know he won’t hurt me, I find myself
backing up away from him. When my back hits the wooden
base of the slide, and Beast boxes me in with his body, air
rushes from my lungs as heat pools low in my belly.
“You’re pushing your fucking luck with me, Princess,” he
growls, gripping my jaw in his huge hand, his face so close I
can smell alcohol, coffee and peppermint on his breath.
“Get your hands off me!” I grind out through gritted teeth,
angry that we’re back to this again. This push and pull that
drives me insane.
He smiles, or rather bares his teeth at me. “Make me.”
Reaching up between us, I shove him in his chest. Even I
know that’s a stupid fucking move, the guy’s made of stone
and steel and of course, he doesn’t budge an inch.
“Really?” he says, cocking a brow. “Is that all you got? I
thought I taught you better than that.”
 Instead of taking that opportunity to knee him in the balls,
I end up curling my fingers into his t-shirt and saying
something really fucking stupid instead. “Believe me, I’ve got
all the skills and more, I just don’t think you’d be able to
handle them.”
“Handle them?” he scoffs, shoving his thigh between my
legs before grabbing my wrists and pinning them to my side.
For a moment my brain short-circuits at the feel of his thigh
pressing against my pussy. “You might be able to handle a few
boys, but you can’t handle a man like me, Princess,” he says,
his voice low, filled with a mixture of rage and something that
seems suspiciously like lust.
I have to tense every single muscle in my body so he
doesn’t feel me trembling from his touch. I’m not scared of
him, the exact opposite in fact. It’s all I can do not to rub
myself against him like the fucking horny bitch I am.
“Are you sure about that?” I reply, my voice
unrecognisable even to my own ears.
I sound like a woman well versed in seducing men, not an
inexperienced virgin. A sore point of mine, but the truth
nevertheless. Despite being surrounded by very fuckable men,
I’ve got as much of a chance of losing my virginity as Mother
Theresa. My dad would kill any man who dared try to kiss me,
let alone fuck me. The only reason he’s allowed my friendship
with Hudson is because of how smart he is and the fact
Hudson treats me like his sister and nothing more. Though that
might change after what happened today.
“Well?” I taunt, pissed off and hurt and achy, and by achy I
mean turned on.
Beast’s nostrils flare and for one clit-pulsating second I
think he’s going to kiss me. Instead he steps back, slides one
arm around my back, and the other arm behind my knees, then
lifts me up into his arms bridal style.
“Put me down! I can walk, you know!” I screech, fucking
sick of him chucking me around like a rag doll.
 His grip tightens. “I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. Next time you
go rogue I’m going to put you on a damn leash! Count your
blessings that I don’t make you crawl across this field for
disobeying me.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, wincing as the pain in my side grows
from a dull throb to a stabbing pain now that the adrenaline
from the fight is beginning to wear off. “I thought we were
past this caveman bullshit.”
“That was before you ignored me. AGAIN! Next time I
tell you to do something, you motherfucking do it!” he booms,
stepping over Dougie, before pressing the heel of his boot
against the neck of the guy whose arm I broke. He thrashes
around, gurgling, his face going redder and redder by the
second. “I want you to pass on a message to that prick when
he wakes up. Come for Hudson or my girl again and not only
will his guts end up as a necklace hanging around his throat, I
will cut his motherfucking heart out and serve it up to Princess
on a platter. Got it?”
The guy nods, or at least I think he does, because I’m
hyper focused on the fact that Beast just called me his girl.
“Did you just—?”
“Good!” Beast retorts, lifting his heel off the guy’s throat
and completely ignoring me as he strides towards the car.
‘Did you just say I was your girl?” I ask again.
“Stop talking, Princess.”
“But you said—”
He huffs, completely fucking ignoring me.
“Beast!”
“Shut the hell up!” he snaps, that muscle in his jaw
jumping like an addict waiting for his next fix.
“You really are a fucking arsehole,” I mutter, even though I
know he isn’t. He’s doing all of this not just because he’s paid
to, but because he cares. I know he does.
“Yeah, I am, and don’t you fucking forget it,” he replies.
 When we reach the car he slides me onto the back seat and
straps me in like I’m a fucking toddler. “I can do it myself!” I
say, slapping his hand away.
“Connall, drive us to Joey’s,” Beast orders. “Let’s get
Hudson fixed up, so I can beat the shit out of him for ruining
my fucking day off.”
Up front Hudson groans in his semi-conscious state.
Connall flicks his gaze to my best friend before looking back
at Beast. “I’ve already called ahead. He’s waiting for us.”
“Great, let’s fucking go,” Beast says, slamming the door
and rounding the car.
Connall grins, his hazel eyes sparkling with mirth as he
looks over his shoulder at me. “You really know how to wind
the big guy up, don’t ya?”
“If he wasn’t such a wanker, I wouldn’t have to,” I retort.
Connall laughs. “You two really should just fuck and get it
over with.”
“What?!” I exclaim, my cheeks flushing as Beast opens the
door and climbs in the car next to me.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Beast asks, glancing between
us both as Connall cracks up.
“Nothing!” I say quickly. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Connall?”
“I was just saying how much trouble Grim is…”
“Fucking tell me about it,” Beast grumbles, his huge size
taking up most of the backseat and leaving me very little
wiggle room. He’s nothing but a hunk of well-defined muscles
that has no business being so attractive.
“I’m not the one who’s trouble…” I whisper under my
breath, my pulse racing for an entirely different reason as
Connall puts the car in drive and Beast’s thigh presses against
my own.
 CHAPTER TEN

Creep
“How’s the little shit?” I ask Joey as he strides out of his
makeshift operating room, which is basically the back room of
his garage. He fixes cars as a front for his illegal activity of
fixing criminals when they’ve got themselves in a spot of
bother.
“Concussed. Some bruises and scrapes, but otherwise he’ll
live. I’ve checked him over and given him some painkillers. I
suggest he goes home to rest,” Joey says, pulling off his plastic
gloves and chucking them in the trash can.
“And Princess?”
“Bruised rib. Busted lip. Black eye. Split skin across her
knuckles. She’ll live too—”
“Not if I don’t fucking kill her first!” I grumble.
Joey swipes a hand through his long grey hair. He’s
basically a Father Christmas look alike but a lot slimmer and
way edgier. “She’s a bundle of trouble, that one. I like her.
She’s got to be tough, given the world she lives in,” he
remarks, giving me a look.
I know what’s coming, Joey might’ve been struck off from
practising but he hasn’t lost the need to dole out advice like
prescription drugs.
“What?” I ask, flicking my gaze to the door that he’s left
slightly ajar. Beyond I can see Kate talking to Hudson, she’s
got her hand on his forearm. My teeth grind together in
annoyance.
“She said you’re training her?” he asks.
“Yep, orders from the boss. She knows how to look after
herself. I made sure of it.”
“Right,” he nods, squinting his eyes at me.
“What? Spit it out, old man.”
“I’m gonna give you a piece of advice.”
“Yeah?” I fold my arms across my chest as I glare at
Hudson and Kate chatting and laughing. I’m not in the fucking
mood for advice of any kind. Pretty sure I just want to throttle
Hudson and be done with it.
“Don’t fuck with the princess because one day she’s gonna
be queen, and at that point she’ll fuck you up good and
proper.”
My head snaps around to look at Joey. “I don’t intend on
fucking with her.”
“Did I say fuck with her? I meant fuck her. Don’t. She’s
way out of your league, Beast,” Joey says with a chuckle,
gripping my shoulder in that fatherly way of his.
“Why does every dirty bastard think I want to fuck her?” I
seethe, getting more and more pissed off. “I’m not a fucking
creep.”
Joey rolls his eyes. “We know you’re not, but she won’t be
a princess forever, and when she turns into a queen, you better
believe you’ll be on your knees for her.”
I scoff, scraping a hand over my face. “Whatever you say,
old man.”
Pushing off from the wall, I take a step towards the room
so I can break up the fucking party then break Hudson’s nose,
but Joey grips my arm.
“I’ve only met one woman in my life capable of bringing a
man to their knees, and I recognise that ability in Grim. Be
careful with her, she trusts you. Don’t break her heart because
she’ll eat yours for breakfast. Catch my drift?”
“Yeah, loud and clear. Can I fucking go now? I need a
goddamn drink.”
Joey snorts with laughter. “I suggest you find some pussy
and try and fuck Grim out of your system, and if that don’t
work then try a few rounds in the gym with your best fighter.”
“Got it. Thanks, Doc,” I grunt, striding across the room
and shoving the door open. It slams against the wall. Kate
snaps her head around but I don’t look at her, my attention is
solely focused on Hudson. “Tell me why I shouldn’t wring
your fucking neck?”
“Beast!” Kate exclaims, shifting herself in front of
Hudson, one arm on his knee as though to warn him not to
react. She’s protecting him, and it’s all I can do not to fucking
snatch her against my chest and claim her with a kiss to show
him and every other fucker that’s she’s mine.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Joey was right, same as Connall. I need to deal with this
problem now. She ain’t mine. She’s Carter’s daughter and off
the motherfucking menu. Permanently.
“It’s alright, Grim, he has a right to be angry, I shouldn’t
have involved you in my shit,” the little dickhead responds.
Getting to his feet, he sidesteps her. “Do what you need to do.”
“What? No fucking way!” Kate exclaims, getting between
us.
“Get out of the way, Princess,” I say, my eyes fixed on
Hudson as I take another step forward.
Her hands fly upwards, pressing against my pecs. I can
feel her nails digging in my skin, and fuck me if my cock
doesn’t spring to life. “The hell I will, Beast. He’s my best
friend, and I won’t let you hurt him.”
“Get out of the motherfucking way, or I’ll make you.”
“Grim, just let him do what he needs to do. I can take it.”
 “Shut up, Hud! You haven’t been punched by Beast before,
you’ll be knocked out and this time you might not wake up!”
she argues. Stepping into my space, she pushes against my
chest, her whole body pressing against me now. “He’s a good
guy, one of the best. Don’t do this. Please. For me?”
Her voice is quiet, or maybe it’s the rush of blood in my
ears from the fact that my whole body is so acutely aware of
hers. My fingers flex and curl as I try my damndest not to grab
her face and kiss her stupid. “He put you in danger,” I say, my
voice gruff.
“I put myself in danger. He had nothing to do with it,” she
replies, her cheeks flushing red, her fingers curling into my
shirt. My cock grows and I know she can feel it pressing
against her stomach, I can tell by the way her pupils widen and
her mouth parts on a breath.
It’s that reaction that saves the little prick from a coma.
Gripping Kate’s shoulders, I push her away from me, my
eyes fixed on Hudson who’s looking more uncomfortable by
my interaction with Kate than the fact I could kill him with
one punch. “Next time you get into any shit, you come to me. I
will not have her put in harm’s way again, got it?”
Hudson nods. “Got it.”
Kate blows out a breath. “Thank you, Beast—”
I glance down at her, ignoring the way she’s looking at me.
“Get in the motherfucking car. I’m taking you home.”
“And Hudson?”
“Connall’s dropping him off.”
“Aren’t you still drunk?” she asks.
“Believe me, Princess, I’ve sobered the fuck up. Now say
your goodbyes, I’ll be waiting.”
With that I stride out of the room, passing Joey who gives
me a knowing look. I give him the middle finger and he just
laughs.
 “Hey, Beast, you alright, mate?” Connall calls from the
other side of the garage, laughter in his voice.
“Drop that little prick off for me. I’m taking Princess
home,” I say, ignoring his question because no, I’m not
fucking alright. I’ve got a boner the size of a baseball bat in
my pants and I need to get the fuck out of here, stat.

“OW, SHIT!” Kate curses from inside her bedroom an hour

later.
“What’s up?”
“Are you still here?” she asks, yanking open her bedroom
door and glaring at me.
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Frankly, I should be four hours deep inside Natalie’s pussy
according to the doctor’s orders, but instead I’m still
babysitting Kate, hovering in the hallway outside her bedroom
like some fucking stalker. Carter took off with the King on
business pretty soon after I left the strip club and that meant
me spending more time with fucking temptation. The man lost
his shit when he found out Kate had been involved in a fight,
and the text he sent me after their conversation ended had very
strict instructions.
Kill Dougie Slimon and the cunts who thought they could
disrespect me.
Could disrespect him. Not the cunts who hurt Kate.
He didn’t even ask her if she was okay. Not fucking once.
“Beast, I’m talking to you!” she says, drawing my
attention back to her.
“Yeah, what?” I ask, leaning against her door frame, my
arms folded across my chest as I take in my fill of her and
push thoughts of Carter out of my head. I don’t know what’s
up with him lately but his attitude towards Kate fucking stinks,
so maybe I don’t feel so bad sticking around to watch over her
when that arsehole can’t even bring himself to ask her if she’s
alright.
“You should go home,” she says, frowning as I step into
her bedroom.
Her long dark hair is dishevelled and the bruise around her
eye is deepening to a nasty purple. Her lips are swollen from
the her split lip, but it’s the pain in her eyes that fucks me up
more than I care to admit. She’s good at covering up the things
that hurt her. I’d seen the look on her face when her dad hadn’t
once asked her if she was okay during their conversation or
applauded her for dealing with four grown arse men pretty
much on her own. If that had pissed me off, then Christ knows
how it made her feel.
“Nah, I’m good.” Without thinking, I take a step closer to
her and gently press my fingers against her cheek. “It hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she replies, swallowing hard, her gaze flicking
from my eyes to my lips and back again. She steps backward,
my hand falling away.
“Didn’t Joey give you any painkillers?” I ask, tucking my
hands into my pockets to prevent me from touching her again,
because fuck if she wasn’t right about me saying one thing and
my body doing another. I’ve got to reel my fucking urges in
around her, or rather my hands.
“He did, they just haven’t kicked in yet…”
“What’s up then?”
“I want to take a shower.”
“Okay?” I frown. “So what’s stopping you?”
Kate’s cheeks flush a deep red. “I can’t take off my
clothes, it hurts like a bitch every time I move,” she whispers
and her vulnerability kills me. She’s not someone who easily
shows her emotions; in fact, she does everything in her power
to never show weakness. It’s been drilled into her to never let
anyone see what hurts you the most. Just like the rest of us.
We’re a bunch of tough motherfuckers.
 “Where’s Nadia? Can’t she help?” Nadia is their
housemaid, a little Italian woman with more fire and spunk
than all the entire fighters of Tales. Plus she cooks a mean
carbonara. I like her.
“It’s her night off.”
“So call her and tell her to get back here.”
Kate shakes her head. “Her son is visiting, she’s got her
family around tonight for dinner. Besides, I’ve already ruined
your day off, I don’t want to ruin hers too.”
I let out a breath and scrape my hand over my face. “You
didn’t ruin my day off. I’m glad you called me.”
Kate pulls a face. “Is that because my dad has given you a
bonus for stepping in today?”
“No, it’s got nothing to do with that,” I reply tightly, even
though it’s true and Carter’s done exactly that. Doesn’t sit
right with me that he’s rewarded me for my involvement, but
ignored the fact his own daughter handled the situation like the
badass she is.
“Yeah,” she scoffs, shaking her head.
“I’ve always said that if you need me, then you call me.
You did that at least, even if you didn’t stay fucking put like I
told you to.”
“Like I’ve said before, I don’t much like being told what to
do,” she retorts, dragging the sleeve of her hoody over her
hand and letting out a hiss of pain as she pulls her right arm
out of the sleeve.
“Well, it’s about fucking time you started!” I snipe, and
without really thinking it through, I grab the hem of her
jumper and step closer.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice hitching.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Helping you undress, that’s why you brought the subject
up, right?”
 “This is exactly what I was talking about,” she mutters, her
lips smooshing to the side as she chews on the inside of her
cheek. “You can’t stay away.”
“Don’t get carried away. There’s nothing in it,” I say, not
certain who I’m trying to convince more.
“But—”
“Just keep still. Let me help.”
She nods tightly. “Fine.”
God, I fucking love the way she reacts every time I’m
close to her. Kate’s normally so full of spunk and fire, and here
she is all pretty and blush for me. That thought has my dick
leaping like a jack rabbit. I love her strength and her smart
mouth, but right now it’s her coyness, her shyness, that has me
all up in my head for her.
“Fuck,” I hiss. This is a bad idea.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I ignore my bastard cock as I grip the hem of her hoodie
and t-shirt beneath it, then drag the material up and over her
head, careful not to touch any part of her. Gently, I tug the
gathered material down her arm and pull it free leaving her in
a sports bra and jeans. Her tits are encased in black lycra, and
a little zip down the front has me begging to pull on it. I
imagine them spilling out and my hands cupping them. I bet
they’re a perfect fucking handful, and given her skin tone, I
imagine she has perfect blush nipples too.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
If I wasn’t going to Hell before, then I sure as fuck am
now.
“What the hell is that?” I blurt out, staring at her sports bra
that, despite its plainness, is a thousand times sexier than any
lacy underwear I’ve ever seen on another woman.
“What, these?” she points to her tits and smirks. “I’m
pretty sure you’ve seen a pair of tits before, several pairs of tits
given how much time you spend at Nine Lives.”
“Yeah, but I ain’t seen yours,” I mutter back, biting down
on my motherfucking tongue so hard the metallic taste of
blood fills my mouth. Fuck man, I need to be better at
covering up my thoughts when I’m around her. Whatever this
is between us, it’s dangerous.
“Right,” she replies, chewing on her lip.
I swallow hard, hyper focused on the way her perfect white
teeth gnaw on something I’d really like to fucking nibble.
Trailing my gaze down over her flat stomach, I stare at the
waistband of her jeans, my fingers twitching, itching to touch
her. “Your jeans?”
“It’s fine, I can manage,” she replies, waving me off and
unzipping the zipper. She wiggles her hips, trying to shuck
them off but drags in another sharp breath. “Ow, shit!”
Her face pales with the pain and yet again my hands fly
out before I can stop them as I grab the waistband of her jeans.
The moment my fingers curl over the material and my
knuckles graze her smooth skin, she freezes, a funny little
squeak releasing from between her lips. I look down at her, at
the blush rising up her chest and my own fucking breath stills.
“Keep still,” I order, cursing myself internally.
“I am!” she retorts.
“Just do as you’re told.”
“You’re so fucking bossy,” she grumbles under her breath
as I crouch down before her and drag her jeans over her hips,
which are far more womanly than they have any right to be.
“Quiet!” I snap.
When I catch a glimpse of her cherry red knickers, I have
to turn my head to the side so I’m not tempted to do something
really fucking stupid like press my nose against her slit and
breathe in her scent. She’s only a few weeks away from her
eighteenth birthday, but I meant what I said, I don’t fuck
women younger than twenty. I’m not a fucking creep. Not that
it makes a fucking difference because I ain’t touching Kate.
Ever.
In pure frustration, I yank a little too hard, sliding her jeans
past her knees. She wobbles on her feet, squeaking in pain,
and a growly noise rumbles up my chest. “Grab hold of my
shoulders, Princess. I ain’t gonna bite!”
“Shame,” Kate murmurs, her fingers pressing against my
shoulder blade, her voice filled with fuck me vibes that has me
wishing I’d never stepped foot in this damn room.
“Princess…” I warn. She’s playing with fucking fire and
I’m usually not the type of man to put it out. In fact, call me a
fucking pyromaniac and hand me a can of petrol so I can
watch that shit burn. With her I can’t. I just fucking can’t.
“Alright, calm down. I’m just playing with you,” she
sasses.
“That wouldn’t be wise.”
“No?” She laughs, and that just annoys me more. “You
seem to have a lot of fun playing games with me. Don’t like it
when the shoe’s on the other foot?”
“For the record,” I grind out, refusing to answer her
question because she’s fucking right. “I won’t be biting any
part of you, Princess. Not now, not tomorrow, not next year,
not when you reach fucking twenty… Never. Understand?”
“Perfectly,” she retorts, her nails digging into my skin as
she lifts one foot out of the pooled material at her feet. Fuck,
even her feet turn me on. I ain’t averse to giving a woman’s
toes a suck and I bet hers are fucking delectable.
“Good.” I reach for her other ankle still encased in denim,
feeling the electricity sparking between us as I guide her foot
out of the material. Heat licks at my insides, and the tension
intensifies a thousand fold. I should remove my goddamn
hands from her right now. Except my fucking fingers are stuck
to her skin as though glued there.
“You can let go now,” she says, after a beat too long.
There’s a breathiness to her voice that has my balls aching.
 I pull back my hands and stand abruptly, taking a step
back. Tearing my gaze away from her semi-naked form, I look
behind her only to find myself staring at her bare arse on
display in the reflection of the mirror, her rounded cheeks
perfectly fucking formed.
She’s wearing a motherfucking thong!
I rip my gaze away, frantically looking about the room for
something other than her to focus on and not that peachy
fucking arse I’d sure like to bury my teeth into. That song,
Creep by Radiohead starts playing in my head, adding insult to
injury. I’m so fucking screwed.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper under my breath.
“I think I can manage now,” she says, and there’s a look of
triumph in her eyes as she walks into the bathroom, her hips
swaying as she moves.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, clenching my fists.
“What was that?” she calls through the partly open
doorway, her voice light with mirth.
“I said I’ve got to go and fuck some shit up. Be back
soon.”
“Wait! I thought you were on babysitting duties this
weekend, given Carter is away again?”
She catches me staring at her reflection in the mirror, her
fingers hovering over the zipper of her sports bra. A large,
very dangerous, very fucking stupid part of me wants her to
lower the zipper and show me what she’s got. The other part
knows I should get the hell out of her bedroom.
“There’s a takeaway menu on the counter. Don’t wait up,”
I reply.
She meets my gaze, a smirk pulling up her lip. “Will you
be home to tuck me into bed… Daddy?”
Daddy?!
I don’t respond, I get the fuck out of there, her laughter
following me out.
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bad Liar
I hear the sound of the front door opening several hours later,
the familiar thump of Beast’s footsteps loud over the wooden
flooring in the hallway. He couldn’t be a silent assassin even if
he tried. I smile inwardly at that. Beast isn’t someone who
hides in the shadows, he’s an in-your-face-and-fuck-you-up
kind of guy. I like that about him. Though I’d never tell him
that, I wouldn’t want to stroke his ego, it’s already the size of a
small country.
“Beast?” I call out, turning on the coffee percolator and
leaning against the counter as I wait for him to enter the
kitchen. It’s past two in the morning and I’ve not been able to
sleep. Partly because of the pain in my side from my bruised
rib and partly because my skin still burns from his touch.
Despite what he said to me, I’d felt the connection between us,
even though he’d denied it.
Fuck, I called him Daddy.
My cheeks heat at the thought, and my clit… Well, she
throbs.
The expression on his face just before he twisted on his
feet and strode from my room was one of shock, yes, but for a
fleeting moment there’d been desire. He’d liked it. My toes
curl at the thought, my freshly painted red toenails scraping
against the tiled floor.
“What’re you still doing up?”
 I lift my gaze from my bare feet, wishing I’d worn
something sexier than a pair of baggy joggers and an old t-
shirt, then suck in a sharp breath at the blood pouring from a
gash in Beast’s cheek and covering his clothes.
“What the hell happened?” I ask as he places a metal box
on the counter and helps himself to a bottle of whisky from the
liquor cupboard. Scarlet droplets slide down his face and fall
from his chin onto the white tiled floor. I grimace. Nadia, our
housemaid, will be cursing him tomorrow. The last time she
lost her shit with Beast was when he trampled mud all the way
through the house after burying an enemy of my father’s in
Bracknell Forest. He was grovelling for weeks for her
forgiveness. Nadia doesn’t like a mess and Beast hates pissing
her off. It’s kind of cute really, a big guy like him afraid of a
little Italian woman.
Unscrewing the cap, Beast takes a long swig. “What do
you think happened, Princess?” he growls, swiping the back of
his hand across his lips, smearing blood across his face.
“Dougie…?”
“Dead, of course,” he replies, meeting my gaze.
“You took care of the body?” I ask as though we’re talking
about the weather and not the fact he’s killed a man. I’m
turning into my father. Hard, cold, and completely detached.
“Bodies,” he corrects, chugging some more whisky.
“Those fucking pricks who attacked you never stood a
chance.”
“You make it sound like I was a victim. They didn’t
exactly attack me, we fought. I was winning before you butted
in.”
My voice trails off as he glares at me. “You think that
matters, Princess? The second they laid a finger on you, their
death sentence was set in stone.”
“Where?” I ask flatly.
“The new flyover being built in West London. A friend of
mine was pouring concrete in one of the archways.”
 “I see, so that’s what you meant by their deaths being set in
stone?” It’s not the first time my dad had Beast dump bodies in
the concrete foundations of various buildings around London.
I’m pretty sure most of the new builds across East London
have a body or two buried beneath them.
He chuckles, but it’s a tired kind of sound. “Yeah.
Exactly.”
“So what’s in that?” I ask, pointing at the metal box on the
counter.
“Hearts.”
“Hearts? What do you mean, hearts?” I ask, looking
between him and the metal box. “You’re not suggesting…”
My voice trails off when he nods.
“They’re for you.”
“Me?! Why the hell would I want their hearts, Beast?” I
screech, my own heart thumping so hard against my rib cage
that I swear he can hear it.
“They wronged you so I took their hearts. Just like I
promised I would. Though I’m sorry I turned up looking like
this,” he apologises, grimacing at the mess he’s making.
“Should’ve changed first.”
“Wait, just back up a minute,” I say, holding my hands up
as he watches me, a smirk pulling up his lip.
Part of me feels sick at the thought of their hearts sitting in
a metal box on the goddamn kitchen counter, but another part
of me, a much bigger part, is turned on by it. He brought me
their hearts. If that’s not something straight out of a Grimms’
fairy tale, I don’t know what is.
Beast is the hunter of my story, except instead of cutting
out the heart of a virgin, he’s cutting out the hearts of her
enemies instead.
“Are you honestly more concerned about not changing
rather than the fact you actually brought me their hearts?”
He shrugs. “I’ve got standards.”
 “But you brought me their hearts, Beast!” I practically
shout. “That’s not normal behaviour.”
“You were right there when I warned them, Princess. Why
is this such a surprise? I told you. I’m a killer,” he says calmly,
and in such a way it sounds like he’s trying to discourage me
from liking him. The opposite couldn’t be more true. This is
probably the most fucked-up, most romantic thing anyone has
ever done for me.
“You said you would cut out their hearts if they came near
Hud or me again which, unless I’m missing something, they
haven’t.”
“Did I?” he shrugs. “Well, whatever. Carter wanted them
dead. They’re dead.”
“Did he ask you to cut out their hearts?”
He chuckles, taking another deep pull on the drink. “Nope.
That was all on me. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do
it.”
“Fuck, okay!” I shake my head. “But why bring them
here?” I ask, pointing at the metal box. I should be freaking
the fuck out some more, but all I can think of right now is that
we need to get rid of the evidence.
“I just wanted you to know they were dead, and you didn’t
have to worry about them anymore. I’ll get rid of the hearts,
don’t worry.”
“That’s, erm…” My voice trails off as I try to find the right
words. But there are none. “You could’ve just told me they
were dead.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re a little unhinged, you know that, right?”
“They don’t call me Beast for nothing, Princess.”
“I honestly thought that was because…”
“Because what?”
“Because you were… Big.”
 “Big? He lifts a brow smoothing his palm over his abs. “I
ain’t fat.”
“No, I meant—”
“Ah! So you’ve been talking to the strippers at Nine Lives,
right? My cock is fucking legendary.”
“What?! No, I haven’t. I just meant you’re tall, built, that
kind of thing,” I say waving my hand in his general direction.
How has this conversation gone from carving out human
hearts to the size of his dick? Jesus, if I didn’t already feel
wide awake I’d have to pinch myself just to be certain I wasn’t
dreaming.
“Well, now you know. I’m called Beast because I’m an
animal in all the best and all the worst fucking ways. Know
what I mean?” he says darkly and just like that, all of the
amusement leaves his voice.
We fall silent and I watch him down almost half the bottle
before I speak again. “You know Nadia is gonna be pissed
with you. Look at the mess you’re making,” I say, pointing at
the blood dripping from his cheek and onto the spotless floor.
“I’ll clean it up later.” I glance at his hands and the fact
there’s not a speck of blood on them. He notices me staring.
“Gloves, Princess.”
“Of course,” I reply.
Pushing off from the counter, I grab some kitchen roll, wet
it under the tap, fully aware that I should probably be a little
more freaked out than I am right now. Growing up the
daughter of a criminal hardens you to certain things, murder
being one of them. I don’t care that the bastards are dead, but I
am concerned there will be backlash for the people I do care
about.
“What about Dougie’s father, isn’t he some rich banker or
something? Won’t he be worrying about his son’s
whereabouts.”
“He won’t be an issue,” Beast replies, eying me as I
approach him with the kitchen roll. Instead of taking it from
me, he places the bottle of whisky on the island and grips the
counter top. I guess that’s my cue to clean him up.
“No?” I ask, concentrating on cleaning up the blood on his
face and not the fact his intense gaze is boring holes into my
skin.
“Your dad’s got some shit on him that will put him away
for a long time. He won’t be contacting the police,” Beast
says, watching me carefully as I dab the wet tissue against his
cheek.
“But that’s his son.”
“You think that matters when it comes to selfish men?”
“It should.”
“It doesn’t,” Beast points out.
“Okay, so he won’t talk, what about the others?”
“Unimportant in the grand scheme of things.”
“But—” Frowning, I fold the tissue in half and dab at his
cheek some more.
“Are you worried this will somehow fall back on
Hudson?” he asks, his thick fingers curling around my wrist,
warm and strong. I stare at him, suddenly aware that I’ve
stepped between his parted legs and my stomach is pressed up
against his crotch. The last time we got this close he had a
semi in his pants. If Hudson hadn’t been in the room, I’d like
to think I would’ve acted upon that, but now I have the chance
to be brave and kiss him, a sudden nervousness fills my chest.
“No,” I reply, allowing him to take the tissue from me as I
ease backwards. “I’m worried it will fall back on you.”
He cocks his head to the side and grins, his green eyes
flashing with mirth. “Anyone would think you actually gave a
shit about me?”
“You know I do.”
He meets my gaze and nods. “Yeah.”
 “You shouldn’t take the fall for something you didn’t do,”
I say truthfully.
“Pretty sure it was me who shot Dougie and those little
crybaby pricks in the head then carved out their hearts.” Beast
shrugs, dropping the bloody tissue into the bin.
“You know what I mean.” I sigh, feeling the guilt churn
my stomach. “If I hadn’t gone to help Hudson, none of this
would’ve happened.”
“What’s done is done. Besides, even if your dad hadn’t
ordered me to off the fuckers, I would’ve done it anyway.” He
shrugs off his jacket and strides over to the dining table,
chucking it over the back of a chair.
“Why?”
“Because I meant what I said. No one touches our girl and
gets away with it.”
“Our girl? Didn’t you say I was your girl?” I can’t help but
ask, chewing on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from
smiling.
“Same difference.”
I pull a face. “Nope, it’s completely different.”
Scraping a hand through his cropped hair, Beast rolls his
eyes. “I just meant you belong to the fighters of Tales. You
know, like one of those mascots that run around at basketball
games.”
“A mascot?” I raise my brows and place a hand on my hip,
indignation spiking my anger. “Do I look like a fucking
beaver?”
“I dunno, does it?” Beast replies, his gaze fixing on my
crotch, before he flicks his eyes back up again, amusement in
his gaze.
“Ha ha! I’ll have you know that I have a very neatly
trimmed bush that is very un-beaver like, thank you very
much.”
 “Always wise to keep the beaver tidy, you never know
when it might be time to let it out to play.”
“Funny.” My cheeks heat and Beast laughs at my expense,
the tosser.
“I’m gonna go take a shower. I’d kill for a cup of that
coffee you’ve got percolating. Smells good, is that Arabica
beans?” he asks.
“I have literally no idea…” I reply, shaking my head in
wonder that he even knows what type of bean I’m using and
completely ignoring the fact he was talking about my beaver
coming out to play.
“Smells rich, almost woodsy,” he replies without a smirk
in sight.
“I didn’t know you were a coffee connoisseur.”
“There are plenty of things that you don’t know about me,
Princess,” he says, pulling off his hoodie and t-shirt and
dropping them onto the floor at his feet, his broad shoulders
and chest rippling with muscles. I swallow hard, trying and
failing not to stare. I’ve seen him bare chested a million times
before in the ring at Tales, but never here, at home, with just
the two of us. It seems far too intimate somehow.
“Yeah, like what?” I ask, tucking my hands in my joggers
and acting way more unbothered than I actually feel.
“Now that would be telling.” Beast points to the pile of
clothes. “Wouldn’t mind sticking them in the washing
machine, would you, seeing as we’re family now, baby…” he
asks, before striding off towards the stairs, leaving me fuming
at his audacity and quaking at the implication.
I really, really shouldn’t have called him Daddy.

