Beast: Learning to Breathe Devil’s Blaze Duet

by Jordan Marie

  “Like this?”

  “Mouthy, full of fire, there’s no way you can tell me that you’re afraid right now. How can you be like that alone with me, but have the panic attacks that I’ve seen you have around others?”

  She studies me and the mood in the room changes. I sit on the bed and wait, sensing this conversation may take a while.

  “Are you going to tell me how you got your scars?” she asks, and it’s then I realize that with my shirt off, I’m hiding nothing from her. It didn’t even cross my mind earlier. I was worried about her uncovering my face. Why the fuck didn’t I stop to think before I took my shirt off?

  “No.”

  “You expect me to answer your questions and give you my secrets, but you’re going to tell me nothing about what happened to you?” In response, I nod my head yes. Her mouth opens, shock clear on her face. “Do you think that’s fair?”

  “No.”

  “Then you agree you should tell me more about your scars. It’s only fair.”

  “No,” I tell her again, starting to enjoy this damned conversation, or maybe just the frustration that is coming off her in waves.

  “You’re unbelievable,” she sulks.

  I reach out to grab her and pull her to me, before I can think twice about it. I see the fear in her eyes. She might be hiding behind being pissed at me, but I see the fear.

  “I don’t want in your lap again,” she complains, but I gently maneuver her so that she’s sitting cross-ways on my lap. It feels good. It feels right having her in my arms, and that’s something that should make me panic, but for some unknown reason, it doesn’t.

  “Talk to me, Beauty,” I urge her, the nickname yet again, rolling off my tongue with ease. I feel her body shudder and a second later, she relaxes against me.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she tells me, and those words soothe me. I don’t want her to fear me. Ever. “I like…I mean…Well…It’s different with you…” she rattles, and I can feel the tension starting to return in her body and that’s the last thing I want. I squeeze her encouragingly, even kissing the top of her head. “I like when you touch me, Michael. I like when you are around,” she finally whispers.

  My heart literally stutter-steps in my chest. I lean down and take her lips gently; this kiss has nothing to do with sex and more to do with gratitude. Whatever she’s been through, it wasn’t pretty and yet, she trusts me enough to let her guard down. It’s misplaced. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust—least of all hers, but I like that she is giving it to me. I break away from her lips slowly, savoring her taste on mine.

  “You’re killing me, Michael,” she whispers with a half-smile, using my own words against me. That earns her another squeeze.

  “Tell me about Blade.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “I get that, but I need to know.”

  “Why? He doesn’t have anything to do with whatever is going on between us,” she argues, and I hate that I can hear the panic in her voice. The secrets that she’s hiding may be worse than I’ve been preparing for. I had made up my mind to end Blade before. I have a feeling that waiting to end him might be even harder after Hayden tells me what happened.

  “He showed up where you worked. He has me in his sights. I need to know, Hayden.”

  “What do you mean he has you in his sights?” she asks, and I hate the terror I hear in her voice now. I never told her what really happened to my truck. I’m not going to. She doesn’t need to know.

  “You’re under my protection, Hayden. And for some reason, Blade has been watching you. He’s made a move toward you. It’s time you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Michael…”

  “If that’s not enough reason, Hayden, then the fact that whatever is going on between us personally makes it necessary for me to know.”

  “It doesn’t…not really. Whatever is between us, it’s just us.”

  “You know better. Tell me what happened, Hayden. Help me understand.”

  I see her getting ready to argue. Then all at once, I see it. Defeat. She’s going to tell me, which pleases me, but it hurts me at the same time. I don’t want this to be another thing she loses.

  Fuck.

  66

  Hayden

  “I don't get why this is so important,” I mumble, but I'm deluding myself if I think he's going to change his mind. I even understand why he wants to know. He stuck his neck out for me, going against Blade. He's entitled to know what happened. The problem is talking about it, reliving any of it, scares me. That's what it boils down to. I don't want to relive it. I don't want to remember how stupid, how weak I was. Those memories torment me enough and do it when I am not expecting it, at times when I have no control. My mantra, ‘today I will be stronger,’ is just a joke. I'm not stronger today. I am wondering if I ever will be strong. The shame of that fills me.

