Beauty's Beasts: An Urban Fantasy Fairy Tale (Poison Courts Book 1)

by L. C. Hibbett

  The cute guy nodded his head respectfully at my father. “Dr. O’ Neill, it’s great to see you, sir, I wasn’t around when you arrived yesterday. Did you need my help with something? The assistance light was flashing in the den.”

  Alexander Blackwood raised his hand. “I was the one who called for assistance, Mac. Dr. O’ Neill’s daughter is just leaving, could you please show her out? Drive behind her as far as the road and make sure she gets through the forest without incident.”

  Cute guy glanced at me with undisguised curiosity. “Sure thing, Xander. It’s pleasure to meet you, Miss O’ Neill, I’m a big fan of your father’s work. I studied his theory of artificial cognizance during my grad program. We’re honored to have him working with us.”

  There were a thousand things I could have said—I was a science major too, or I helped my dad collect his initial data for that project, or even I like goddamn pepperoni pizza. Seriously, anything remotely normal would have done. Instead, I said, “You’re wearing clothes.”

  Total. Moron.

  Cute guy lifted his eyebrows, and my father gave me a warning glare. He’d seen me crushing before and it was never a pretty sight. Chesca got the looks and the sweet disposition, Nicole had enough feminine magnetism to make a Siren jealous—but me? I got brains, athletic skills, and absolutely no game. I avoided my father’s eye and stared down at my boots, pressing my lips together so I couldn’t embarrass myself further.

  “Yeah, we wear clothes most of the time. The fur doesn’t cover everything. Not yet, anyway.” The cute guy shrugged his shoulders and gave me a half smile. I tried really, really hard not to wonder what parts of the men’s bodies were still covered by naked skin. He tilted his head to one side and looked over my shoulder at Alexander Blackwood. “Actually, why are you only wearing pants?”

  Alexander reached inside a drawer under one of the desks and pulled on a form-fitting black turtleneck. “Peter had just finished examining me when his daughter arrived. She didn’t announce herself at the door, so I had no time to dress before I warned Theodore and Jonathan to stand down.”

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I gave Blackwood a sarcastic stare. “How rude of me not to announce myself to the men who have my father chained up in their basement until he finds a cure for whatever spoiled little rich kid mess they’ve gotten themselves into.” I eyeballed Alexander Blackwood, ignoring the look my father was giving me. Everything about that guy’s attitude rubbed me the wrong way.

  Blackwood held my stare unwaveringly, but I got the infuriating impression that he found me more amusing than threatening. He didn’t lift his eyes from mine as he addressed his companion again. “Mac, it’s time for our guest to be on her way—make sure she doesn’t accidentally borrow any of the silverware on her way out.”

  I threw my eyes to heaven but didn’t take the bait. Mac stretched his arm out politely, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. I folded my arms. “I’m not sure what exactly you’re struggling to understand, Blackwood. I’m going nowhere without my father.”

  “Isabelle!” My father raised his voice to a holler and silence fell over the lab. He gave me a hard stare and drew me close enough to whisper in my ear. “Go home, Isabelle, and don’t discuss anything you’ve seen here with your sisters. You need to stop treating me like I’m some sort of fuddy-duddy, I’m a grown man on an extremely tight deadline, and you’re embarrassing me.” I snapped away from my father with burning cheeks as he addressed the two men. “I’m sorry, I should have been better prepared for this situation—my daughter has a very curious nature.”

  “I think it’s pretty understandable that a daughter mightn’t want to see their father manacled to the floor.” The cute wolf-guy shot me a sympathetic smile.

  “Naturally,” my father said. “But she’s going to sensible now, aren’t you, Belle? You’re going to let me finish my work.”

  “If we were being sensible, you’d do your work at home in your own lab—that’s where you work best and quickest,” I insisted.

  Alexander Blackwood exhaled in a low growl. He glared at my father. “Can you work best at home, Dr. O’ Neill?”

  “Well, yes.” My father looked flustered. “But I’ve signed a contract with the Guild. They were very particular about the terms.”

