No Broken Beast

by Snow, Nicole

  I duck my head, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Well, ZZ, I was thinking we could stay in Heart’s Edge. Would you like it here, Zach?”

  “Only if Dad’s here,” Zach says firmly, and Leo laughs.

  “I’d never dream of going anywhere else. I’m the local legend. In Spokane, I’d just be Leo.” His grin turns downright cocky. “So what do you say, sweetheart? Feel like playing house?”

  “Oh, you ass—” I cut myself off in front of twitchy little ears, and mock-scowl at him, face burning, and prop my hands on my hips. “You’re going to ask me like that?”

  “Well...” He gently jostles Zach, and our boy giggles. “My hands are a little full to get down on one knee.”

  Now I’m blushing for a whole different reason.

  Honestly, I think the next bomb that goes off in Heart’s Edge just might be me.

  “Yeah, um, about that.” My face burns brighter than the night.

  Biting my lip, I slip my hand into my pocket to retrieve the ring—that slender silver band with its diamond, the same not-so-lucky charm I’ve held on to all these years.

  Leo’s eyes widen as he sees the little circle in my palm, gleaming in the moonlight. I think there might actually be a blush fit to match my own under his beard and scars.

  “I never forgot,” I whisper. “And I never really let you go.”

  “Clarissa.” My name growls out of him so hot with emotion. Suddenly, he’s got his arm around me, pulling me in until I’m crushed tight with him and Zach. “Let me, babe. Let me give you that promise we made years ago. Will you wear that ring for me, Rissa?”

  “I...” My voice is breaking, and I hide my face against his shoulder. Zach pats my shoulder sweetly, and Leo just holds me tighter. “I’ve never wanted anything else all these years.”

  There are no words, then.

  No freaking words needed.

  Our hands clasp behind Zach’s back, resting against our son, the ring trapped between our palms until Leo works it free.

  Then I just feel cool, delicate silver against my skin, sliding down my ring finger like it’s always belonged there. Because it has.

  Our fingers lace, twine, holding Zach so close.

  It’s an amazing thing when I realize my heart’s complete. This gorgeous man, stolen away for so long, has found his way home.

  Tonight, we’re together again.

  We’re whole.

  And we’re so done with suffering for our tomorrow.

  * * *

  Three Weeks Later

  After so many years apart, you’d think we could wait a little longer to get married.

  But once the idea takes life, we just couldn’t stand more waiting. We’ve been denied for far too long.

  There was barely enough time to invite our closest friends. Somehow, though, a good chunk of Heart’s Edge shows up, too.

  I guess everybody wants to celebrate the town hero’s redemption with the hometown girl back in her natural habitat. They’re filling the entire field now leading from the back of Charming Inn up to the famous cliff.

  Yep, our wedding is standing room only.

  There are news crews here, too, hoping to get a word with the groom.

  Galentron’s downfall has been plastered all over every twenty-four seven national babble network ever since the night I said yes. A girl can be a little jealous when she’s got to fight reporters for a little time with the man she’s been missing for eight freaking years.

  Honestly? I couldn’t be happier. It didn’t take long at all to exonerate Leo once Langley stepped in and helped relay everything to the FBI. And with Maximilian Ross as a broken, busted-up material witness who’ll never see a free day again, the company’s goose is thoroughly cooked.

  Leo tells me he’s already flipped, spilled so much. Someone tried to kill him three times in his cell, but the info’s out there, enough to convict several very high and mighty evil senior execs for high crimes and misdemeanors

  Only, in this case, the misdemeanors are more atrocities.

  Nope.

  Not today.

  The journalists can buzz off with their drama.

  This is our day, and today, I get to be his. Mrs. Leo Regis.

  Holy hell, he looks so handsome in his tux, waiting up near the altar with his hands clasped behind him.

  So, maybe it’s a little like putting a bear in a tux, as big as he is. We had to have the thing custom-tailored, and they just barely finished it this morning.

  My dress was a little easier.

  I like simple things.