“WANT TO WATCH A MOVIE?” I ask as Beast steps into

the lounge half an hour later, dressed in a pair of joggers and a
t-shirt. He doesn’t live with us at the house, but my dad gave
him a key and one of the spare rooms so he can stay over
whenever he needs which, as of late, is more often than not,
given Carter is away so much on business.
“I need to get rid of the hearts,” he replies.
“No need. Dom came and collected them. He’s on it.”
“Well, shit, thanks,” he says, dropping onto the sofa next to
me. “I could do with unwinding a bit. A movie would be
good.”
“You should’ve got Joey to look at that,” I say, pointing at
the gash on his cheek held together with some medical tape.
It’s clean, but weeping a little still.
“I went to his place before I came here but he was busy
fucking one of his dolly birds.”
“Really?” I pull a face.
Beast shrugs. “He may be in his sixties but that man has
got a queue of women waiting to bed him.” Pointing to the
mug of coffee and the bacon sandwich on the coffee table, he
asks, “Is that mine?”
“I thought you might be hungry.”
“You thought right.” He grins at me. “Cheers, Princess, I
could get used to this.”
“Don’t get any funny ideas, I’m not your skivvy.”
He smiles around a mouthful of sandwich. “I don’t
suppose you put my clothes in the wash?”
I raise a brow. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to speak
with your mouth full?”
“I take it that’s a no?”
“It’s a hell no. Just because I’m a girl it doesn’t mean I’m
automatically hardwired to serve an ignorant fuckwit who
thinks it’s okay to dump his dirty clothes on the floor and
expect me to clean up after him. It was more than enough to
clean up your blood from the kitchen floor and scrub the
counter.”
 Beast chuckles. “Yet you did that and made me a sandwich
and a cup of coffee…”
“Because I wanted to,” I grind out. “I don’t, however, want
to deal with your dirty washing, so I suggest you pick it up off
the floor before Nadia arrives on her shift in a few hours
because you know she hates a mess.”
“As soon as we’ve watched this movie and I’ve tucked you
in bed, I promise I’ll do that.”
Snatching up the remote, I flick through the selection of
movies on screen, ignoring his comment about tucking me into
bed and the smirk on his face as he eats. Eventually I find
what I’m looking for and press play.
“Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels? Are you shitting
me?” Beast asks, setting his empty plate back on the table and
slurping on his coffee.
“I happen to like Jason Statham. Have you got a problem
with that?”
Beast tips his head back and laughs, not caring that he
could aggravate his gash. “Jason-fucking-Statham, really?”
“What can I say? I like my men older and a little rough
around the edges.”
Beast snaps his head around, eyes narrowing. “What, and
fucking bald?”
“It’s not about how much hair he has on his head,” I
counter. “It’s his sex appeal.”
“He’s got about as much sex appeal as a rat on steroids.”
“Says the meathead—”
“Meathead? I’m fucking insulted.”
“That was the general idea,” I snip back, grinning
internally at the way he slams his empty mug of coffee onto
the table and folds his arms across his chest.
“Banter is one thing, but a straight up insult is something
altogether different. A meathead would imply I’m as thick as
shit. I’m not fucking stupid, Princess.”
 I burst out laughing, only vaguely aware of the opening
title sequence playing on the TV screen. “Sensitive much? It
was a joke.”
“What, like calling me Daddy was, huh?”
My laughter dies on my lips as he shifts in his seat and
turns to face me. His expression is serious as his knee brushes
against my thigh and his arm rests on the back of the sofa.
“Beast…”
“Listen, Princess, I’m a straight talking kind of guy and I
do my best not to play games,” he says, absentmindedly
fiddling with the ends of my hair.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Says the man playing with my
hair,” I retort, then instantly regret it when he drops his hand.
“Besides, I’m not the one playing games.”
“You think I don’t notice how you look at me all the time,
huh? You’ve got some kind of crush and it stops now.”
“One, I do not look at you all the time and two, this is not a
crush—” It’s so, so much more than that.
“I mean, I totally fucking get it. I’m a catch.”
“You’ve got such a big fucking head!” I snap, meeting his
gaze. I hate that he’s trying to turn this all around on me as
though he hasn’t had a part in this growing attraction between
us. I thought better of him.
He arches a brow, lifting his knuckles to my cheek. “You
forget I know you.”
“You don’t. Nobody does,” I counter.
“Not even Hudson?”
“Not even him,” I admit.
Beast nods, something close to relief flashing across his
face. “Tell me, Princess, have you ever fucked a man before?”
“What?!” I exclaim, my whole body stiffening.
Beast shifts closer and as he moves I get a hit of his
freshly-showered scent of soap and deodorant. I try hard not to
take a deep breath.
“I asked whether you’ve fucked a man, because whilst
you’ve got the chat, I’m a thousand percent certain you
haven’t got the game,” he says, his t-shirt pulling across his
broad shoulders, hugging the muscles. I’m momentarily
jealous of that piece of material for being so close to his skin.
“That’s none of your business.”
He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at me. “Do you
know what I think?” he asks, licking his lips in a way that
makes my insides squirm.
“No, what?”
“Not only do I know that you’ve never been fucked, I also
know that you’ve never been touched, licked, stroked or even
kissed.”
“You forget I have a piercing in my clitoral hood. I don’t
know many virgins who’ve got that area of their body pierced,
do you?”
He smirks. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”
“You don’t know shit.” I snap my head to the side, this
time failing to hide the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I’m
angry for being called out, turned on, and fucking terrified of
admitting the truth. He’s wrong about the piercing, but he’s
right about everything else.
Beast grips my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look at
him. “I know…” he counters, staring at me intently as he leans
in close, his mouth inches from mine, “That these lips are as
virginal as your pussy. I can tell.”
“How?”
“Just call it instinct.”
“I’m not pure, Beast,” I reply, because I’m not. Not in my
thoughts anyway.
For long moments we just stare at each other, that same
pull crackling and snapping in the air between us just like it
did at Macey’s Bar, and just like it did at Sapori. I’m pretty
sure if someone were to light a match right underneath us,
we’d go up in flames.
“Don’t lie, Princess. You’re as virginal as they come.”
“If that’s the case, then what’re you gonna do about it?” I
eventually whisper, the question spilling from my lips before I
can stop it. Did I just offer myself up on a platter?
Beast’s eyes flash with something close to possession, but
he shuts it down quickly with a smirk. “Absolutely nothing,”
he replies, dropping my chin and settling back onto the sofa. I
watch him as he lifts his bare feet up onto the coffee table and
grabs a cushion, hugging it against his chest. “Are we gonna
watch this movie or what?”
My stomach flips with nausea, and the sting of his rebuff
has me feeling all kinds of ways, but I refuse to let my feelings
show.
Fuck him. Two can play at that game.
Reaching forward I grab the remote control and chuck it in
his lap, getting up. “Nah, I think I’ll go to bed and play with
my pussy whilst thinking about all the men I’ve fucked,” I
reply, then twist on my feet and stride towards the stairs,
leaving him open-mouthed and staring after me.
 CHAPTER TWELVE

Temptation
“Carter called, he wants us to meet him at Chez Etienne for
dinner. He’ll be there within the hour,” I say, entering the
kitchen a full forty-eight hours after I killed Dougie and his
cronies.
“Surely he’s tired after his trip? Why doesn’t he just come
home?” Kate asks, glancing up from the plans for the refit at
Tales spread out in front of her on the kitchen table. Her brows
lift at my outfit. It’s not often you see me in a tailored suit.
“Why’re you so dressed up?”
“Boss’s orders. I’ve laid a dress out on your bed for you to
wear tonight.”
Kate scowls as she gathers up the plans. “Presumptuous
much? You know I am capable of picking out my own clothes
to wear.”
“Carter requested you wear something suitable for dinner,”
I reply evenly.
“Suitable? I don’t see why I need to dress up, it’s just
dinner,” she says, eying me with suspicion.
“Apparently not. Carter wants you to meet someone,” I
reply, fiddling with my cufflinks.
“Who?”
“He didn’t say,” I reply, turning my attention to Nadia
who’s quietly watching our exchange with humour in her eyes.
“Good evening, Nadia.”
 Nadia dips her head respectfully. “Good evening, Mr
Beast.”
“You know it’s just Beast,” I say, striding over to her and
pressing a kiss against her cheek. Her face flushes and she
mutters something in Italian under her breath. My Italian is
rusty, but I’m pretty sure she just said I look deliciously
devilish. She ain’t wrong. “I aim to please.”
“Indeed.” She grins, glancing at Kate who’s still staring at
me like she hasn’t seen a man in a suit before. “Perhaps you
should go and get ready, Miss Kate?” Nadia urges.
“I really don’t want to go out,” Kate says, wincing.
She’s still in pain from her bruised rib and whilst the
swelling around her eye has gone down, the bruise hasn’t.
She’s got a proper shiner. I don’t blame her for not wanting to
go out. I had explained this to her dad but he didn’t much care
which, I must admit, pissed me off. That and the fact he asked
me to pick out a dress for Kate. He’d been very specific about
what he wanted her to wear. Something that was knee-length,
covered her up. Made her look demure, respectable. His
fucking words, not mine.
Something about that got my back up.
“I can cook us all a meal, I’m not completely useless,”
Kate continues. “He can ask his friend here.”
“No! You cannot cook ragazza dolce, you will all die,”
Nadia says in that dramatic way of hers.
I can’t help but laugh which only earns me another death
stare from Kate.
“Our Princess might be a shit cook but she’s most
definitely not a sweet girl,” I remark with a knowing smile as I
check my gun then slide it into the holster strapped to my
chest, before pulling on my dinner jacket. “Besides, this is
business, not pleasure. Go and get changed.”
“Don’t order me about!” Kate retorts, folding her arms
across her chest. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my arse
all weekend.”
 I meet her gaze.“You wish I was a pain in your arse.”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I chuckle. Truthfully, I’ve been
avoiding her as best I can all weekend and she fucking knows
it. After whatever-the-fuck that conversation was on Friday
night, I’ve made sure I’ve stayed out of her way, especially
since my dick got rock hard at the thought of her pleasuring
herself. Fuck, she knew exactly which buttons to push and it
took every last shred of control not to chase her up the stairs
and take all of her firsts in one moment of madness. If she’s
not a virgin them I’m the fucking Pope.
“Whatever you say,” Kate replies, giving me a look that
I’d love to fucking kiss off her face.
We stare at one another way past what is comfortable or
socially acceptable only looking away when Nadia clears her
throat.
“Bella, go shower and change. If your father wishes for
you to dress up then it must be for a good reason, hmm?”
Nadia says, ushering her out of her seat.
Kate rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll go get ready,” she agrees,
traversing the table, her gaze meeting mine. “But you better
believe I’m wearing what I want to wear. The day I let a man
dress me is the day I lose my lady balls.”
Nadia smiles, her pretty brown eyes flashing with
amusement and pride. “That’s my girl.”
“Lady balls?” I scoff, shaking my head.
“There’s a reason why God is a woman, Beast.”
“Yeah, and how do you figure that?” I ask, not that I
believe in God or anything, but wanting to hear her reasoning,
if only because I can’t resist the opportunity to tease her.
“Because she made sure women can bring a man to their
knees just by grabbing their balls. Not so easy to do in reverse,
eh, given ours are tucked safely inside of us?”
Nadia bursts out laughing as Kate climbs the stairs leaving
me mentally adjusting my bollocks at the thought. Fuck, this
girl is gonna be the death of me.
 Forty minutes later and still no sign of Kate, I trudge up
the steps ready to drag her arse out of her bedroom even if she
isn’t ready. Carter is not a patient man at the best of times and
I’m going to need to break a few speed limits to get us to the
restaurant on time if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up.
“Princess, we gotta get moving,” I say, rapping my
knuckles against her bedroom door.
“Just a second, I’m just putting on my shoes.”
I look at my wrist watch, a beautiful gold Rolex that I
bought just under a year ago after winning a fight in a club up
north run by Carter’s uncle Ransom. That was the night Carter
offered me the job as head of his security after I snapped the
neck of some punk who was sent to kill him. He’d told me
about his new business venture in London, backed by his
uncle, and his need for a security team and experienced
fighters. I took the job having no idea that part of my
responsibilities would be to guard his feisty daughter. By the
time I’d arrived in London, set up in a flat that I barely live in
now, it was too late to back out. Kate’s been nothing but
trouble ever since, in more ways than one.
“You’ve got ten seconds before I sling you over my
shoulder and carry you out to the car. Don’t piss me off!” I
warn, opening the top button of my shirt and rolling my
shoulders. I rarely do smart, it always feels like I’m being
strangled. I’d rather suffocate from a face full of pussy than
suffer the tightness of a stiff collar like this. “Kate!”
“For Christ’s sake, I’m ready,” she retorts, pulling the door
open angrily.
My snarky response is ripped from my lips when I’m
confronted with the absolutely stunning vision before me.
Pretty sure my motherfucking tongue is hanging out of my
mouth right about now. A slow smile pulls up Kate’s ruby red
lips as she cocks her head to the side, her long dark hair falling
over her bare shoulder in loose curls. She’s wearing a low cut,
figure skimming red silk dress that drops to the floor and has a
slit to the top of her thigh, showing off her shapely legs. Given
how the material skirts her skin and there are no visible lines
beneath it, I know she’s not wearing any underwear.
FUCK ME.
I’m in deep shit. Deep, deep shit.
“What’s the matter, Beast, cat got your tongue?” she asks,
brushing past me in a pair of Louboutin black heels with
stilettos so sharp she could use them to kill a man. I watch
agog as she walks along the hall, her hips swaying, her bare
back on show from the low cut of the dress. I can practically
see the top of her arse and honestly I’ve no idea how the dress
stays on her body given it’s held together with shoestring
straps.
“Wait!” I call, coughing to remove the fucking tightness in
my throat.
She stills, looking over her shoulder at me, her thick black
eyeliner making her brown eyes look even more feline, the
bruise hidden beneath carefully applied makeup. “What?”
“That is not the dress I put out for you,” I say, and it’s all I
can do not to grab my dick and give it a squeeze to stop it from
punching a fucking hole through my trousers.
“And I told you that I wear what I want. Besides, the last
time I wore that dress I was fifteen. Do you want me to look
like a child?” she asks, looking me up and down in a sinfully
sexy way.
“Yes. No! Fuck. Just put on something else,” I grind out,
hoping to fuck she doesn’t notice my semi.
“Nope,” she replies, popping the p in a way that both
grates my nerves and makes me want to throw her over my lap
and spank her arse.
“Princess!”
But she ignores me, gliding down the stairs just like Vivien
Leigh in that old black and white movie Gone With the Wind
my mum used to love to watch.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, not in the slightest bit ready to face
another night with a girl trying her damndest to get my dick
chopped off. Because that’s exactly what’ll happen if her dad
gets wind of whatever the fuck is going on between us.
Which is absolutely fucking nothing.

“GRIM, I’d like you to meet the King,” Carter says thirty
minutes later as he pushes back his chair and introduces the
shady cunt to Kate. This is who Carter wanted her to meet? So
far he’s kept Kate out of one on one meetings with whoever
he’s doing shady shit with, and I know that she’d have to meet
these men eventually, but why the King first? He’s a fucking
tool.
“Grim?” the self-titled King questions, his eyes flashing
with interest.
I scowl. Carter notices and he gives me a look that I’ve
only seen him use a handful of times before. It’s his don’t
overstep look and it pisses me the fuck off, but it’s the way he
glares at Kate that grinds my gears more. I know she ain’t
wearing what he wanted, but there’s no denying how fucking
incredible she looks. Powerful, actually. He should be fucking
proud, not giving her the motherfucking stink-eye.
“It’s a nickname,” Carter explains, plastering on a smile.
“My daughter is an avid reader of Grimms’ fairy tales.”
The King nods. “That’s quite a morbid interest you’ve got
there.”
“Not to me,” Kate replies, taking his proffered hand and
giving him a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She might be used to speaking on a level with me and the
other guys who work for Carter, and has the ability to put us
all to shame with her cursing, but she sure as fuck can switch
on the role of obedient, respectful daughter when she needs to.
I think I prefer her sass, frankly.
“Oh believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” the King replies,
lifting her knuckles to his mouth and running his lips over
them as he drinks her in.
 Kate stiffens, her gaze shifting between the King and her
father who just gives her a bland, approving smile. What in the
actual fuck is going on here? If any other man, potential
business partner or not, tried to do the same they’d have a
fucking bullet in the brain before they could even blink.
“This is Beast, my second in command and head of
security,” Carter says, introducing me officially to the fuckwit
even though we met before at Nine Lives. I didn’t like him
then, and I sure as fuck don’t like him now.
“Beast,” the King replies, side-eyeing me because he’s
busy mentally undressing Kate with his hand still wrapped
around hers.
I grit my jaw, my fingers curling into my palms as a rush
of fucking anger bolts up my spine. It’s just as well the
dicksplash drops Kate’s hand and sits down right at that
moment, otherwise I would’ve taken great pleasure in
knocking the cunt out.
“Princess,” I growl under my breath, uncertain why I’m
taking my anger out on her but unable to help myself. It’s not
her fault that the King’s a fucking predatory bastard with a
penchant for beating women, and he’s looking at Kate like
she’s his next fucking meal. I pull out a chair for her, and to
her credit she doesn’t react to my shitty attitude. She just gives
me a guarded smile instead.
“How was your business trip?” she asks Carter evenly,
though the look she gives me as I sit beside her is
unmistakably one of confusion as much as it is suspicion. Kate
senses something shady going on as much as I do, she’s just
better at controlling her emotions and hiding her reactions than
I am.
“It was very successful,” the King answers. The fact Carter
doesn’t punch the dick for speaking on his behalf is telling.
My fucking spine goes rigid. “Your father and I have come to
a very agreeable business deal that I’m looking forward to
completing very soon.”
Kate looks at her dad, who’s grinning like a fucking
moron. Is he on drugs? The guy looks wired. A quick glance
around the restaurant tells me we’re alone and this isn’t some
elaborate ruse to jump us all. Still, I’ve not got to where I am
today by resting on my laurels. This King fucker is up to some
shit, and Carter is neck deep in it.
“I see, and what might that be?” she asks, picking up the
menu and glancing at it.
“Well, here’s the thing—” the King begins, but Carter
raises his hand and cuts him off. Thank fuck, there’s the Carter
I know and respect. My shoulders relax a smidge.
“Not tonight. Tonight we’ll enjoy a meal together. There’s
been enough business for one weekend,” Carter says,
motioning over the waiter.
The King nods. “You’re absolutely right, of course.
There’s time to go over our deal at a later date once everything
is fixed in place and contracts are signed, yes?”
“Indeed,” Carter replies, before instructing the waiter to
serve the wine.
My fucking bullshitometor starts ringing in my ears like a
fucking foghorn. What the horseshit is going on? What
contract? I’m Carter’s second in command for a reason and
usually I know everything that’s happening when it comes to
his business. So why the fuck am I suddenly in the dark?
“Boss, is there anything I need to be aware of?” I ask, as
the waiter moves around the table and takes everyone’s orders.
When he reaches my side I point to some random shit on the
menu having no idea what I’ve just ordered, given it’s all
written in French. I’m not fucking hungry anyway.
“We’ll have a discussion later, for now let’s enjoy this
meal,” Carter replies, taking a sip of his red wine. I’m pretty
sure the bottle costs more than your average weekly wage.
He’s really pushing the boat out for this prick.
“So, Grim, tell me about the subjects you’re studying at
school?” the King asks, focusing his slimy, good-for-nothing
bastard attention back on her. “I must say, I’d have placed you
a little older than school age…”
 He allows that comment to hang in the air and I can’t help
but notice how Carter shifts in his seat, avoiding eye contact
with Kate, let alone me. The fuck kind of comment is that
anyway?
Kate folds her hands in her lap and looks the King directly
in his eyes, taking her measure of him. “I’m no longer at
school, Mr…” she allows her voice to trail off.
“Just call me King,” he replies, licking his lips as he
watches her.
She nods. “As I was saying, Mr King, I’m not at school. I
left college this summer and I’m learning the ins and outs of
the business. In fact, right now I’m going over the plans for
the Tales rebuild, ensuring the architect has everything in
place ready for when the builders come in. Isn’t that right,
Father?”
Carter nods, seemingly oblivious to that little tell. Kate’s
pissed. She never refers to Carter as Father, it’s either Carter or
Dad. To look at her now you wouldn’t know it though. She’s
poised and cool as a fucking cucumber, not to mention
smoking fucking hot. Which is a big fucking problem, given
the King is staring at her in a way that makes me want to pick
up the steak knife resting beside my hand and stab it into his
motherfucking eye.
King shifts in his seat. “Is that so? Carter tells me you’ve
quite the business brain, that you’re smart.”
“Smart enough,” she agrees coolly.
Smart enough to suss this guy out in less than ten seconds,
that’s for damn sure. Kate might think no one knows her, but I
do. I know that right now her inner warning bells are going off
just like mine are. You don’t grow up surrounded by criminals
without knowing very quickly who you can trust and who you
need to shoot in the motherfucking head when the time is
right. This guy has a bullet with his name etched on the
surface just waiting to blow his brains out. Not that I’d share
my thoughts with her, after all, her dad’s my boss and whether
I like it or not I have to respect his decisions, even if I don’t
fucking like them.
 “You want to run Tales when you’re older?” he asks,
cocking his head at her.
“I’m learning the business so I can run Tales alongside my
father now,” she retorts, jerking her chin at the waiter and
tapping the wine glass. “You seem to have forgotten to pour
me some.”
The waiter’s cheeks flush a deep red and he mumbles his
apologies whilst trying not to spill the wine all over the damn
table cloth. Picking up the glass, she takes a sip, watching the
King over the rim of her glass.
“Aren’t you a little young to be taking on such
responsibility? Surely there are far more interesting things that
you should be concerning yourself with. A beauty like
yourself would make the perfect queen for the right man.”
Without even thinking about what I’m doing, my fingers
wrap around the handle of the knife resting on the table. No
one but Kate appears to notice, and beneath the table she rests
her hand on my thigh, squeezing it gently. It does the fucking
trick and stills my hand.
“Mr King, not only am I old enough to run any business I
set my sights on, but I’m also fully capable of becoming queen
without the need of a man. In fact, I’m certain I could take on
the title of king too,” she replies sweetly, but there’s no
mistaking the fire or the warning in her eyes.
Her dad snaps his gaze to her. It’s a not so sly dig to him as
well, and I can’t help but feel a well of pride bloom in my
chest. She might not have shot Saxon in the head, but she sure
as fuck is showing that she means business.
That’s my girl.
My girl? I shove that thought to the back of my head. I
can’t afford any more distractions tonight. Carter clears his
throat, casting his gaze from Kate to the King, a nerve ticking
in his eyelid. I’ve rarely seen him get nervous, but right now
he’s shitting a brick and I want to know why.
“Yes, Kate has her uses.”
Uses?
 My teeth grind together so hard that the sound is
unmistakable. Next to me Kate flinches as though slapped, but
to her credit that’s the only physical reaction to her dad’s
disparaging remark that she reveals.
“That’s good to know,” the King replies with a smirk that I
want to wipe off his face. “But women have no place in
business, especially not the kind of business we deal in.”
“Says the fuck who… You?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
The King turns his attention to me as Carter squirms in his
seat. I can’t help but imagine grabbing both their heads and
slamming them together for being such fucking pricks. The
King because he’s clearly a hater of women, particularly those
who’re smarter than him, and Carter for not stepping in and
putting a stop to this bullshit or reeling his own neck in.
“Do you disagree?” the King asks me.
“You bet your fucking—”
“Beast, could you pour me a glass of water?” Kate
interjects, giving my leg another squeeze. I barely register her
touch over the fucking rage fizzing through my blood right
now. “Beast?” she prompts, firmer this time.
My fingers release from around the knife handle because
as much as I want to slit this motherfucker’s throat, I’m also
all too aware that there’s some deeper shit at play here and I
need to keep my head to find out exactly what that is. Kate’s
picked up on it too, and she’s playing the long game. I need to
take a leaf out of her book.
“Apologies, no offence meant. I’m what you call old
school. I appreciate the value of a good woman running a
household and bearing my children. That is far more
impressive than running a business in my humble opinion,”
the King says, smiling in what I assume he believes is a
charming way, but only makes him look more like the slimy
snake he is.
“It is impressive, you’re right,” Kate replies, her finger
tapping against the table top, the only tell that she’s losing her
patience too. “Bringing up children and running a household is
underestimated by most men, but I disagree that women have
no place in business. It’s an archaic and, frankly, misogynistic
view of the world. Tell me, Mr King, how does your wife feel
about such matters?”
Kate’s gaze rests on the wedding ring the King wears
before raising her brows. Carter looks as though he’s either
about to lose his shit or hide under the table, neither of which
are appropriate responses for how well Kate is handling
herself right now. He should be stepping in and backing her
instead of allowing this horseshit to continue.
“Soon to be ex-wife,” the King replies, twisting the band
on his finger.
“And yet you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”
“Force of habit,” the King shrugs, removing the ring and
pocketing it. “That better?”
Kate keeps her expression blank. “For her, I imagine it is.”
I snort, biting down the laugh that threatens to erupt. The
King’s eyes narrow and Carter’s face pales but we’re all saved
by the waiter who delivers our food. I look down at my plate,
eyes wide.
“What the fuck is this?” I bark out, causing the waiter to
jump and almost drop the tray he’s holding.
Kate laughs, the sound is light and carefree despite the
evening’s events and the smouldering look the King is giving
her for insulting him so eloquently. “You ordered escargot…
Snails,” she adds when I snatch my head around to look at her.
“And you didn’t think to tell me I was going to get a plate
full of garden munchers?”
“Garden munchers?” Kate snorts with laughter then
quickly straightens her expression.
“Would you rather I call them snot balls?”
“Escargot is a delicacy in France. Try something new, you
might like it,” she replies, the innuendo not lost on me as she
flashes a smile that has my cock jumping.
 “I would advise against that,” the King says, watching our
exchange as he carves into the barely dead slab of meat in
front of him. “In my experience it’s better to stick with what
you know rather than indulge in something that could disagree
with you, don’t you think?”
I narrow my eyes at him, pick up the weird-shaped fork the
waiter set down for me and pull out the snail from its shell,
popping it in my mouth. Chewing, I swallow, surprised by
how tasty it is. “You know what, Princess, you’re right, I do
like it. Trying new things ain’t so bad after all. I could go as
far as saying that it’s pretty fucking tempting.”
She grins. “Told you.”
The King chews on his steak, focusing his gaze on Kate as
he swallows. “Isn’t temptation man’s greatest downfall?”
Kate dabs her mouth with her napkin before responding. “I
think that depends on the man, don’t you?”
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Let Me Down Slowly