  “Yes.” Blackwood stroked his jaw slowly. “You swore your flesh and blood would remain on Blackwood land until his oath has been fulfilled.”

  “Flesh and blood?” I stared at Blackwood.

  Mac, the cute scientist, shifted his weight and I noticed that his feet were clawed and deformed like his hands. I wrapped my arms tighter around my body. Mac’s voice was soft. “It’s just an old fashioned term. It means that your father has promised our people that he and his kin are bound to our cause.”

  “Your people?” I was beginning to feel like a parrot. Much more of this and I’d grow feathers.

  Blackwood narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Our employers.”

  “Of course. There had to be somebody else involved, how else would you decapitate your rival gang members and not have your asses hauled in front of a judge. Typical,” I hissed.

  The intensity of Blackwood’s growl caught me off-guard as he crossed the space between us in a flash. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? You’re going to disrupt your father’s work until his time is spent and ours with it.” His growl softened as he glanced at my father and I felt the first stab of genuine fear—I’d underestimated the rich kid. “I’m sorry, Peter. You understand, it’s the only way.”

  In a heartbeat, Blackwood exposed his retina to a panel in the wall and the manacles restraining my father opened. The beast grabbed my father by the waist and before I could say a word, they were gone.

  Chapter Four

  “Let me go.” I flung myself at the door of the small isolation room Mac had tossed me into and pressed my face against the small window. The cute-but-untrustworthy scientist slid the hatch open and gave me an awkward wave. I rested my face against the door and pretended to weep. When the wolf-guy took a step closer, I thrust my hand through the hatch and tried to grab him his flesh, but he slithered out of my grip with unnatural ease. I swore. “Let me the hell out of here or I’ll kick your furry butt.”

  “Miss O’ Neill, I really need you to stop fighting me.” I stared past Mac to my confiscated weapons lying on a desk. “I’ve explained that your father is safe—” Science boy’s monologue was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. Mac stared at the screen and his face visibly relaxed. “Thank the gods.” He pressed the speaker button and turned his stare back to me. “Miss O’ Neill, your father’s on the phone.”

  “Isabelle?” My chest tightened at the sound of my father’s voice.

  I reached for the cell but Mac took a step back with an apologetic grimace. I narrowed my eyes and focused on my father’s voice. “Dad, it’s me, are you okay?”

  “Isabelle,” my father sighed. I raised my eyebrows, taken aback by his exasperated tone. “You’ve really done it this time, Isabelle. Honestly, since you came home—I’ve no idea what to do with you. You’ve interfered with an extremely important contract, Isabelle. Blackwood has returned me to the house so I can complete the project in my own lab, but to fulfill the terms of the contract someone of my flesh and blood must stay on Blackwood property. Your sister Nicole has volunteered, she’s eager to have a look inside the manor, so a member of the Guild is going to collect her and you can swap places—”

  “No.” I screwed my face up. “No, you can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deathly serious, unfortunately. I signed a binding contract,” he said.

  I gripped the edge of the hatch. “Then I’ll stay. I messed everything up—it’s on me to stay.” My father began to respond but I backed away from the door.

  Mac’s voice filtered into the room as he finished the conversation with my father. “Yes, sir, we’ll take good care of her. No, sir, I can see that—we’ll keep our wits about us. Thanks, Dr. O’ Neill. T
alk later.”

  The door slid open and Mac gestured for me to follow him into the lab. He tipped his head toward the table where my weapons lay. “You’re welcome to take them back if it would make you feel better.”

  Keeping one eye on Mac’s face, I gathered my stuff and strapped myself back together. When I was done, I rested my hand on my holster and watched Mac with tensed muscles. He gave me an awkward smile and pushed his claws through his messy hair. I winced as the razor-sharp talons brushed his pale skin. Mac dropped his arm back down to his side and let the extra long sleeves of his shirt fall down over his deformed hands. I grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I was just afraid you were going to cut yourself, you know, with your claws. Your fingers. Your fingernails.”