  A sheath dress, white and trailing over the little strip of white silk carpet running up the aisle. The strapless design hugs my bodice, leaving my shoulders bare to the nippy November air, my veil pinned to my hair, streaking in a gauzy banner down to mingle with my train.

  I feel beautiful today.

  Like I’ve been taken back in time to how things should have been. Maybe our happy ending was delayed, but it’s finally here.

  It’s the one we’ve always deserved.

  Happiness is finally ours.

  And I can’t stop smiling with pure, wild joy, looping my hand in Deanna’s arm. She escorts me up the aisle to the tune of soft music and the hush of people turning to watch as I approach.

  It’s nerve-racking, wonderful, and I’m eternally grateful for my sister here. There’s no one else I’d want to give me away and play maid of honor.

  She’s crying like a baby as she leads me to the aisle, then turns to face me and grips my shoulders.

  “You look so beautiful, Riss!” she whispers. She’s styled her close-cropped hair into an adorable bob that frames her face in a lovely way and highlights her cheekbones, and for a moment I see that faint, distant memory of Mom in her sculpted face. “You look so happy.” She pulls me close into a ferocious hug. “Be happy, sis. Be happy so something good can come from the mess I made.”

  “Hey, hey. No blaming yourself again.” I hug her back just as tight, whispering so any straggler reporters here for Leo can’t hear. “You wanted to do the right thing. Thanks to you, those people will have a hell of a time ever trying to hurt anyone again.”

  She pulls back with a sweet smile. It tells me no matter what trauma she’s been through, she’ll be okay.

  We’ll all be okay.

  And for a moment she turns that sweet smile on Leo, looking up at him with the warmth and love and acceptance of a sister who already considers him family. Then she withdraws, leaving me and Leo and the altar and this moment we’ve waited for since we were young and impulsive and full of so much passion.

  Maybe we’re not so young anymore.

  But our love is ten times stronger, this palpable, vibrating emotion that’s so bright I swear it’s like something everyone must see. All of our guests, from the grinning men lined up behind Leo as his groomsmen to the crowd of breathless townsfolk, as we take our places and look at each other.

  We might never look away. The priest starts his sermon and our vows. Gray nods at our side like he was made to play best man.

  I don’t even know what the guy marrying us is saying.

  I really don’t care. The words are just a beautiful formality to a promise already etched in blood and tears with my husband.

  Here, today, forever, there’s just Leo and me.

  Oh, plus one rambunctious son, adorable in his tiny tux, holding the little black velvet cushion with our rings.

  They’re hand-carved wood.

  Beautiful.

  Delicate works of art so detailed it’s almost impossible they were made by a human hand, and yet...I know who made them. He’s standing right in front of me.

  Leo himself crafted our story in every tiny, ornate curl of starlight and flower petals and flame.

  He spent whole nights hunkered over his desk and a lamp, drawing on his talents as artist, as beast, as new dad, as soulmate. When I asked why, he said it was so we’d remember in the years ahead.

  There’d be no nee
d to ever doubt on the curvy, twisty roads of life up ahead. Not when we can feel our story on our skin, or look down and see its scenes unfolding in the intricate, indescribable beauty that reminds me why I. Love. This. Man.

  So very flipping much I just might die.

  But that’d be a shame.

  Because the cool, glossy wood of my ring slips perfectly over my finger. Leo slides it on slowly and whispers, his gravelly voice rough and husky, “...with this ring, I thee wed.”

  My turn. I look down with the ring in my fingers.

  His hand feels so calloused, thick knuckles so coarse compared to the delicate wood. “With this ring, I thee wed,” I whisper around the happiest tears I’ve ever cried in my life.

  There’s an I do, and another.

  Then the peanut gallery goes wild.

  We’re told we can kiss, and it’s almost a joke thinking we need permission.

  For just a flicker, as I fling my arms around Leo’s neck, something catches my attention, a darkness from the corner of my eye.