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask, twisting in
my seat to face Carter as Beast drives us home. I catch his
gaze in the rear view mirror, unable to discern the look in his
eyes.
My dad swipes a hand over his face, before pinching the
bridge of his nose. “We’ve gone into business together.”
“The club?” I ask, hating the way he won’t look at me.
Everything feels off.
“Yes and no.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I push, flinching at the
sharp look he gives me.
“It means what it means. Stop asking questions, Grim.”
“Dad—”
“I said enough! When the time is right you’ll know. Right
now I need to take a couple of sleeping pills and pass the fuck
out. I’ve got a splitting fucking headache. It’s been a long
weekend.” He rubs at his temples, groaning.
“Then why invite me to dinner tonight if you’re not going
to let me in on what deal you’ve got going with the King,
who’s a chauvinistic pig by the way. I have a right to know
what’s going on.”
Dropping his hands, Carter twists his body to face me.
“Firstly, whilst I might have given you more insight into the
business and some responsibility with the refit, Tales is my
club. Who I choose to do business with has fuck all to do with
you. Know your place.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “My place?”
“That’s right. I’m the boss. I decide who I do business
with, not you. Do you understand me?”
“But—” My voice comes out in a croak, and I hate it. I
hate that my own dad has been able to cut me so deep, so
easily.
“No buts. This is my business.”
“I thought you said that you wanted me to be your partner?
Why have you given me the responsibility of the refit if you
didn’t think I was capable of overseeing it?”
He looks me up and down, and I feel his disgust sink into
my skin. What the hell is wrong with him? “Is dressing like an
attention-seeking whore befitting of someone I want running
the club beside me, huh? I think fucking not.”
Beast slams on the brakes, my gasp lost beneath the sounds
of the tires squealing as we’re all thrown forward in our seats.
My father throws his hands out, slamming them onto the back
of Beast’s seat.
“What the fuck, Beast?!” he shouts, oblivious to the tear
that fucking escapes my eye. I swipe at it, refusing to let my
dad see how hurt I am by his words. It’s surprisingly painful.
“Apologies, a cat just ran into the road,” Beast replies,
twisting in his seat. He looks at me, an unreadable expression
on his face. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” I reply tightly.
“Just take us fucking home,” Carter snaps.
“Yes, boss.” Beast puts the car into drive, his fingers
gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.
The rest of the journey is spent in awkward silence. By the
time we’ve pulled up outside the house it’s nearing midnight,
but the last thing I want to do is go inside. Carter’s words are
like a fucking dagger to my heart and there’s no way I’m ready
to sleep under the same roof as him. Beast cuts the engine and
Carter reaches for the handle like he can’t wait to get away
from me.
“Carter. Dad…”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he grinds out, opening the door and
striding towards the house without a backwards glance.
I stare after him, stunned by his attitude towards me.
“What the fuck did I do wrong?” I mumble, more to myself
than to Beast who is staring at me in the rear view mirror.
“Princess…”
“Don’t. Whatever it is you’re about to say, I don’t want to
fucking hear it.”
“Kate, listen to me,” he begins.
“Just get me out of here.”
“What?”
“I said get me out of here. I don’t want to go inside. Just
take me somewhere, anywhere away from here,” I reply,
unclipping my seatbelt and leaning over to pull the door shut. I
fall back in my seat, feeling the heat of Beast’s gaze on me.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see he’s twisted in his seat
and is staring heatedly at me. “What?”
“Your dress,” he replies, his gaze snapping up when I look
at him.
“What about it?” I let out a heavy sigh. “What’s so fucking
wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just—”
“What?!” I snap, glaring at him.
“I can see your…” He gulps, twisting in his seat and facing
forward, stepping on the gas as he drives us back down the
driveway and onto the main road. “Fuck.”
A slow heat creeps over my skin as my gaze slowly drops
to my lap. My dress has ridden up and the thigh slit has shifted
to reveal my neatly trimmed pussy. “Shit!” I exclaim, pulling
the material down, my whole body aflame as I rest my head
back against the headrest and press my palms over my face. I
hadn’t worn any underwear to provoke Beast. I’d done it on
purpose, to get his attention, but now that I have it, it doesn’t
feel half as good as I hoped it would. I’m exactly what my dad
accused me of being.
“He was right. How can anyone take me seriously when
I’m dressed like a whore?”
“The fuck you say?” Beast growls, stepping on the brake
for the second time tonight.
“You heard me,” I reply, pulling my seatbelt around me
and clicking it into place. Despite my humiliation, I don’t want
to die because I wasn’t smart enough to put a seatbelt on.
“That’s bullshit! Don’t ever let me hear you speak about
yourself like that again. Got me?”
“Why? It’s true.”
“The fuck it is,” he snaps, hitting the gas again and
speeding off down the road. I’ve no idea where he’s taking me,
but I don’t question it. Instead, I stare out of the window as
silence descends between us. This is the most vulnerable I’ve
ever been and I hate it. I’m not this girl who lets shit get to her,
who feels sorry for herself. Yet, here I am doing exactly that.
“Firstly, you ain’t dressed like a whore, you’re a perfect
fucking vision of beauty and badassery,” Beast suddenly says
a few minutes of awkward silence later. My gaze snaps to him
as he concentrates on the road ahead. I can’t help but notice
how that muscle in his jaw jumps as he grits his teeth.
“Secondly, and for the motherfucking record, what you wear
should never have any bearing on your value or your worth.
None. Thirdly, and most importantly, the way you handled
yourself tonight was nothing less than regal. You’re a fucking
Queen.”
I scoff. “If that were true then why did you ask me to wear
something else, Beast? Admit it, you thought the exact same
thing.”
 “You’ve no idea what I was thinking.”
“Whatever you say,” I retort bitterly.
“I mean it, Princess. You don’t know shit.”
“I know enough.”
Beast doesn’t reply. He doesn’t say another word until we
pull up outside a large white house on a tree-lined suburban
street twenty minutes later. It has four floors, and a big green
door with several doorbells indicating the house is split into
flats. I can see a woman talking on a telephone through one of
the windows on the fourth floor, and a soft pink glow from a
window on the first. Putting the car in park, Beast kills the
engine, turning around to face me.
“Well, here we are.”
“Where’s here exactly?”
“My place.”
“Your place?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, where did you think I’d take
you?”
“To a bar or a club. I was hoping to get drunk.”
“Exactly.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you going to do, make me a cup
of cocoa and put me to bed like a good little girl?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” he replies, climbing out of the car
and slamming the door behind him. When I don’t follow him
he strides around to my side of the car and yanks open the
door.
“Out.”
“Just call me a cab. I’ll head over to Macey’s Bar. You
don’t need to babysit me anymore. I’ll give Hudson a call
when I get there. He’ll keep me company.”
He scowls. “Yeah, not happening.”
“Look, I got this. I’ve had my mini meltdown. I’m fine
now. I just want to blow off some steam,” I say, letting out a
light laugh in an attempt to convince both Beast and myself
that my dad’s insults and the weirdness this evening hasn’t
thrown me through a loop.
“Not tonight you won’t, because you’ll be spending some
quality time with me,” Beast says as he leans over and unclips
my seatbelt before grasping my elbow and guiding me out of
the car.
“Don’t you have better things to do? You really are taking
your job responsibilities one step too far,” I say, pulling out of
his hold and wrapping my arms around myself.
“Just get inside.”
“No.”
“Do you really want me to sling you over my shoulder?
Because I will. You know I will,” he warns, raising his
eyebrows. I almost, almost test his threat, then I remember I’m
not wearing any underwear and I really don’t need the added
humiliation of anyone else seeing my lady garden tonight.
What the fuck was I thinking?
“Fine,” I retort, striding towards the front door so he can’t
see how red my cheeks flame.
Beast locks the car then jogs to catch up with me, opening
the front door and leading me inside. The communal hallway
is blandly decorated with a black and white tiled floor and
white walls, he stops briefly to pick up a pile of post resting on
the hall table before striding towards the end of the corridor.
“Mine’s the garden flat. You’ll have to excuse the mess.
I’m not exactly used to visitors.”
“Really? I thought you were like the Don Giovanni of East
London.”
“Don Giovanni, who’s that?” Beast frowns as he opens the
door to his place, and ushers me inside.
“You mean you don’t know the story about the world’s
greatest lover?” I ask, with a smirk.
“Funny. Just make yourself at home,” he replies, turning
on the light switch and illuminating his small but surprisingly
tidy flat.
“I thought you said it was a mess,” I say, kicking off my
stilettos and groaning as my feet sink into the carpet. It’s a
very minimalist space, with a big brown leather couch in the
centre of the room and a large wall-mounted TV, a coffee table
and a bookshelf filled with books. I wander over to it, passing
french doors on the right and a small, but perfectly adequate
kitchen on the left.
“Looks like my cleaner came today,” Beast replies from
what must be his bedroom. He’s left the door ajar and I can see
him shucking off his jacket and shirt, pulling on a t-shirt and
hoodie. He’s got his back to me, and I’ve got the perfect view
of his broad shoulders and tattooed back. When he reaches
down to undo his trousers I drag my gaze away from him and
to the bookshelf in front of me, running my fingers over the
spines to distract me from the fact that my nipples have
hardened and my pussy is doing her best impression of a
butterfly’s wings quivering in the sun. Jesus, even my skin
feels hot.
“I didn’t know you were a big reader,” I say, pulling out a
copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover and flipping it open.
“They’re not my books,” Beast says from behind me.
I turn to face him, my mouth drying at the way he studies
me. “Who do they belong to then?” I ask as he approaches me
with a pair of boxer shorts and t-shirt. He takes the book from
me and hands me the clothes. I clutch them to my chest,
almost lowering my head to the material so I can breathe in his
familiar scent, but manage to stop myself.
“My mum was an avid reader. She loved all of that
romantic shit, not like those weird as fuck fairy tales you
read,” he replies, running his fingers over the cover before
leaning over me and sliding the book back into its spot on the
shelf.
“They’re not weird. Well, maybe a bit…” My voice trails
off as he looks down at me, his gaze meeting mine. There’s a
whole host of pain in his eyes and I want so fucking badly for
him to open up to me again.
 “Well, it ain’t no Disney shit, that’s for sure.”
“That’s why I like it. Life isn’t like a fairy tale and neither
are the books I read.”
“You’re not wrong there, Princess.” He nods, a faraway
look in his eyes.
“Do you want to tell me some more about her…?” I ask,
my voice trailing off when he lifts his other hand and grips the
shelf behind me, trapping me between his body and the
bookcase.
“No point in talking about ghosts. It doesn’t do anyone any
good.”
“Okay,” I reply and he nods, holding my gaze for so long
that for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. I freeze, my
stomach flipping. “Beast?”
“Go change. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,”
he says, stepping back abruptly.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I do,” he insists.
“I can take the couch. Seriously, it’s fine.”
“Princess, for once in your life just do as you’re told,” he
says with exasperation.
“Sure, okay,” I concede. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“I’ll put the kettle on, unless you want that cup of cocoa?”
He grins, some of the tension between us releasing with his
smile.
“I could do with something stronger. Got any bourbon?”
“Sure do,” he replies as I head into his bedroom, which is
as sparse as the front room, and he strides into the kitchen.
I quickly change, removing my dress and chucking it on
the bed before pulling on his boxer shorts that slip low on my
hips given he’s that much bigger than me. His t-shirt is like a
nightie but I don’t care though, wearing his clothes makes me
feel safe somehow.
 By the time I’ve changed, he’s sitting on the couch with a
glass of bourbon in his hand, staring at the liquid like it holds
answers to all the questions that are clearly troubling him. I
wonder if he’s as thrown by tonight’s events as I am. Given
how he reacted to the King, I’m sure he is.
There’s no denying that Carter was acting weird, the sheer
fact he’s going into business with that creepy arsehole is
testament to that. I don’t like the King, and neither does Beast,
which has me questioning why Carter trusts him. I thought he
was smarter than that.
“Thanks for the clothes,” I say, stepping into Beast’s line
of sight.
He slowly lifts his gaze, his eyes dragging up my bare legs,
over my t-shirt covered chest until they finally rest on my face.
Heat rises beneath my skin from his slow perusal and there’s
nothing I can do to hide the fact that my nipples stand to
attention beneath his heated gaze.
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, lifting the glass to his lips
and taking a sip as he passes me a glass already filled.
I take a seat, pulling my legs up and under me as I twist to
face him. “What do you think Carter’s up to?”
Beast sighs, knocking back the rest of his drink. He places
the glass on the table and folds his hands into his lap. “I’m
sure he knows what he’s doing.”
I take a sip of the bourbon, relishing the burn. “You really
think that?”
“He’s an astute businessman, Princess.”
“And an arsehole.”
“I reckon he’s just having an off day,” Beast says, playing
it down. “Don’t take too much notice.”
“An off day? He’s been shitty towards me ever since I
handed you the gun to shoot Saxon.”
He doesn’t agree but he doesn’t say anything to the
contrary either.
 “And the King, what do you think about him?” I ask,
knowing full well he dislikes the man as much as I do, that
much was obvious from the way he reacted to him this
evening.
“I’m not a fan.”
“He’s a dick…” My voice trails off as I nurse my shot of
bourbon and we fall into an awkward silence that I just don’t
seem to have the energy to fill. I’m exhausted all of a sudden
and honestly, all I want is some human comfort. A hug. Apart
from the occasional brotherly hug from Hudson, I’m sorely
lacking in that department.
“Princess, about what Carter said earlier,” Beast says after
a while, drawing my attention back to him.
“What, about dressing like an attention-seeking whore?” I
laugh bitterly, still feeling the sting.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Your dad was wrong.”
“So you said.”
Beast shifts forward in his seat, and I catch a whiff of his
scent as he moves. Fuck, he really smells good. “I mean it.
That was a shitty fucking thing to say.”
“True though.”
“Not in the fucking slightest!”
Knocking back the bourbon for dutch courage, I settle the
glass on the coffee table and meet Beast’s angry glare. “But it
was. You were right about everything, Beast.”
“Right about what?”
“Before when you said that I was flirting with you, I was. I
dressed like I did tonight to get you to notice me,” I admit.
“Princess, don’t do this,” he warns.
“I wanted to tempt you. I wanted you to want me. Fucking
stupid because to you I’m just a kid, right?” I press, knowing
in my heart that he’s been lying to himself as much as he’s
been lying to me.
 “Princess, I’ve told you—”
“To the King, I’m a mindless bimbo whose only purpose is
to be someone’s trophy wife, and to my dad, I’m no better than
a fucking whore, a disappointment,” I interrupt. When he
doesn’t argue, I heave out a sigh. “I’ve grown up around bad
men my whole life, Beast. I’ve seen and heard shit that would
screw with most people’s heads. The irony is I stopped being a
kid a long time ago, yet the moment I dress like a woman I’m
made to feel worthless. It fucking stinks.”
Beast scrapes a hand over his face. “It’s a tough world we
live in, Princess. Tougher for you.”
“Because I’m a woman?” I ask.
“Yes, because you’re a woman, but also because you’re
Carter’s kid—”
“Daughter. I’m his daughter. I’m not a kid.”
“Daughter,” Beast corrects, his gaze dropping to my bare
legs then quickly lifting back up again. “You have to be ten
times tougher and twenty times smarter to survive. There ain’t
no getting away from that fact. This business we’re in is full of
men who will either want to fuck you or end you.”
“And where do you fall, Beast? Do you want to end me or
fuck me?” I ask.
His eyes flare with, what? Anger? Lust? I’m honestly not
certain.
“Neither. I’m here to protect you. Guide you. Keep you
safe from making stupid decisions,” he answers and I swallow
down the disappointment I feel at his lack of honesty. We both
know he wants to fuck me.
“And yet you stopped me from shooting Saxon, from
making a point that I’m not to be messed with. That was a
stupid decision.”
“I didn’t stop you. You made a choice. The right one, by
the way,” he adds quickly.
“You and I both know that isn’t true.”
 Guilt flashes across his features. “I was trying to protect
you,” he admits.
“I know that,” I say with a heavy sigh.
“Princess, there’s a time to take action, and a time when
you need to take a step back. I’ve learnt that the hard way.”
“So give me some tips on surviving this world, oh wise
one,” I say, trying and failing to bring a little levity to the
moment.
“That’s easy, you need to pay attention.”
“Pay attention?” I shift on the sofa as he pours himself
another drink, my gaze drifting to his thick forearms and the
muscles that flex beneath his beautifully tattooed skin. “You
want another?”
He catches me staring at him, but instead of pretending I’m
not, I just nod. “Sure.”
Our fingers brush as he hands me the glass, but I ignore the
tingly feeling his touch gives me and wait for him to continue.
“Pay attention to what’s going on around you, and trust
your gut. Always.”
“What else?”
“Surround yourself with people who are willing to kill for
you, who are willing to die for you…”
His voice trails off as he swirls the bourbon in his glass,
watching me intently.
“Can I count on you, Beast?”
“I’m Carter’s second in command.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“He hired me to look out for you, so that’s what I do.”
“But being paid to look out for someone, and doing it
because you care about them are two very different things.
Which side do you fall on, Beast?”
“Does it matter? I’ve got your back either way,” he replies.
 “It matters to me,” I say, taking Beast’s glass from him and
resting it on the coffee table alongside mine. “You said I need
to pay attention. I already do. I see how you look at me.”
“Princess, listen,” Beast begins, but I take his hands in
mine. He tenses, but he doesn’t pull away.
“No, you listen. I pay attention. You were going to stab the
King tonight because you were angry at the way he was eye-
fucking me. You brought me here because you didn’t want me
to get blind drunk and spend the evening with Hudson. You
care. Why?”
“It’s my job to care.”
“No, it’s more than that and you know it.”
“Princess, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again,
nothing will happen between us. Understand?”
“No?” I ask, dropping his hands and reaching for the hem
of his t-shirt, ripping it over my head. Cool air rushes over my
skin and my nipples pucker under his attention as my hair falls
over my shoulders, brushing against the tops of my breasts.
“Princess, what the fuck?!” he exclaims, his gaze lifting
from my bare breasts as he glares at me. “Put the fucking t-
shirt back on.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t be that man.”
“What man?”
“The one who takes advantage. Now put the t-shirt back
on.”
“No,” I shake my head, my fingers curling into the
material of his t-shirt that I’m still holding. “You want to touch
me, just like I want to touch you. I’m eighteen in a few weeks.
I’m an adult.”
“The fact you even need to say that tells me you’re not.
Stop fucking around,” he warns, licking his lips as he
resolutely keeps his gaze fixed firmly on my face.
 “Earlier you said I was the perfect vision of beauty and
badassery which, by the way, was pretty fucking poetic.”
“I was trying to make you feel better. Christ, what the fuck
is this?”
“Touch me,” I whisper, shifting closer, dropping the t-shirt
and resting my hands on his knees.
When he doesn’t shove me away, I decide to just go for it
and clamber onto his lap. With my knees pressing either side
of his hips, I grip his shoulders, looking down at him.
“Princess, this is what playing with fire feels like.”
“I don’t care. Make me burn.”
His eyes flare and his chest heaves as he focuses on my
face, refusing to look any lower, but despite his steadfastness,
he doesn’t stop what’s happening. I settle onto his lap, my
pussy pressing up against the hard ridge of his cock. Fuck, he’s
big.
“This isn’t going to happen.”
“You’re hard for me,” I whisper, grinding against him. He
stays silent, still, and his hands remain stubbornly by his side.
“Why won’t you touch me? I know you want to. I feel how
much you do.”
“Princess… Kate, you need to stop this,” he says through
gritted teeth.
“I want you to fuck me, Beast,” I whisper, running my
palms over his shoulders, revelling in the way he feels beneath
my hands and between my legs as I rock against him. He’s so
masculine, so strong, so him. My piercing rubs against his
shaft and I see the way his eyes flare with hunger. His mouth
drops open, words forming behind the lust and I know if I let
him speak this will be over. “My dad called me a whore, but
the truth is you were right. I am a virgin, but I’d be a whore for
you if you’d let me.”
“FUCK!” he roars, his hands on my waist as he lifts me
roughly off his lap and stands, pushing me away. I look up at
him, my own chest heaving as he glares at me, fuming. “I told
you, no!”
“But—”
“The word no means the same damn thing for a man as it
does a woman. I said no!”
Shame creeps up my spine, and I grab the discarded t-shirt,
covering my chest.
“Fuck you,” I hiss, the rejection hitting me hard as I
quickly pull on the t-shirt. “You’re a coward.”
“I ain’t no coward. If I wanted you, I would’ve taken you
by now. I would’ve ripped that dress from your tight little
body and fucked you against the wall the second you stepped
into this flat. Your pretty little pussy would’ve bled for me,
and I would’ve lapped up your blood and your cum, then
fucked you over and over again until I buried my cock so deep
inside of you, you’d be choking on it!” he roars.
“And an egomaniac!” I shout back, grabbing the bottle of
bourbon and swigging back a generous amount to calm my
racing heart and throbbing pussy. He snatches the bottle from
me and slams it back onto the coffee table so hard that I’m
surprised the bottle doesn’t shatter.
“There’s one thing you need to understand about me,
Princess,” he snarls, breathing heavily. “I’m a man of my
word. I promised Carter that I would watch over you as if you
were my own flesh and blood, that I would protect you like
you were my little sister. You’re off the motherfucking menu,
not just because I gave your father my word, but because I
don’t screw my family. Got it?”
“Loud and clear,” I grind out, wishing the fucking ground
would swallow me up whole, but refusing to let him know
how much he’s got to me.
“Good! You can sleep on the motherfucking sofa, I’m
going to bed.”
With that he grabs the bottle of bourbon and storms into
his bedroom, slamming the door behind him leaving me
feeling humiliated and more alone than ever.
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hands to Myself
“Morning Carter, Dom said you wanted a word,” I say the
following morning as I step into his office at Tales.
Carter stabs out his cigarette, blowing a plume of blue-
grey smoke up into the air. “Where’s Grim?”
“Dropped her back home. Why?”
Carter narrows his eyes at me. “Where did you take her
last night?”
“To my place.”
“You what?!” he snaps, eyes narrowing at me as he shifts
forward in his seat.
“It was either that or let her get blind drunk at Macey’s
with that fucker Hudson Freed. She slept on the sofa.”
“The sofa?”
“Better that than my bed, right?”
“Beast, you’re pushing your fucking luck!” Carter
exclaims running his hands through his salt and pepper hair.
“She’s like my kid sister. You don’t have to worry about
me,” I say, knowing full well that’s a damn lie.
When I clapped eyes on her in that red dress last night, I
wanted her. When the King fucking undressed her with his
eyes, I wanted to fucking kill him for daring to look at what’s
mine, and when she’d pulled off my t-shirt flashing me her
perfect tits… Fuck, I needed her.
Despite all of that I didn’t touch her. So he really ain’t got
shit to worry about.
I’m a fucking saint.
Carter nods, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Take a seat, I
want to discuss a few things with you.”
“This about the King?” I ask, folding myself into the chair
on the opposite side of his desk.
“Partly.”
“Okay, I’m all ears.”
Carter pulls another cigarette from his packet and lights it
up, taking a deep drag. “The King wants a slice of the pie.”
“I figured as much.”
“He thinks we can expand the business by drawing in
fighters from across Europe. He’s got contacts all over the
world. His reach is far. He wants to help this club get a
reputation as the number one fight club in Europe, and wants a
cut of the profits for helping to drive business and talent our
way.”
“Not being funny, Boss, but we can do that ourselves
without his help.”
“Perhaps, but it would take a lot more time, and I’m not a
patient man. Tales has been open almost a year and we’re not
seeing the kind of traffic through our doors as I’d hoped,
despite my best efforts. We need a wider variety of fighters. I
want the best of the best fighting in my club. I want fucking
bloodshed. Nothing gets punters going like the possibility of a
death in the ring.”
“And I’m not the best of the best?” I ask, fucking insulted.
“You’re a good fighter, sure, but you’ve done the rounds. I
need fresh meat, and so do our punters. There’s only so many
times they can watch you fight and win. Gets boring.”
 “So find me some fucker who’s actually a challenge and
maybe it wouldn’t be.”
“Which is why I’ve enlisted the King.”
“What does Ransom think about this, given he was the one
who bankrolled Tales in the first place?”
“I paid off his loan three months ago. He no longer has a
say in what I do with my club.”
“You know what the King’s about, right? He might have
plenty of contacts but he’s not the kind of man I ever thought
you’d go into business with.”
“What he does in his private life is irrelevant to me,”
Carter replies tightly, drawing on his cigarette, the tip sizzling.
“Yeah, and how about the way he eye-fucked Grim last
night? How about that? Are you willing to team up with that
arsehole when he’s got a hard-on for your daughter?” I ask,
knowing I’ve overstepped but not giving a shit.
Carter stubs out his cigarette roughly, then points at me.
“Don’t fucking question my decisions. This is happening. End
of.”
“Yes, Boss.” I grind out, suddenly needing to beat the shit
out of something. If I don’t leave this office soon, it could end
up being Carter’s face. I move to stand, but Carter holds his
hand up.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Keep a close eye on Grim.”
“I already do.”
“A closer eye then. If she sneaks off to meet anyone, I
want to know about it. If she so much as looks at a man, I want
you to rip their fucking dick off. She’s to remain untouched.
Pure. Got it?”
“Untouched. Yeah, I got it, loud and clear,” I reply,
pushing back the chair probably a little too roughly. Mostly
because who the fuck does he think he is cock blocking her?
But also because I’m just as much of a prick as he is as I’m
more than happy to oblige. No fucker on this planet gets to
touch my girl.
No one.
Not even me.
“And Beast…” Carter calls just as I reach the door.
“Yeah, Boss?”
“I’m throwing a party here at the club in a couple weeks
for Grim’s eighteenth birthday.”
“She wants that?” I ask, knowing that the kind of party
he’s talking about won’t be with Kate in mind.
He shrugs. “It’ll be good for business. Besides, I’m
bringing the refit on the club forward. Figured we’d squeeze in
a knees up before then.”
“Got it.” I bite my tongue, holding back from telling him
what I truly think about his party for Kate.
“Problem?” he questions, sensing my dislike.
“Nope. Is it going to be open or closed?” I ask, meaning
will the club be open for business as usual on the night of the
party or invite only.
“Closed. I’ll put together a list of people I want invited.
Can’t have any old Tom, Dick or Harry attending Grim’s
birthday party now, can we?”
“Definitely not,” I agree, already smarting because she’ll
be the centre of attention of a shit load of criminals, all of
whom will be sniffing around her like she’s fair game.
“I’ve also arranged for you and Dom to fight next
weekend. I’ve invited the King, figured he needs to see how
we run things here. Are you willing to take the headline fight
on the night?”
“Are you sure I’m good enough?”
He smirks. “You’re too good, that’s the fucking problem.
Maybe let your opponent get a few licks in before knocking
him the fuck out.”
“Sure, why not. I can play cat and mouse for a while. Who
am I fighting?”
“You’ll be fighting Clayton and Dom will be up against
Ramone.”
I raise a brow, impressed he’s managed to lock down
Clayton. The guy’s known for putting up a good fight and is as
prolific as I am when it comes to winning fights. “A challenge
at last,” I remark.
“Think you can handle it?”
“Without a doubt,” I reply, pulling the door open, ready to
go train in the gym for a few hours.
“Good… Oh, and one last thing,” Carter says, just as his
phone starts ringing. He looks at the screen, and punches the
answer button asking the caller to hold for a minute. “I’ve
booked Grim an appointment with Miranda at House of
Imperials on Rathbone Street in a couple of hours so she can
find something appropriate to wear for the party. I need you to
go with her and make sure she doesn’t end up choosing
another whorish dress like she wore last night. Make sure
Miranda knows to pick her out something sophisticated, know
what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, loud and clear,” I respond with a scowl, stepping
out of Carter’s office before I do something stupid and get
myself shot in the head for rearranging his face.
He might be my boss, but he’s still a fucking prick.

