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

by L. C. Hibbett

  “Hey, I’m the boss here, Des, I could always change the roster.” His hand reached for the dry-wipe pen attached to the magnetic staff timetable but I snatched it and shoved it into my pocket.

  I shook my head. “No chance, asshole, I have plans. Now, run along and tell the kiddos the strip show is over—it’s closing time.”

  I rested my hip against the counter as I watched Nick tower over the table of drooling girls. I guessed from the thin layers and toned physiques that the three girls were shifters, like Nick, and I wondered did they know he was a Tiger. Siberian tiger shifters were huge, powerful and incredibly rare. Rumour had it the original Siberian tiger shifters were born of a tryst between the Siberian goddess Aysyt and the Norse god Loki.

  Before I wandered into The Paper Heart looking for a job to supplement the meagre income from my university grant, I’d never seen a tiger shifter in the flesh. When I lived under my father’s rule, I was forbidden to speak to any supernaturals who hadn’t sworn fealty to him, and my father wasn’t keen on shifters. Or mermen. Or fae—it was a long list. He liked to toy with unsuspecting humans from time to time, taking pleasure in slowly revealing the supernatural world with all its delights and horrors. Even though humans outnumbered supers vastly, without a living god, they were the most vulnerable of all the mortals. And there was nothing my immortal father loved more than having a helpless mortal at his mercy. Wanker.

  “Destiny?” Nick’s thumb stroked the inside my wrist and I started at his gentle touch, snatching my hand away instinctively. Nick dropped his arm to his side and tipped his head toward the empty table. “They’re gone.”

  I watched the three girls sashay away from the café through the huge windows that fronted the building; duck lips and perfect backsides—no stretch marks or nursing bras for them. I crossed my arms over my ample chest. “Just make sure you wear some clothes tomorrow, please. And tell some of your cheesy dad jokes—whatever it takes to get rid of them before my next shift.”

  “Dad jokes?” Nick raised his eyebrows.

  “Don’t take it personally, Methuselah. How many weeks until you hit the big three-zero, anyway? Three decades. Yikes.” I smirked at Nick as Lan turned off the lights in the kitchen. The tiny culinary genius dropped a brown paper bag onto the counter in front of me before she disappeared into the back of the building. The traces of vanilla frosting on the outside of the bag were enough to make me drool in anticipation. A mug of tea, one (or four) of Lan’s cupcakes, my aunt Aoife asleep in her armchair, and my little girl Saoirse curled up on my lap like a warm, pudgy ball of mischievous dough while we watched some awful kids’ television—the ingredients for a perfect evening. I called my thanks to Lan and untied my apron, tossing it into my bag, ready to be laundered when I got home.

  Nick stared at the apron and took a step closer to me. “Destiny, have you ever considered getting to know some of the girls that come in for coffee? Maybe, go for a few drinks with them after work? Check out the new club in Eyre Square?”

  “With the duck faces? Are you taking the piss? They’re kids,” I said.

  Nick’s lips curled up at the corners. “They’re probably seventeen or eighteen; you’re only a year or two older.”

  “Nick, I have a little girl and an aunt to support. I work full-time and take twenty hours of classes a week. I own one pair of trainers and one pair of boots. My phone is the cheapest piece of junk on the market, and I regularly leave the house with Saoirse’s breakfast stuck in my hair. I think it’s safe to assume whatever club the duck faces are going to, I wouldn’t fit in.” I heaved my backpack onto the counter and yanked on the draw-string in the lining. “Seriously, you need to give up on trying to arrange friend-dates for me—don’t make me bring up the never-to-be-mentioned ‘Mammy and Me’ fiasco.”

  Nick’s lips twisted with the effort of containing his smirk. “I still think you pushed the eject button on the parent and baby coffee mornings too quickly—a few more of Lan’s chocolate and oat cookies, and you could have made a real connection. You’ve got to be more open, Destiny.”

  I landed a punch on his bicep. “One of them tried to put her expressed milk in my tea because she was worried about my nutritional intake when I told her I’d never eaten kale. In. My. Tea.”

  Nick’s chuckle swelled from his belly and burst from his mouth in a low throaty rumble. He rested his muscular butt on the edge of the counter and the skin around his eyes crinkled as he tried to suppress his laughter. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. If you want to be a social outcast and spend your nights washing your aprons, who am I to stop you?”

