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

by L. C. Hibbett

Mac leaned over and rested his hand next to mine. “Xander and Jonathan can take care of themselves, you don’t need to worry about them.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t the two men I was concerned for. “They’ll prowl the woods until the sun comes up to make sure we don’t have any more trouble. And they have Faye. She’s got her ways; she’s not as delicate as she looks.”

  Teddy unfolded himself and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rode up and I spied smooth, dark skin stretched over rock hard muscle. I looked away quickly but his lazy grin told me he guessed I liked what I had seen. Maybe werewolves could sense when you were attracted to them. Maybe they could smell the pheromones—

  “Lasagna?” Teddy and Mac were both staring at me. I lifted my eyebrows and Teddy repeated himself. “You want some lasagna?”

  “Eh,” I said. Wasn’t there some rule about not accepting food from werewolves? Or maybe that was fairies. My stomach churned painfully at the thought of food. Fuck it, at least if they were going to put me under a spell, I’d have had a decent last meal. “Sure, I’d love some.”

  Teddy strolled over to the kitchen area and started clattering around in the pantry. I groaned and rested my head on my knees. Fae, vampires, witches, werewolves—Teddy and Mac were werewolves. And they acted like nice, kind, decent people. And hot. They were so distractingly hot. My brain hurt. “I need a drink.”

  “Sure. We’ve got water, juice, cola? Beer?” Mac’s hand was still resting on the bed, only inches from my own.

  I lifted my head. “You got vodka?”

  Mac and Teddy looked at each other and then back at me. Teddy’s eyes narrowed into that perfect crescent moon shape as he pulled a super-sized bottle of vodka from the pantry. Mac grabbed my hand and helped me onto my feet as Teddy poured three shots into each of the tumblers he’d tossed onto the counter.

  Mac raised his glass and tilted his head to one side. “Welcome to Blackwood Forest, Miss O’ Neill.”

  Teddy clinked his tumbler against mine and lifted it to his lips. “Down the hatch, Izzy. I can’t think of a better way to get over seeing Xander's hairy, naked ass turning into a ginger wolf.”

  I almost choked as a snort of laughter collided with the burning liquid. I slammed my glass down onto the counter and Mac filled it to the brim again. My lips curved around the rim of the glass as I tried to process the surreal scene. What a joke; two wolves and a disgraced soldier walked into a bar—it was a mess. But for the first time since the ass had fallen out of my life, I wasn’t drinking alone. And it felt okay.

  Chapter Eight

  The room was spinning. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow. My thighs slithered over satin sheets. Where the hell was I?

  “Theodore and Simon have informed me that you saw Jonathan change.” Oh, fuck. I pulled the comforter over my head and groaned into the pillow. Alexander Blackwood. Awesome. He didn’t even have the decency to catch me doing the walk of shame, he had to come right to the scene of the crime. Not that I was precisely sure what the crimes had been, my memory was a little hazy around the edges. There’d been vodka, and gin, and tequila, and arm wrestling, and truth or dare. Oh, God. Lap dances. There had been lap dances. A blush spread from cheeks down over the most sensitive parts of my body. If things went bad for Teddy in the werewolf business, he would make a pretty damn good exotic dancer or stripper. Stripping. Sweet Lord—there had been stripping.

  “You’ll find painkillers and water on the kitchen counter when you’re ready, Miss O’ Neill. You might want to return to your room to shower, the bathroom here is in use. I’d appreciate if you could join me in my study when you’re dressed.” Blackwood’s voice was like fingernails dragging along a chalkboard. Clearly, I had died from alcohol poisoning and this was the seventh circle of hell. I exhaled as I heard his footsteps retreating and a door creak open. “Your clothes are on the sofa, just in case you’re looking for them. And your bra is hanging from the basketball hoop.”

  Blackwood closed the door softly on my last shred of dignity.

  “Izzy, you’re an idiot,” I moaned as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted them on the floor. I scanned the surface of the huge bed, trying to remember how exactly I had gotten there—naked except for my panties. “What the hell did I do?”