“WHY ARE WE HERE AGAIN?” Kate asks dryly, as we pull

up outside House of Imperials, an upmarket clothing store for
wives, daughters and mistresses of London’s most notorious
gangsters.
“Carter wants you to pick out an outfit for the party he’s
organising for you at Tales for your birthday.”
 “Party?”
“Yep. Must be his way of apologising.”
“I don’t need a party or clothes for that matter, but a sorry
would’ve been nice,” she replies guardedly.
“You and I both know that’s never gonna happen. Carter
never apologises,” I say, putting the car in park and killing the
engine.
“Did he mention to you anything about the King?”
“Yeah. He’s got contacts around Europe apparently, and
has access to a bigger range of fighters. Together they want to
make Tales the best fight club in Europe, or so he said.”
“We can bring in fighters ourselves, we don’t need the
King’s help.”
“My argument exactly.”
“Carter didn’t listen to you, I take it?” she asks, sighing.
I shake my head. “No. He’s an impatient man and the King
has offered him a way to get the club where he wants it to be
quickly.”
“For what price?”
“A cut of the takings, of course,” I say.
“Of course.” She frowns, chewing on the inside of her
cheek.
“What?”
“I don’t trust him.”
She lets that statement hang in the air and I don’t try to
counter her view because I don’t trust the prick either, and
right now I’m having trouble trusting Carter as well. “Come
on, let’s get this over with,” I say instead.
“Do I have to?” she groans. “I’d rather stick my nose in
Dom’s armpit after he’s been training for two hours.”
“The fuck?” I snap. Hell to the fuck no.
 “What’s the matter, Beast? Are you jealous?” she asks, the
seriousness of our conversation making way for amusement.
“Just get inside the damn shop,” I order, her laughter
ringing in my ears as she climbs out of the car and strides
towards the shop, my gaze following her jean-clad arse all the
way inside.
The moment I enter House of Imperials, Miranda greets
me with a flirty smile. “Good afternoon, Beast. So nice to see
you again,” she says, flipping her long blonde hair over her
shoulder.
“You too, Miranda,” I reply distractedly, casting my gaze
around the store. It’s empty apart from Kate searching through
a rack of clothing at the back of the shop. “Not busy today?”
Miranda laughs, the sultry tone irritating rather than
attractive as she presses her fingers against my arm, drawing
my attention back to her. “We’re a by appointment only store,
remember? Kate will get our undivided attention for the next
hour… As will you,” she adds under her breath.
“Yeah?” I say, looking over at Kate who’s watching us
both with barely veiled jealousy. I really shouldn’t get a kick
out of that, but fuck, do I.
“Collette will be with Miss Davidson in just a moment.
Can I interest you in a drink in our lounge whilst you wait?”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’m under strict instructions
from the boss to ensure Kate picks the perfect outfit, but I’ll
take that drink,” I reply, knowing full well that an invite into
the lounge is just a euphemism for a blow job or, if the ladies
are feeling extra generous, sex. It’s why the majority of the
gangsters bring their ladies here because of the extra services
provided. Their wives and mistresses get a whole new
wardrobe and turn a blind eye to what happens in the lounge.
Fucked-up if you ask me.
“After work then?” Miranda asks, stepping closer as she
bites on her bottom lip.
“Sorry, I’m washing my hair,” I reply, which draws
laughter from Kate’s lips as I stride towards her.
 “What’s wrong, Beast? It’s not like you to pass up an offer
like that,” Kate says, searching through a rack of dresses as
she side-eyes me.
“I don’t sleep with everyone that offers themselves up to
me. As you well know, Princess,” I say, dropping onto the
armchair just outside the fitting room. I meant it as a joke, a
lighthearted way to let her know there are no hard feelings but
it comes out condescending and I mentally berate myself for
being such a fucking dick.
Kate’s fingers still on the rack, her shoulders stiffening
before she grabs a bland-looking dress and twists on her feet to
face me. “And I don’t offer myself up to just anyone, as you
well know.”
“Princess—”
“Screw you,” she snaps, striding past me as she enters the
changing room and roughly draws the curtain closed behind
her.
“See, that’s the whole fucking problem, Princess…” I
mutter, scraping a hand over my face as I try to figure out how
to deal with this situation.
“Has Miss Davidson found something to her liking?”
I snap my eyes open to find a pretty redhead, short in
stature but not in curves, staring down at me. Her eyes alight
with interest, and if I wasn’t having issues with my fucking
tormentor cursing my name behind the pulled curtain, I’d
definitely be interested. As it is, my cock has other ideas,
because no matter how hard I try to stop it my dick only
springs to life for Kate.
“Yeah, she found something,” I reply, jerking my thumb
over my shoulder. “She’s trying it on now.”
“Perfect,” the pretty redhead replies. “I’m Collette by the
way.”
“Yeah, Miranda said.” I give her a once over, still my dick
remains comatose.
“Nice to meet you, Mr…?”
 “Just call me Beast.”
She smiles, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “Beast,” she
murmurs, then turning her back to me, searching through the
rack and picking several dresses, hanging them on another
rack on wheels.
My eyes fall to her shapely butt encased in a short, form-
fitting black dress, and I cock my head trying to imagine
bending her over and fucking her from behind, which until
recently would’ve been exactly what would’ve happened. Not
anymore. I ain’t interested which, again, is a fucking problem.
“I don’t like it,” Kate says half a minute later, her bare arm
poking out from behind the curtain, dress in hand. “I feel like a
bloody housewife in it.”
“Okay, so the Gucci dress isn’t to your liking,” Colette
says, taking the dress from Kate and hanging it back up. “I’ve
taken the liberty of choosing some dresses that fit the brief.
Any one of these should be suitable.”
“Wait, what brief?” Kate asks, yanking open the curtain,
hand on her hip.
She’s only in her fucking underwear, which I know
shouldn’t come as a surprise given she’s standing in the
changing room of an upmarket clothing boutique, but still, I do
not need a fucking reminder of all the things I cannot have.
Especially when her tight body is encased in black lace.
“Your father rang ahead, he was quite specific in his
requirements.”
“He did what?” she snaps.
“He called ahead…” Collette repeats, her voice trailing off
as she looks between us. It doesn’t take a genius to work out
that Kate is about to blow a gasket.
“What exactly were his requirements?” she asks through
gritted teeth.
“No skirts above the knee. No bare shoulders. No thigh
high splits. No low cut front or back. No corsets.”
 “So what you’re basically fucking saying is he wants me to
wear a shapeless sack!” Kate shouts, pointing at the row of
dresses Collette has picked out which, to be fair, look pretty
fucking boring and shapeless.
“Well, I wouldn’t describe these dresses as sacks. I have an
Armani dress here that would work perfectly.”
Kate snorts. “If Carter thinks I’m going to wear any of
those fucking monstrosities, he’s got another thing coming,”
Kate growls, and I have to hold in a laugh at the look on
Collette’s face when she strides out of the changing room and
grabs a dress that is the total opposite of what her dad had
described.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate—” Collette begins.
“And I’m sure I don’t give a fuck!”
Kate storms back into the changing room drawing the
curtain closed all the while cursing Carter out with language
that colours the air blue.
“I’m just doing my job,” Collette mutters, more than a
little shaken from Kate’s outburst. “Mr Davidson was very
adamant. I really don’t want to lose my job over this.”
Blowing out a breath, I get to my feet. “Don’t worry,
Collette, I’ll sort this out.”
“You will?”
I nod. “Just go grab me that drink Miranda promised and
bring a glass of champagne for Princess too.”
“Of course,” Collette says, giving me a small smile before
turning on her heel and getting the hell out of dodge. I don’t
blame her, Kate’s a firecracker at the best of times, but when
she’s mad, she’s nothing short of volcanic.
Casting my eye over the rack of clothes, I grab a black
lace, floor length dress that meets Carter’s requirements, but is
also sexy as fuck in an understated way. I’m pretty sure Kate
would look hot as fuck in it, but Carter wouldn’t be able to say
a damn thing given not an inch of flesh will be shown. I’m no
expert in high fashion, but I know the female form, and this
dress will hug it in all the right places. Correction, this dress
will hug Kate’s body in all the right places. Not every woman
could pull this dress off.
“Princess, Collette’s gone to grab us both a drink, but I’ve
got this dress that I think you’ll love and will appease Carter.”
“I don’t want to fucking appease him. I want to wear what
the fuck I want, when the fuck I want to. How dare he dictate
to me what I should and shouldn’t wear. In fact, how dare he
dictate what I do at all?!”
“I get it, I do—”
“I didn’t ask for a fucking party anyway!” she adds, her
voice thick with emotion.
That fucking crack in her voice does stupid things to me,
and not thinking my actions through, I shove aside the curtain
and step inside the changing room with her, closing it behind
me.
Her head snaps up. “What are you doing?”
“I thought this would look really good on you,” I say,
ignoring the way her chest flushes pink as I hold out the dress
to her. Really, what the fuck am I doing in such a confined
space with her? All I know right now is that I’ve got a
motherfucking death wish and I’m about to be the first person
to die of blueballitis.
Her gaze flicks to the lacy material as she looks it over.
“It’s just as shapeless as the rest.”
“Put it on and I promise it will hug your figure like a
second skin.”
“Like a second skin?” she questions, discarding the dress
she grabbed in her anger and fingering the material of the one
I’m offering.
“Yep, like a second skin.” I swallow hard, my gaze hyper
focused on the centre of her forehead so that it doesn’t slip to
dangerous places.
“I’m pretty sure Carter didn’t have this in mind when he
was reeling off his list of rules for Collette,” she gripes, taking
it from me.
“Well, maybe your dad needs to be a little more specific?
Besides, you’re not showing an ounce of flesh, which meets
his requirements and, in my opinion, is just as fucking sexy as
a low cut, arse-skimming number.
“Is that so?” She smiles, taking the dress from me and
twisting on her feet so she can hang it on the hook by the
mirror and undo the zipper.
Despite trying really hard not to stare like a fucking creep,
my gaze drops to the dip of her waist and curve of her hips as
she takes the dress off the hanger and steps into it, pulling it up
her body. The material glides like water over her skin as she
slides her arms into the long sleeves, leaving a gap at the back
where the zipper is still undone. My gaze is transfixed on the
two little dimples in her lower back that are just begging to be
licked, or better still filled with droplets of my cum… Fuck!
“I’ll wait outside,” I say, forcing my feet to move.
“Can you help me with the zipper first?” she asks, meeting
my gaze in the mirror.
I should really say no. But fuck me, I don’t.
Stepping forward I reach for the zipper, pinching it
between my thumb and finger. My knuckle grazes her spine as
I slowly pull it upwards. When the zipper reaches her mid
back, I sweep Kate’s hair over her shoulder, moving it out of
the way.
She shivers. My cock leaps.
Our gazes lock in the mirror.
And for just a moment the world stops fucking spinning.
It’s just me and Kate, standing inches apart in this tiny
changing room with nothing but my resolve standing in the
way of me fucking her against the cool glass of the mirror
whilst Collette and Miranda listen on the other side of the
curtain. My fingers slide beneath the material ever so slightly
and I can’t help but let out a rumble of appreciation at the silky
smoothness of her skin.
 I swear to fuck electricity sparks between us, I can feel it
zapping over fingers and heading straight to my cock.
“Beast?” she whispers, her eyelids drooping slightly as the
pad of my thumb traces up her spine.
I stare at the strip of flesh wanting so badly to chase my
touch with my tongue, to lick up her back and across her
shoulders to her neck so that I can suck and lick and bite her in
that erogenous zone that most men are too fucking stupid to
realise turns a woman into liquid fucking pleasure. It ain’t just
about the tits and pussy, there are many places on a woman’s
body that touching, licking and sucking in the right way will
turn her on just as much.
Like the spot behind a woman’s knee for example, or her
inner thigh, the curve of her ankle, the soft underside of her
wrist, the mound of her pussy, the underside of her rib cage,
the palm of her hand…
I could go on.
The pulse in my cock throbs, and every part of me is
strung tight with wanting her.
Fuck. I really need to keep my goddamn hands to myself.
“Beast?” Kate questions, louder this time.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to zip the dress up the rest
of the way, and removing my hands. “Sorry, the zipper got
caught on the material,” I lie.
Our eyes meet and she nods. “Thank you.”
“S’alright,” I reply gruffly, staring at her reflection in the
mirror. I was right, this dress does fit her like a glove. She
looks like an absolute knockout in it. “You look beautiful.”
The words are out before I can stop them from falling out
of my mouth.
Kate’s cheeks flush pink but she maintains eye contact
with me. My fucking balls ache at the look she gives me, and
my dick can’t understand why I’m not currently buried to the
hilt inside her sweet, sweet pussy.
 “You were right, this dress is perfect,” she says, smoothing
her hands over the material.
“It’s not the dress that’s perfect, Princess, and don’t you
ever let any arsehole tell you otherwise. You’re a
motherfucking goddess,” I say before twisting on my feet and
stepping out of the changing room and as far away from
fucking temptation as possible.
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Woman
“One, two, three, four!” Matty calls, counting the beat before
the music kicks in.
My stiletto heels drag across the floor as I grab the pole
and kick out, hooking my right leg around the pole in a move
called an inside hook, followed by an extended fireman. I spin
around, loving how sexy I feel when I dance the pole. It’s
invigorating, and it’s been helping to rid myself of this excess
energy I’ve been feeling of late.
And by energy I mean sexual tension.
I’m wired. Hot and horny. It’s torture.
“Go girl!” Nancy says, clapping encouragingly from the
side of the stage where she’s been sitting for the last hour,
giving me tips, and correcting me as I dance.
She grins at me, and I smile back, grateful for her support.
Fuck knows it’s dangerous being here at Nine Lives. Not just
for me, but for Matty and Nancy too. If Carter finds out I’ve
gone against his wishes and am continuing to learn pole
dancing, he’s gonna go fucking apeshit.
“Thank you!” I reply, breathing heavily, sweat sliding
down my spine.
When I first started I had no idea how exhausting dancing
the pole would be. It’s a whole body workout, and there isn’t a
muscle in my body that isn’t used every time I dance.
Fortunately for me, I’m fitter and more flexible than most due
to all the sparring with Beast and yoga that I do to keep myself
supple.
“You want to take a break?” Matty asks, pushing off from
the bar and striding towards me with a bottle of water. I step
down from the stage, taking it from her and uncap the lid,
glugging back half the bottle. She laughs. “Thirsty work, eh?”
“You could say that again,” I agree as Nancy takes my
place on the pole and starts doing a series of intricate moves
that has me gaping in awe. She spins around the pole,
transferring from one move to another effortlessly and making
it look far easier than it actually is.
“Dancing pole is an art form really, isn’t it?” I muse,
watching her in wonder.
Matty rests her butt against the edge of the table next to
me, her long lean legs stretching out in front of her. She’s a
beautiful woman. Older than most of the girls who work here
by at least fifteen years, but you’d never know she’s in her
early forties given her smooth, wrinkle-free skin and perfect
hourglass figure. She attributes her youthful appearance to her
dark skin tone and respect for her body. Matty doesn’t drink,
has never taken drugs and works out at least four times a
week. According to her, her only vice is sex.
“It is exactly that. The men who come here do so for the
tits and arse. That’s all they see. But like you, I see so much
more than that. These women are dancers, not just strippers.”
“Absolutely,” I agree, watching in awe as Nancy flips her
body upside down, wraps her legs and feet around the pole
then arches her back and uses her core muscles to lift the top
part of her body horizontal to the floor. “Nancy’s an incredible
dancer.”
“She is, but she’s also not afraid to embrace her sexual
prowess.”
“Sexual prowess?” I ask, interested to see where she’s
going with this conversation.
“There’s a power in female sexuality that many men are
afraid of, intimidated by actually. For a long, long time women
weren’t allowed to seek pleasure or embrace their sexual self.
They were vessels for bearing children and that was it. God
forbid they ever expressed their wants and desires or actually
enjoyed sex.”
“That’s bullshit,” I remark, agreeing with her. She’s
basically describing Carter.
“There are few men who appreciate a woman who
embraces her sexual self. That’s one of the reasons why I’m a
lesbian, that and the fact we actually know where to find the
clit.”
I laugh at that and she nudges me with her shoulder.
“Nancy is popular here because she embraces her sexual self
and uses it to her advantage. She’s also got a banging body
too.”
I glance over at her. “Are you and her…?”
“Once upon a time. She’s got a new love interest now.
She’s quite enamoured with the brute. Loved-up, actually.”
My heart skips a beat, but I try to maintain my cool.
“Yeah, who’s the lucky guy?”
“One of Carter’s men. You know him well.”
I take another glug of water, willing myself to calm down.
I’m not sure what I’ll do if she says Beast. I like Nancy, but I
don’t want to have to rip her eyes out. “Which one?”
Matty grins. “Dom, of course. He’s been chasing Nancy’s
tail for some time now. I can’t blame him, she’s a good fuck.
One of the best.”
“Ah Dom,” I say, trying to hide my relief behind a
beaming smile. “He’s a great fighter.”
“Not the greatest though,” Matty replies with a knowing
smile. “How’s Beast anyway? It’s been a while since he’s
popped into the club. We’re all wondering if he’s got a
woman.”
“Not that I know of,” I reply with a shrug, focusing on
Nancy so that I don’t give away anything on my face. “He’s
been busy with Carter lately with one thing or another.”
 “Well, that’ll cheer the girls up, they’ve missed his
attention,” Matty says with a smirk.
“I bet,” I say with a tight smile.
“I can see the attraction,” Matty continues. “He’s built,
hard as stone, respectful of women and a legend in bed, or so
I’ve heard.”
“Yeah?” I reply, trying to remain completely nonchalant.
“Not that I’ve had any experience like the other girls,
given I prefer the female form, but I heard that he made Nancy
come so hard she squirted. Not normally something a man has
the ability to do. He’s a catch.”
I choke on my water, coughing and spluttering as Matty
cracks up laughing at my expense. She pats me on the back as
I take in deep lungfuls of air.
“You alright?”
“Peachy. Thanks for that visual,” I reply wryly, trying to
cover up the fact that I’m intensely jealous of all the women
he’s slept with and beyond intrigued about his expertise in bed.
“Hung like a horse too, and pierced.”
“Beast has a pierced dick?” I try to keep the surprise out of
my voice and fail.
“Yep, he’s got a couple apparently, and both of them are
positioned to give the most pleasure to whoever he’s fucking.
He’s got a barbell through his glans and a top ladder.”
“A top ladder?” I ask, screwing the lid back onto my
bottle, if only to give me something to do with my hands and
hide the fact that talking about Beast’s dick is both bizarre and
a turn on.
“Barbell piercings across the top of his dick.”
“Right.” Now that visual has me squeezing my thighs
together, and my cheeks flushing. Thank God they’re already
flushed from the exertion, otherwise I’ll be giving the game
away.
 She nudges me with her shoulder, smiling softly. “Is that
interest I see in your eyes?”
“Interest in Beast?” I point to my chest. “Not in the
slightest.”
“Hey, you’ve got no judgement from me. As I’ve already
indicated, Beast is legendary around here.”
“Exactly,” I mutter, then catch the look in her eye, and say
quickly, “I mean no disrespect to the women here. They can
fuck whomever they want.”
“Except Beast, yeah?” she asks me knowingly.
I don’t answer, but I don’t need to. Matty is a woman of
the world and I respect her greatly. She rubs shoulders with
many of the same criminals as my father does, taking it all in
her stride. She’s well-respected, not just for ability to defuse
any dangerous situation at the strip club that might pop up, but
for her discretion.
“Is that why you’re here? To learn some tricks to impress
Beast?”
“I’m being rebellious,” I reply, which is partly the truth
anyway.
“Your dad isn’t keen on you learning the pole?”
“Not in the slightest.” I wince, realising that by being here
I’m putting Matty and Nancy in a difficult position.
“Hey, your secret’s safe with us.”
I give her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Both of them,” she adds knowingly, giving my knee a
gentle pat.
“Matty, I—” My words are halted as the backdoor to the
club opens and a familiar figure walks through the door
looking less than impressed.
“Speak of the devil.” Matty sniggers, then motions to
Nancy. “I need you in my office for a minute.”
 Nancy flips her legs to the floor, and gives Beast a wave,
before stepping down from the stage. When she reaches me
she grins. “Good job today, maybe you can practice what you
learnt on Beast, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mumble, as she sashays
across the room and follows Matty out into the hallway
beyond, leaving me alone with Beast. He stops before me, his
gaze taking in my gym outfit, and more pointedly my shoes.
“Princess—”
“What are you doing here?” I cut in.
“What do you think I’m doing here? Saving your arse, of
course.”
“Let me rephrase that. How did you know I was here?”
He waves his mobile phone at me. “Tracker app.”
“You’ve got me on a fucking tracker app?!” I exclaim,
appalled.
“Don’t look so surprised. It’s my job to know where you
are at all times.”
“Your job?”
“Yes, my fucking job.”
“This is bullshit!” I’m pissed off now. Not just because he
keeps referring to me as his job, but because I feel hemmed in,
caged.
“You need to wrap this up. Carter wants you home.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Carter wants,” I reply, turning on
my heel. Beast grabs my hand pulling me back around.
“What?”
“He’ll go apeshit if he finds out you disobeyed him.”
“He’s not going to find out though, is he?” I counter,
yanking my hand free and folding my arms across my chest
defiantly. “Unless you’re going to be the one to grass me up?”
“I’m no grass, Princess, but I am your friend, and as a
friend I’m warning you this isn’t a good idea.”
 “I don’t see the problem. It’s just like a workout. I’m not
stripping for anyone. I’m just dancing. There’s no one here
apart from Matty and Nancy. I don’t see Carter losing his shit
over me working out in a gym full of pumped-up, chest-
beating men who, by the way, are constantly checking me
out.”
“Who?” he grinds out, pulling me closer so that I have to
crane my head backwards to look up at him.
“Who what?”
He lowers his face towards mine, his eyes glinting with
anger as he spits the words out through gritted teeth. “Who’s
been checking you out?”
I shake my head and laugh. “Every single man with a dick
and two fucking bollocks. That’s who.”
“Even Dom? Mark?”
“They’re men, aren’t they?”
“The fuck?” he seethes.
“What are you going to do, Beast? Knock them all out?”
“I’ll kill every last one of them!” He shouts back.
“Why? Because they want me, or they want something you
think you own. You’re just like Carter,” I accuse, snatching my
arm back.
“I’m nothing like him!”
“I’m sick of Carter thinking he can tell me what I can and
can’t do,” I continue, pacing back and forth in front of Beast.
“I’m sick of his attitude towards me. I’m sick of his bullshit.
I’m my own person, and I will do what the fuck I want.”
“Listen, I know you’re frustrated—” Beast begins.
“Frustrated? I’m angry. I’m pissed off and I’m horny as
fuck!” I shout, my voice rising with every word. “And most of
that is your damn fault!”
Beast folds his arms across his chest, keeping his thoughts
to himself, which is probably just as well because I’m at the
end of my tether.
Whatever.
He doesn’t want to argue and I’m done talking.
Spinning on my heels, I head towards the stage as Woman
by Doja Cat starts playing through the speakers. I grin. Given
our very recent conversation I’m betting Matty’s behind this.
“Princess, what are you doing?” Beast asks me as I climb
up onto the stage and exaggerate the sway of my hips as I walk
towards the pole. This is the song I’ve been practising my
routine to and it’s so perfect for how I’m feeling right now.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I respond
sarcastically, refusing to be embarrassed by my outburst. I
don’t care that he knows I’m in a constant state of arousal. I
don’t care that he knows I’m attracted to him, and angry at
him, and grateful for him for being here and trying to have my
back even though the whole issue of my dad trying to curb my
actions pisses me off.
“It looks like you’re about to put on a show,” he says.
“You know where the door is, you’re welcome to leave at
any time.”
He reaches for a chair flipping it around, then straddles it,
leaning his arms over the back rest. “You know what? I think
I’ll stay,” he says, locking eyes with me.
“Suit yourself,” I reply, then step in front of the pole, press
my arse against the cold metal and slut drop to the floor,
spreading my thighs open wide and flashing Beast my lycra
covered pussy.
He keeps his expression neutral, his hands hanging loosely
over the back of the seat as he watches me. If he thinks he can
intimidate me into stopping, he doesn’t know me very well.
Pushing back upwards, I reach up and grasp the cool metal
in my hands then go through the routine I’ve been working on.
With every spin of the pole, I gain confidence, funnelling the
lyrics and my inner sexual tiger. Pretty soon I forget that Beast
is even sitting there, too consumed by the way dancing the
pole makes me feel.
I’m powerful. I’m sexual. I’m sensual. I’m a woman.
Finishing off with a back hook spin, I drop my feet to the
floor, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. My eyes meet
Beast’s, and this time his fingers are grasping the back of the
chair, his knuckles white from the tightness of his grip.
Slowly I saunter across the stage, pick up my gym bag and
swing it over my shoulder before descending the stairs. When
I reach Beast, I stop in front of him. A bead of sweat travels
slowly down his temple and cheek. I capture it with my finger
and smile down at him.
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s hot in here,” he replies, a muscle in his jaw jumping
as he presses his lips in a firm line.
“It is, isn’t it?” I agree, then place my finger in my mouth
and taste his lust right there on my tongue before twisting on
my heels and striding over to the back door. I shove it open,
and as I leave I can hear Matty and Nancy whistling and
cheering after me. A huge smile spreads across my face as I
walk towards Beast’s car, feeling every inch the powerful,
sexual, not to be fucked with woman that my father doesn’t
want me to be.
It’s liberating.
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Oceans
I wake up in a cold sweat, not from a nightmare but from a
fucking wet dream.
My dick is still as hard as rock. It punches against my
joggers, and even though I can feel the familiar stickiness of
my cum against my lower belly, I can also feel the familiar
ache in my balls telling me that I still need release, that I’m
not done yet.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, pulling back the covers and climbing
out of bed, my dick bobbing as I move, the tip pushing against
the waistband of my joggers, eager for the woman of my
dreams.
Fucking desperate for her.
I head straight for the shower, pushing open the door to my
ensuite and flicking on the light switch. Instead of seeing my
reflection, I see images of Kate dancing around the pole, her
hair flying out behind her as she swings around and around
and around.
Fuck, she made me dizzy.
Dizzy from lust.
Dizzy from my need to stride up onto the stage and fuck
her against the hardwood floor.
Dizzy from holding so tightly onto the back of the chair
that I almost broke my own fucking fingers to stop myself
from doing exactly that.
 Dizzy from willing myself to stay fucking put.
It wasn’t that she was as good a dancer as Nancy, or that
her tight body was encased in lycra leggings and a crop top
that made me want her so fucking much it was almost
impossible to breathe. It wasn’t the stiletto heels or even the
way she commanded the stage.
It was her ballsy attitude. Her inner strength. Her great big
fat fuck you to her father, to me, to any person who dare try to
control, contain, or own her.
That’s what made my balls draw tight against my body and
dick grow thick and hard.
Kate oozed power, confidence.
And it was fucking breathtaking to watch.
On the stage she showed me a glimpse of the queen I know
she’ll become and I was hooked, captured, ensnared like a
motherfucking bear in a trap. I’ve always assumed that I’d be
a lone wolf, never truly needing or wanting anyone. Fucking
when I wanted too, and walking away because I could.
Now all I want is her.
Princess, Kate, Grim.
I want every facet of her. I want the girl who longs for
someone to protect her from a world filled with danger. I want
the woman who is kind, thoughtful and sassy as fuck. I want
the warrior who’ll stand in a ring and fight a man like me
without fear, who will stare in the face of her father and call
him out for his shit.
I want all of her.
Everything she has to offer, all the good and all the bad
parts. I want her vulnerability. I want her insecurities. I want
her sharp tongue and wit. I want her anger and her passion. I
want her sexiness and her sensuality. I want her spite and her
fight.
I want her virginity.
I want it all.
 Pressing my palms against the vanity unit, my head
dropping between my shoulders, I suck in several deep breaths
trying to calm my racing heart and the desperate need to go to
her, right the fuck now and damn the consequences.
I’m so close to getting in my car and racing to her. My
need for her is like a burning in my very blood, a thirst I know
that I’ll never be able to quench, a desire that fucking yearns
for her touch, her kiss, her pussy, her everything.
But I can’t go.
Blowing out a long breath, I stumble towards the shower
turning it on. Ice cold water flows from the showerhead and I
rip off my joggers, shoving them across the floor with my feet,
then step into the water. Sucking in a sharp breath through my
teeth, I press my palm against the shower wall, dropping my
head under the spray. The cold water is supposed to wake me
up so that I stop seeing Kate in front of my closed eyes, and to
shrivel up my bastard cock that’s intent on fucking killing me.
It does neither.
I can’t wash away this feeling.
I’m not even sure that I want to anymore.
Grabbing my dick, I press my forehead against the tiles
and suck in a sharp breath as I slide my fist up and down my
cock. I pump it hard, tugging on it aggressively as I try my
damndest to purge my fucking self of these feelings.
I can’t have her.
I can’t fucking have her.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want her.
Because, fuck, I do.
I do.
“I motherfucking do!” I shout, pumping my dick, fucking
my fist, relishing in the feel of my balls tingling and the
pleasure building in the base of my spine. All of it for her,
because of her.
She’s my sweet, sweet temptation.
 I rock my hips, my fist curling as I press my forearm
against the tiled wall. Water runs in rivulets over my skin, cold
and sharp but the heat within me builds as I pick up speed,
recalling the way Kate lost herself to the power she conjured
up on that stage. When she stopped dancing for me, and
started dancing for herself, every single atom in my
motherfucking body was set alight. She transformed before my
eyes and I was gone, lost.
A man cast adrift pulled and tousled within the eddies of
her seduction. I was gasping for breath watching her twist and
turn her body around the pole, just like I’m gasping for breath
thinking about her now. I’ve never wanted to be a piece of
metal more than at that moment. I wanted her legs wrapped
around me, her hands on me, her arse and pussy pressed up
against me.
If my heart wasn’t hers before then, it certainly became it
in that moment.
And that’s what fucking kills me.
Because I made a goddamn promise.
To her father.
To myself.
And it kills me knowing that I can’t have her.
“God-fucking-damn-it!” I yell, bashing my fist against the
wall as I squeeze my dick, holding back the orgasm building,
feeling fucking guilt and shame for wanting Kate so fucking
badly. Punishing myself for something I shouldn’t want, can’t
have, but need. Fuck I need.
In another fucking universe, she’d be mine already, but a
man’s word is his bond and I’m bound to Carter, to a promise I
made him, and by extension a promise I made Kate.
I’m her bodyguard.
I protect her from everyone, including me.
Knowing that doesn’t soften my dick though. It doesn’t
stop me from seeing Kate in my mind’s eye. It doesn’t stop me
from remembering the way she’d sauntered over to me
covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping with new-found
confidence. It doesn’t stop me from recalling how it felt to
look up at Kate and know that I will never want anyone like I
want her.
It’s a truth I can’t run from, that I will have to face every
fucking day in her presence and then even when I’m not. I’m
going to have to pretend.
I’m going to have to keep a tight lid on my emotions. I’m
going to have to cut myself off from her emotionally. But right
here and now…
Right here and now, I let go of the pretence, the barrier
I’ve built between us, and for one fucking moment I allow
myself to believe I can have her, that there isn’t a fucking
ocean between us filled with sharks all wanting to rip us apart.
I allow myself to believe that she’s my queen, and I’m
whatever she wants me to be. That we’ll be together for the
rest of our motherfucking lives.
I allow myself this moment to see a future together, where
I can touch her when I want, kiss her when I need to, and fuck
her until we’re both drowning in pleasure.
I let myself imagine what it’s like to cup her breasts, to lick
and tease her nipples, to leave my teeth indents on the mound
of her arse, to bring her pussy to my face demanding she sit so
I can suffocate in her scent and her arousal. I let myself
imagine what it’s like to slide my cock into her pussy all the
while staring deeply into her soulful eyes. I let myself imagine
how I will move slowly, drawing out her pleasure in a long,
spine-tingly, toe-curling orgasm, until her eyes roll back in her
head and she calls my name. I let myself imagine how I’d let
her come down from that orgasm then fuck her hard and fast
so she knows just how feral she makes me, how brutal, how
animalistic.
Right now I let myself fuck her, I let myself rut into her as
I pull on my dick roughly, and jerk my hips into the ghost of
her image in my mind. My imagination runs riot and my dick
engorges, the piercings making everything feel so much more
intense. I imagine fucking her against the wall in my
apartment in that sexy as fuck red dress she wore hitched up
over her hips, the material bunched in my fist as I ram into her.
She claws at me, her teeth sinking into my shoulder as she
opens herself up to me.
“That’s it Princess, take me deep,” I say, the words
slipping from my lips and muffled by the spray of the shower
and the slippery wet sound of my fingers fisting my dick.
I allow myself to envisage that moment when her inner
walls tighten around me and she milks my dick, when she
tattoos her pleasure all over my cock, marking me forever just
like I mark her insides with my cum.
“KATE!” I shout, coming with that thought burning in my
chest, fast and furious like a star imploding. It blinds me, and I
stumble against the tiled wall, weakened by lust, floored by
need, consumed by her as my cum spurts in thick, white ropes
over my fist, washed away seconds later by the spray.
I stand there with my back against the tiles, my chest
heaving, my dick slowly softening as my heart returns to a
steadier pace. As my orgasm fades, I push myself upright on
unsteady legs, wash myself robotically and step out of the
shower to dry myself off. With every passing minute I lock all
my emotions down, forcing those thoughts into a box inside
my mind, never to be opened again.
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Wicked Game
“Are you meeting me at Tales, or picking me up?” I ask
Hudson a couple days after I danced for Beast at Nine Lives.
My phone is gripped between my shoulder and ear as I
paint my nails a deep purple to match the tight leather trousers
I plan on wearing to Tales tonight. Dom is up against Ramone,
a well-known fighter in the underground fight scene. He has a
regular spot at Dixie’s Fight Club in Manchester and he’s
travelling down to face off with Dom. It’s gonna be a close
fight, both are certifiably insane and rabid in the cage. Then
Beast is headlining. He’s going up against Clayton, a South
African guy just as big and as dangerous as Beast, but I know
Beast will win. He hasn’t lost a fight yet.
“Who are you talking to?” Beast asks as he enters my
bedroom, making me jump. I drop the phone and manage to
get purple nail polish all over my big toe.
“Ever heard of knocking?” I snipe, swiping up the phone
and apologising to Hudson as I balance the phone between my
ear and shoulder and soak a cotton wool pad in nail polish
remover, dabbing at my toe.
“Princess, who’s on the damn phone?” Beast glares at me.
I give him the look, the one I know pisses him off. He’s
been a grumpy shit ever since I danced for him. He didn’t
speak one word to me as he drove me home like he had a
rocket up his arse.
More like a boner in his pants.
 I let out a snort of laughter at my wayward thoughts which
only seems to incite him further.
“Princess,” he growls.
Pressing the loudspeaker button, I place the phone on my
dressing table. “It’s Hud if you must know. Are you always
this fucking cranky before a fight?”
“I’m this fucking cranky when you won’t answer my damn
questions!”
“Alright, Beast? I’m looking forward to watching you fight
tonight,” Hudson says through the loudspeaker. I can hear the
amusement in his voice, and I grin. I’ve told him all about how
Beast’s been acting lately and Hudson’s advice was to fuck
someone else to piss him off. When I asked if he was offering,
he nearly had a stroke. Not that I’d go there. Hud and I are just
friends. Nothing more.
“It’s invite only, prick!”
“I’ve invited Hudson.”
“Well, I’m uninviting them,” Beast retorts, snatching up
my phone.
“Oi! Give it back, you fucking brute!” I snarl, getting to
my feet. “You’re so fucking rude!”
“Don’t care.” He grins at me, holding my phone above his
head. Even if I jumped, I wouldn’t be able to bloody reach it,
the gigantic bastard.
“Hey! Are you alright, Kate?” Hudson asks, his voice
sounding panicked.
“You keep asking that question and I’m going to lose my
shit. Of course, she’s alright, dicksplash, she’s with me!”
“That’s a matter of opinion!” I screech, shoving him as
hard as I can in the stomach. He lets out a grunt, but it’s not
enough to make him drop the phone. “Apologise now!”
“Not a fucking chance,” Beast says, taking the phone off
loudspeaker and pressing it against his ear whilst
simultaneously deflecting my attempts at knocking him the
fuck out.
“Beast, give me the damn phone!”
“Nope.”
He thinks he’s won. He hasn’t. Sometimes you have to
pick your battles. “Fine, knock yourself out,” I huff, striding
over to my wardrobe. “I’m over it.”
“See here’s the thing, Hudson,” Beast continues, speaking
into the mouthpiece, “You’re not welcome at Tales tonight, or
any night for that matter.”
I spin on my feet. “YES YOU ARE! IGNORE THE
FUCK!”
“So if you know what’s good for you, I suggest you spend
some quality time with your bros and forget about the invite,
yeah?”
Hudson must be saying something interesting in response
as Beast’s expression changes from one of annoyance to
downright rage. “The fuck you say?!” he snarls.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I exclaim. “I’m getting tired of all
this chest-beating bullshit, and sick to death of the men in my
life—NOT YOU HUD— thinking they can treat me like I’ve
got no say in any-damn-thing!”
Beast scowls at me and then holds up his hand, the
universal sign language for shut the fuck up.
The fuck he didn’t!
Anger courses through my veins at his bullshit attitude.
I’ve had enough of men thinking they can silence me with a
look or a comment or a motherfucking hand. Deciding that all
of my fucks have flown out the window I decide to play dirty
and get naked, because fuck him and fuck blowing hot and
cold. This is my damn bedroom and if he insists on barging in
uninvited he can deal with me getting changed. Pulling off my
clothes until I’m down to my underwear, I grab my outfit from
the wardrobe and lay it across my bed.
 “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Beast snaps,
finally noticing that I’m no longer fully clothed.
I grin at him. “What does it look like? I’m getting ready.”
“No, not you, dipshit!” Beast shouts into the phone. “I’m
talking to Princess.”
When I reach up to undo my bra, his eyes practically pop
out of his head. Inside I chuckle. Good. Deal with me naked,
arsehole. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen my tits before, so he can
suck it the fuck up.
“You could look the other way,” I say, fluttering my
eyelashes at him and dropping my bra to the floor. The cooler
air and the way his gaze laser-focuses on my tits make my
nipples pucker. When my fingers reach for my knickers, he
shakes his head.
“Don’t!” he warns.
“Give me the damn phone back then!” I reply, my fingers
sliding under the waistband.
His eyes narrow at me as he continues to listen to whatever
it is that Hudson is saying, but he makes no move to hand my
phone back. He’s trying to call my bluff. Well, he might be a
man of his word, but he’ll soon learn that I’m a woman who
won’t back down. “Fine!”
Slipping my fingers under the elastic of my knickers I
slowly peel them down my thighs daring him to stop me.
He doesn’t.
Instead the bastard leans against the wall and licks his lips
before saying, “Alright, you win. Meet us at Tales at eight,”
before promptly hanging up.
Placing my phone onto the dresser he remains impassive.
His gaze fixed firmly on my face. Heat creeps up my chest as
my knickers fall to the floor revealing my pussy. I know for a
fact that the landing strip of hair barely hides anything, so
right now Beast is getting a full view of my well-tended lady
garden, and it’s as un-beaver-like as you can get.
 “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I ask, referring to the fact he
conceded and has allowed Hudson to meet us at Tales and
ignoring the fact that I’m actually completely fucking naked in
front of him.
“You’re wrong, Princess. I can promise you it’s hard.”
Slowly his gaze drops, lowering over my tits, stomach and
finally resting on my pussy. Heat trails his gaze and centres at
my core, lighting me up from the inside out.
“It shouldn’t be though, right?” I ask, and he knows full
well that I’m no longer talking about Hudson but the very
sizeable boner in his jeans.
“No. It fucking shouldn’t,” he states, gritting his teeth.
“But just because my body is reacting the way it is, doesn’t
mean I’m going to change my damn mind and act on it.”
“So leave then,” I exclaim, exasperated, turned on,
confused, frustrated and wishing with all my heart that he
would just give in. He rocks on his feet, glancing at the door
and back again, at war with himself.
“Just get fucking dressed! We need to be at Tales within
the hour.”
Snatching his gaze away he strides towards the door, and a
sudden bolt of panic rips through me. “Don’t go!” I say and it
comes out far more needy than I’d intended.
He reaches the door, tensing, but he doesn’t turn around.
Instead, he grabs hold of the door frame with one hand, and
the edge of the door with the other, his knuckles turning white
from the tightness of his grip. “What the fuck now?” he asks,
his back still to me.
Right? What the fuck now?
This is where I need to channel my inner badass bitch just
like I did on the stage at Nine Lives. No more fucking about. I
need him to understand that I’m a woman with needs, with
wants and desires, and that he’s the only man I want to fulfil
them. Climbing onto my bed, I settle back against the cushions
and rest my hand on my lower belly as I stare at the side of his
face. He’s trying so damn hard to fight this connection, and I
know I shouldn’t push it, but I want him and I want him to
want me too. So fucking much.
“Even though I’m a virgin, I’m not innocent, Beast,” I say,
my fingers edging between my parted legs.
“It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re a virgin or
experienced. I told you this ain’t happening!”
My heart thunders inside my chest at what I’m about to do
but I push on, willing him to turn around, willing him to let go
of his restraint. “I’ll be eighteen in just over a week. You’re
only five years older than me. My dad likes you. I know you
want me. I’ve made it clear that I want you. Why torture
yourself, why torture me?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. I will not go back
on my word. Your father trusts me and I won’t fucking break
that trust,” he replies, still stubbornly facing the other way.
“Even if you want me?”
“Especially when I want you.”
“Then I’ll just have to give you something to think about.”
“What the shit are you talking about now?” he asks, as I
lower my hand to my clit and start pleasuring myself. I gently
finger my piercing, my toes curling at the instant sensation it
elicits.
I’m already so wet.
Jesus, just thinking about Beast turns me on. The sheer fact
that I’m naked, that he’s in this room with a boner for me,
makes me crave him even more. It’s potent, the attraction
between us, undeniable. The air crackles with it. I can
practically feel it fizzing over my skin. Letting out a moan, I
work my finger over my clit finding the perfect rhythm as I
finger fuck myself.
“Fuck!” I hear him mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I need to
go.”
“Stay.” It comes out halfway between a plea and a demand
as he grips the door frame like he’s about to rip it from the
wall.
 “You won’t change my mind,” he bites out, but the need in
his voice tells me he’s on the brink of breaking every promise
he made to my father and probably a few he’s made to himself.
“Do you know how many times I’ve fantasised about
you?” I ask, and when he doesn’t respond, I continue on. “So
many times, Beast. I’ve touched myself like this hundreds of
times imagining it was your thick fingers working me, your
tongue tasting me, your cock—”
“Enough!” he roars, pushing off from the door frame and
slamming my bedroom door shut, his chest heaving as he turns
around to face me. Anger billows off of him, but so does lust.
It’s as thick and as heady as my arousal. With my gaze fixed
on him, my finger rubs in expert circles over my clit as I grasp
my aching breast with my free hand, imagining it’s his hands
touching me.
“I’m wet for you, Beast,” I say, dipping two fingers inside
myself whilst pressing the heel of my palm against my clit,
knowing that the barrier protecting both my metaphorical and
physical innocence has long since disappeared. I’m not a kid.
I’m a woman who’s comfortable with her body, with her
desires and I’m not afraid to show that.
With my heels pressed into the soft bedding and my knees
bent and legs spread, I show Beast what he refuses to claim for
himself. If this doesn’t work, then absolutely nothing will.
All I know is that this is the last time I’ll throw myself at
him.
The very last time.
“Beast, I want you. I want you to make me come,” I say,
meeting his turbulent gaze with my own. “But if you choose
not to, then you better believe I’ll find a man who’s willing to
do what you won’t.”
Anger blazes in his gaze and I can’t work out if it’s
because I’ve given him an ultimatum or the fact that I said that
I will find another man to do what he refuses to.
Either way, he says nothing, does nothing.
 Instead, he stands like a sentinel, locking himself down. I
literally see every single muscle in his body stiffen, his fingers
curling into fists, his jaw locking tight. He becomes a witness
to my pleasure, but refuses to be a part of it. So with his chest
heaving, his angry gaze blazing, Beast watches me finger-fuck
myself refusing to go back on his word to my father, and
whilst I find that an admirable trait, it pisses me the fuck off
because he’s denying himself something worth breaking his
word for and I’m not just talking about sex. I’m talking about
us.
So be it.
Stubbornly, and with a determination to get myself off, I
use both hands to pleasure myself. With two fingers rubbing
my clit, and two dipping inside of me, I draw out the pleasure
coiling in my spine. Every part of my skin heats under Beast’s
gaze until all too soon an orgasm rushes out from my centre in
a wave so powerful I’m screaming out his name.
Even to my own ears it sounds broken.
He’ll never get to touch me now.
As my orgasm ebbs away, I slowly draw my legs together
and open my eyes, focusing on the man before me. Beast’s
gaze cuts me like a knife, and I feel the sharp pain of it deep
inside my chest.
“It’s over. You have my word that I will never offer myself
up to you again,” I say, climbing off the bed and pulling out a
fresh set of underwear from my chest-of-drawers. I get dressed
slowly, something inside shutting down with every brush of
material over my skin. By the time I’ve pulled on my boots
and strode over to him, I’ve shored up my defences and tucked
away my disappointment. “Shall we go?”
He lets out a long breath, pushing off from the door then
says, “I will kill any man who dares touch you. Understand?”
Then he turns on his feet, rips open the door and storms out of
my bedroom leaving me whispering my reply in his wake.
“Perfectly.”
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I Wanna Be Your Slave

