Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I’m going to leave and take my uncle with me. Goddamn him to hell for this.
I’m married to a man who shares DNA with the very demon who tried raping me and almost killed my uncle.
And. He. Never. Told. Me.
“Stop ordering me about—”
In an explosive move, he upends the table to get my attention, then charges toward me. I back up until my legs hit the back of a chair. “I said, sit the fuck down.”
I look at the overturned table. It must weigh a ton and he just flipped it like it weighed nothing.
But I’m too angry to care. “I said no.”
His gaze is thunderous. “Why do you need to make it so fucking hard on me whenever I ask you to do something?”
“How could you force me to marry you? The brother of the man who broke into my home, almost killed my uncle and bent me over the kitchen table. He was about to rape me. It was the most frightening thing that has ever happened to me. The vilest act—you saw what he did.”
“Yes, and I stopped him from doing it.”
“But then you forced me to marry you. The brother to—him.”
“I am nothing like my brother,” he growls.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were related?”
“Because the moment he did those things to you, he was no longer a part of my family. I banished him. Stripped him of his cut. That is the biggest and worst consequence to a Knight. He lost his club. He lost his family. He lost everything for what he did to you.”
My heart pounds against my breast and my pulse races through the vein in my neck.
Beast takes a step toward me, but I take a step back. “Don't you come near me!”
My words are like a brick wall and he comes to a sudden stop.
I’m shaking. “You lied to me.”
“I never lied to you.”
“Omission is like lying. You should have told me.”
“Perhaps I should have. But he is gone and no longer a threat to you.”
“So why didn't you?” I cry.
He takes a step closer, blocking out the sun. “Because it should have been inconsequential. His name is not to be spoken by anyone in this clubhouse. He is a Nameless Man.”
“Not to me,” I yell. “To me he will always be Gaston. The man who put his hands on me. The man who put my uncle in hospital.”
Images of that night rattle me even further, and I can barely contain the emotions coursing through me. They tumble through me violently.
I take slow steps backward and point a finger at Beast. “We’re done. Do you hear me? I don’t want any of this. Least of all you.”
The dark cloud on his face ripples with an emotion I can’t put my finger on. But it’s gone in seconds, replaced by a tight jaw, narrowed eyes, and flaring nostrils. He’s gritting his teeth.
“You don’t have much choice about the matter,” he says in a low, dangerous voice that is full of menace and causes goosebumps to spread across my skin.
But I’m done with being a scared little mouse. “Stay away from me.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Just watch me.”
“You promised you wouldn’t leave.”
“And you promised you wouldn’t lie.”
Shaking, I flee the chapel, and once I’m inside the clubhouse, I tear up the staircase and along the hallway to our bedroom. There, I slam the door behind me and lock it.
By now the entire clubhouse will know what is happening. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about any of them or what they think.
Blinded by my emotions, I hold onto one thought as I pack my belongings and shove them into a plastic bag. I need to pick up Uncle Maurice and get the hell away from these people.
To my surprise, no one tries to stop me from leaving. In fact, one of the prospects is waiting for me at the base of the grand staircase when I leave.
“Beast told me to take you wherever you want to go.”
My stomach tightens. Beast is letting me go? It should be a relief, but it’s not relief I feel in my chest.
“Good,” I say, ignoring whatever the stupid emotion is.
Outside, I follow the prospect to the truck parked on the driveway.
“We’re not taking your bike?” I ask.
The prospect raises an eyebrow as he opens the driver’s door. “Darlin, if I put you on the back of my bike I’d need to look for a new club. Not that I’d be able to walk. Or breathe.”
“You mean he’d hurt you for letting me ride on the back of your bike? That seems a bit over the top.”
“You’re our first lady, Belle, the only bike you belong on is our president’s.”
I frown, regret already churning in my stomach. “I’m not anyone’s first lady. Not really.”
He doesn’t reply. Just gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe me, then climbs inside the truck and closes the door.