  “Strip poker.” Mac leaned his shoulder against the frame of the bathroom door. A cloud of steam crept into the room and the sound of a shower running hummed in the background, barely audible over a hoarse voice singing. Mac smiled as he slammed the door. “Teddy. Thinks he’s Sinatra.”

  I clamped the comforter under my armpits and shuffled into the kitchen, popping two painkillers and chasing them with a slug of water. “Just strip poker, right? We didn’t. . . ”

  Mac rested his elbows on the counter. His hair was damp from the shower and a lock had fallen onto his forehead. I had to grip my bottle of water with both hands to stop myself from leaning into him and brushing it out of his eyes. He gave me a crooked smile. “Just strip poker.”

  “Good.” I took another gulp of water to help me swallow the unexpected wave of disappointment. “Did I win?”

  Mac’s shoulders shook with laughter and I found myself grinning along. He tilted his head to one side. “Sure, you won.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re lying, Simon MacIntrye. I can deal with losing, you don’t need to pander to me.” He grinned sheepishly and I reached over and grabbed his arm. “I knew it. You are a terrible liar—”

  Mac tried to snatch his hand away but my fingers brushed the sleeve of his shirt and then connected with fur and claws. Mac winced and shoved his arms behind his back. “I should go. Xander and Jonathan are waiting in the study.”

  I shuffled after him, gripping the comforter, and plucked at the back of his shirt. “Mac!” He stopped but didn’t turn to face me. I tugged gently on his sleeve. “Mac?”

  He turned slowly.

  I didn’t let go of his arm. “Is my father trying to find a cure for being a werewolf?”

  “Being a werewolf isn’t a sickness, Izzy. It’s not like you see in the movies. We’re not monsters, a werewolf bite can’t turn you into one of us—it’s just who we are. It’s in our genetic code. And we can change our form at will; wolf to human, human to wolf.” His lips lifted at the corners. “Running through the woods, at one with the earth—it’s not a bad thing.”

  “But something’s gone wrong. You are sick, all of you, right?” I said.

  Mac’s jaw hardened and, for the first time, I saw a glint of steel in his eyes. “Vampires. A rogue nest. They managed to infect us with something, some form of virus that’s preventing us from control our shifting ability. We can shift into wolf form, but shifting back to human is becoming increasingly more difficult. Your father has been working with us to try and isolate and cure the infection—he managed to create a treatment that allows us to control our bodies, but the effect only lasts a few hours.”

  The look of sadness in Mac’s eyes made my throat ache. I felt a wave of helpless anger. “So, take it every few hours. Don’t let the sickness control you.”

  “Doesn’t work, we’ve tried. After the shot wears off, it takes the same length of time again before our bodies will accept the treatment effectively. A few hours of control, a few hours without.” Mac stared down at his clawed feet. I opened my mouth to say something about that not being so bad, but Mac spoke first. “And the times when we aren’t in control are getting worse. We’re having to fight harder to regain our human form. Your father estimates that by the end of the month, we’ll no longer be able to shift back to human form at all without the treatment.”

  “But if you can’t shift, if you’re living like wolves, how will you even get the treatment? I mean, will someone have to hunt you down every day and shoot with a dart of treatment?” Mac’s throat bobbed and I clamped my mouth shut.

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah, it’s not ideal.”

  “We won’t let it happen.” I t
ook a step forward, drawn by a force beyond my control. I reached for Mac’s forehead and brushed his damp hair off his face with my fingertip. “My Dad and me, we’ll find a cure. We’ll make this okay.”

  Mac’s face was only inches away from mine. A sudden flashback slammed me from behind—Mac’s lips on mine, Teddy’s mouth on my shoulder. I inhaled sharply and heat surged through my core. “Last night, did we . . .”

  “Just a kiss. I didn’t want to embarrass you by mentioning it,” Mac mumbled.

  I scrunched up my nose. “We got pretty tipsy, huh? I’m usually better at handling my drink.”

  Mac grinned. “Yeah, you told us. Several times.”

  “What?” I said.

  “I think the exact line was, ‘I can drink you hairy bastards under the table, any day. Any. Day.’ It got a bit harder to figure out what you were saying when you started slurring and drooling, but I’m pretty sure that was it.” Mac’s smirk spread the full width of his face.