I bounce on my feet, a sheen of sweat covering my bare chest
as I glare at my opponent across the other side of the cage. I
can smell a win. It’s close.
Clayton has fought well and at one point caught me with
an uppercut so powerful I’d almost, almost passed the fuck
out. The crowd had gone ballistic as my head had snapped
back and I’d fallen against the cage wall. They’d smelt blood.
Except the motherfuckers didn’t count on me climbing
back to my feet.
I didn’t do it for them. I did it for her. For Kate.
Over the sounds of the crowd I’d heard her.
“Beast!” she’d screamed, and the pain in her voice, the
fucking anguish, had ripped at my heart, squeezing tightly.
Her fear had almost floored me and I knew in that fucking
moment that I will only ever fall to my knees for her.
Only Kate.
So I shook my head and stood the fuck up, blood dripping
from the gash across my brow, lip and cheek, and fought.
I’m still fighting.
Clayton is a worthy opponent and it’s been ugly, fucking
brutal.
There are no referees in this club, and you’re only
announced the winner when your opponent is knocked out
cold or can’t get back up again. I’ve put many men in the
hospital. As reigning champion it’s expected. Tonight, I’m
being pushed to my limits, and if it weren’t for Kate screaming
at me to keep going I might’ve conceded already. As it is, I’m
fighting with every last drop of energy I have left.
Clayton lands a left hook to my cheek that I only partially
deflect with my arm. I feel the power of it like a
sledgehammer and my strength is waning. Pretty sure I’ve
broken more than a couple of ribs from the kicks he’s managed
to get in, as well as splits to my eyebrow, lip and cheek. I don’t
need to look in the mirror to know that I’m covered in bruises,
and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a concussion, given I can see three
of the fucker in front of me.
Still I fight.
Split and bloody knuckles meet sweaty, crimson skin. Two
men equal in fitness, size and strength battle for supremacy.
On and on and on we fight until the canvas is covered in our
combined blood, but I can see that Clayton’s weakening, and
right now winning isn’t down to who’s the best fighter, it’s
down to who wants it more. Brute strength will only take you
so far, but inner strength? That’s what wins the fight. Hands
down, every motherfucking time.
I won’t lose.
Digging deep, I grit my teeth, and ignoring the searing
pain in my ribs, launch myself at Clayton in a flurry of
punches that he can barely defend, let alone respond to. I don’t
stop, not when he stumbles, not when several teeth fly out of
his mouth, not when his nose breaks, not when he falls to his
knees, and not when he holds his hands up in defeat.
I finish it with one last blow to the side of his head that
knocks him out cold.
The crowd erupts and I tip my head back and roar.
When the punters rush the cage, slapping their palms
against the wire and chanting my name, I find myself
searching for the only person that matters to me.
Kate.
 The girl I call Princess who’s a temptation I’m finding
harder and harder to deny.
Swiping at the blood and sweat getting into my eyes, I find
her half a beat later. She’s standing beside Hudson who’s
cheering like the rest of the crowd. There’s pride in her eyes,
relief too, but also a flickering of sorrow before she shuts it
down and dips her head in acknowledgement. My fucking
stomach roils and my throat squeezes as I’m reminded of what
she’d said earlier.
“It’s over. You have my word that I will never offer myself
up to you again.”
I hadn’t believed her then. I do now.
I’m a man of my word, and she’s a woman of hers.
I should be happy about that, I’m not.
Because I want her.
Not because she’d spread her legs and finger-fucked
herself in front of me, not because she’d done so with courage,
but because there’s something deep within her that calls to me.
Earlier I’d wanted so badly to take her in my arms and fucking
love her the way she deserves to be loved, but loyalty to her
father and my own self-imposed boundaries stopped me from
taking that step. Though those same ties of loyalty hadn’t been
strong enough to force me to leave the room. Nothing could’ve
done that. Instead, I’d watched, fucking transfixed on her
glistening pussy, her fingers sliding between her parted folds
all swollen and blush for me, and I’d drawn on every last drop
of fucking willpower not to throw caution to the wind and take
what I know is mine.
What will always be mine.
Except now Kate’s closed the door. As she should.
Fuck.
Dragging my gaze away from her, I walk on heavy legs
towards the cage door and pull it open, allowing Clayton’s
crew to enter before stepping out. The crowd of people nearest
to me gather round, slapping me on the back as they
congratulate me on my win. I grunt my appreciation, shake a
few hands before they ease back and allow me to pass. Across
the other side of the club, Carter’s sitting at the bar, the King
next to him. They both acknowledge me, Carter with a dip of
the head and King with a raised glass. I consider giving the
King the middle finger but decide he ain’t worth the attention.
Heading towards the changing rooms, Joey steps out of the
shadows with an ice pack and a bottle of whisky. “Let’s get
you fixed up, shall we?”
I nod, ready to follow him when my skin prickles. Kate’s
familiar scent accosts me right before her fingers wrap around
my bicep.
“Beast…”
I step into the shadowed archway that leads to the
changing rooms and wait. Joey looks between us, gives Kate a
dip of his head and says, “I’ll be fixing up Dom whilst I wait
for you to join us.”
“Alright,” I acknowledge.
“You’re hurt,” she blurts out, a frown creasing her brow.
“It ain’t so bad,” I lie.
“Yeah, and my name isn’t Grim.”
I almost say it isn’t, that it’s Kate, but I hold my tongue.
“Where’s Hudson?” I reply instead, searching the crowd.
“At the bar getting a drink. He thinks you’re fucking
amazing. His words, not mine.” She gives me a small smile
that quickly dies on her lips.
I press my palm against my chest, right over my heart.
“Ouch, that hurt.”
“You know what I mean.”
Scanning the crowd, I nod. “Yeah, Princess, I do.”
“He really is a good guy, Beast. If you got to know him,
you’d see that.”
“He’s talking to Carter and the King,” I point out.
 She follows my gaze, shrugging. “And?”
“And that doesn’t concern you?” I ask, stepping further
into the shadows and pulling her with me as the King looks
past Hudson and at us both talking.
“I trust Hudson.”
“Should you?”
“I’ve no reason not to. He was a friend to me when no one
else was.”
“How did you meet exactly?” I ask, if only to prolong our
conversation. I might hurt all over and need some painkillers
and medical care, but I need to speak to Kate more.
“Two years back I got into a fight with a few of the kids at
the care home his brothers still live at. It was pretty brutal.
Hud intervened.”
“Is that so?” I ask, not surprised that he would, but more so
that she’d let him.
“He did. The fuckers tried to mug me, they didn’t get very
far. I knocked a couple of them out from sheer rage. Back then
I didn’t have all the right training. I fought with anger and not
with skill.”
“Still do sometimes.” I grin, then wince as I feel the tear in
my lip pull wider.
“Hudson has my back. Always will,” she says and there’s a
fondness in her gaze which I rarely see, a softness that she
hides from everyone. Knowing that Hudson has pulled it out
of her stings a hell of a lot more than the cut to my lip.
“I’m glad he does,” I reply, my gaze slipping past her and
back to Hudson talking to Carter and the King.
“Yeah, me too.”
Silence falls between us as her gaze flits over my face and
drops to my chest. I must look a fucking mess, but it doesn’t
bother her. It’s not like she hasn’t seen me fight in the cage
before.
 “You lost focus today,” she says eventually. “Clayton
almost bested you.”
“It was a momentary lapse of concentration. I had things
on my mind.”
“What things?” she asks softly, casting a tentative gaze
over her shoulder to make sure no one close by is listening in
on our conversation.
“You know full well what I’m talking about, Princess,” I
reply, my fingers twitching to touch her. I keep my hands at
my side, knowing that if I did touch her, I might not be able to
stop, blood, sweat and broken ribs be damned.
“He could’ve killed you,” she whispers.
“No, Princess. I would never let that happen.” I shake my
head, chewing on my split lip, tasting blood.
Her gaze drops to my mouth and she frowns. “What?”
I breathe out slowly. “What you said earlier…”
She takes a step back, and I see her shutting down, closing
herself off. “What about it?”
“Did you mean it?” I drill my gaze into hers, willing her to
say what I want to hear. That, no, she didn’t mean it. That she
still wants me. That I’m the only man she’ll ever want, that
she’ll ever let touch her.
She doesn’t.
“Yes, I did mean it. I will never offer myself up to you
again,” she says firmly and without a shred of doubt in her
gaze.
Biting back all the words on the tip of my tongue, I say the
only thing I can. “Good.”

“THAT WAS AN EPIC FIGHT!” Dom says, wincing a little

from his own split lip and black eye from his fight with
Ramone. We’re sitting in the fighters’ rest room situated off
the changing room getting fixed by Joey.
“Clayton nearly had you beat at one point,” Joey says with
a chuckle as he sews up the deep gash to my cheek. I barely
register the pain, too fucking distracted by thoughts of Kate.
“Yeah, he did,” I shrug, the dull ache in my ribs is nothing
compared to how fucked-up in the head I am over Kate. I’d
pushed her away, and whilst in the long run it’s better for the
both of us, it sure as fuck doesn’t feel good. In fact, it fucking
hurts in a way that messes me up far more than a few cuts and
bruises do.
“First time ever you’ve been close to being bested, am I
right?” Joey continues, tying off the thread.
“Guess so.”
“What’s up, Beast? You ain’t gloating like you usually do
after winning a fight,” Dom says with a wink to let me know
he means no disrespect.
“Absolutely nothing, mate,” I say, taking a sip from the
bottle of whisky Joey brought in place of any real painkillers. I
grimace at the cheap as shit muck, but at least it’s helping to
take the edge off.
“You sure?” Dom pushes, rolling his shoulder and pressing
against a bruise swelling on his bicep.
“Yep.”
Joey catches my gaze, blotting at my face with a damp
cloth. “You’ll do,” he finally says, giving me a terse nod as he
gathers up the bloody cloth and used needle and chucks them
into the bin.
“How’s Ramone holding up?” I ask, if only to pull the
attention away from me.
Dom grins, taking the bait just like I knew he would.
“Broken arm, cheekbone and missing several teeth. But it’s the
bruised ego that’s effed him up more.” Chuckling, Dom
smirks. “Thought he could get the better of me.”
 “We all knew you’d win. You’re like a pit bull in the cage.
I was surprised you didn’t rip his ear off like you did Bonner’s
a couple of weeks back,” Joey remarks with a wry grin.
Dom laughs. “If Ramone hadn’t conceded, I might’ve.”
“And Clayton?” I ask, rolling my head on my shoulders to
try and ease the tension in my neck and back.
“You fucked him up good and proper, but he’ll live,” Joey
says. “He got lucky this time. I’ve advised him not to fight for
a while.”
“Bet that went down like a lead balloon,” Dom says with a
smirk before taking a sip of his beer.
“Don’t much care if it did. There’s only so long you can
avoid the grim reaper. Know what I’m saying?” Joey says,
giving me a look that tells me he’s no longer talking about
fighting in the cage.
I flick my gaze to Dom, understanding Joey’s got
something to say but won’t in front of him. “Can you give us a
minute?”
Dom nods. “Sure thing. I’ve got to get back out there
anyway. Carter wants me to meet the King now that he’s
officially going into business with him.”
Joey’s bushy eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, but other
than that he keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s a wise man.
We both like Dom, but we don’t have frank discussions about
Carter in front of him, or any of the other men who work for
the boss, for that matter.
“He told the rest of the crew already?” I ask.
“Yeah, earlier this evening before you arrived with
Princess. I figured you already knew, given you’re his right-
hand man and all.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Right then, best be off,” Dom says, discarding his empty
beer bottle in the bin. “The sooner we get this official shit over
with, the sooner I can go get my dick wet. Tonight Nancy’s
invited me over to her place and I intend on blotting you from
her memory.” He grins, and I shake my head.
“Not possible, mate, but I respect you for trying.”
“After a night of passion with me it’ll be Beast, who?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Why can’t you just humour me? You’re giving us mere
mortals a bad fucking name,” Dom retorts, before striding
towards the door.
“Can’t help it if I’m a god in bed, now can I?” I call after
him, only to receive the middle finger in response. The door
slams shut behind him and I take another sip of the whisky.
Joey smirks, packing up his medical bag. “I like Dom.”
“Not enough to chat personal shit in front of him though.”
“Nope, not yet anyways. He’ll prove himself one day and
then we’ll both feel more comfortable. I’ve got a good feeling
about him, same as that kid Hudson Freed. I’ve been around
long enough to know who’s a good egg, and who’s rotten.”
“That’s why we’re friends, right?”
He laughs. “Yeah, that’s why we’re friends.”
“So what did you want to say?” I ask, waiting for the
lecture that I know is coming.
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I’ve got eyes. Something has happened between you and
Grim, hasn’t it?”
Scrubbing a hand over my head, I blow out a long breath
and nod.
“I told you not to fuck her.”
“I didn’t.”
“What then?” He takes the bottle of whisky from me and
takes a generous sip, before swiping the back of his hand
across his mouth.
 “Let’s just say she offered herself to me and I turned her
down.”
“She did?”
“Yep, she did.”
“And you turned her down?” he repeats, narrowing his
eyes.
“Yeah, I fucking did.”
Joey squeezes my shoulder. “Wise move.”
“Then why does it feel like it wasn’t?”
“What’re you saying?”
“My head’s telling me I did the right thing even though it
was the single hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but…”
“But?”
“But my fucking heart ain’t so sure,” I admit, fucking
surprising myself.
“You sure it’s your heart and not your dick that’s
uncertain?” He folds his arms across his chest and leans back
against the table, smirking.
“She was fucking naked, Joey, and I turned her down. I’m
fucking certain.”
Joey’s eyes widen and he whistles. “Well, fuck. Quite the
predicament you’ve got yourself in, Beast.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So what’re you gonna do?”
“Nothing. She made it clear to me that she won’t be
offering herself up to me again.”
“Is that so? Do you believe her?”
“Yeah.” I sigh, knocking back another glug of whisky, then
stand.
“And you’re alright with that?”
“I thought you said I should steer clear?”
 Joey swipes a hand over his beard, tugging on the end as
he thinks. “I did, that’s true. But fucking Grim and caring for
her are two different things.”
“I’m not sure Carter would agree.”
“Perhaps not, but that’s neither here nor there. You choose
who you’re loyal to, not him. Besides, we both know that girl
has the power and the balls to run Tales. It won’t be long
before Carter will be stepping aside to make way for her.”
“You’d think, but I ain’t so sure now.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just a hunch,” I say, meeting his gaze. When he opens his
mouth to ask me about it, I shake my head. “I ain’t voicing
anything until I know for sure.”
“Understood,” Joey replies. “And this thing he’s got going
with the King, has that got anything to do with your
concerns?”
“You could say that.”
“I heard he’s bringing new fighters to Tales from Europe,
that he’s taking a cut of the takings for the trouble.”
“You’d heard right, but there’s more to this partnership
than Carter’s letting on. I just haven’t figured out what that is
yet.”
“You’ve got good instincts, Beast, trust them.”
“I intend to.”
“But I am gonna give you another piece of advice,” Joey
says.
I smirk, pulling on a clean shirt, buttoning it. “I’d worry if
you didn’t.”
“Loving someone trumps everything else, even your own
rules, and any loyalty pledged to another man.”
“Who said I love her?”
Joey barks out a laugh. “A man who doesn’t fuck a woman
as beautiful as Grim when it’s offered on a platter is a man in
love. Besides, you’ve never spoken about your heart and a
woman in the same sentence before. If that ain’t love, then I
don’t know what the fuck is.”
“Okay,” I reply, not admitting to anything because I
haven’t even admitted that to myself. “What’re you saying?”
“If you truly care about Grim, love her, then you look after
her in any way you can.”
“This ain’t no fairy tale, Joey. We won’t get a happily ever
after. You know that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Either way, you gotta
protect what belongs to your heart, no matter the cost.”
I nod. “Yeah. No matter the cost.”
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

Take Another Little Piece Of My Heart

My feet pound against the belt of the running machine as I hit
the button to increase the speed. Sweat trickles down my back
and stomach, pooling at the top of my leggings. Around me
the gym is filled with Carter’s soldiers and a few of the
regulars who fight at Tales. As always I’m the only woman.
Beast is nowhere to be seen.
In fact, he’s ignored this past week since he won against
Clayton and whilst I’ve seen him around, other than a polite
greeting and checking in to see what my plans are so that he
can keep an eye on me from a distance, he’s barely spoken to
me. Humiliation creeps up my spine at his rejection, but
overriding that is this deep sense of loneliness.
I miss him. I miss our banter and the friendship I thought
we shared.
Gritting my teeth and ignoring the stitch in my side as I
run, I turn up the music bluetoothed into my headphones and
transform all the disappointment into anger, using that to fuel
me. I’m not sure how long I run for, but eventually my body
tells me enough is enough, and I slow down the speed
gradually to a walk. What I need now is to shower and change,
then head over to Hudson’s place. He’s got his brothers Max
and Bryce over, as well as Cal. It’d be good to be in the
company of friends instead of around Carter who can barely
look at me and Beast who’s doing everything in his power to
cut me out of his life as much as he can given he’s still my
bodyguard.
Stepping off the treadmill, I snatch up the hand towel
hanging over the handrail fixed to the wall and swipe it over
my face and neck to soak up the sweat, then head towards the
female changing room, which is basically my private changing
room.
“Off to spar, Princess?” Dom asks me as I pass him by.
He’s spotting Mark on the weights and they’re both bare
chested and sweating as much as I am.
“No sparring today, or for a while actually. Beast has been
busy with Carter.”
Busy avoiding me more like it.
“You know any one of us will be happy to step in. I’d be
happy to spar with you now if you want?” he replies as Mark
lowers the weight and sits up.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mark asks, giving him
a look.
“Forgetting what?”
“You’ve got someplace to be, right mate?”
“Shit, you’re right,” Dom says, checking his watch. He
pulls a face. “Sorry, Princess.”
“This place you need to be, is that the same place that
Beast’s been skulking off to all week?” I ask as casually as I
can.
Dom smirks. “I fucking hope not. I know Nancy had a
thing for him once but I’m hoping he isn’t balls deep in her
right now.”
I raise my brows and nod. “Ah, well, have a nice time.”
Dom laughs. “Princess, I plan on having a really fucking
nice time.” He turns his attention to Mark, squeezing his
shoulder. “See you at The Crib Club later?”
“The Crib Club? Isn’t that where all the posh people go to
play cards?” I ask.
 “Games are certainly played there, but it ain’t just cards.”
Mark says.
“So what then?” I ask, looking between the two men who
are now smirking at each other. Then I get it. “Oh, it’s a sex
club. Gotcha.”
Mark grins, but Dom has the decency to look a bit
sheepish. “Nancy and I ain’t exclusive.”
“She knows that, does she?” I ask, amused at the way his
cheeks flush. I’m pretty sure Nancy’s a big girl and doesn’t
need me nosing around her business, but I can’t waste the
opportunity to wind Dom up a bit.
“Yep, she’s happy to share my monster cock—” Dom’s
eyes widen, then he smirks, casting his gaze to someone over
my shoulder. I don’t need to see him to know it’s Beast. I can
feel his presence.
“The fuck you talking about with Princess?” he asks.
Mark bursts out laughing and Dom winks at me. “Alright,
Beast? Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Yeah, I figured that,” he snaps, stepping up beside me.
I glance at him, and he purposely avoids my gaze.
Arsehole.
“Nice to see you too,” I mutter, the heat from his body and
his familiar scent makes a deep ache open up inside of me. I
don’t enjoy feeling like this and decide the best thing to do in
the moment is to get the hell away from him. He’s been
avoiding me, so now he can have a taste of his own medicine.
I move to walk away but Mark’s question has me pulling up
sharp.
“Weren’t you going to meet us there?”
“You’re going too?” I ask snapping my head around to
glare at Beast.
“Carter needed me to pick up Princess and drop her off at
her friend’s house first. I’ll go home and change then meet you
there later,” he replies completely fucking ignoring my
question and me entirely. Even Dom and Mark appear to
notice his rudeness and are looking between us with questions
in their eyes.
I see. So this is how it’s going to be.
“Well, have a good time tonight, lads, and remember to
play it safe. I wouldn’t want your dicks falling off from some
well-used pussy. Oh, wait,” I say, staring daggers at Beast and
aiming the next part of my retort at him, “Looks like you
might have some trouble with that, given your bollocks have
already shrivelled up from overuse.”
Twisting on my feet, I head towards the changing room to
the sound of Dom and Mark cracking up. The fact that Beast
doesn’t join in takes the edge off the pain I’m feeling. Fuck
him and his bullshit anyways. I’m not going to let him treat me
like shit. Flirting with me one minute, bringing me the hearts
of my enemies the next, not to mention turning down my
advances. And then to top it all off by fucking ignoring me
completely.
I’m over it.
As I cross the gym, I pass a few familiar faces and some
not so familiar ones. Half of the men are undressing me with
their eyes and the other half are avoiding eye contact
completely. No one that knows who I am, and more
importantly, who my father is, would dream of looking at me
so openly like I’m an actual, desirable woman. It won’t take
long for the newbies to be filled in and then I’ll go back to
being fucking invisible again. But I’ll know. I’ll feel their eyes
on me.
Just like I feel Beast’s eyes on me.
With anger bubbling in my blood, I shove open the
changing room door and head straight towards the shower
cubicle, then strip and step inside, turning the shower on. I dip
my head under the warm spray and close my eyes, allowing
the water to beat down on my head and body.
How fucking dare he treat me like this?
I’d thought better of him.
 If I was like any other woman I might allow the tears
brimming behind my eyes to fall, but I’m not like any other
woman. I’m Grim and I refuse to cry. He doesn’t deserve my
tears, or my affection.
Fuck him.
Forcing myself to move, I grab the shower gel and clean
up, taking my sweet time. Once I’m thoroughly clean and pink
all over from the hot water, I switch the shower off and grab
the towel hanging from the back of the cubicle door, wrapping
it around my body. The instant I step into the changing area, I
know I’m not alone.
Beast is sitting on the bench on the opposite side of the
room, legs spread wide, the back of his head pressed against
the wall as he stares at me. He’s beautiful. So beautiful that he
makes my heart ache and my traitorous pussy clench.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I ask, ignoring the
flicker of indecision in his eyes as I tighten the towel around
my body, and reach for the smaller hand towel hanging over a
locker to dry my hair.
“Honestly, I don’t fucking know. But if your father finds
out I walked in here when you were taking a shower he’d
probably kill me.”
“Probably?” I laugh bitterly. “We both know that he
would.”
Beast gives me a look that tells me that Carter could try
but he wouldn’t succeed. He’s right. One to one, Carter
wouldn’t stand a chance. Then again, my dad is as powerful as
he is because he’s not stupid enough to rely on one man to
protect him or to dole out punishment. Beast could take on my
dad, but could he take on all of his soldiers? Unlikely.
“Then it’s just as well that I asked every fucker out there to
leave and locked up before I took liberties and stepped in
here.”
“You did what? We don’t close for another hour yet.”
“And?”
 “And you can’t do that,” I protest, hating the fact that the
skin on my chest and neck heats at the thought of me being
naked and alone with Beast with no one around to interrupt
should something happen, which it won’t because he’s made
that perfectly fucking clear.
Dragging a hand over his face, he leans forward, elbows
on his jean clad knees, his hands hanging loosely between his
spread thighs,. I try so hard not to stare at the way the veins on
his forearms and hands ripple beneath his skin.
“And you’re staring,” he replies, doing exactly what he
accuses me of as his eyes rake over every inch of me.
I stand my ground, refusing to feel intimidated. There are
so many things I want to say to him. Sharp words sit on my
tongue like angry little knives just waiting to be thrown into
his chest, but underneath the anger and disappointment is
longing. It’s not just sexual either, but an emotional longing,
the need to connect with the man who I care about as a friend
as much as anything. I’ve missed being around him, and as
weak as it might seem, I don’t have to dig too deep beneath
the anger to know that I want him still.
“Beast, what do you want from me?” I ask heavily, lifting
the towel to my hair as I rough dry it, if only to make me
appear more at ease than I am.
For long heated seconds he stares at me, that same
indecision I saw in his eyes a moment ago bubbling to the
surface. “You want the truth?”
My hand grasping the towel drops to my side. “I’m not
sure that I do,” I admit. “Your truths tend to hurt, Beast.”
“I’ve not handled this situation very well,” he says,
pushing up off the bench and walking towards me.
“So now I’m a situation?”
“See, this fucking mouth of mine. What I meant was—”
“Don’t,” I say, holding my hand up to stop him from
getting any closer. I’m still holding the fucking hand towel and
we both look at it dangling from my fist.
 He reaches for it, taking it from me. “Let me,” he says
softly, and before I can refuse, he’s stepped behind me and is
slowly dragging the towel over my wet hair.
“I ain’t good at this, Princess,” he admits, gently
massaging my scalp as he dries my hair.
“You seem pretty good at it to me,” I murmur, my eyes
rolling in my head as he drops the towel to the floor and runs
his hands through my hair, his large fingers gently massaging
my scalp.
“That’s not what I meant,” he replies, a soft chuckle in his
voice.
“Then what do you mean, Beast, because I don’t
understand what this is?”
He continues to massage my head, the heat of his chest
seeping into my back as he steps closer. My eyes close and
despite everything, I relax against him as his fingers work
downwards and his thumbs gently massage the base of my
skull. I can’t seem to find the energy to step out of his hold.
Instead, I allow this moment of human contact to happen,
because Christ knows I’ve not had much of it in my life. My
dad isn’t exactly affectionate.
“Ask me again, Princess,” he says, his lips pressing against
my ear, the soft rumble of his voice connecting with that part
of my body that weeps for him as his fingers wrap gently
around my neck, then trail over my clavicle. My clit throbs,
desperate to be touched by him as heat courses through my
body, and I stifle a moan, feeling his erection pressing against
my lower back, thick and hard for me.
“Ask you what?” I mumble, knowing exactly what he
means, but not ready to face the truth of what can’t change. No
matter what, I will never offer myself to him again. I will
never ask him to fuck me. My pride and my heart won’t be
able to take another hit. If he truly wants me, then he’s going
to have to do better than this. He’s going to have to fight for
me.
 “Everything I am, every fucking part of me knows that
what I want, that what I’m doing now is wrong but I can’t…”
“You can’t, what?” I whisper as his palm smooths up the
front of my neck and gently cups my jaw, twisting my head to
the side. I tip my head back as he stares down at me, his free
hand wrapping around my waist as his palm presses against
my belly, warming me there.
“I can’t get you out of my head. Fuck knows I’ve tried, but
I fucking can’t,” he concedes, his palm smoothing up my
cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips.
“You’re fucking with my emotions, Beast.”
“It’s complicated…”
“Only because you’ve let it be,” I reply, twisting in his
arms. He sighs heavily and I pull away, needing to put space
between us. He allows me to shift back but he doesn’t let me
go.
“You’re a temptation that I’m trying so fucking hard not to
indulge in.”
“Then don’t,” I say softly, shocked by my own words more
than anything.
“What are you saying?” he asks, looking at me intently.
“I need to protect my heart, Beast.”
“Your heart?” he cocks his head to the side, gripping me
tightly back against him.
I press my hands against his chest, allowing myself some
breathing space. “Yes, my heart. You have a habit of carving
them out of people’s chests,” I say with a wry grin.
“Not yours. Never yours,” he says, swiping the pad of his
thumb against my bottom lip. He flicks his gaze from my eyes
to my lips and back again as he leans closer, pressing a soft
kiss against my mouth. It takes monumental effort not to melt
against him, to let him take my first proper kiss, my first
everything, but a sense of self-preservation kicks into gear and
I shake my head, our noses bumping as I do.
 “No, Beast. I meant what I said,” I say, pushing harder
against him. “You don’t really want this.”
“You’ve no idea what I want,” he grinds out, holding me
tighter, pressing me closer to his erection.
My fingers curl into his top. “I know that you’re loyal to
Carter, that you don’t want to betray him. I know that you
don’t want to go against your own morals. I know that you’ll
keep blowing hot and cold with me until you get your head
straight. I know that I won’t ever allow a man to touch me
who isn’t a thousand percent sure that nothing else but me
matters to him. I know that no matter how much I want you to
fuck me right now, I won’t let you.”
“Princess…” he mutters, his fingers twining in my hair as
he pulls my head back and forces me to look at him. I meet his
fiery gaze with my own.
“It’s Grim,” I say firmly, locking down my emotions,
forcing my feelings back inside the heart he bruised with his
rejection and avoidance.
“You will always be Princess to me,” he says.
“And that’s why this will never work, Beast, because I was
always destined to be queen,” I reply, then step out of his arms
and stride away from him.
He doesn’t follow, just like I knew he wouldn’t.
 CHAPTER TWENTY