  Every red blood cell in my body rushed to my cheeks. I opened my mouth but let it snap shut again. Talking to a ridiculously cute, but potentially sneaky, beast man without making a complete fool of myself was an impossibility. Mac shrugged. “Seriously, it’s cool. I get it—people with claws aren’t something you see every day, you don’t need to be embarrassed. And this is a really weird situation—you’re bound to feel awkward. I say really stupid things when I’m awkward. And I’ll probably end up saying loads of idiotic stuff to you, I’m worse than useless when it comes to talking to beautiful girls.”

  My eyebrows peaked and Mac’s cheeks turned a brighter shade of red than my own. He scrunched his face up and held his arm out. “That sounded way less creepy in my head.” I laughed and he shot me a grateful grin. “Okay, can we start this crazy Stockholm situation over?” I snickered and Mac continued. “Hi, my name is Simon MacIntyre, but my friends call me Mac. I like science, I think your dad is a really cool guy, and I wear clothes.”

  “Hi.” I wiggled my fingers, grinning at his introduction, despite myself. “My name is Isabelle, most people call me Izzy. I like science too, and this is one of the most fucked up days of my life.”

  Mac tilted his head to one side. “You didn’t know your dad was working with us until today?”

  “I thought my father was still in Europe lecturing. He never mentioned Lunar Properties or Blackwood Forest. Well, except to forbid us from ever setting foot in the place when we were kids.” I stared down at the manacles on the floor. “Can’t imagine why anyone would avoid the hospitality here.”

  “Yeah,” Mac said. He nudged the manacles with his foot and gave me a sheepish smile. “This must look pretty bad from your perspective.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Come on, from what perspective does chaining people to the basement floor not look grim?”

  “I take your point,” Mac said. “If it’s any consolation at all, we really do like your dad. He’s amazing—a total genius. And we really appreciate how hard he’s working on this project.”

  I wanted to tell Mac it wasn’t any consolation, but despite my best intentions, the sincerity in the cute stranger’s voice cooled my fury. I tucked my hair behind my ears and gave him a grudging smile. “Yeah, well, I’ll agree with you on that one. He’s the smartest.”

  “He told me his daughters were even smarter,” Mac said, watching me from under ludicrously dark lashes.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I said he was smart, I never said he was sane—he’s a bit delusional about his daughters.”

  “His beautiful, smart, talented daughters?” Mac’s lips lifted at the corners as he watched my discomfort.

  “Yeah.” I grimaced. “That would be my sisters. I’m the—”

  “Crazy one?” Mac’s smile broadened. “The breaking and entering gave it away. And the gun. And the attitude with Alexander—only crazy people take Xander on.”

  I ground my teeth at the mention of Alexander Blackwood’s name. “Only crazy people could stand looking at his smug face for more than five minutes. Jerk.”

  Mac’s laughter bounced off the walls. “Xander’s just a bit…intense. He’s a good guy.”

  I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Maybe he should consider taking up acting because he sure does a great douche bucket impersonation.”

  “Honestly, his bark is worse than his bite.” Mac raised a clawed hand in jest. “Xander tried really hard to convince our bosses to let your father have a less stringent contract.”

  “They didn’t listen?” I asked.

  “They’re kind of old school when it comes to making deals. You couldn’t exactly call them flexible.” Mac scraped the edge of the workbench with his claws.

  “Right.” I stared down at the floor and nudged the manacles with my boot. “Are you going chain me up too?”

  “As I’ve already told you, Miss O’Neill, the silver manacles were for your father’s protection. There’s no need for you to wear them.” I jerked my head upward to find Alexander Blackwood standing in the doorway with two other figures in the shadows behind him.

  My spine tightened. “Because I’m not valuable enough to protect, is that it, Blackwood?”

  “No,” Blackwood said. “Because you don’t possess what our enemies seek.” He nodded at one of the figures behind him. “Teddy is going to accompany you to your room while Jonathan, Mac, and I justify our new situation to the Guild.”

  “The new situation being that I’m your prisoner now instead of my father, yeah?” I said. Blackwood raised one eyebrow but remained silent. “Well, I wouldn’t mind speaking to this Guild myself, in that case. And I want a video call to show that my dad is home safely, so I can see nobody is coercing him into corroborating with this story. And I want to see my sisters on the call too. And access to my father’s research here—the quicker we finish this job, the quicker we’re free of Blackwood Manor and your fuckwit Guild.”