  I sank down on the edge of the bed. “Stop, stop! I don’t want to know anymore. I’m done.”

  Mac sat down beside me and a comfortable silence settled over us. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If somebody had told me yesterday that I would be sitting beside a werewolf and feeling warm and fuzzy, I probably would have socked them in the jaw. Life—kicks you when you’re down and then lifts you in the most unexpected ways. “Mac?” He turned to look at me. His dark eyes were flecked with amber in the morning light. “Thanks for last night. You and Teddy—I could have spiraled, all the stuff you told me . . . Thanks for being patient. And fun. I had fun. It’s been a while since I did. So, thanks.”

  “I had fun too.” Mac stared down at his hands and then back up at me. “Strip poker, shots, dares—I never did that kind of stuff when I was younger really. I’d never even drink hard liquor before I met Teddy and the pack.” I lifted an eyebrow in disbelief and he spread his hands. “It wasn’t my thing. I liked studying and reading—making great grades still kicks Tequila's ass any day of the week, and it doesn’t give you a hangover.”

  “So you're saying school is better than tequila. . .” I gave Mac a skeptical once-over.

  He grinned. “I said winning at school was better than tequila, smart ass.” Mac’s fingers edged a little closer than mine on the mattress and he fixed his gaze on my face. “But last night was good. I kind of get why Teddy was willing to put up with years of hangovers now—sometimes alcohol and fun does trump books and work. If you're with the right person.”

  For a moment, we were both still, nothing but a few inches of empty space between us. I held my breath as Mac leaned closer and my heart began to flutter in anticipation. A sudden flicker of light passed over the windowpane behind us and he sprang away from me, heading for the door. I stared at him, cold air enveloping me now that he had moved away. “You okay?”

  Mac opened the door and spoke without meeting my eye. “I’ve got to go. Xander wants to see me downstairs. We need to arrange for somebody to take you home.”

  The door falling shut hit me like the starting gun in a race. I grabbed my clothes and made an attempt to retrieve my bra from the basketball hoop, keeping one eye on the bathroom. My head and heart were both thumping. Somebody to take me home? My stomach dipped. Whatever I was remembering from the night before was clearly one-sided. Teddy and Mac didn’t feel the same way. I had to get back to my room before Teddy came out of the shower and I made a bigger fool of myself.

  I dragged a chair under the hoop and yanked my bra but it was caught on one of the metal hooks that held the netting in place. “Come on, come on, stupid bra.”

  The sound of the shower being switched off forced me to give up the fight. I threw my jeans and shirt on, grabbed my boots and jacket, and scampered out of the room, leaving my bra dangling like a purple flag.

  The corridor was blessedly empty and I made my way back to the guest bedroom without incident. The broken door had already been repaired and everything was back in its place. Somebody had left clothes and underwear on the bed, presumably for me to wear. I lifted the skimpy offering with pinched fingers and stared at them in disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  “Not to your taste, child?” I released my breath in a huff and turned my back to the mirror, throwing my boots and jacket on the bed beside the baby pink dress and the ivory lingerie. When the fairy’s voice came again, it was from the direction of the window. “There’s a whole wardrobe of my clothing to choose from if you wish. I wouldn’t have chosen something so form fitting for you, but Alexander simply couldn’t be told.”

  “Blackwood chose my clothes?” I glared at the figure in the glass and the fairy gave me a self-satisfied grin as if she’d just gained a little treasure. I cursed under my breath and started to strip off for the shower, maybe a bit of nudity would embarrass the fae from the room. “Whatever, I actually don’t give a damn who chose the clothes.”

  I threw my dirty laundry into a hamper in the corner and headed for the ensuite bathroom. Thick, fluffy towels hung on the rack beside the walk-in double shower and I buried my face in one as I waited for the shower water to run hot.

  “He even chose the undergarments—spent quite a lot of time selecting them. Some people might suspect him of having more than a casual interest.” Faye’s reflection was perched on the side of the sink. She looked far younger than I did at that moment, with her long red hair tumbling over her shoulders and her bare legs swinging. I eyed my own reflection in the shower door with a shudder; I looked like I’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight champion.