Honesty
“This isn’t the way to Hudson’s flat,” Kate points out as we’re
driving along the motorway ten minutes later.
“Nope, it isn’t.”
“Beast…”
“Princess…” I counter, trying not to smirk as her irritation
grows. Why does that get my dick so hard? I’ve never felt
more attracted to anyone in my life, but it isn’t just her body
I’m drawn to, it’s her. I’m drawn to her feistiness, her sharp
tongue and her wit, her strength and her courage. I want to
provoke her because her anger turns me on. She’s no wilting
flower and I fucking adore that about her.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” I reply, pressing on the accelerator as we
speed along.
“This!” she yells, the anger I sensed earlier rearing its
head. “You’ve ignored me for days. Barely spoke to me,
looked at me even. Then tonight you walk into Tales like a
bear with a sore head, chucking everyone out so you can make
a pass at me without anyone around to witness it. Is that what I
am to you, a dirty little secret?”
Gripping the gear shift, I punch it into sixth gear as the
speedometer pushes ninety. “Would you have preferred it if I
made a pass at you in front of everyone?” I retort, weaving
through the flow of traffic.
 “At least it would’ve shown me you meant it,” she spits,
reaching for her handbag and pulling out her phone. Pretty
sure she’s messaging Hudson, which gets my goat no end.
“You think I’m fucking with you?” I snap back, more
angry that she’s texting the one guy who makes me feel
inadequate, not because of his looks or anything, but because
he has Kate’s affection. It pisses me off.
“I think you don’t like it when a woman takes control.”
“That’s bullshit!” That’s the last thing I dislike. I love a
strong woman. Always have.
“I initiated everything and you turned me down, leaving
me humiliated,” she says, clamping a hand over my mouth
when I try to respond.
Rather than drag it away, I let her keep it pressed over my
lips, sneaking my tongue out to lick her fingers. Out of the
corner of my eye I see her shudder, but she keeps her hand in
place, refusing to let me know I’ve affected her.
“Then when I do the same to you,” she continues. “You act
like the meathead you are and do what the fuck you want
rather than taking me to my best friend’s house so I can be
with someone who actually gives a shit about me!”
Dropping her hand, she shifts in her seat, staring out of the
window, and the guilt creeps in. I did humiliate her, but I
hadn’t intended to. At that point I was in a state of fucking
panic, knowing I was feeling things and not knowing what the
fuck to do. I want to tell her that, but instead I make shit
worse.
“I warned you over and over, Princess.”
“And yet you kept flirting with me.”
“It was banter,” I bite back rather than telling her the truth.
Which is the whole fucking point of tonight. Fuck, what is
wrong with me? I keep digging my grave here. Her murderous
gaze tells me I’m a hairsbreadth away from ruining shit
between us forever.
 She laughs bitterly and I feel her disappointment like a
punch to the gut. “You were the one who held my fucking
hands steady when Carter wanted me to shoot Saxon. You
were the one who acted like a jealous boyfriend when I was
dancing with John—”
“You mean Orlando,” I interrupt.
“Who-the-fuck-ever!” she shouts, continuing her tirade,
which I fucking deserve by the way. “You were the one who
wanted to stab the King at the dinner table when he looked at
me the way he did. You were the one who said I looked
beautiful when Carter just thought I looked like a whore. You
were the one who hurt me because you weren’t brave enough
to act, and now you expect me to just drop my knickers
because you suddenly decide the time is right? Fuck you and
fuck that!” she fumes, her whole body trembling now.
Fuck. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Blowing out a long breath, I ease my foot off the
accelerator and slow the car down to a more road legal speed
as we take the exit off the motorway and towards Camden
Town. Chewing on my lip, I try to figure out what to say next.
Because she’s fucking right. Everything she said is right.
“Where are we going?” she asks eventually, breaking the
silence between us.
“To my tattoo shop.”
“Your tattoo shop? You don’t own a tattoo shop,” she says.
“I do. I just don’t talk about it. I figured as I spend so
much money covering my skin, I may as well buy a place and
make use of the artists who run it for me,” I reply, side-eying
her.
She shakes her head in disbelief, dropping her anger for
the moment. “You’re full of fucking surprises tonight, aren’t
you?”
“Is it really that strange that I run a business that’s not
connected to your dad, or the other shit I do on his behalf?”
“Well, yes, actually it is.”
 “Then take this as a compliment. I’m sharing stuff about
me with you. I don’t do that with just anyone.”
“But don’t you have someplace to be?” she questions,
sarcasm dripping through her words.
“Not until later. First of all we are doing this.”
“You know, as curious as I am, the second you stop this car
I’m calling a cab to take me to Hudson’s, right?”
“Wrong,” I snap.
“Are you trying to piss me off?!” she shouts, beyond
frustrated now. I don’t fucking blame her. I’m not handling
this well at all.
“Look, I promise to take you to Hudson’s, but I want to
talk to you first,” I say, and when she doesn’t respond I add,
“Please?”
“We could’ve talked at the club.”
“No, we couldn’t have.”
“Or your place.”
“Definitely not there either. Look, I’m trying here.”
“Trying to do what?” she asks. “Act like a caveman, then
slope off to a sex club with your mates so you can bang some
pussy that meets your requirements.”
“No. I’m trying to apologise for the way I’ve been
behaving, and I’m not sloping off to a sex club with my mates.
Carter needs us there. It’s business.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Princess, I’m not lying to you. I’m trying to make amends
and you’re making it really fucking difficult.”
“You’re trying to make amends by throwing everyone out
of Tales so that you can make a pass at me and when I’m the
one to put a stop to it, drag me off to fuck knows where—”
“Not fuck knows where, my tattoo shop,” I interrupt.
“—Only to drive like a fucking maniac along the
motorway?” she shouts. “How about just saying you’re sorry
for being a first class dick?”
“When you put it like that…” My voice trails off and I
chuckle.
“It’s not even remotely funny.”
My smile drops. “You’re right, it’s not, but will you just
humour me?”
“Fine. Let’s get this over and done with.”
Twenty minutes later I’m ushering Kate inside my tattoo
shop and introducing her to my two employees. “This is Trent
and Casper,” I say, pointing between the two good looking
bastards. Trent is black with hazel eyes and a shock of dyed
red afro hair, trimmed short against his scalp. He towers a
good few inches over Casper who’s as pale as his name
suggests, and has deep blue eyes. They’re both covered in
tattoos and various piercings and are as devoted to each other
as they are to their girlfriend, Rachel, who I’ve never met but
heard is a real catch.
“It’s good to meet you both,” Kate says, giving them a
tight smile.
I wince internally, knowing that I’ve pushed her way too
far tonight. If I hadn’t played this all fucking wrong and made
a pass at her at Tales, instead of fucking apologising, this
introduction might’ve gone a little better.
“The pleasure is ours,” Casper says, responding with sign
language as he speaks. “Anyone who’s a friend of Beast’s is a
friend of ours.”
Kate gives him a confused look but Trent grins, pointing to
his chest, then his ears. “I’m deaf. It’s a force of habit for Cas.
He forgets I can lip read. It’s nice to meet you…”
“Grim,” I say, using her dad’s nickname to introduce her
rather than Kate or Princess.
“Have you come for a tattoo?” Trent asks her.
“No, I have,” I reply.
“You have?” Kate asks, staring at me.
 “Yeah. Thought I could do with another.”
“I’m not being funny, but have you seen you? Aside from
your face there’s no free space left,” she points out.
I grin, thinking about my dick that I’m saving just for her
pussy to tattoo its first orgasm all over its length. “Believe me,
there’s room for another tattoo.”
Casper laughs, his eyes flicking to my crotch, the fucking
flirtatious bastard.
“Who do you want to do the honours?” Trent asks,
grinning.
“I’m going to do it myself. You two get off home to your
woman, yeah?”
“So now you’re a tattoo artist?” Kate asks, pulling a face.
“He happens to be one of the best. Did a few of my
pieces,” Casper explains, pointing to a beautiful depiction of a
wolf howling against a mountainous backdrop that’s wrapped
around his forearm.
Kate’s mouth drops open in shock. “Wait. You did that?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” I reply, shrugging off my coat
and hanging it over the back of a chair. “I’m full of hidden
talents.”
“Yeah, I’m just realising that,” she mumbles, causing my
lips to quirk up in a smile as I remember how she melted
against me whilst I massaged her head and shoulders back at
Tales.
“Well, we’ll head off then,” Trent says, interrupting my
thoughts.
“I’ll shut up shop,” I say, fist-bumping them both before
they give Kate a warm smile and head out. Striding over to the
door, I lock it and turn the sign to closed. “Shall we?” I say,
pointing to a door on the left side of the shop where our clients
are tattooed in the privacy of a windowless room.
“Sure, why not?”
 “Make yourself comfortable,” I say, shutting the door
behind me.
Kate sits down on a chair in the corner of the room as I
pick up a tattoo gun, some ink, and a fresh needle, laying them
out on a metal table beside the recliner.
“You’re not fucking about, are you?” she asks, watching
me as I move about the room, setting everything up.
“Nope. In my former life I was trained as a tattoo artist.
My mum always said to have a backup profession just in case
what I really wanted to do didn’t work out. I followed her
advice.”
“So your backup profession to being an enforcer was
this?”
“No, my backup profession to being a professional boxer
was this,” I reply, fixing the needle into the tattoo gun. “I
kinda fell into enforcement.”
“You wanted to be a professional boxer?”
“Yeah. Things didn’t work out as planned.” I give her a
sheepish smile that I shut down when she frowns. “Come here,
Princess.”
“Why?”
“Because I need your hand.”
“My hand? You aren’t suggesting that I tattoo you, right?”
I laugh “No, I don’t have a death wish.”
“So what then?”
“Will you just come over here?” I ask, sitting down and
swinging my legs over either side of the recliner, tapping the
space between my legs. “Hop on up?” I frame it as a question
rather than a demand, needing her to be okay with this. I know
I’ve pushed her to her limits and fucked things up, but I won’t
force her to do anything she’s uncomfortable with.
She stares at me for a while, clearly debating whether she
should do as I ask. Eventually she nods her head and climbs up
on the recliner so that she’s kneeling between my legs.
 “It would be more comfortable for you if you scoot your
bum closer and drop your legs over my thighs. I don’t want
you getting dead legs from kneeling.”
“Are you suggesting I wank you off, Beast?” she blurts
out, her cheeks heating as she drops her gaze from my face to
my crotch.
I burst out laughing, and she shifts to move off the recliner.
“No, shit. Of course not!” I exclaim, grabbing her hips to
prevent her from leaving. “I just want you to be comfortable as
it’s gonna take a while for me to do this.”
“What are we doing exactly?” she asks, allowing me to
help her shift positions so that she’s facing me with her legs
dangling over my thighs, our crotches inches apart. She has to
grip my knees to steady herself whilst I pull off my t-shirt and
grab the tattoo gun, dipping it into some black ink. My pulse
does something funny to my heart and I have to swallow hard
at the way it rams against my rib cage, just like my dick is
pressing against the seam of my jeans.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble here.
“Put your hand on my chest. Right over my heart,
Princess,” I say, ignoring the way her neck and cheeks pink
up. She’s as attracted to me as I am to her, there’s never been
any doubt about that. My chest swells with possession and it
takes a great deal of concentration not to act on that right here
and now.
“What?”
“You heard me. Just do it,” I say gruffly to cover up my
fucking nerves. Right now I feel every inch a man out of his
depth. I’m not usually like this with women. I take the lead,
I’m confident, sure of myself. But Kate makes me nervous.
She frowns, but does what I ask. I’m pretty sure she can feel
the steady thrum of my heart beating beneath her palm, given
how much I can feel it pound in my chest from her touch.
“Like this?” she asks, staring at her hand pressing against
my chest. My dick springs to life, painfully so.
 “Spread your fingers,” I instruct, switching on the gun as I
try to keep my hand fucking steady. “I’m going to tattoo
around them, so hold still, okay?”
“Why?”
Pressing the needle into my skin just beside the point
where the bottom of her thumb meets her wrist, I say,
“Because I don’t want to tattoo your fingers by mistake.”
“No, I mean why do you want a tattoo of my hand over
your heart?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” I ask, hissing a little as the needle
makes its first mark. I welcome it, the slight sting helps to
distract me from the growing ache in my balls.
“I’m going to need you to spell this out to me because
you’ve got a really bad habit of switching up on me,” she
retorts, as I slowly trace the outline of her thumb. It’s not
exactly easy to do given our positions, but then again nothing
about the pair of us is easy, so it’s kind of perfect. “Beast?” she
prompts.
I can feel the heat of her gaze, but I don’t look up mainly
because I don’t want to make a mistake, but also because I’m
shitting a brick right now. “This isn’t easy for me…”
“You’re nervous—?”
“I am.” I stop what I’m doing and nod, meeting her warm
gaze. Her eyes are like two pools of dark chocolate and the
way she’s looking at me right now makes my dick try and
make the great escape out of my jeans.
“It’s just me,” she whispers, the softness of her voice
sending all kinds of electrical currents to my balls, making me
weep precum.
“Fuck, Kate,” I say, unable to control the need in my voice.
When she’s like this, soft and true, I’m a goner. Don’t get me
wrong, I adore her sass and whip-sharp tongue, but this, the
rarity of her softer side does things to me that I can’t describe.
I simultaneously want to protect her from the world and stand
by her side whilst she rules it.
 “Beast?” She tips her head to the side, shifting slightly.
Her thighs pressing down on mine, her scent filling my senses.
I’m fucking punch-drunk on her right now as my nostrils flare
and I breathe her in.
“You’re not just anyone,” I say, finding it hard to explain
how I feel. At a loss for words, I place the needle back against
my skin and trace the side of her thumb.
“Yeah, I know, I’m your boss’s daughter.” The regret in her
voice pulls me up sharp.
“No! You’re so much more than that, Princess. Kate…” I
add, wanting her to know that I see her for who she is, not the
persona her father has encouraged her to be, or the box I put
her into to suit my needs.
She falls silent and instead of being a man and growing
some big arse balls I fall silent too. For the next half an hour I
trace the outline of her hand with the tattoo gun, loving the
feel of her warmth seeping into my chest and her soft breaths
across my skin. This is what wet dreams are made of.
Eventually I finish, and drop the tattoo gun on the metal
table beside us. Kate shifts backwards slightly, lifting her
hand, but I’m not ready for her to go just yet, so I grab her
wrist, holding her palm in place.
“No. Let me say this with your hand pressed against my
chest so you can feel my heart beating beneath it and
understand that I’m not fucking with you.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the point
where our skin meets. “I think you’ve ruined that beautiful
tattoo on your chest. Why would you do that?”
“Because I need you to understand a few things…” My
voice trails off as I try to gather the words to express how I’m
feeling, which is no mean feat given I never express my
feelings. Ever.
“Can we just pull the plaster off please, because I’m not
sure I can take much more of this,” Kate says.
I nod, blowing out a quick breath before locking eyes with
her. “You were right about it all. Everything you accused me
of was true. I was flirting with you,” I confess, holding her
gaze. “I look for you in every room, and the second I find you
I can’t fucking tear my eyes away.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do. You’re too bright, too dazzling and I want
nothing more than to stand in your orbit and bask in your
glow.”
Her cheeks pink and a small laugh escapes her lips. “There
you go being all poetic again. Are you sure you haven’t read
your mum’s romance novels?”
I laugh with her, shaking my head. “Not sure where that
came from, but it’s all true. I swear, Kate. I’m not fucking with
you.”
She nods, but it seems like I’ve still got a ways to go to
persuade her that I mean every word. So I continue. “When I
saw you dancing with that Orlando prick, I wanted to gut him
so badly for touching what is mine.”
“Yours?” she asks, tipping her head to the side as she looks
at me. I’m pretty fucking sure she can feel the way my heart
frantically beats against my rib cage confirming that it wants
her just as much as every other part of my fucking anatomy
does.
“Yes, mine… When the King was eye-fucking you, I was
ready to start a fucking war, and don’t get me started on what I
wanted to do to Carter for speaking to you the way he does.”
“But I’m not yours though. You turned me down,
remember?”
“I did, but I didn’t want to,” I admit.
“You humiliated me.” Her gaze drops to my chest, and I
see the way her shoulders slump just a fraction under the
weight of that hurt. I feel like a ten-ton prick.
“And for that I’m truly sorry.” Placing my finger beneath
her chin, I tip her head back up. “Did you honestly believe I
didn’t want what you were offering?” I ask, searching her face.
“Did you really think that I didn’t want to touch every inch of
your skin, taste you with my tongue, replace your fingers with
my own? Did you think I didn’t want to fuck you, or bury my
face in your sweet pussy and taste your arousal? That is all I
wanted to do. I want that and so much more.”
“But why—?”
“Why didn’t I?” I interrupt.
“Yes.”
“For the same reasons I’ve mentioned before, because
you’re young. Because your father is my boss. Because I care
enough about you not to take something precious from you
without being a hundred percent certain that I won’t fuck this
up.”
“So nothing’s changed then?” She tries to pull back, but I
just grip her tighter, refusing to let her go.
“Everything’s changed,” I insist, willing her to believe me.
“How?” she asks. There’s a sadness in her eyes, a distrust,
and it guts me to know I put that there.
“I don’t do relationships with women. I fuck them, then I
walk away. Every woman I’ve slept with knows this about me.
I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I refuse to be the same
man my father was. I won’t hurt you.”
“So what are you saying? That you don’t want me because
I’m too young, but because I’m Carter’s daughter?”
“Right now I can’t have you, no matter how much I want
that to be different.”
She shakes her head in frustration, trying to get away from
me. “Then whatever this is between us is over before it’s even
begun.”
“You’re not listening, Kate,” I say, refusing to let her go as
I slide my hand to the back of her head and grasp a handful of
her hair, tugging on it gently, forcing her to pay attention. “I
said this can’t happen right now.”
She stops struggling to get away, and I can see the
indecision crossing her features. I know her well enough to
know that I’ve triggered her anger. I don’t blame her for it.
“You expect me to wait? Until when, Beast? Until I’m old
enough for you? Until you’ve fucked a million other women
whilst you wait for me to become one. In case it has skipped
your notice, I am a woman. Right here and now.”
“It hasn’t skipped my notice,” I say, trying to control my
own growing frustration, not at her but at the situation we’re
in, that I’ve had a hand at putting us in. “But it doesn’t change
the fact that I won’t fuck you until I think you’re ready.”
She laughs bitterly. “You’ve no right to decide when you
think I’ll be ready. How dare you make that decision for me!”
“Let me rephrase that. I won’t sleep with you until I know
I can be the man you deserve. The man who has nothing
standing in his way. If we’re going to do this, I need to make
sure I do it right.”
“But even if I agreed to wait so that your morals can be
satisfied, Carter will always be my father, and your loyalty to
him will always get in the way.”
“That’s the part I’m struggling with right now. Just give
me time to figure it out. That’s all I ask of you.”
“Whilst you fuck other women. I don’t think so.”
“Who said anything about fucking other women? I don’t
want to fuck anyone else, Kate.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m a man of my word.”
“So you keep saying.”
I grind my teeth, gripping her tighter, pulling her closer.
“I’m a man of my word,” I repeat slowly, dragging each word
out to make sure that she hears me. “The next woman I bury
my dick inside of will be you, and in the meantime I’ll deal
with my aching cock thinking of you naked, with your legs
spread, your pussy glistening and wet for me as I pump my
dick, night after night after night remembering how you made
yourself come.”
 “And what do I get, Beast? Am I supposed to just wait, to
save all my firsts for you, a man who may never act on what
he truly wants? What am I supposed to do in the meantime?
Tell me why I should wait for you?”
Despite her anger, her cheeks are flushed, her pupils blown
wide. She wants me to do all those things to her as much as I
want to do them.
“Because you feel the same way about me as I do about
you. Because you’re loyal. Fuck! Because my motherfucking
heart is yours, Kate. Why do you think I just tattooed your
hand on my chest, huh? This heart is yours. The only hand that
gets to hold it, is yours. ”
“Your heart is mine?”
“Yes, god-fucking-damn-it!” I say in frustration, making
my words sound harsher than I’d intended. Releasing her
wrist, I wrap my arm around her back, pulling her fully onto
my lap as I bring her head closer. “It’s yours.”
“Mine?” she asks, her body relenting, relaxing in my hold.
She shifts her hips, rubbing herself against my aching cock,
intentionally or not it doesn’t matter, the outcome is the same.
I bite back a moan, needing her to understand that this is more
than just physical attraction for me.
“Yours,” I repeat, relief flooding my body as she gives me
a tiny hint of a smile. I rub the tip of my nose against the
bridge of hers before lowering my mouth, hovering over her
lips. Fuck, I want to kiss her so badly. But I don’t know if I’ll
be able to stop if I close the gap between us.
“I need to believe it,” she whispers against my lips, her
voice a long, drawn out caress around my aching cock.
“Will you wait for me?”
“Will you give me something to hold onto, anything, so I
know this is real?” she counters.
I stare at her for a long, long time, but she doesn’t close the
gap between us and I realise she needs me to be the one to
come to her. She has to know that I want this as much as she
does, after giving her mixed signals for so long. Kissing her
now is going to be both agony and ecstasy.
But I’m more than willing to prove to her I mean every
damn word I’ve just said.
“I’ll give you your first kiss,” I say, brushing my mouth
lightly against hers, “So long as you understand that I will kill
any man who dares take all the other firsts that belong to me.”
“I do,” she says, cupping my cheek, the warmth of her
palm sinking into my skin.
“So you promise to wait?” I repeat.
“I promise,” she agrees, but just as I’m about to really kiss
her, she presses her thumb against my lips before saying, “As
long as you understand that if you betray me, or go back on
your word, not only will I fuck who I want, when I want, I’ll
have no issue putting a bullet in your chest for breaking my
heart.”
“That’s my girl,” I reply with a smile, nipping her thumb
before nudging it out of the way.
Her lips part the second mine touch hers, and she grants
me access as I plunge my tongue into her mouth and pour
every last ounce of lust and love into this kiss.
She wanted something to hold onto, and that’s what I give
her.
A kiss to remember.
A kiss that brands us both. That binds us together. That
mocks every other kiss I’ve experienced before. This kiss is
like an explosion, it demolishes every other memory of every
other kiss I’ve shared with every other woman before and it
forms a new memory, an everlasting one.
Kissing Kate is like the sun coming out after an eclipse,
brightening everything, warming my skin, shining a light on
the connection we share, the one I’ve been a fool to deny, and
it feels good.
Fuck, it feels better than good.
 It feels perfect.
She’s fucking perfect.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s mine, that I’m hers.
That we fucking belong together. I don’t give a shit about how
that might make me sound.
I’m in love.
I’m. In. Love.
My heart doubles in size with that truth, competing with
my cock that she mindlessly grinds against, her hips rolling as
she grasps my face, pressing her tits against my chest.
No one has ever made me feel so fucking out of control.
No one.
I’m consumed by her. I’m fucking lost. I’m lost in her
taste, in her scent, in the way she feels and in the sounds she
makes as she whimpers and moans.
But I know, I have to stop.
I must.
And it’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do as I
grasp her shoulders and ease her backward away from me.
“Enough. No more,” I say, and it isn’t a command, I’m
pleading with her to stop, wanting nothing more than to
continue.
Her cheeks are flush, her lips are bruised, her pupils are
blown wide as she heaves out a breath, nodding. “I don’t want
to stop,” she admits. “I want you to kiss me until I can’t
breathe. Then I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand,” she
says brazenly as she presses her hand back over my chest, her
thumb rubbing gently backwards and forwards.
“Fuck, Kate, I don’t want to stop either. I want to kiss you
until all the fucking oxygen has left my lungs and I want to
fuck you until there is no you and me, only us, but I have to
stop. We have to.”
“Just one more kiss,” she says, leaning close, her lips
brushing against mine softly, her eyes pleading.
 “Fuck, I would give you the world if you asked me.”
“I don’t want the world. I just want one more kiss.”
“It has to be our last… for now. But know this, the last kiss
I ever give you will be on my motherfucking deathbed because
only death has the power to keep me away from you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” I mutter against her mouth, pressing my lips
against hers in a kiss that I hope tattoos that promise right
across her heart.
A heart that I go ahead and break just a few days later.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Family
“You look happy,” Hudson remarks as I step into his flat. I can
hear chatter coming from inside the living room and recognise
the deep rumble of Bryce’s laughter.
“Yeah?” I reply, not giving up the reason why. I don’t want
to share what happened between Beast and me just yet, and
especially not in front of the others. They’ll only take the piss.
Max loves to joke about everything and Cal is always trying to
find ways to wind me up.
“Beast finally let you out of his clutches then?” Hudson
asks with a knowing smile.
I shrug. “He had stuff to do.”
Hudson trails behind me as I walk towards the living room.
“With your dad?”
“Yep. Him and a few of the others are going to The Crib
Club tonight. Carter’s doing business there.”
“Business at The Crib Club? Sounds like my kind of
business,” Bryce says from his position on the sofa as I step
into the living room. He grins at me, winking in that flirtatious
way of his. Next to him Max snorts with laughter.
“Yeah, you wish. The women in that club are way out of
your league, bro!”
Cal smirks. “Mate, Bryce could pull Jennifer Lopez if he
wanted. Have you seen the size of his dick?”
 “Wait, you’ve seen Bryce’s dick?” Hudson pulls a face that
makes us all laugh.
“Are you kidding me? Nearly every time he’s over here
he’s walking around the flat fucking naked. It’s hard to miss.”
“Ever heard of averting your eyes?” Hudson says, looking
affronted.
“I never thought you were a prude,” I say, poking him in
the rib and grinning mercilessly. “You should see the fighters
at Tales, they’re always talking about their dicks or comparing
sizes.”
“And that’s why you’re the only female member. You’re a
cock hoarder,” Max says, and the three of them burst out
laughing.
“Yep. Love a cock or twelve,” I reply, grinning. “Unlike
Hud here, who’s clearly affronted by a nice big dick.”
“Shut the hell up! I just don’t want to look at my brother’s
dick, or hear about how well hung he is either. He’s barely a
fucking adult.”
“Mate, have you seen the hair covering my body? I’m
more adult than you are,” Bryce says, lifting his t-shirt to show
us the rug covering his chest. Fuck, he is hairy.
We all crack up laughing and before long I’m squished on
the sofa between Bryce and Hudson, whilst Max and Cal sit on
the two-seater opposite us. For the next hour or so we all eat
pizza, down a couple of bottles of beer and watch some
mindless trash tv. I’ve always felt comfortable in the presence
of Hudson and his brothers, Max and Bryce. They kind of
come as a package deal. If you’re friends with one, you’re
friends with the other two. They may not be brothers by blood,
but the bond they have from growing up in the same care
home is much stronger than many I’ve seen. Cal is their very
good friend, but he doesn’t fit in their tight-knit threesome in
quite the same way. Not that it makes them care for him any
less, just differently.
When it’s pushing eleven o’clock, Cal jumps up. “I gotta
head off. Are you coming?” he asks Max and Bryce who’re
both fighting over the last slice of now cold pizza.
“Yeah, you should get back to the children’s home before
they send someone over to drag your arses back there,”
Hudson says, gathering up the empty boxes and nudging
Bryce’s leg to give him room to pass.
“We’ve literally got a few weeks left until we’re eighteen
and can leave. Why do they care whether we stay out past our
curfew?” Max asks, running a hand through his blonde hair.
He’s cute to look at, all four of the boys are, but none hold a
candle to Beast. I bite down on a smile, remembering the
conversation we had earlier.
Hudson notices, narrowing his eyes at me and giving me a
look that says he’ll find out what’s making me smile just as
soon as everyone leaves. “Because, Max, I don’t need to give
those nosy arseholes in social services any more of a reason to
give me a hard time, not when we’re so close to being together
at long last.”
“Ah, you make it sound so romantic,” Cal jokes, grinning.
“Are you jealous?” Bryce retorts, standing.
He’s so tall that he looks way older than his almost
eighteen years, that and the fact he is covered in more hair
than the three of them put together. If I wasn’t so hung up on
another man, he’d be tempting. There’s nothing more
attractive than a manly man, in my opinion. I guess that’s why
I’m so drawn to Beast, because he’s most definitely an alpha
male, that’s for damn sure.
“Jealous of you three fuckwits? Nah. I’m good,” Cal
replies, but this time his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Hudson frowns.
“Hey, Cal, you know our home is your home, right? We’ve
said all along you can be a Freed just like us,” he says,
gripping his arm and making him wait.
“Yeah, I know,” Cal nods, placing his hand over Hudson’s
and gripping it briefly. “But I’ve got a family still and whilst
they might not be the best it wouldn’t feel right taking on
another name. You understand where I’m coming from,
yeah?”
Hudson nods. “Of course.”
I don’t know the details of Cal’s past, but I do know he
ended up in the care home with the others for a couple of years
whilst his mum got her shit together. He’s back with her now,
but the friendship the boys made is still as strong as ever. I
don’t think that will ever change.
“Don’t worry, Cal, you’ll always be our number one side-
piece,” Max jokes, earning him a punch on the arm.
“Fuck you, arsewipe,” Cal grins.
“Ow, fuck. You know I’m only joking, that honour belongs
to Grim. Right, Grim?” Max asks, winking at me.
“Ha ha! You should know by now that I’m no man’s side-
piece,” I reply, raising a brow and giving him my best death
glare, but my lip twitches and I end up smiling because there
isn’t one person on this planet that can stay mad at Max for
long. He’s a lovable fool and completely harmless. Though
I’m pretty sure his wit is a defensive mechanism. We’ve all got
one, his just happens to be humour.
“Tell that to that big bastard that calls himself Beast. Pretty
sure he wants all your pieces,” Max replies, wiggling his
brows.
“Funny!” I shout, picking up a cushion off the sofa and
throwing it at him as he runs from the room.
A few minutes later, the flat is a lot quieter and it’s just me
and Hud sitting on his sofa sharing his last beer. “Those two
eat me out of house and home. The sooner they leave the
children’s home the sooner I can set them to work.”
“What’s the plan?” I ask, curious to know what scheme
he’s come up with to get them all out of the gutter. His words,
not mine.
“For the last three years since I left the children’s home
I’ve been working my arse off.”
 “I know you have. You’re the hardest working person I
know,” I say with a smile.
“Wow, Grim, is that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it. I need my best friend to remain un-
bigheaded.”
“Not possible,” he grins, pointedly looking at his dick.
“Eww, fucking gross! I did not need that visual in my life.”
We both laugh and then I nudge him with my shoulder. “So
you were saying?”
“I’ve managed to secure a loan from the bank and have
added that to my savings,” he continues. “And I’m going to
put a deposit down on a tiny studio flat on the other side of
town.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” I ask. His flat isn’t huge
by any means, but it does have two bedrooms and it is low rent
given it’s owned by the local authority.
“Absolutely nothing. We’re not going to live at the studio
flat. The deposit is for a mortgage.”
“You’ve managed to get a mortgage from an actual bank?
How in the hell did you pull that off?”
Hudson grins. “I have my ways. Anyway, we’re gonna do
the flat up and flip it for a profit. The plan is to keep doing that
until we’ve got enough equity to buy our own place outright.”
“Wow, that’s… ambitious,” I reply, impressed.
“You don’t think I can do it?” he asks, trying not to look
affronted even though I can tell that he is.
“Of course I do! I just… Well, I’m impressed. You’re not
just a pretty face, are you?” I joke. Hudson is smart, one of the
smartest people I know.
“Talking of pretty faces, how are things with you and
Beast?” he asks, changing the subject smoothly.
“Same as usual,” I lie, avoiding his gaze and taking a sip
of beer.
 “That’s not what your loved-up face said earlier. ”
“A face can’t get loved-up, you moron.”
“You’re not denying it then?” he asks, taking the bottle
from me and finishing it off in one long gulp as I try to figure
out what to say. I trust Hudson one thousand percent, but I
don’t know how to talk about my relationship with Beast
because at the moment we don’t officially have one. Just a
promise.
Maybe I should start with that?
“I kind of made a promise. No, we made a promise to each
other,” I begin, chewing on the inside of my cheek, feeling my
cheeks flush at the memory.
“A promise?” He swipes a hand through his dark hair,
tousling it up. If he wasn’t my very best friend and I didn’t
have completely platonic feelings towards him, I’d absolutely
be attracted to him. As it is, I appreciate his good looks, but
that’s it.
“Yes. He has an issue with getting together with anyone
under the age of twenty—”
“Okay,” Hudson says slowly. “I mean, I get that he’s
cautious. You’re not eighteen yet and he is older. People could
frown on it.”
I pull a face. “Don’t you start. I’ll be eighteen in few
days.”
“And then there’s the pretty fucking major issue of your
dad being his boss. Beast hooking up with you crosses several
boundaries and then some. Not to mention Carter is a
certifiable nutcase when he wants to be. You being his
daughter makes being together tricky, don’t you think?”
“I thought you said I should bang someone else to make
him jealous, that would imply all the things you’ve just said
aren’t actually all that important,” I grumble, blowing out a
breath.
“That was before I knew how serious this was. I just
figured you had a crush.” Hudson shrugs, and I punch him on
the arm. “Ow, what was that for?”
“For assuming I had a crush. Crushes are for kids.
Seriously, Hud, when have I ever really liked someone?” I ask.
“You liked me once upon a time,” he points out, much to
my dismay.
“I did not!”
He raises his brows and pulls a face. “I’m pretty sure you
threw yourself at me.”
“I was pushed into you! I did not throw myself at you!”
“Technicalities,” he smirks, teasing me.
“Those shits shouldn’t have started on me.”
“They totally didn’t realise who they were up against.
Though to be fair, you were a shit fighter back then. Beast’s
trained you well.”
“I was not a shit fighter. Pretty sure I knocked out two of
the five boys who thought they could try and mug me.”
I grin when he bursts out laughing. “Touchy, touchy
tonight, aren’t we? Is it all that pent-up sexual frustration?”
“Ha-bloody-ha.”
“Seriously though, I’m glad you came into my life, our
lives. If it weren’t for those pricks I would never have met you
—”
“You know you’re my favourite right?” I ask, interrupting
him. I really like Max, Bryce and Cal, but Hud and I have a
special bond.
“Of course,” he jokes, then gets serious again. “I love you,
Grim, you mean as much to me as Bryce, Max and Cal do.”
“Did you just say the L word in my presence?” I joke,
feeling my heart warm at the words even though I’m trying my
hardest not to let him know how much hearing that means to
me. I don’t think my dad has ever said he loved me. Never.
Now I’ve had two men say they love me in the space of a
few hours. Maybe the words didn’t actually leave Beast’s
mouth, but I know that’s what he meant. Hudson gives me his
serious look and I wait for whatever it is he’s going to say.
“Grim, you’re like a sister to me. You’re my best friend
and a really fucking scary badass bitch all wrapped up in one.
I’m glad those shits from the children’s home started on you,
otherwise we wouldn’t be mates now.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say.
He nods, putting an arm around my shoulder. “So this
thing with Beast is serious then?”
I relax into his arms. “Yeah, it’s serious.”
“But you have this weird love-hate relationship with him. I
never thought you’d fall for him.”
“I haven’t fallen for him,” I mumble.
Hudson chuckles softly, dropping a kiss to the top of my
head. “You know you can tell me how you really feel. I swear
to you, Grim, I won’t breathe a word.”
“Not even to Bryce and Max… To Cal?”
“Not even them. Whatever you say in this room remains
between us, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” I reply.
“So?” he gently prompts.
“I’m in love with him,” I admit.
“Fuuuuck,” he replies.
“I know, right?”
“Are you certain?”
I pull back and give him an are-you-shitting-me look,
because he knows I don’t love easily. I can’t even tell my best
friend that I love him, even though he knows I do, that I’d do
anything for our friendship, for him. “Yeah, I’m certain.”
“And Beast, how does he feel about you?”
“I think he feels the same way.”
Hudson raises his brows. “You think?”
 “Tonight he tattooed the outline of my hand on his chest,
right over his heart,” I explain, smiling a little at the memory.
“That’s why I’m late. He took me with him to get it done
because he needed my hand.”
Hudson grins. “I’d say that’s a pretty good sign.”
“It barely showed up against his other tattoos on his
chest…”
“I don’t think that was the point, do you? He wants you to
know it’s there.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t believe he likes you?”
I frown, thinking for a moment. “I do. It’s just…”
“It’s just easier to expect the worst from someone than it is
to trust they’ll look after your heart, right?” he asks
knowingly.
“Right,” I reply.
“Listen, Grim, I know trusting people isn’t easy for you,
but for what it’s worth, I believe him. I see the way he is with
you.”
“You do?”
“Yep, I do. In all honesty, I thought he was going to kill me
that day I got concussed by Slimy who, by the way, has gone
radio fucking silent. I think we scared him off?”
I keep my expression as neutral as possible. There’s no
need to make Hudson an accomplice by telling him what
actually happened to Dougie and his cronies. “Yep, we totally
scared him off,” I agree.
“Not only that, Beast is a man of his word. If he’s made a
promise to you then he won’t break it.”
“If he does, I’ll kill him,” I reply, only half joking.
“Fuck, Grim. Remind me not to get on your bad side.
You’re more like your dad than you let on.”
 “Lately I feel like I’m more of a disappointment for Carter
than anything.”
“Why? The way he was talking about you to the guy at
Tales that night Beast mullered Clayton said otherwise. He
dotes on you.”
“You mean the King?”
“Wait, that was the King… I didn’t realise he was the guy
who came on to you.”
“The one and only.”
“No wonder Beast was giving us all daggers. I thought he
was still pissed at me for getting you involved with my shit.
Sorry, Grim, if I’d have known, I wouldn’t have been so chill
with him.”
“Don’t worry about it. So what was Carter saying about
me that night, exactly?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“You know, how proud he is of you, that kind of thing.”
“Proud of me?” A laugh bursts out of my mouth. “Come
on, Hud, what did he really say? You don’t need to soften the
edges. I can take it. I’ve lived with Carter my whole life,
remember?”
Hudson grimaces, and I know for sure Carter wasn’t
complimenting me at all. “He mentioned you were still
helping with the refit.”
“And?” I question, knowing there’s way more to this than
that.
“And he said you’d make someone a fine wife one day…”
“Did he now,” I scoff, “And you agreed with him, I
suppose?”
“Of course, I did,” Hudson replies, earning him a punch on
the arm, which he takes without complaint.
“I’m not wife material. There’s more to me than that!”
“Of course, there is! But it’s not as if I could disagree with
your dad. I do actually want to live to see my next birthday.”
 “Fair enough,” I concede, because he has got a point. “And
what did the King say?”
Hudson frowns and I roll my eyes.
“Shock, horror, he agreed with Carter too, right? I’m the
perfect wifey material. Urgh, he’s such a prick. I feel for
whoever ends up with that arsehole.”
“Actually, no. He kind of said the opposite, in fact.”
“What?” I ask, curious.
“He said that most women are born to fall in line, but there
are some women who are born to break all the rules.”
“And the rules he’s referring to are made by men for men,
right?” I scoff, shaking my head.
“Yeah, but then he said that the ones who were born to
break the rules were the most fun because who wants a boring
housewife anyway.”
“What was my dad thinking, going into business with him?
Once I take over the company I’ll be cutting ties with that
prick the second I get the chance.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Hudson replies. “The sooner
you’re free of that man, the better.”
“The sooner the better,” I echo, a sudden chill scattering
down my spine.
My gut tells me the King is bad news, and my gut is never
wrong.
Hudson puts his arm around my shoulder, squeezing me
against his side. “Don’t worry about all of that shit now. First
things first is your birthday party. Soon you’ll be the centre of
attention. Are you looking forward to it?”
I pull a face. “Not really, but Carter is keen to throw me
one, so I’m just going with the flow.”
“What can I get you for your birthday?” Hudson asks me.
It’s sweet, but we both know money’s tight.
“I don’t want anything,” I reply, meaning it.
 “I can’t come empty-handed. Come on, give me some
ideas.”
“You being there is enough. I need someone who’s got my
back just in case things go pear-shaped.”
“Are you expecting trouble?”
I laugh. “I know there’ll be trouble. So you’d better buckle
up, buttercup, because every party Carter throws ends in blood
and violence.”
“Fuuucckkk,” Hudson drawls.
“Yep. It’s not a good party unless someone winds up
dead,” I joke.
We both laugh, neither of us aware that’s exactly what’s
going to happen.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Cross Me
Driving to The Crib Club after reluctantly dropping Kate off at
Hudson’s place, I relive our kiss over and over again.
I’m still hard.
Painfully so.
I’d wanted to give Kate a kiss that proved how deeply I
feel for her, but instead of being sensual it had ended up being
passionate, raw and ball-crushingly painful. Fuck, I ache for
her. My balls feel like a vice is tightening around them, and
don’t get me started on my dick.
It hates me right now.
I hate myself right now.
That kiss took me to the brink of madness, and I’m fucking
drowning in the aftermath.
Even my goddamn thoughts are poetic, but that’s nothing
compared to the way it felt to finally kiss her. I’d gone in soft
and ended up in a motherfucking duel for dominance.
Our teeth had clashed and our tongues fought. She was
mad at me, I felt that in the way she kissed me, how she’d
climbed into my lap and rubbed her hot, jean covered cunt
over my raging hard-on. She’d wanted me to break, and in all
fucking honesty, a huge part of me wanted to break too. I
wanted to rip off her jeans and knickers, ram my dick inside
her tight heat and smash through the thin barrier of her
virginity, finally claiming her as mine.
 But I hadn’t.
Instead we kissed for long, long minutes and it was
breathless and sloppy and fucking perfect. Fuck knows I
wanted to throw caution to the wind, but I kept my word,
forcibly removing myself from her even though it felt like I
was cutting off all of my limbs. Even now I feel as though part
of me is missing, my balls certainly think it’s my dick.
I’ve never craved someone as much as I have Kate.
Never.
Pulling into the car park beneath The Crib Club, I pull the
handbrake up and give myself a moment to calm the fuck
down. My goddamn heart has been racing ever since Kate
climbed up on the recliner and pressed her palm against my
chest so that I could tattoo her handprint forever on my body.
Over the coming weeks I intend to fill it in so that everyone
sees it and knows my motherfucking heart has been claimed. I
run my fingers over the tattoo now hidden beneath my shirt
and grin, the slight sting and the lingering pleasure a reminder
of the girl I love…
Love.
“Yeah, love,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
Fuck. I need to get a hold of myself. I made a promise to
Kate and I intend on sticking to it. First and foremost, there’s
the not so small fact she’s not yet at the age I would even
consider fuckable. I have an issue sleeping with anyone who
has the word ‘teen’ at the end of their age, even if they hit
eighteen and are classed as an adult. As much as I know Kate’s
a woman, and is as far removed from a child as a person can
get, given how she’s grown up in the environment she has, I
can’t and won’t sleep with her until she hits twenty.
Call it whatever the fuck you want.
I won’t do it.
Secondly, I still haven’t figured out how to deal with
Carter. I’m not afraid of him in any shape or form, but I do
still have enough respect for him not to carry on with his
daughter without speaking to him about it first. I owe him that
much. Luckily I’ve got time to figure that out.
Two fucking years to be precise.
I’ll be lucky not to die of blueballitis by then.
Tonight I just need to get my head back in the game, and
be the man Carter hired me to be. Honestly, I’m not sure why
he wants to conduct business at The Crib Club, but then again
why do I care? If he and the King want to whack off to a
couple of hot sex workers in a legit club to close their business
deal then who the fuck am I to question it? I don’t like the
King, but so long as he gets his rocks off with anyone other
than Kate, I’m fucking good.
Not that I’ve forgotten how he’d looked at her, because I
haven’t.
If he so much as looks at her the wrong way, I will remove
his eyes from his face and damn the consequences. With that
thought in mind, I rearrange my rapidly deflating cock, grab
my gun, holstering it at my waist, then head inside the club.

