[Bellamy and the Brute 01.0] Bellamy and the Brute

by Alicia Michaels

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” I teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

  This time, he brought his hand up to my head to hold me against him. Even though his hold was weak, I obeyed the silent command and stayed against him, bracing my hands on his chest and kissing him thoroughly.

  “Well, I see someone’s already working on your physical therapy.”

  I jerked away from Tate, my face going hot as the nurse approached the bed, having walked in on us kissing.

  “I was going to come for you,” I told her, standing and shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Someone else had other ideas.”

  Clicking her tongue in reprimand, she came toward the bed. “You’re looking good, Mr. Baldwin. How do you feel?”

  “Over the moon,” he said with another grin. “That girl was stupid enough to fall in love with me. How lucky am I?”

  The nurse turned back to me and smiled. “Probably luckier than you deserve.”

  “Exactly,” he replied.

  “Aside from feeling over the moon,” she teased, “any pain?”

  “A little,” he admitted. “When can I go home?”

  She laughed, pulling his chart from a slot in the side of the bed and making a few notes. “Slow down, cowboy. Let’s start with a little exam, okay?” She turned to me, pen poised over the paper. “Sweetheart, would you mind waiting in the hall?”

  I nodded. “Sure thing. Tate, I’ll call your parents to let them know you’re awake.”

  “Okay, but don’t kick her out for too long,” Tate insisted. “I have to keep her close, or she might wise up and leave me.”

  Laughing, I paused in the doorway and turned back. “Be good,” I admonished, even while I found myself unable to stop smiling.

  “He’s a mess,” the nurse said with a chuckle.

  “He’s terrible,” I agreed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”

  “I believe you referred to me as a ‘brute’,” Tate reminded me. “Well, tough luck, lady. You’re never getting rid of me. I’m your brute now.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “You certainly are.”

  1 year later…

  “Knock, knock.”

  Turning away from the poster I’d been hanging above my bed, I turned toward the voice coming from my open doorway. Finding Tate standing there, I grinned and jumped down from where I’d been standing on the mattress. He met me in the middle of the room, lifting me up to kiss me, his hold tight on my waist. Running my fingers through his hair, I sank into the kiss, groaning at the heat it caused in my veins.

  We’d barely seen each other all summer, and I’d missed him. Apparently, he’d missed me, too. I had to force him to put me back on my feet, even after we’d finished kissing.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” I said. “I’m already halfway done unpacking.”

  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “The line at the bookstore was crazy long. But I hooked you up.”

  Striding toward my desk, he dropped a large paper shopping bag on its surface—it was emblazoned with the Georgia State University logo.

  “All the books from your list, and your multicolored gel pens,” he declared. “Your change is in the bag. Am I the best boyfriend in the world, or what?”

  “You’re all right,” I teased. “You’ll be even better if you can help me finish getting organized by tonight. With classes starting tomorrow, I want to be completely settled in so I don’t have to worry about anything.”

  Cracking his knuckles, he strode toward one of the boxes resting near the door. “You got it. Afterward, remind me that I need to take you to a place near campus that has some of the best coffee in the city.”

  We fell into a steady rhythm, opening boxes and putting things where they belonged, with the sound of music spilling from the portable speakers connected to my cell phone on the desk.

  I’d arrived in Atlanta for my first year at Georgia State University the day before, dropped off by my teary-eyed dad.

  “Your mother would be so proud,” he’d told me as we hugged good-bye. “I know I am.”

  “Do you really think so?” I’d asked. “I always wanted to go to Spellman like her, but… well, this choice felt right.”

  “Your mother would have wanted you to do what was best for you,” he insisted. “That’s what matters.”

  I’d chosen Georgia State for a few reasons, only one of which had been Tate. After leaving the hospital, he’d spent two months at home waiting for the procedure to replace his skull flap. He’d experienced a lot of dizziness and a few other odd symptoms, but he stayed strong through it all, delighting in spending as much time with his siblings as he could. The procedure to replace the removed part of his skull had gone flawlessly, and he’d emerged from recovery as good as new.

  By then, I had returned to Wellhollow Springs High for my senior year. We didn’t get to spend as much time together as we had during the summer, but Tate kept busy filling out college applications. He had confessed to me that going to college was something he’d regretted not doing during the time he’d let his disorder rule his life. So, I’d been thrilled when he informed me that he intended to start school as soon as possible.