  There’s a woman in a long black coat and black glasses in the back of the crowd. Her coat’s hood is drawn up, covering her face like some stereotypical Russian spy chick. There’s nothing but a hint of short black hair, and a lipsticked mouth like a crimson gash.

  I only glimpse her for a moment.

  Just a hint of a smile, and a nod, and then she pops a neon pink candy ball into her mouth and chews approvingly. If this is Fuchsia’s freaky way of saying congratulations, I guess I accept.

  I nod back, turning back to Leo, but when I look her way again...

  She’s gone.

  And now I know everything will be all right.

  I smile up at Leo, leaning into him, my fingers buried in his hair.

  “You know, we kinda have the most screwed up fairy godmother in the world,” I whisper, and he chuckles, his arms sliding around my waist.

  “Yeah, yeah, but that’s how I like our love, babe. Screwed up, scarred, and beautiful. Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he growls, and his mouth descends on mine.

  I kiss him for what seems like forever, giving his chest a playful swat. “Let’s try for a little less messed up and a little more beautiful, okay? You know I’m good with the scars.”

  He chuckles. Then I show him just how good I am, moaning a soft kiss against his skin, right where his wild ink and untamed scars start around his throat.

  “Hell, woman, no argument here. Everything turned out okay in the end, didn’t it?” His huge hands cup my face, the safest harbor in the world for my smile.

  “More than okay,” I tell him.

  And that’s all the truth we need as I kiss my husband some more for the first time, while the cameras flash around us, while the town cheers, while I toss my bouquet blindly over the edge of the cliff, while our son giggles “ew, gross” playfully, and while our mouths mate and meld in a shameless heat and passion and love that’s survived being torn apart.

  Surely, it’ll thrive in the decades to come.

  Just as long as it’s me and my unbroken beast against the world, everything will always be right.

  * * *

  Thanks for reading No Broken Beast! Look for more Heroes of Heart's Edge coming soon.

  Can't get enough Leo and Clarissa?

  Join my newsletter for a look at life after the wedding in this fun flash forward story. - https://dl.bookfunnel.com/3jc1c8vq9w

  Then read on for a preview of another irresistible and oh-so-alpha Heart's Edge hero, Gray “Doc” Caldwell in No Good Doctor.

  No Good Doctor Preview

  Barking Up the Wrong Tree (Ember)

  I’m really confused right now.

  It’s my first day on the job, and I’ve already seen three animals that aren’t even sick at all.

  I mean, I’m glad. I never want to see animals in pain; it’s part of the reason I became a vet tech.

  But this doesn’t make sense.

  None of these critters have come in for a routine checkup, new vaccinations, or any of the usual reasons you bring a healthy pet in.

  Every last one of their owners is so worried about Mr. Lucky’s gout or Purrbles’ upset stomach or any number of other ailments. And every time, it turns out to be nothing, a figment of their imagination.

  Basically, I’ve got a waiting room full of women with fat, happy cats, dogs, birds, even one lizard, every last one of them in perfect health.

  Every last one of their owners hoping to be seen by someone other than me.

  And the woman waiting right now for me to finish checking her St. Bernard for a nonexistent splinter in his paw looks extremely disappointed that I’m not the good doctor she came for. I’d say Arielle Christianson is one annoying client, but she’s kept it tame compared to a few who came through earlier.

  She’s only asked me three times when he’ll be in, after all.

  Dr. Caldwell.

  “Doc” to everyone in Heart’s Edge. I don’t think anyone knows his first name, and I doubt he’d tell me if I asked. He’s the strangest man I’ve ever met, for all two seconds I’ve spent talking to him.

  Did I say this doesn’t make sense?

  Maybe it’s more that I just don’t get it.

  I don’t get stuffing your pet into a carrier and ferrying them across town just for a slim chance you might get to flirt with the hottest vet ever.

  But half the town’s female population is here trying to catch a glimpse of him.

  God. It’s like being on a season of The Bachelor, only I’m not in the running.