  “Are you planning on staying with me while I shower?” I snatched a bottle of shampoo from the cabinet and stared into the mirror.

  Faye ran her hand down the side of her neck and onto her chest. “Is that an invitation, Isabelle? It’s been quite some time since a pretty girl invited me to watch her bathe. But you’re not like other girls, Belle, are you?”

  Her words caressed my ear and I suddenly felt the full weight of last night bearing down on me. Like a deep tissue massage, pressing on all the most sensitive points of my body. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. “I genuinely don’t care what you do, Fairy. Whatever floats your boat.”

  I stepped under the hot water and snapped the shower door shut, but her voice seemed to travel with me as if it was coming from the flowing water. At first, I closed my eyes and tried to block her out but she was everywhere. In the blissfully hot water that caressed my skin. In the tiles that I pushed my palms against to steady my woozy body. Her whisper made the hairs on the back of my neck tremble. “I saw you last night, Isabelle, with your boys. Do you remember?”

  Unbidden, my body reacted to her words and I had a vivid memory of Mac’s hands trailing over my bare arms while Teddy kissed my lips. My head fell back and I let the water hit my face and trickle down my body and over my bare breasts. The world swam in front of my face and I had the strangest sensation of being not quite myself.

  Faye’s murmuring was in my ears, and while one part of my brain suspected she was weaving some sort of enchantment, my body longer cared as I gave way to my wants and desires for the first time in months. I ran my hands over my skin, pinching my nipples and rubbing my fingers between my legs, imagining I wasn’t alone. The pleasure built to a crescendo as Faye whispered and the hot water beat down on my skin while fantasies of Teddy and Mac touching me assailed my body like a torrent. Just as I reached the peak, a third pair of hands joined the fantasy and I shuddered over the edge of orgasm imagining another mouth on mine. I gasped for breath and leaned against the shower wall with the thought of Alexander Blackwood’s naked body scorched into my mind.

  When I finally relinquished the shower’s hold on me and stumbled onto the tiles, groping for one of the kitten soft towels, I half-expected Faye would be gone, but she was still sitting where I had left her. Her hair was tousled and her pretty dress was crumpled and disheveled. She smiled at me with lazy eyes. “You enjoyed the shower, Isabelle.”

>   I rested my hands on either side of the sink and ran my gaze over the dress bunched around her thighs. “Looks like you enjoyed it too, which isn’t creepy at all.”

  “You invited me in, Isabelle.” The fairy showed no sign of awkwardness or embarrassment. She sighed. “It’s been a long time since this bathroom gave me so much pleasure. I had some blissful moments in that shower. . .”

  I rested my towel-clad butt on the edge of the sink and stared into the mirror. “Why can’t you leave the glass, Faye? How long have you been trapped there?”

  “For almost twelve moons, since the vampires cast their curse over Blackwood Forest,” Faye’s eyes lost their impish gleam and I thought her face looked even more beautiful in melancholy.

  “The curse? You mean the virus the vampires infected Mac and Teddy with? And the other two—Blackwood and Jonathan.” I muttered Blackwood’s name, irritated by my body’s awareness of his physical beauty, despite the fact that he was clearly an asshat.

  Faye’s smile made me feel as though she could see straight into my mind. I frowned at her and she gave a tinkling laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “We were discussing the virus?” I said.

  Faye’s stretched her arms over her head lazily. “Simon calls it a virus, your father calls it a toxic infestation, but I have lived long enough to know a curse when I see it.”

  “You know my father?” The question blurted from my lips.

  Faye tilted her head to one side. “I have known your father for many years, little one. Many years.” I opened my mouth to question her further, but Faye silenced me with a flick of her wrist. “Before the curse, I was free to roam these lands, as you and your family do. My sisters and I have called many places home, but we were most happy here at Blackwood Manor. In my long life, this is the only place where I found true love.”

  The fairy’s smile was so brittle that I hesitated to press her further. I reached for a silver comb and started to ease the tangles from the ends of my hair. Faye pressed her fingers against the glass. “You have such thick hair, Isabelle—a forest of waves. It reminds me of my youngest sister’s hair. You would like her, she’s sweet, like your girl Francesca. Gentle.”