  "Hayden?" Michael prompts me, and I pull myself out of my head with a sigh.

  "I have, or I guess had, a half-brother."

  "Had?" Michael asks, and his voice sounds off.

  "The last note I had from him pretty much said that he had finally fucked over the wrong people. I haven't heard anything else, so I figured it all finally caught up with him.”

  "You don't sound particularly broken up about it," Michael says. I should be annoyed at him, but he doesn't sound like he's passing judgment. There's something in his tone, but it's not judgment. I look up to find him studying me. "I take it you two weren't close?"

  "I wanted to be…once I thought we were. I was horribly wrong," I answer, my head down as the memories from the past begin circling around me.

  "Tell me," he asks, when I don't say anything further.

  "I didn't have a particularly great life growing up. Mom was…in and out of rehab. Dad stuck around, probably longer than most men would have. He had a boy who was about ten years older than me. I'd like to say he stuck around because he knocked my mom up and cared what happened to me. I think though he stuck around so mom could help him raise his son. Not that she was capable of that. But my father didn't really like kids. He wanted Jack because he wanted a boy to carry on the family name. He didn't have any use for a girl. So when mom became too much to handle, he split—taking Jack with him."

  "Your father was an asshole."

  "Yeah, I think I have a knack for collecting them." I look up when Michael grunts, and I even find a way to smile at the offended look he's wearing. I reach up and touch his face gently. "Present company excluded," I tell him, and I actually mean it.

  Michael bends down and kisses me. It's a brief kiss, but it somehow warms me. When it's done, he links our hands together. He squeezes my hand tight for a minute, then his thumb softly brushes against my knuckles as he waits for me to continue. Before Michael, I'm not sure I ever held hands with any man. Now, it's something I crave. With a sigh, I try to concentrate on what I was telling him.

  It's not easy.

  The story, my story is ugly.

  It makes me feel ugly.

  "What happened when your father and brother left?"

  "Not a lot. Mom stayed high, sometimes she'd disappear for days. I was sixteen by then, and I pretty much raised myself."

  "Fuck," Michael mutters, squeezing my hand tighter.

  "To be honest, I preferred it that way. Living on my own, was easier. I had a job at a small diner, and I stretched what I made pretty far. Every now and then, my mom would make an appearance, but usually she was only after money. At first, I resisted, eventually it was easier to just give her some money to get rid of her."

  "Jesus, Beauty," he says, kissing my forehead. It's a stupid nickname, but for some reason whenever he uses it, I actually feel beautiful.

  "That was one of my first major mistakes though. Because all I did was train mom to come to me when she was in trouble. Sadly, trouble for junkies is really big trouble sometimes."

  "What does that mean?" Michael asks, and his body is tense now. I wish I could reassure him, bu
t there's no reassurance to be found in my life—especially when it comes to my family.

  "Mom had a supplier after her. She owed him a bunch of money. He thought he would collect it…from me."

  Michael doesn't say anything but the intense vibe in the room lets me know he understands what I'm saying. His grip on my hand is almost painful, but I like it. It grounds me to the here and now and keeps me from getting lost in my past.

  "When I wouldn't agree to that, he demanded money. Money I didn't have."

  "What…what did you do?" he asks, clearing his throat before finishing the sentence. I don't dare look at him. If I do that, I'll never get this story out, and Michael's not going to let me stop until he hears it.

  "I made the second major mistake. I reached out to my brother. Jack and I had kept in touch here and there. Enough that I knew how to get him a message. I swallowed my pride and told him what was going on, and I asked if he could help get me away from my mother and her pimp…because that's what her supplier truly was, and he didn't like that I wouldn't agree to join his stable."