  That would have to wait, though, because not long after his recovery from surgery, a series of visits to his primary care doctor revealed a miracle. Tate’s Parry-Romberg Syndrome had gone into remission. The doctors noted a complete halt in the degeneration of tissue in his face, something that had them baffled after so many years of his case progressively worsening. No one else understood what had happened, but the two of us knew. Isabella had broken the curse, allowing Tate to become whole again. Once his remission was confirmed, he became a candidate for reconstructive surgery once again.

  He had undergone three procedures to implant donor fat grafts, as well as a series of injections to fill in the concave parts of his face. After each procedure, he’d improved—the migraines and seizures becoming less frequent, and his appearance returning back to normal.

  Well, he wasn’t exactly like he’d been before, but only a person who knew him well could see the subtle differences. He still carried a scar across his forehead from the fight with Lincoln, and his right eyelid drooped slightly more than the other—becoming more prominent when he was tired.

  There was one more change that might be considered a flaw—yet it had become my favorite part of him. When he smiled, his lips never curved like they should. The smile remained a bit crooked, as it had been when he’d been sick—the boyish tilt reminding me of his playful nature. Every time he smiled, I remembered just why I loved him, and everything he’d been through that had made him who he was now.

  Aside from those beautiful imperfections, he looked like any other guy walking down the street—chiseled features, full lips, and straight nose. While I knew he would have made the step to go to college whether he’d gotten his face reconstructed or not, I realized that not being stared at everywhere he went must be a relief.

  He’d gone off to Georgia State during the summer semester, wanting to get a jump on his first year, but also needing to take things slow. The relaxed pace of summer campus life had offered him an easy adjustment, and it allowed him to make frequent trips back to Wellhollow Springs to visit. Now, we were together again, and I was excited about the next four years stretching ahead of us.

  “All done,” Tate declared, closing one of my now-full dresser drawers. “Now, let’s go get that coffee.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned, stretching to relieve my store muscles. “It’s too late for coffee, and I’m tired. I want dinner and bed, in that order.”

  Wrapping his arms around me, Tate pulled me close. “Sounds good to me. Maybe I could tuck you in.”

  Glancing at the empty bed on the other side of the room, I raised my eyebrows. “I have a roommate, you know.”

  “I don’t see anyone here,” he murmured, bending his knees to come more level with me and capturing my lips in a kiss.

 
“Hmmm,” I mumbled. “You’re right about that.”

  My stomach rumbled loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  “Still,” I said, after tearing my lips from his. “If you don’t feed me, I’m going to get hangry.”

  He frowned. “Hangry?”

  “When you’re so hungry it makes you angry,” I clarified. “You don’t want to see me hangry.”

  Laughing, he draped an arm around my shoulders and led me toward the door. “Baby, I doubt a little hangry will make me stop loving you like I do. So bring it on—mood swings, hunger, freaking out over midterms. I’m ready.”

  Leaning into him, I locked the door behind us, and we set off for dinner.

  I came awake with a start, sitting upright in my bed with a gasp. I couldn’t say what had awakened me, exactly, but a nervous energy coursed through my veins. Squeezed against the wall in my narrow bed, I glanced down at Tate, who lay sleeping soundly on his side next to me. My roommate had gone to a party and informed me she wouldn’t be back until morning, so Tate had spent the night with me. Despite the fact that I had been sleeping soundly, I was suddenly wide awake, unable to pinpoint what exactly it was that had me feeling on edge. I’d experienced this sensation before, but I couldn’t place it.

  Glancing over at my desk, I frowned, realizing my alarm clock wasn’t lit up—which was odd, because I’d plugged it in myself, setting both the time and the alarm to wake me up for class every morning. The only light in the room came from the moon shining through a solitary window.

  Realizing the blanket had fallen down to my waist, I jerked it up to cover my chest, shivering from the cold.

  Odd, the room had been a bit warm when we’d fallen asleep, the Georgia humidity outside making it hard to keep cool, even indoors. Glancing over at Tate, I noticed goose bumps rising up along the arm resting on top of the covers. In his sleep, he shivered, burrowing closer to me.

  It was then that it hit me. I knew exactly what this feeling was, and what had caused it in the past.

  Placing a hand on Tate’s shoulder, I gave him a gentle shake. “Tate, wake up.”