  I’m a camera tech or something, watching with a kind of confused fascination as they try to win the attention of Heart’s Edge’s most eligible bachelor.

  And I try not to be too obvious now, watching as the door to the exam room opens, and Doc comes striding in.

  He’s tall. No-nonsense. Honestly, kind of intimidating.

  He’s got this almost militant stride, and shoulders that could pop out the seams of his lab coat. When he moves, the air goes electric, and it’s like half the freaking universe grinds to a stop waiting for his every word.

  The woman waiting next to the table, tapping her foot impatiently and surveying her nails, perks immediately, straightening up, arching her spine in a way that makes her chest and butt thrust out in opposite directions. She smiles with her eyes so seductively half-lidded and her lips just a little bit pursed I want to roll my eyes right out of my head.

  Before Doc even gets a chance to say anything, Arielle pushes herself forward, laying a hand on his arm and pouting up at him. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Dr. Caldwell. She—” a little pronoun spoken like a dirty curse, “—said there’s nothing wrong with my Jake, and I just know I saw him limping this morning.”

  Doc glances toward me, his green eyes cutting and sharp. Whatever else about him makes pulses race around this man, there’s no denying the power of those eyes.

  They’re as clear as sea glass. Just as reflective and strange, like he’s washed up on shore here in Heart’s Edge filled with all the secrets of the deep.

  I immediately look away, focusing on the St. Bernard, trying to pretend I just somehow never heard the conversation going on right over my short little head.

  “You’re fine, aren’t you, Jake?” I murmur to the dog. He lolls his tongue happily when I scratch behind his ruff, working my way up to the sweet spot behind his ears. “You’re just getting a little old and probably had a bit of vertigo this morning.”

  Doc remains silent for a moment but maneuvers smoothly out of the woman’s grasp, making it so elegant it doesn’t even seem like an insult. “Ms. Delwen, your assessment?”

  Suddenly all eyes are on me, and my stomach drops out. I bite my lip, keeping my gaze on the dog. “Well...you noticed him limping when he stood up, right?”

  Arielle sniffs, lifting her nose in the air. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with it?”

  I smile. Just because she wants to be rude doesn’t mean I have to be r
ude back – and I can’t be, anyway. This is my job, and the customer is always right.

  Plus, I want to make a good impression on my first day, even if I haven’t had a chance to do more than run interference for The Bachelor so far.

  Although to me, Jake here – with his soft, clean-smelling fur and lovely lopsided doggy grin – is more my customer than his owner.

  “It stopped shortly after, right?” I ask.

  She frowns. She’s actually trying to remember, earnest and thoughtful, her brows knitting, and it eases something worried inside me that she cares enough to try. “Hm, maybe...”

  Arielle glances at Doc nervously now.

  It’s not hard to tell she’s torn between actually being worried about Jake, and not wanting to be embarrassed by getting caught fishing to see if the doctor is in, out, or sexually available.

  I hate having to be the one to tell her that her dog actually does need attention, especially when I’m new in town and trying not to alienate anyone.

  But Doc’s watching me, she’s watching him, and I think Jake’s busy watching that glass jar of doggie treats across the room.

  Somebody has to worry about poor Jake, drool and all, right?

  I scratch underneath the dog’s collar. “His file says he’s eleven now, yeah? For a breed this size, he’s almost eighty in dog years, and he’s got the same issues as an eighty-year-old man. Don’t you, boy?” He nudges my cheek with his cold, wet nose and belts out an agreeable yip. “You’re just not as spry as you used to be. When you stand, you just have to limber up the joints before you can walk a bit.”

  Arielle looks confused. Doc turns those piercing green eyes on her instead of me, and I can breathe again without them cutting holes right through me. “As Ms. Delwen said, Jake’s simply aging naturally, but we can use an X-Ray to find out if he has arthritis and rule out anything else.”

  As he speaks, he reaches over without looking. His hand passes so close to my jaw I feel it raising prickly goosebumps all over.

  I have to fight not to flinch away from the surprising heat it rouses.