  "Is your mom still alive?"

  "No. She overdosed years ago."

  "Good," he says, and that word sounds extremely cold, but I can't find it inside me to correct him. I take a shuddering breath and try to figure out how to finish the story, keeping the details to a minimum.

  “Jack offered to get me out of there, and at the time, I was desperate. I didn’t realize he had his own agenda.”

  “What was that?” Michael asks, and I have to fight with myself to give him the answer.

  What will he think of me?

  67

  Beast

  I’m doing my best to keep my anger hidden. I’m not fully succeeding, but Hayden doesn’t need to know just how much fury I have bottled up inside of me now. Pistol, or Jack as she calls him, was a fucking waste of air. We should have killed him sooner. What kind of asshole would let his sister live like she did and use her on top of all that? Christ. I never liked the asshole, but even I was clueless when it came to how pathetic he truly was.

  “He brought me out here. I knew he was in a motorcycle club, he talked about his brothers. I assumed that’s where I was going, but when I got here, he had arranged it so I was living with the Shadow Dwellers…and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t even a member. It hit me as strange, you know?” she asks, but I don’t answer.

  I don’t particularly know what to say. Hayden is embarrassed. I can tell by the way she’s refusing to look at me.

  She sighs and begins talking again, “I didn’t know how these things worked. He said they were his friends—allies who promised to help take care of me. He mentioned something about being involved with some heavy shit, and he didn’t want me to get caught in the crossfire. He said the Dwellers would protect me.”

  “Protect you from who?” I ask. Now it’s all I can do not to fucking throw something across the room. He was cutting our throats and selling his sister to get allies to hide from us. Jesus, I wish he was still alive so I could kill him all over again.

  “He just said his own club was getting involved in something illegal, and he was going to make sure he didn’t go down with them. He didn’t want me to be used against him—at least that’s what he said,” she explains. The tone of her voice leads me to believe, she knows better now. Did she find out the hard way what a twisted bastard he was?

  “So, he just left you with those assholes and you stayed?” I growl, without thinking. My frustration and my anger both getting the better of me. I know the instant I say it, that it’s a mistake. Her body goes completely solid. She pulls away from me, and for once I let her go. She stands up, looking down at me, and I see the pain in her eyes, but it’s the hurt that is shining inside them that bothers me more.

  “Don’t you judge me, Michael. I see what an idiot I was now, but back then…Back then Blade was the first person who seemed like he ever gave a damn about me. I was young and stupid, sure. But, he made me feel like someone cared. I’d never had that and I wanted it. I needed it.”

  “He’s a fucking monster,” I growl, more upset that she cared for the idiot at all. Somewhere in my head, I was convinced that he had raped her. That he had hurt her. There was no way someone like Hayden could care about that fucking piece of shit. I don’t like knowing that she did. I hate it.

  Hayden looks at me and holds her hand over her stomach. “I know that now, but for a while…he wasn’t. For a while…he was good to me, Michael.”

  “And when did he stop being…good to you?”

  “Do you have to be an asshole?”

  “It’s a simple question.” I shrug, knowing my tone made it anything but simple. I’m being stupid, but I can’t get over the fact that she once cared for that fuckwad.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore with you,” she says, walking away. I watch her leave, but follow quickly. I stop her in the kitchen, spinning her around to face me.

  “We need to talk about this,” I growl. I’m mad, but I honestly don’t know if it’s at her, or myself.

  “No, we don’t. You’re being a dick, and I don’t have any idea why!”

  “I don’t like the idea of you caring for that asshole,” I admit, before I can stop myself.

  “I’m pregnant! Did you think I just got that way magically? Of course, I cared for him. If I hadn’t, I would have never slept with him! How did you think this happened?” she asks, exasperated, indicating to her stomach with a nod of her head.

  “I thought he forced himself on you,” I growl.

  She takes a step back, her face going white. “You thought I was raped?”