  Stirring, he draped an arm across me. “Hmmm, go back to sleep, Bell.”

  “No, wake up,” I urged, giving him another shake.

  Groaning, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. His hair stood on end adorably, his eyelids drooping over unfocused eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he yawned. “Can’t sleep?”

  “Something’s not right,” I replied. “I have this feeling… it reminds me a lot of what I felt just before encountering Camila and Isabella at Baldwin House.”

  Blinking, he widened his eyes, now as awake as I was. “What? Really?” He shivered again, and then frowned. “You’re right. I feel it now, too.”

  He rose from the bed first, and I followed him, reaching for a sweatshirt I’d draped over the back of my desk chair. Slipping it on over my pajamas, I glanced around the room.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered. “This can’t be happening again… We broke your curse when we got justice for Isabella.”

  Tate shrugged. “Maybe we’re just being paranoid. You can’t sleep, and someone turned the air down too low in the dorm. It’s fine.”

  I shook my head, but didn’t reply. Part of me wanted to agree with him, yet some innate thing told me that I was right to trust my instincts. Something was definitely wrong here.

  Seeing a sliver of light beneath my door, I walked toward it, and then bent when I found something on the floor there. Bending down, I gripped it and held it up to the light of the moon. Gasping, I extended my hand toward Tate, my eyes wide with disbelief.

  “Tate, look.”

  He approached and bent down, his mouth falling open at the sight of what I held in my hand. “Are those… snowflakes?”

  I nodded, pointing to the light beneath the door and the white powder trailing out into the hall. “There’s more of it.”

  Standing, Tate gave me a hand up. For a long moment, we simply stood there staring at each other in the dark, as if trying to come to terms with what was happening. I wondered if this might just be a dream, yet I’d never felt more wide awake in my life.

  “Well,” Tate said. “We can’t avoid this forever. Shall we?”

  Taking his hand, I reached for the doorknob. “Let’s do it.”

  Opening the door slowly, I winced when it creaked loudly. Yet, no one seemed to hear, the entire hall of the dorm remaining still and quiet.

  It was dark, making it hard to see once we’d stepped out in the hall, yet a light at the end of the hall illuminated our path, guiding us down the hallway to where a trail of icy snow led. I shivered again, the bottoms of my bare feet frozen stiff. Exhaling, I noticed my breath coming out on the air like white steam.

  Tate’s hand tightened around mine when we reached the end of the hall where it intersected with two others. Standing in the middle of the intersection was a man.

  The same muted, white glow illuminated his body, while the whites of his eyes had been blocked out by black. His soulless stare bored into mine, and then Tate’s, as he turned his head with a resounding pop and snap.

  A tremor rocked me, but I stood my ground, knowing that running was futile. He would only chase us, and who knew where that might lead.

  Glancing over at Tate, I found him looking back at me with the same determination I felt inside. His eyes seemed to speak to me, conveying the same thought I was having.

  Here we go again.

  Releasing his hand, I stepped forward, deciding that there was nothing to be afraid of any longer. Forcing a smile, I made eye contact with the ghost.

  “Hi, I’m Bellamy,” I said. “We’re here to help you.”

  While fairytale retellings are sort of my ‘thing’, the tale of Beauty and the Beast wasn’t one I’d intended to tackle. So, for inspiring me to come up with a fresh take on an old tale, Rebecca Gober of Clean Teen Publishing deserves all the credit. Thank you for inspiring me to write a story I hadn’t even realized was in me. To Lynn Shaw, Carly Fall, and Melanie Newton, thank you for your valuable feedback as beta readers—your helped make this story better, and it certainly wouldn’t be what it is without you. Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank my readers for being so invested in the stories and characters that live inside my head. Thank goodness, I found people to share them with … the voices were starting to drive me crazy.

  Ever since she first read books like Chronicles of Narnia or Goosebumps, Alicia has been a lover of mind-bending fiction. Wherever imagination takes her, she is more than happy to call that place her home. With several Fantasy and Science Fiction titles under her belt, Alicia strives to write multicultural characters and stories that touch the heart. V-Card, the first book of the Sharing Spaces series, was her first Contemporary Romance.

  The mother of three and wife to a soldier, she loves chocolate, coffee, and of course good books. When not writing, you can usually find her with her nose in a book, shopping for shoes and fabulous jewelry, or spending time with her loving family.