  Blackwood’s stare traveled slowly over my body and back up to my face. I made a concerted effort to keep my breathing steady and even, but a corner of my brain couldn’t help but focus on the clear green of his gaze and the strong curve of his jaw. I clenched my fingers into a fist and glared at his gnarled claws. Blackwood’s expression hardened and he turned and exited the room without responding to my demands. His bark traveled back into the room over his broad shoulder. “Mac, Jonathan—the study. Teddy, please show Miss O’Neill to her room.”

  Mac gave me an apologetic glance before following Blackwood out of the room and up the stairs. I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse of the other figure walking with him, but all I could see was a shock of blond hair and a narrow frame in jeans and a leather jacket bounding up the steps two at a time. Which left only the mysterious Teddy and me in the basement. I dug my heels into the floor and waited for my jailer to enter the room so I could assess him in the light.

  He didn’t move.

  Silence fell as the sound of footsteps on the stairs and hushed voices faded away, but Teddy still didn’t budge from the threshold. I dropped my head forward and eyed his silhouette from under the shadow of my hair. Blackwood was a big guy, but this man was bigger. Much bigger. The quiet in the room started to feel oppressive; thick with the dread. One of Blackwood’s guys, at least, was prepared to rip men’s heads from their shoulders—what else were they capable of? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of movement and I spun to my left, whipping out my Beretta and unsettling a medical tray that had been discarded on a workbench, but there was nothing there, only a mirrored cabinet.

  “What the hell are you doing, lady?” Teddy lunged into the room and reached for the metal tray as it fell. It bounced off his claws and clattered noisily to the floor. A glass vial shattered and crimson blood splattered onto the clean linoleum. I watched as the dark red liquid oozed toward the beast’s clawed feet. He scrambled backward as if it was a poisonous snake. “Oh man, get a cloth or something. Cover that shit up.”

  I reached for a tray of paper napkins and examined the man pressing himself against the wall. Teddy was huge; he looked like he could lift me over his head with a single hand. Like Blackwood, he was wearing a turtleneck, presumably to cover a layer of fur, but his sweater did little to di
sguise his heavily muscled torso. I grinned as I grabbed a handful of napkins and shoved my gun back in its holster. If Blackwood had a bloodthirsty killer on his payroll, it wasn’t this guy. “You’re afraid of blood.”

  Teddy eased himself along the wall, making his way toward the door. His full lips were pressed together and his square jaw was tight. “Nah, I’m cool. Just a bit of blood, right? Sorry for yelling. Labs give me the creeps.”

  I picked up the metal tray and settled it on the workbench. “Whatever you say, Ted. Got any sterile gloves?”

  “Gloves?” Teddy repeated. I glanced at the huge man again. Rich smooth skin, strong high cheekbones, and soft lips appeared to pay homage to African ancestry, but the crescent moon of his large brown eyes reminded me of the year I had spent in the Philippines. He rubbed the inside of his wrist over his shaved head and flashed me a lopsided grin. “There might be some in your dad’s drawer under the desk—we don’t really have a lot of use for gloves.”

  “Right, of course—claws.” I tried to open the drawers under the desk where Dad had been working but they were locked tight. I tried one of the wall cabinets, avoiding my reflection as I tugged it open. Bingo. I pulled out a box of gloves and started to clean up the scattered instruments and broken glass.

  Teddy took a step closer, careful not to stand on any traces of blood. “Sorry, I’d help but…”

  He waved his arms and made a face. My lips curved upward—why the hell did Blackwood’s men have to be so damn cute? “Yeah, claws again. I get it.”

  I used an antiseptic wipe to remove the last traces of red from the floor and dumped the tray beside the stainless steel sink. The water was hot enough to sting my skin but I scrubbed my hands for a full minute before shaking them dry. I rested my hip against the sink and turned to face Teddy. “So, is anyone going to explain the whole fur and claws thing to me, or am I supposed to act like it’s not a total freak show?”