“GOT THINGS SORTED WITH PRINCESS?” Dom asks

me as we head over to the private room Carter has rented for
the evening. The Crib Club is filled to the brim with high class
hookers and patrons that are into all manner of kinky shit.
There’s a main stage area with strippers and pole dancers, and
a dozen or more private rooms around the edge of the club that
have a lockable door and a glass screen that allows you to
view whatever sexual fantasy you’ve paid to watch. For those
wanting a more personal experience, the whole first floor of
the club is filled with bedrooms that you can rent for the night.
There is even a part of the club designated for gambling. If
card games are your thing, with a little sex on the side, then
this place is for you.
“What’s up, Beast, trouble in paradise?” Dom persists
when I don’t respond straight away.
 “None of your fucking business,” I retort, not in the mood
to share. Not that I would, even if I was. What happens
between me and Kate stays between us.
“Is that boyfriend of hers, Hudson, causing shit again?”
Dom asks.
“He’s not her fucking boyfriend!” I snap, shoving open the
door to Carter’s private booth.
His head snaps around. “Do you fucking mind?”
“Apologies, boss,” Dom replies, side-eying me when I
don’t say a word.
“Is he here yet?” Carter asks, turning his attention back to
the curvaceous blonde who’s currently lying on a round bed
covered in pristine white sheets getting railed by a redhead
wearing a strap-on.
“I thought he’d be here already,” I reply, taking a seat on
one side of the door as Dom takes the other, completely
distracted by the show.
“Fuck me,” Dom mutters, his eyes glued to the women.
“Those two ain’t mucking about!”
Not that the women are paying us any fucking attention,
and why would they? We might be able to see them, but they
can’t see us. Privacy of the patrons attending The Crib Club is
paramount and we’re watching behind two-way glass.
“He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. As were
you,” Carter says, twisting in his swivel chair to face me. “Was
Grim giving you trouble?”
“Not in the slightest. There was traffic. Accident on the
motorway.”
He nods, narrowing his eyes at me as though he reads the
lie written in neon across my face. “She’s not been getting up
to any shit, has she? You know what I said, she needs to
remain—”
“Yeah. All good in that department,” I quickly cut in.
 Out of the corner of my eye I can see Dom frown. He’s no
idea we’re talking about Kate’s virginity and the fact her dad’s
weirdly obsessed with it as of late. Not sure what’s up with
that, but it’s a big fucking red flag if you ask me.
“Good,” Carter replies with a terse nod before turning back
to watch the women fuck. “Because if I were to find out that
my daughter was whoring herself out, there’d be hell to
fucking pay, but not before I chopped off the dick of the
motherfucker fooling around with her and fed it to him.”
I meet Dom’s gaze and the way he looks at me is a cross
between incredulity and concern. Despite all the ribbing, I’m
pretty sure he knows how I really feel about Kate, even though
I deny it on a regular basis. The sheer fact he’s not given me
away tells me a lot about him. Joey was right, he is one of the
good ones.
Giving him a minute shake of my head, I stare at the back
of Carter’s head and say, “Don’t worry boss, I’d have the prick
hung, drawn and quartered before you even had a chance to
chop off his dick.”
Dom smirks knowingly.
“Glad to hear it,” Carter replies, grabbing his drink from
the side table beside him and taking a sip.
After another half an hour of watching Carter eyeball the
two women fucking, I become a little restless. Sitting in a
locked room whilst my boss rubs his cock over his trousers
isn’t my idea of a fun night out, no matter how much I’m
getting paid.
“You want me to go see if the King’s arrived yet?” I ask,
ready to fucking bolt.
“Yeah, and bring me another Jack and Coke whilst you’re
at it,” he replies with a distracted wave of his hand.
Dom swallows a smile, knowing full well I ain’t happy
about being the fucking waitress, but I take it on the chin and
step outside the booth into the club that’s ten times as busy as
it was when I first arrived.
 Heading to the bar, I scoot around the edge of the dance
floor, glancing around the space for any obvious cause for
concern. No matter what I’m doing, or where I am, I’ve got
my radar whirring. I can sense trouble a mile off, and can
normally pinpoint someone out of place within a few seconds.
It’s a force of habit, and whilst I told Kate that I always
wanted to be a professional boxer, I always knew that I had a
gift for sniffing out trouble. It’s that gift that has me bypassing
the bar and heading towards a dark corner of the club where
two familiar figures are standing in an alcove, deep in
conversation.
It ain’t easy to hide a physique as big as mine. I stand out
like a sore thumb for the most part, but I use the dim lighting
and throng of people to my advantage and get close enough to
make out the King and Rodriguez deep in conversation.
With my back pressed against the wall, I listen.
“Are you certain everything’s in place?” the King asks.
“We’re good to go. No problems on that front,” Rodriquez
replies.
“Good. Won’t be long now until I get my hands on
everything that I want.”
They fall silent, and when a flirtatious female voice starts
talking I take that as my cue to leave. I knew that
motherfucker was up to something, and I’m going to take great
pleasure in ending the bastard, but the cherry on the cake is
Rodriguez signing his death warrant.
Torturing them both is going to be so much fun.
So. Much. Fun.
After making my way back to the bar and ordering Carter
his drink, I make a show of looking for the King, coming
across him, minus Rodriguez, chatting to a pretty blonde
who’s a double for Pamela Anderson in her heyday.
“Carter’s been waiting for you,” I say, not bothering with
fucking niceties. I didn’t like him before, and I sure as fuck
don’t like him now.
 “Ah yes, just got distracted sampling the goods,” he
replies, his fingers trailing across the woman’s arse, before he
gives her a slap. She laughs and he presses his lips to her ear,
whispering something to her.
“See you later then,” she says breathily.
I make a mental note to make sure that never happens. The
King ain’t one for treating women well and I’m betting he’s
not the type to let them know he’s a sadistic bastard up front
either. Besides, I’m hoping by the end of the night he’ll be in
my special room at Tales getting his toenails pulled out with
pliers and buried in his eye sockets, so she should be good.
“Shall we?” the King asks, watching me carefully.
“After you,” I reply, stepping aside so he can go ahead, not
because I’m feeling polite but because I don’t trust the cunt
not to stick a knife into my back.
When we reach the private room, I grip the door handle
before he can. “Allow me,” I say, my gaze purposefully
trailing to the gun holstered to my waist. Just like I knew he
would, he follows my gaze.
“Is that for me?” he asks.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how well you behave.”
“You’re very distrustful, aren’t you, Beast?” he says, a
smirk pulling up his lips.
“It comes with the territory.”
“Do you trust anyone?”
“Very few.”
“That’s wise,” he agrees, broadening his smirk into a
million-watt smile that’s even more insincere than this stupid
fucking conversation we’re having now. I move to open the
door, but he rests his hand on my arm. “I do have a piece of
advice for you though.”
 “Yeah, what’s that?” I ask, half a second away from
snapping his fingers off my arm.
“Some men were born to rule, and some men were born to
be ruled. There’s only room for one King, so if I were you I’d
back the winning side.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I have the power to give you what you want
most of all.”
“And what’s that?”
His eyes drop to my chest, and even though I’m wearing a
shirt that covers my fresh tattoo, it feels as though he’s seeing
me fucking naked and staring right at Kate’s handprint etched
into my skin.
“Her.”
I straighten up, my fingers slowly uncurling from the door
handle as I ready myself to take action. “You’ve got thirty
seconds to expand on that statement before I load a fucking
bullet in your head,” I reply, wrapping my fingers around the
handle of my gun that’s strapped to my waist.
The King smiles, a slow stretch of lips across his face.
“Then let’s talk.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Him & I
I’m wearing the dress Beast picked out for me. It hugs my
body in all the right places and makes me feel beautiful and
deadly. I feel like one of those knockout nineteen fifties
actresses like Ava Gardner or Grace Kelly, ready to take on the
world. Who knew that an item of clothing could make you feel
so powerful?
I smile at the memory of Beast sliding up the zipper of my
dress, recalling the hunger in his eyes and the way his fingers
lingered on my skin as he stared at my reflection in the mirror
just like I’m doing now. Thinking about him makes me
wonder if it’s possible to miss someone who is still a part of
your life?
Because I do. I miss the man who could relax enough to
kiss me. Who could cup my cheeks in his huge palms, fuck my
mouth with his tongue and make me wonder what having sex
with him would be like.
Since we kissed, he’s gone back to being less handsy and
more gruff. Over the past couple days that we’ve been in each
other’s orbit, it’s been tense, to say the least. I’m not sure if it’s
all that pent-up sexual tension or the fact that Carter has asked
Beast to fight again tonight, this time with a man called Derby,
brought in by the King no less. I’ve never heard of him before,
not on the fight scene and not as a name to be familiar with in
the criminal underworld.
Still, that doesn’t mean anything.
 Just because I’ve never heard of him doesn’t mean he isn’t
a threat. It’s more likely that he is one tonight because Beast
will be going in cold to the cage with nothing to go on. Not
that I’m afraid for him. On the contrary, Beast is the best
fighter out there. Hands down.
He’ll win. He always does.
He won me, didn’t he?
I grin at that, my bright cherry-red lips complimenting my
smoky grey eyes. I’ve purposefully gone for the glam but sexy
look. Instead of wearing my hair down like I usually do, with
the help of Nadia, I’ve got it pinned up in a low bun that sits at
the nape of my neck with tendrils of hair hanging loose at my
temples, adding a softness to my features. In all honesty, I feel
like a knockout, and I’m more than ready to floor Beast.
Satisfied with my reflection, I slide my feet into my
favourite Louboutin heels, the same ones I wore that night I
met the King. Who, despite my reservations, is attending
tonight. Just like all of Carter’s business associates and
acquaintances are. It stings a little that this night isn’t about
me, or my eighteenth birthday, but about my dad and his
business…
Our business?
I’m still not certain whether he wants me as his partner
anymore. He’s barely spoken to me these past few weeks, and
has certainly avoided even being in a room with me since the
night I didn’t shoot Saxon.
Which is why I have to prove myself tonight.
I will be the perfect Davidson. Strong, beautiful, and not to
be fucked with. Whatever goes down tonight I will take it all
in my stride, because like I said to Hudson, it’s not a Davidson
party without a little—a lot—of bloodshed.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?” Hudson asks as a man not