  “It made sense. You have these panic attacks out of nowhere. You live like a hermit and you’re afraid of your shadow. What the fuck-else was I supposed to think?”

  “Wow. You’ve really thought about this,” she whispers, keeping her face down so I can’t see what she’s thinking.

  “Of course I have. Why the hell else do you think I’ve been afraid to fuck you?” I growl. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Afraid to fuck me?” she asks, and I scowl.

  “Damn it, Hayden,” I mutter, rubbing my hand across my beard. I’m not handling this well. Fucking shit, I’m not handling any of this like I should.

  “You need to go.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I tell her stubbornly. “I can’t leave you alone until we get your ex-boyfriend and his crew contained.” I tell her that coldly. I know the words wound. They were meant to because I’m an asshole. They were meant to, because I’m feeling jealousy over Hayden, and I don’t like it. Her head jerks up as I deliver my verbal slap.

  “Fine. Then I’ll leave,” she says, and the tears shining in her eyes makes my stomach turn. Her hurt takes my breath away, and I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.

  Before I can react, she’s out the door. I shake my head thinking she’s bluffing and just throwing a fit. She can’t go anywhere. So, I cross my arms and wait for her to come back in. A few minutes later, she still hasn’t walked through the door. I step outside, intent on dragging her back inside, but when I open the door, her little tinker-toy of a car is backing out of the driveway. How the fuck did she get the keys to that piece of shit?

  Motherfucker.

  68

  Hayden

  I shut my car off on a sigh filled with disappointment. I’m not sure if the disappointment is directed at myself, Michael, or maybe a little bit of both of us. I’m sitting outside of Charlie’s. I know I’m not being reasonable. I just couldn’t stand the look in Michael’s eyes or the condemnation in his voice. Being with Blade was a huge mistake, an epically huge one, and it was stupid in every sense of the word. I was an idiot. Still, having Michael look at me and talk to me the way he did? It hurt.

  I needed to get away from him. If I'm honest, I'm surprised he didn't follow me. If I'm extremely honest, I wanted him to follow me and stop me. I wanted him to put his arms around me and just…accept me. Which makes
no sense, but that's exactly how I feel.

  My mind and my thoughts are way too chaotic. I need time to myself. That's all. Charlie is always inviting me over. I'll crash here tonight and try to get control of myself. This relationship…or whatever is happening between Michael and myself, I think maybe it's too much. The last thing I need is to open myself up to another man. Although deep down I know that Michael isn’t any other man, despite how much he hurt me back there. My track record with men, as short as it is, is horrible.

  I have too much going on, and the renewed threat from Blade and his club, is all I have time to worry about. Maggie needs to be my top priority. I should be packing up and getting as far away from Blade and the rest of his club, as quickly as possible. I should not be dreaming of Michael and…

  God, we haven't even had sex, but he's still all I can think of. Every time he touches me, I lose complete control. I don't understand why I'm not afraid of him, why he seems to calm me and make me feel safe when all other men scare the hell out of me. It defies explanation, I only know I want more of him. Which is bad. I can't have him. I can't let him get close to me—if for no other purpose than the fact that him being close to me is bad for him and me. For some reason, I feel like Michael is the motivation behind Blade coming to the diner. Blade never liked it when someone else got near what he deemed as his property. He told me that himself those weeks when he was…teaching me a lesson. I thought I proved him wrong. I got away. I got free…maybe I was just fooling myself.

  Charlie's seems empty. Maybe she's asleep? I should probably leave, but I really can't face Michael right now.

  I walk to the front door and knock. There's no answer. I try to look inside through the glass panel on the door, but there’s no sign of her. All signs are pointing to her being gone. Her truck isn’t here, but her car is in the driveway and that’s the one she drives most of the time. Besides, Charlie's always home and when she's not…she drives her car. She hates driving the truck because it’s standard shift. She also never lets anyone else drive. She's always going on how people drive like maniacs and she doesn't trust anyone behind the wheel but herself.