  “Hey, I’m not a social reject. I’m just selective,” I said.

  Nick pushed his hair off his face and looked at me from under dark brows. His bronzed skin was flecked with paint. “Prove it—come to the pub with me.” Sensing my reluctance, Nick caught my shoulders and made a pleading face. “Come on, Destiny, I could do with a pint. Lexi’s weekend with Maya was a bust.” Maya was Nick’s ten-year-old daughter and Lexi was his ex-partner, who flew in from New York to spend time with their daughter once a month. She seemed like a nice lady whenever I met her, but Maya was a sensitive kid and the change in routine always seemed to upset her. Families—nature’s very own torture device. Nick tilted his head to one side. “Keep an old man company for one pint? I’m buying.”

  I felt my cheeks dimple as I glanced the clock. Ten past five. My aunt Aoife would have brought Saoirse home from the park and they’d be getting ready to watch Saoirse’s favorite cartoon show at five-thirty. Supper was already prepared and ready for reheating, thanks to Lan and the endless selection of leftovers from the café. I could spare half an hour for a drink—just to be a good employee. I ignored the butterflies in my stomach as I searched the pockets of my rucksack for my cell phone. “Okay, one pint. Because you’re almost thirty and sad and desperate. Just let me text Aoife to let her know.”

  Nick grinned and pumped his fist in the air. “You beauty, it’s a date. I’ll go tell Maya and Lan that I’ll be back in an hour.” He bounded toward the stairs that led from the art studios to his apartment and my teeth nipped at my bottom lip as I unearthed my phone and tapped on the screen. It wasn’t an actual date—that was just something people said. There was absolutely nothing else to it. I twisted to check my reflection in the window, wishing I’d brought a hairbrush to work. Or lipstick. Did I still possess a tube of lipstick? I groaned under my breath. “This is a terrible idea.”

  A flicker of blue caught the corner of my eye, and I stiffened. It was nothing extraordinary—a bright blue sweatshirt, hood pulled over the man’s head to protect him from the evening chill. The figure didn’t glance into the café or pause, but something stirred in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t recognize his gait, but I felt certain it wasn’t the first time the man in blue had passed the window today. Nor was it the second. I stared at his back as he disappeared into the crowds of merry revelers thronging Quay Street. My lips were dry as a poem from my childhood slipped off my tongue unbidden. “Once met, no longer strangers. Twice met, now friends. Thrice met, we’ll be lovers or foes ‘til the end.”

  I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my worn leather jacket and tried to shrug off the tingle at the base of my skull. A familiar pressure began to build inside my chest and I dug my nails into my palms, inhaling slowly and deliberately.

  I knew there was no rational reason to fear a stranger who happened to pass the café a few times in one day. It was a busy street and nobody in this city knew who I was; my father had no friends here. This wasn’t Dublin, where supernaturals hid behind expensive sunglasses and tinted glass, looking down on the unwitting humans from their ivory towers. Galway was a city of hope and change—where a witch with forged papers could get a job from a tiger shifter with no pack and they’d never ask each other for an explanation. There was no logical reason for the metallic taste in my mouth or the pounding in my chest, but logic wasn’t what woke me trembling in the night.

  I jamme
d my phone into my pocket and buckled my rucksack with tingling fingers. Going for a drink was a bad idea, it was too risky. Even in the lively, music-filled pubs, you never knew who might be watching. What if somebody from my father’s clan traveled to the city? Or what if the coven was secretly observing all those who’d expressed interest in joining? I wasn’t sure the Free Witches would approve of a witch socializing with a shifter, and I couldn’t risk making any decisions that might turn make my application seem unfavorable.

  My stomach churned as I scribbled an apology to Nick on a napkin and left it on the counter. It was a shitty move, but I needed to get home. I needed to hold Saoirse in my arms and run a bath for Aoife. I needed to see for myself that we were still safe; still hidden in plain sight. I’d text Nick to apologize properly—not like there weren't a billion women who’d be happy to take him up on his offer of a drink. Pretty, sweet women with no baggage. The café bell danced over my head as I snapped the door closed behind me.

  Table of Contents

  Before you begin…

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wicked Destiny (A Sneak Peek)