dissimilar in size to Beast steps into the cage.
 Around us the chat quietens as everyone focuses on the
new guy who is as bulky as Beast but maybe a couple inches
shorter. He’s so pale, he’s almost translucent, except for his
face where he has a skull tattooed into his skin. If he’s going
for the intimidation look, it looks good on him.
Beast isn’t easily scared. I’ve never seen him look even
remotely concerned in the cage, but there’s an edge of
apprehension in the way he carries himself, and that in and of
itself is cause for concern.
“Is that who I think it is?” Tony, a small-time gangster who
I’ve been talking to for the past ten minutes, mutters under his
breath. He’s actually one of the few men I recognise here
tonight. There are a lot of new faces, most of them brought in
by the King according to my father, including Beast’s
opponent.
“His name’s Derby, right?” I ask, repeating the only thing I
know about the new fighter and hoping Tony can fill in more
details.
“Yeah, it is. He’s to the King what Beast is to Carter,”
Tony explains, the excitement in his eyes sparking concern in
mine.
“He’s an enforcer?”
“Yeah, he worked for the King once upon a time. Rumour
has it Derby banged his ex-missus and that’s why they’re
getting a divorce.”
“And he’s still alive?” I ask. The King doesn’t strike me as
a man who’d let anyone get away with sleeping with his wife.
“Looks that way. All I know is that this fella is fucking
hardcore. I heard he once ripped a man’s throat out with his
bare hands.”
“Fucking hell,” Hudson mutters.
A nervous laugh bubbles out of my throat and I make a
kind of choking noise trying to cover it up. “He ripped out
someone’s throat, with his hands?” I repeat, hoping my voice
doesn’t give away the panic expanding in my chest.
 “Put it this way, Beast might be undefeated in this cage,
but Derby…” Tony smirks, “He’s the Grim fucking Reaper.
Know what I’m saying?”
Hudson shifts on his feet. “Fuuuuuck!”
“I’m not worried. Beast’s got this,” I say firmly.
“You might want to tell that to him,” Tony adds, pointing
to the cage as Beast steps into the spotlight.
“He does look worried,” Hudson comments, earning him
an elbow-dig to his rib.
“It’s his game face, he’s not worried,” I retort, even though
the look on his face tells me that he very much is.
Shit.
Circling each other, Beast and Derby face off. Where Beast
is tense, Derby is relaxed in a way that doesn’t speak of
arrogance, but confidence. He thinks he’s going to win. Beast
might have the edge in height and build, but there’s no
denying the fact that he doesn’t seem to intimidate this guy in
the slightest.
“Do they know each other?” Hudson whispers. “There’s a
lot of eyeballing going on.”
“Appears that way,” I reply, and when Derby drops his
chin and gives Beast the briefest of smiles, revealing a set of
gold teeth, a thread of anxiety bubbles up in my stomach.
Everything feels off.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Carter says, interrupting my
thoughts and drawing my attention to him as he steps into the
cage. “Or should I say Grim and gentleman…” He laughs at
his own joke as a spotlight appears over my head, highlighting
me to the room and the fact I’m the only female within it.
“Oh shit, he’s not going to sing you happy birthday, is he?”
Hudson mutters, raising a laugh from Tony and some of the
other arseholes nearby.
“Fuck,” I mutter, keeping my lips in a tight smile.
“Come on up, Grim,” Carter says, motioning me over.
 I want to say no, but this is Carter and no really isn’t a
word he takes kindly to. Instead, with the smile plastered on
my face, I head towards the cage. All eyes are on me, and as I
stride across the room, I can see the King and Rodriguez step
out of Carter’s office. Rodriguez is smirking and King is
watching me closely. My gut flips over.
The moment I step inside the cage Carter jerks his chin,
fishing in his pocket for something. A moment later he pulls
out a coin and gives me a beaming smile that’s so fake, I
almost wish I’d worn shades.
“Carter?” I question softly, turning my gaze to Beast who
briefly meets my eyes with an empty gaze. There’s not even a
flicker of acknowledgement. My gut twists. I know he has to
keep up pretences but fuck, that hurt.
“Tonight you’re all here to help celebrate my daughter’s
birthday,” Carter continues, addressing the crowd and doing
nothing to temper my growing unease. “Tomorrow, Grim will
be turning eighteen, and as such I’ve arranged for Beast and
Derby to go head-to-head, all for your viewing pleasure.” The
room erupts into cheers and whistles, only quieting when
Carter raises his hands. “But for tonight only we’re going to
change the rules of the cage.”
I glance at Beast with a question on my face, because we
all know the only rules that apply in the cage are that there are
no rules. The last man standing is the winner, that’s it.
“What?” I ask, but my question is lost amongst more
cheers and whistles from the crowd. Why do I get the feeling
they already know what Carter is talking about?
Pinching the coin between his finger and thumb, Carter
says. “In a moment I’m going to ask Grim to toss this coin.”
“Carter?” I repeat, quieter this time.
He throws the coin to me and I catch it, frowning at the
weight and the warmth. It’s one of those old sovereign coins
that are no longer in circulation but are often mounted in
jewellery as a nod to the old days. I wonder where he got it
from.
 “Tonight Beast is up against Derby, a worthy opponent,”
Carter continues, dragging my attention back to him as he
strides around the edge of the cage. He looks pumped. No, he
looks wired. There’s a jittery kind of energy pouring off him.
It’s not fear, but excitement, and I’m not a hundred percent
sure it’s the natural kind. His pupils are blown wide and he’s
sweating. “As usual anything goes. The only difference is that
tonight we allow weapons.”
“What?” I exclaim, my eyes widening. Again I find myself
looking at Beast and this time he shakes his head minutely,
warning me not to protest. Swallowing hard, I bite back my
concern and say nothing. Carter raises his brows, looking
between us both as he notices the silent exchange.
“Grim will throw the coin. If it lands on tails, Beast will
get to choose his weapon of choice first. If it falls on heads,
Derby will.” He motions over his shoulder to someone in the
crowd. “Bring me the weapons.”
Rodriguez steps into the cage, wearing his usual shit-eating
grin. I grit my teeth, hating the way he smirks at me like he’s
in on the joke and I’m the fucking punchline.
Maybe I am.
Standing between Beast and Derby, Rodriguez waits for
further instruction. On the large silver tray are several
weapons. Notably, a twelve inch butcher’s knife with a slightly
curved blade, a pair of knuckle dusters with clawed tips,
nunchucks, a crowbar and finally, a baseball bat.
Jesus Christ.
This is madness.
I stride over to my dad, pressing my hand against his arm.
“Carter, what are you doing?” I hiss.
“Why? What’s it matter to you?” he replies, eyebrows
arched.
“Toss the coin, Grim,” Beast orders, cutting in.
The sheer fact he calls me Grim and not Princess or Kate
has me feeling all kinds of ways, and the look he gives me
makes my stomach flip and my spine tingle with fear.
Rodriguez, the prick, laughs, adding to the already building
tension. What the fuck does he find so damn funny?
“Yes, toss the coin, Grim,” Carter adds smoothly, turning
his back on us all and moving to stand at the edge of the cage
as he addresses the crowd. “Tonight the winner is the last man
standing. This is a fight to the death.”
“No!” I shout, unable to stop the word spilling from my
lips, but it’s just background noise, lost as the crowd goes
wild. Like a pack of baying wolves they’re out for blood.
This is a fight to the death.
To. The. Death.
“NO!” I repeat, striding over to Carter, anger firing in my
blood and my heart beating out of control. I grab his arm,
unconcerned now at how this looks to the crowd, to him.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Whilst the crowd goes fucking crazy, Carter grips my
elbow and forcibly pulls me towards the centre of the ring
where Rodriguez stands with the weapons and Beast and
Derby eyeing each other up. “I’m doing this for you!” he
hisses.
“What do you mean, for me?” I reply, glancing at Beast
who shakes his head subtly.
Carter ignores me and Beast looks away, leaving me in
total confusion as Carter once again raises his hands to quieten
the crowd. “Grim is about to toss the coin. Let’s see who gets
to choose first.”
“Do it,” Beast insists, softer this time as he meets my gaze.
A thousand words and a whole host of emotions pass across
his features. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”
This time Derby laughs. He steps close to me and I freeze,
not because I’m afraid that he might touch me, but because if
he does Beast will lose his shit and show everyone how he
truly feels and he’ll wind up dead anyway.
“Toss the coin, sweetheart, let the fun begin.”
 I toss the coin.
The crowd falls silent as the gold sovereign flips in the air.
I watch it in slow motion as gravity pulls it down, my stomach
dropping out at the same pace until eventually I catch it,
covering the coin up with my hand.
“Call it,” Carter demands as my racing pulse fills my ears
with white noise.
Slowly I lift my hand, my eyes dropping to the coin
nestled in my palm. “Tails!” I announce loudly, a rush of relief
that’s quickly overridden by a powerful dose of fear, because it
doesn’t really matter if Beast gets to choose his weapon first,
he could die anyway.
“Tales you win, heads you lose,” Beast shouts as he steps
towards the tray of weapons, picking up the butcher’s knife
and gripping the handle tightly. He taps the tray twice with the
blade, pointing it at Derby. “And the fighters of Tales never
lose!”
Then he turns to me and places his left hand over his chest,
right where my handprint is tattooed into his skin. My stomach
flips with apprehension and dread, but also love.
I love him so much it hurts.
“Beast—” I begin but around us the crowd go apeshit, and
my words are drowned out by their hollering. “I know,” he
mouths. “I know.”
And whilst the crowd might not be aware of the unspoken
words between us, my father certainly notices. The look he
gives is deadly.
He knows.
When the crowd settles, Carter steps forward and
withdraws his gun from the holster at his hip, placing it on the
tray. “Let’s up the motherfucking anti, shall we?” he rasps out
on a laugh that has all the blood draining from my face.
“Dad?” I question, shaking my head in disbelief. “That’s
not fair.”
 “My club, my rules!” he snaps, jerking his chin at Derby.
“Choose.”
Derby smirks, or at least I think he does because I can’t
really tell beneath his skull tattoo. He glances at the gun and I
wait for him to grab it. Only he doesn’t. He picks up the
crowbar instead.
Rodriguez looks as shocked as Carter, but the crowd
doesn’t care, they want a fight not an execution, and that’s
what they’re going to get. With a tight jaw and even tighter
voice, Carter addresses the crowd one last time.
“May the best man win!” he yells, then grabs my arm and
pulls me from the cage and marches me towards his office,
shoving me inside before I can even blink, let alone watch the
fight unfold.
The moment the door slams shut behind us and Rodriguez
—who has followed us both into the office like a bad fucking
smell—the crowd goes insane.
“What the fuck, Carter?!” I round on him, trying and
failing to disguise my fear as my gaze flicks to the window in
his office and the fight unfolding in the cage. Derby wastes no
time and lunges for Beast, who ducks, the crowbar missing the
top of his head by mere inches.
Fuck!
“What’s the problem, Grim, afraid of a little bloodshed?”
“What’s my problem? Are you insane?! Beast could die!” I
shout, snapping my head back around.
“You don’t think he’ll win?” My father questions, canting
a look at Rodriguez who places the tray on the desk and
smirks in that infuriating way of his.
“What the fuck do you find so amusing?” I snarl, ready to
punch his fucking lights out.
He holds his hands up. “Absolutely nothing. No disrespect
meant,” he replies, completely insincere, the smarmy bastard.
“Get the fuck out!” I snap, reaching for my father’s gun
and pointing it at him. The feel of the cool metal in my hand is
comforting.
“Don’t be hasty,” he stutters, his fucking smile dropping as
he looks to Carter.
“You heard Grim. Get the fuck out.”
Rodriguez spins on his heels, not needing to be told twice.
When he opens the door, I catch a glimpse of Beast receiving a
blow to his upper arm, the tip of the crowbar scraping across
his bicep. Blood bursts from the wound and I swear I can hear
Beast’s grunt of pain over the roar of the crowd.
“Beast!” I yell, my desperate call lost behind the door
slamming shut.
“It’s true then?” Carter questions.
“What’s true?”
“That you and Beast have been fucking.”
“What? No!” I exclaim, my fingers curling around the
handle of the gun even as my arm hangs loosely at my side.
“He’s a friend.”
“Like Hudson is?” Carter asks, looking over my shoulder. I
turn to figure out what he’s looking at and see that Hudson’s
on the other side of the window, being prevented entrance by
Rodriguez who’s apparently guarding the fucking door now.
I whip my head around and glare at Carter. “What is this?”
I question. “Hudson is a friend. Beast is a friend. That’s it,
that’s all.”
Carter shakes his head, stepping towards me. “You’re a
liar!”
“We haven’t been fucking, Carter!” I counter, my voice
rising in distress.
It’s not a lie, we haven’t, but not from lack of trying on my
part.
He laughs, and it comes out cold and distant. “Hudson is
your friend. I believe that. It’s one of the reasons why he’s not
fucking dead already.”
 “What?” I whisper, dread creeping over my skin as his
gaze darkens with malice.
“You’re my daughter, Grim. You forget that I know you.”
“Carter… Dad,” I plead. “You’ve got to believe me, we’re
not together. Put an end to this madness. Now!”
Gripping my arm, he twists me on my feet and pushes me
towards the window, pulling up the blind so that I can see the
fight more clearly. Hudson sees the movement and shouts at
me through the glass.
“You alright?”
I nod, warning him with my eyes to back off before he gets
himself hurt, but it’s Rodriguez who forcibly manhandles him
out of the way. Hudson puts up a fight, throwing a punch that
hits Rodriguez on the chin and forces him back against the
door with a loud crash.
“Maybe Hudson has more than just smarts,” Carter says, a
note of respect in his voice as Rodriguez retaliates and the pair
get into a brawl. “Wonder whether he’d be up to fight in the
cage?”
“Absolutely not!” I exclaim, moving towards the door so I
can break up the fight then put a stop to the one in the cage.
Carter laughs, snatching my arm and yanking me back
against his chest. “Yeah you’re right, I can’t have that pretty
head of his losing any brain cells. I think he’ll come in handy
down the line.”
“Useful how? What are you—?”
My question is cut short when Mark appears from the
crowd and strides over to the pair, forcibly pulling Hudson off
Rodriguez. Hudson’s face is pitted with rage and he spits out a
glob of blood before casting his gaze to me. I shake my head,
warning him not to continue, but it’s only when Mark drops
his mouth to Hudson’s ear that he finally backs off. That and
the fact Mark has a gun pressed against his side. With one last
look at me, Hudson grits his jaw and follows Mark to the other
side of the room, disappearing from view.
 “Carter! What the hell is Mark doing?” I ask, panic
crawling beneath my skin.
“Don’t worry, Mark won’t shoot him. Like I said, he’s
going to come in useful in the future. Mark will escort him
home. Make sure he gets back safe and sound,” Carter says,
but that doesn’t reassure me in the slightest. It only concerns
me more. Hudson’s a good guy. He’s working hard to get
himself and his brothers out from beneath the stigma of being
a child in care. Crime is the road he never wants to walk down.
Another roar from the crowd has my gaze snatching back
to the cage. Beast has just slashed his knife right across
Derby’s chest, spilling blood that sprays across the canvas as
they continue to fight.
“Dad, you’ve got to believe me. End this.”
“See, here’s the thing, Grim. I don’t fucking believe you. I
know Beast touched what’s mine!” he replies sharply,
grabbing the back of my neck and forcing me to watch the
fight.
“Dad…” I plead, hating the way my voice gives me away.
This is all my fault. Every part of it. “There’s nothing going
on!” But even to my own ears it sounds false.
“DON’T BULLSHIT ME!” he roars, squeezing my neck
tighter, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. “Now watch
the fight!”
“Don’t do this,” I argue. Beg, actually.
“This is for your own good, but if you fight me on this
then I will go out there right the fuck now and shoot him in the
motherfucking head,” he hisses into my ear. “Do you
understand me?”
“Yes,” I whisper, giving Beast the only chance I can
because Carter is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.
Beast has to win this fight so that together we can convince
Carter he’s wrong.
It’s the only chance he has. The only chance we have.
 As my gaze lands on Beast, I silently mouth the words
he’d uttered just minutes ago inside the cage, sending a silent
prayer to the man I love.
“Tales you win, heads you lose, and the fighters of Tales
never lose.”
He has to win.
He has to.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Danger
Death is pretty fucking painless when all is said and done.
I don’t feel a goddamn thing, not the broken ribs, not the
gashes to my arms, chest, back and thighs from the crowbar
Derby is wielding so expertly. I don’t feel my broken nose or
cracked eye-socket. I don’t feel the bruises or the deep gash to
my head that sent me free-falling into the arms of darkness.
I don’t feel anything.
But I do hear something.
A scream.
A fucking cry of pain so loud, so deafening, that even in
the throes of death it drives a hook into my soul and drags me
back from the motherfucking light at the end of the tunnel.
A light that shouldn’t welcome the likes of me, but does.
It comes again, and again and again. Her screams
punctuated with my name.
Beast. Beast. Beast. BEAST!
It’s familiar, her voice, and the pain within it is like a fist
wrapping around my heart and forcing it to pump faster,
harder, until death crawls away and the light fades, leaving me
with nothing but excruciating pain and a banging fucking
headache.
Right now, I can do nothing other than feel.
 Feel the pain.
Feel the bloody canvas beneath my cheek.
Feel fingers pinch my skin as someone tries to roll me
over.
Feel a heart breaking open with every second I don’t
respond.
“Beast, please wake up!”
Princess.
Kate.
But try as I might, I can’t fucking move.
I can barely fucking breathe.
I’m incapable of anything other than holding on to her
voice, using it to ground me, to lure me back to consciousness,
one painful breath at a time. More noise filters into my brain
that’s rapidly trying to make sense of the situation. Memories
piece together as the sound of a man yelling at everyone to get
the fuck out rings in the air.
Dom.
Deeper voices merge with the cacophony of sound, Kate’s
sobs a burden as she lies across my back, pawing at me now.
Yet I remain still, weighted down by her grief. Fuck knows I
want to reassure her, I want to tell her that I’m alive, that I’ve
survived the single hardest fight of my life, but that would be a
lie.
The biggest fight is yet to come.
So I lay here instead, on the blood-splattered canvas, and
wait for my other senses to return one by one, drawing on
every last drop of strength left in my body and gathering it
together so I can do what I must and protect the woman I love.
After sound and touch, scent returns. The smell of blood,
metallic and meaty. I’m surrounded by the stench of it.
Fucking choking on it.
 Next it’s sight. Spots of colour invade my vision as I
slowly crack open my eyes a sliver. The world reappears in
shades of red first. There’s blood everywhere, a huge fucking
pool of it that I’m lying in. But as I focus, trying to ignore the
metallic stench of butchered flesh, my gaze falls to a wide-
eyed Derby, his sightless eyes unseeing, the knife I impaled
him with sticking out of his gut, the serrated edge making
mincemeat of his bowels. Didn’t stop him from bringing down
the crowbar on my head though. The last thing I remember is
blood spurting from his lips before the world went black.
He’s dead.
I’m the victor.
Except I’m not.
Not yet.
Because our fight was just a show, a fucking good one at
that, given death had me in its grasp only moments ago and
Derby has stepped into the afterlife. The King wanted Derby
dead for fucking his wife and Carter wanted me dead for
loving his daughter. They both needed revenge. Looks like I
fucking delivered, at least partly.
“Remove the bodies. Get this shit cleaned up,” I hear
Carter order, his voice a cold, unyielding hammer to my
painful head.
“Yes, boss,” Dom replies, the heaviness of his voice as
painful to hear as Kate’s distress is. If I didn’t know any better,
I’d think he was gutted by my apparent death.
“Get the fuck away from him!” Kate yells, her weight
pushing off of me as she stands. I watch through slitted lids as
she strides towards Carter, gun in hand, oblivious to the fact
I’m not actually dead.
Not fucking yet, anyway.
She’s holding a gun, and that makes me feel so much
better because fuck knows I’ve been worrying about her from
the moment she stepped out of the cage with Carter. I’d lost
sight of her almost immediately, too busy trying not to fucking
die and knowing that I had to win this fight in order to keep
her safe from him.
Except she isn’t safe.
She never will be whilst he remains alive.
“Lower the gun, Grim!” Carter demands. “There’s no need
for dramatics. Everyone’s fucking gone.”
“Fuck you, Carter!” she replies, refusing to do as he
demands.
Good girl.
Rodriguez, the King and Dom are standing just outside of
the cage, right in my line of vision. Both the King and
Rodriguez are watching this all unfold, neither paying me any
attention. Clearly they think I’m dead, just like Kate and
Carter do. Dom’s gaze however falls to me, his eyes widening
a fraction as I blink at him a couple of times, willing him not
to rat me out. I’m praying I’ve read him right and he’s going to
keep his mouth shut. I’ve got one chance at this, and one
chance only. He gives me the tiniest nod, then looks away. I
make a mental note to buy him a fucking drink when this shit
is over.
“You’re a fucking monster!” Kate yells.
I’ve never seen her so enraged, so fucking broken, so
radiantly beautiful in her anger. I want nothing more than to
stand by her side, to back her whilst she takes on her father
and any other motherfucker who dares try to control her.
Instead, I use these few precious moments to gather my wits
and concentrate on mentally checking my body. I hurt, there’s
no denying that, but that’s a good thing. Hurting means I’m
alive, and that’s all I need to be to end this.
“Grim, lower the gun and behave.”
“Behave?! Screw you!” Grim continues, screaming at her
father now, her rage undeniable. “You killed him!”
Carter shakes his head. “No, he did that all by himself by
fucking you and fucking me over. He knew the rules. He broke
them. There was only ever going to be one motherfucking
outcome. Betray me and die. End of.”
“We’ve never fucked!” she screams, lifting the gun and
aiming it at Carter’s chest. “Beast is loyal, so fucking loyal
that he refused to sleep with me even when I offered myself up
to him!”
For a moment Carter appears taken aback, then a smile
glides across his face. “You think I’m fucking stupid? No man
would ever deny themselves a hot piece of ass, so your lies are
worthless to me. Beast made me a promise, Grim, and he
broke it when he went after you. He betrayed me.”
“He didn’t!” Grim exclaims, her broken voice taking on a
hard edge as they circle one another. I watch transfixed,
enraptured by the woman who’s snared my heart so
thoroughly. She’s a lioness, prowling, baring her teeth at her
dad, a man who was willing to sell her to pay off his debts.
Yeah, he’s that man.
Looks like The Crib Club has been a home away from
home for Carter over the last six months, and all of Tales’
profits have been sunk into card games and pussy. Turns out
the bastard was willing to sell his daughter to the King to clear
the debts racked up by his gambling habits and addiction to
pleasure.
A debt that I will clear the moment I kill the cunt.
Carter might be acting holier than thou right now, but he’s
the fucking villain, not me, and because of that he won’t live
to see another day.
The moment he has his back to me, I launch myself
upright. Adrenaline and the need to protect the woman I love
propelling my feet forward the few paces to rip the knife from
Derby’s body and then drive it into Carter’s back, straight
through his heart.
He dies instantly.
He didn’t see it coming and neither did Kate.
 Her face is a mixture of astonishment and relief as she
stares at me, oblivious in the moment that her dad is dead in
my arms. Her eyes brim with tears, tears that never fall as
relief is quickly replaced with shock, then bewilderment as
blood gurgles up Carter’s throat, spilling from his lips.
I watch in slow motion, breathing heavily from the
exertion and pain as she tries to make sense of what’s
happened. Her eyes widen and her body stiffens as realisation
dawns.
Drawing the knife free with one hard yank, I let Carter’s
body fall to the canvas with a loud thud. He falls onto his
back, blood pumping from the wound and mingling with the
viscous pool beneath my feet.
“Kate,” I murmur, my arms falling to my side as I drop to
my knees with exhaustion right beside Carter. His sightless
eyes stare up at me, and even though I know he’s dead, I need
to make sure. Ripping at his shirt, I pull it open, revealing his
bare flesh. Blood oozes from the wound on his chest, streaking
down his skin in rivulets. Despite the leaking blood, his chest
is still.
“Carter?” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion
as her gaze drops to him.
“It’s over,” I reply, looking up at her.
She’s pale, ghostly, her mouth hanging open as she blinks
with confusion. “Beast?”
“It’s over,” I repeat.
Only that dark part of me, the part that is more beast than
man, still needs to prove to her that I’m willing to cut the heart
out of any man who dares hurt her, that I’m willing to do
whatever the fuck it takes to protect her. So, with a
bloodcurdling roar, I stab the knife through Carter’s sternum,
using the serrated edge to saw through his bone. She deserves
nothing less than his bloody heart, and I’m going to deliver it
to her right the fuck now.
“Stop!” she shouts, her demand stilling my hand.
 My head lifts, the rage I feel at the man who so easily
wanted to sell his daughter making way for another emotion,
empathy.
She looks broken.
Defeated in a way that guts me.
I drop my hands from the knife handle, falling back on my
arse as I watch the woman I love drop to her knees. “Kate,
listen,” I reach for her, but she shakes my hand away, flinching
from my touch.
“Don’t!”
“Kate…” But the look she gives me quietens me faster
than any weapon ever could.
“Dad?” she questions, resting the gun on the floor beside
her then cupping Carter’s face. “Dad?”
Her voice is no more than a whisper as she twists his head
to the side, ducking closer to him and ignoring the twelve inch
knife sticking out of his brutalised chest.
“He’s dead.”
My head snaps up as I watch the King step into the cage,
followed by Rodriguez and Dom. I’d almost forgotten about
them. Rodriguez is uncharacteristically quiet, and Dom gives
me a small nod. He’s a smart man, he knows that I would
never do something like this if I didn’t have a good fucking
reason for it. There will be time for an explanation, but that
time isn’t now.
“You!” she hisses, grabbing the gun and getting to her feet,
aiming it at the King. “This was you!”
“No, Kate,” I interrupt as I force myself to my feet,
readying myself to act if the King decides to go back on his
word. Fuck only knows it gets my goat backing the cunt, but
this is all part of the deal I made to keep Kate safe.
“Shut the hell up, Beast!”
I want to tell Kate everything, and I will when I can ensure
her safety, but right now I just need to get her through this
night without starting a fucking war. Keeping Kate in the dark
for a short time will protect her in the long run. It has to.
“You’d be wise to listen to your boyfriend, Grim,” the
King says, unperturbed by the fact she is pointing her gun at
his head.
“Trust me, Kate,” I urge, willing her to see past the
carnage. To think and not act this time.
At The Crib Club I made my own deal with the King after
he revealed Carter’s plans. The King had said that he’d never
intended on taking Kate for his own, and whilst I didn’t
believe a word of it, I was willing to suspend disbelief to get
what I wanted for Kate.
Her security, her safety, and her father’s debt paid in full.
All I had to do was kill Derby and Carter.
The King would remain a silent business partner, and
continue to provide fighters, taking a cut of the profits. In turn
he would keep her in business under his protection, and whilst
the whole part about him giving her his protection is a bitter
pill to swallow, I’m man enough to know that I’m only one
man, and one man does not an army make.
At least not until Kate and I can build one ourselves.
And we will.
The caveat to this agreement was that I take full
responsibility for killing her dad, hiding the fact that a contract
was drawn up between the two men. To be honest, after the
King showed me their contract, killing Carter was the easiest
fucking decision to make.
Not killing the King for agreeing to it, the motherfucking
hardest.
I don’t like the man. Don’t fucking trust him, and I
certainly don’t believe he will keep to his side of the deal, but
for the time being I’m willing to let him live so that Kate and I
can make a plan, and build a fucking army. There will come a
day when we’ll both have our revenge, but in the meantime we
use him, then take him out when the time is right.
 “This is on you,” she snarls, her rage fucking beautiful to
behold.
She may be at her most vulnerable right now, but she is
fierce, and one day soon she’ll be unstoppable.
“This has nothing to do with me,” the King says without
even flinching. I’ll give him that, the guy has balls of fucking
steel and the best poker face I’ve ever seen.
“You’re a liar,” she accuses, her finger tightening over the
trigger.
“Kate, this is on me,” I say, stepping over Carter’s body
and standing between her and the King, stumbling a little as
my head pounds like a motherfucker. I fucking hate that I’m in
this position, protecting the King, but it’s only temporary. His
time will come.
“Bullshit. What do you have on Beast?” Kate presses,
stepping to the side, trying to get a clear shot at the King. I
move in front of her again and she bares her teeth at me.
“Not a thing,” the King replies. “I’m as shocked as you are
about how this all panned out.”
“Bullshit!” she shouts, fury leaking from her now.
“Kate, listen,” I say, holding my hands up and trying my
fucking best not to pass the fuck out. “This is on me. I’m
responsible.”
“What?” she asks, snapping her gaze back to me.
“I went to Carter this morning about us. I explained
everything to him. I tried to make him listen. He wouldn’t.”
“And he didn’t kill you the second you told him?”
I shake my head. “No. He said if I won the fight tonight
then he’d allow us to be together. I took him for his word,
Kate,” I lie, because I didn’t say a damn thing about us. As far
as I was concerned he knew nothing. I only realised that
wasn’t the case when he asked Rodriguez to bring the
weapons into the cage. Right now I’m not a hundred percent
certain which fuck told him, but given the look on Rodriguez’s
face, I’m guessing it’s him. “He wanted me dead. That’s why
he allowed weapons into the ring. He also wanted a bloodbath,
and he fucking got one.”
“Yet you survived,” she whispers, sadness brimming in her
eyes as she aims the gun at me now.
“Kate, what are you doing?”
“You killed my dad, Beast.”
“I had to do it. He would never have allowed us to be
together, Kate,” I say, covering up the fact that I did it to
protect her. That he was the fucking monster ready to sell her
off to the King to save his own arse.
“And I have to do this,” she replies, her sadness replaced
now with a hardness that is so much like her dad it makes my
blood run cold.
“We can work this out,” I say, watching as she shuts down
her emotions one by one.
“I will never be respected in this business if I let you walk
after what you did.”
“Kate, I was protecting you!”
“Don’t you see, it doesn’t fucking matter. We could’ve
found a way around this together, but you chose to murder
Carter instead. How can I let that go? Tell me how?” she
pleads.
“Princess, think about this…” Dom says, his voice trailing
off when she snatches her head around to look at him.
“It’s Grim,” she snarls.
“Grim, listen, you’re in shock,” he says quickly, and the
room around me fucking spins as darkness claws at my brain.
“Understandably so, but even I can see that Beast did what he
had to do.”
“And where does that leave me?” she shouts, her voice
cracking. “Carter is dead and Tales is mine.” Her gaze flicks
back to me now and the anguish in her eyes almost floors me.
“It’s too late for me to choose. They’ll walk all over me if I
don’t do this. You know that.”
 “No one would dare fuck with you, not with my backing,
Grim,” the King interjects. “I have a reputation enough for the
both of us.”
“And what makes you think I want your backing, huh?
This is my club now,” she snaps.
“Well, see, that’s where things get a little complicated,” the
King says, and my fucking stomach bottoms out because I
know why that is. Carter well and truly fucked the gravy train
on this one.
“What do you mean?” she asks, the gun moving from my
chest back to the King’s.
“In order to get my backing, your father signed over a
percentage of Tales to me. I now own a forty-eight percent
share in the club, and that will remain in place for as long as it
is profitable for the both of us or you’re able to raise two
million pounds to buy me out.”
“Two million pounds? You’ve got to be fucking kidding
me!”
“Those were the terms of our deal, Grim,” the King says,
conveniently leaving out the most important part, that Carter
was going to sell her to him to clear his debts and secure the
deal.
I glance at the King, not liking the way he’s fucking
smirking like he assumes she’ll never be able to raise that kind
of money. He’s a fool to underestimate her.
“Or I could just shoot you dead and rip up the contract
now,” she replies, bringing a smile to my lips. “I’m feeling
particularly trigger happy.”
“You could, but we both know that wouldn’t be wise. I
have men who know where I am and what time I’m expected
back. If I don’t turn up they’ll rain hellfire down on you. You
stand alone, Grim, with one man barely alive.”
“She has me too,” Dom says.
“Three against two hundred loyal men. You do the math,”
the King retorts.
 I can see the defeat written across her face as she tries hard
to figure out what to do. We both know that acting out of
passion and anger now will be a mistake. She’s smart enough
to know that what she needs is time to figure everything out, to
make a plan.
That’s what I’ve given her, us. Time. “You’re right, it
wouldn’t be wise to kill you.”
“That’s a good girl,” he replies, the fucking patronising
prick.
“But don’t for one second think you can walk all over me.
I’m not a bleeding heart. I’m a Davidson… No, I’m Grim and
no one fucks with me. Let this be your warning.”
“Understood,” the King retorts evenly.
She shifts her attention back to me. “I warned you not to
break my heart.”
“I was protecting you!” I protest.
“No, killing Carter wasn’t about you protecting me, it was
about you protecting yourself and believing that I’m incapable
of finding a solution to a problem that affects the both of us.”
“That wasn’t what—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Once again you failed to consider that I had a say in all of
this. Me. I don’t need a man to make decisions for me, I need a
man who’s willing to stand beside me whilst we find a solution
together. You’re just like all the rest.”
“Kate, you don’t understand…”
“Don’t. Not another word, Beast.”
“I did this for us, for you. I fucking love you,” I say,
willing her to believe me. Needing her to know, if nothing
else, that’s the truth.
“Love?” she laughs bitterly. “People like you and me don’t
get to love.”
Then she points her gun at me and pulls the motherfucking
trigger.
TO BE CONTINUED in Heads You Lose, book two of Grim
& Beast’s Duet…
 AUTHOR NOTE

Phewf!
If you haven’t got the female version of blueballitis then
I’ve not done my job properly!
I hope you’ve loved Beast & Grim’s story so far. As you
already know, their standalone has turned into a duet. I
couldn’t shove all of their love into one book, it just wasn’t
possible.
So, I hope you’ll stick around to find out what happens
next!
Most of my readers already know that the pair get their
fairy tale ending because you’ve met both characters in the
Academy of Stardom series (set after this duet) where they are
happily together, BUT if you know me, the path to true love
never runs smoothly.
I mean, come on, this is Beast and Grim we’re talking
about.
Expect lots of grovelling, more fireworks, more banter,
violence and of course copious amounts of steam!
Rest assured, the build up in book one will lead to all the
angst and tension and steamy, knicker-drenching sex scenes
we’ve all been waiting for, including me.
Like I’ve said before, my characters do what the hell they
want, and I’m just a human vessel for them to use to write
their story. All I know is that Beast will make good on his
promise of fucking well and Grim has a few tricks up her
sleeve too!
You have been warned.
For those of you who are new to my books, and that
gorgeous cover brought you to me and this is the first book of
mine you’ve read, firstly welcome! This duet was written for
my readers who needed Beast and Grim’s love story. It’s been
promised for some time, and now I’ve finally gotten around to
writing it! Secondly, if you’re interested, all of my
contemporary books so far are set in the same world and this is
the recommended reading order:
Brothers Freed trilogy (featuring a future Hudson, Max and
Bryce)
Academy of Misfits
Beyond the Horizon
Finding Their Muse
Academy of Stardom
Their Obsession Duet
Beast and Grim Duet
As always, thank you for continuing on this journey with me
and my characters. Most days I’m still awed that people
actually want to read what I write. So, to you, dear reader, I
am indebted.
To be certain that you keep up to date with all my new
releases and author news, please do come and join my
Facebook group, Queen Bea’s Hive, where I’m most active.
Once again, thanks for sticking with me. Here’s to plenty
more stories to come.
Love, Bea xox
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bea Paige lives a very secretive life in London… She likes red wine and Haribo
sweets (preferably together) and occasionally swings around poles when the mood
takes her.
Bea loves to write about love and all the different facets of such a powerful
emotion. When she’s not writing about love and passion, you’ll find her reading
about it and ugly crying.
Bea is always writing, and new ideas seem to appear at the most unlikely time,
like in the shower or when driving her car.
She has lots more books planned, so be sure to subscribe to her newsletter:
beapaige.co.uk/newsletter-sign-up
 ALSO BY BEA PAIGE

The Deana-dhe Duet (dark reverse harem)

# 1 Debts & Diamonds
# 2 Curses & Cures
Grim & Beast’s Duet (M/F second-chance, bodyguard romance)
#1 Tales You Win
#2 Heads You Lose
Their Obsession Duet (dark reverse harem)
#1 The Dancer and The Masks
#2 The Masks and The Dancer
Academy of Stardom
(friends-to-enemies-lovers reverse harem)
#1 Freestyle
#2 Lyrical
# 3 Breakers
# 4 Finale
Academy of Misfits
(bully/academy reverse harem)
#1 Delinquent
#2 Reject
#3 Family
Finding Their Muse
(dark contemporary reverse harem)
#1 Steps
#2 Strokes
#3 Strings
#4 Symphony
#5 Finding Their Muse box set
The Brothers Freed Series
(contemporary reverse harem)
#1 Avalanche of Desire
 #2 Storm of Seduction
#3 Dawn of Love
#4 Brothers Freed Boxset
Contemporary Standalone
Beyond the Horizon
For all up to date book releases please visit
www.beapaige.co.uk