The Beast: A Wicked Villains Novel

by Katee Robert

  Beast snorts. “You’ve made your decision already, same as me.”

  “Yeah, I guess I have.” I smooth the sheet over Isabelle, tucking it a bit higher so she’s covered from the neck down. She shifts under my touch, moving closer to me in her sleep. My heart gives a sickening lurch. We’re on an out-of-control train that’s sure to jump the tracks at the next turn, but I can’t bring myself to give a fuck. I don’t want to get off this ride, no matter how devastating the end result.

  I look up to find Beast watching me, watching us. It’s not the first time he’s done it today, and I can’t define the expression on his pretty face. All I know is that it’s dangerous as fuck. “Do I want to know what’s going through your head right now?”

  “No.” Just that. Nothing more. Nothing to clarify or shed some light.

  I give him a long look. “Pretty sure you won the bet we had earlier.”

  Beast laughs, a low rasping sound. “Gaeton, you’re sexy as shit, but when I fuck you next, I want it to be when we’re not both exhausted and about to pass out.”

  “I want to argue, but you make a good point.” Best not to think too hard about Beast calling me sexy as shit. I shake my head and lie down. Gravity seems to increase the second my head hits the pillow and my eyes close despite my best intentions. “She’s not going to be handle another day like today so soon. I don’t think any of us can.”

  “I know.” I can’t quite tell without seeing his face, but Beast sounds amused. Almost indulgent. “I have something else in mind.”

  I should demand to know what his plans are, should remind him that we’re equals in this and so I should be involved in any big decisions and plans. I should do a lot of things. “Whatever you want, then.”

  Exhaustion weighs me down, but I swear I feel the faintest brush of fingertips against my forehead, smoothing my hair back and his low voice saying, “I want it all.”

  Chapter 16

  Beast

  Another night of rest, another night unbroken with the nightmarish memories riding me hard. Both Gaeton and Isabelle relax in sleep, and both of them are cuddlers. It amuses me to no end to wake up with Isabelle’s nose pressed to the middle of my back and Gaeton’s heavy arm over both of us. It’s so fucking tempting to just stay in bed and soak up the closeness of these two people who are so determined to keep everyone at a distance.

  Instead, I carefully extract myself and head to the bathroom. A quick shower later and I’m once again dressed in my own clothes. It feels a little strange after damn near twenty-four hours of wearing Gaeton’s pants, but I need my head on straight for what comes next.

  We have Ursa to deal with.

  I don’t think for a second that making a public show of solidarity will make her back off for good. She’s hungry and ambitious, a shark scenting blood in the water after Orsino’s death. If we hadn’t tipped the balance, she might have contented herself with poking at our borders. No use worrying about what might have happened. We have to deal in facts.

  That means contingency plans.

  I’m on my third call of the morning when Isabelle wanders out of the bedroom. I’d heard her rustling around fifteen minutes ago and put on a pot of coffee, and she makes a beeline for it. I watch her pad around wearing Gaeton’s shirt, and the sheer domesticity of this moment nearly knocks me off my feet. I want this. I’m determined to have it.

  Nothing will stand in my way.

  Not our history. Sure as fuck not the Sea Witch’s ambitions.

  Isabelle pours a cup of coffee and brings it to her lips. I don’t know how she has any taste buds left when she drinks scalding hot coffee like that, but she’s managed to get by for years just fine. How many mornings did we have like this when we were together? More than I want to count. The woman is a force to be reckoned with, but she’s like the walking dead before her first hit of caffeine. I found that unbearably charming before, and I find it unbearably charming this morning, too.

  She makes a little humming noise that goes straight to my cock and opens her eyes fully for the first time since she walked out. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I hang up, slip my phone into my pocket, and cross to her. She watches me, some wariness flickering into her dark eyes as she seems to remember all the history and bullshit. I carefully take the mug from her and set it on the counter and then catch her hips. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” she echoes, still watching me as if she’s trying to draw my thoughts right out of my head. “You seem different.”

  “Do I?” I snake a hand up her spine, pulling her flush to my chest, and cup the back of her head. “It strikes me that I haven’t kissed you properly in more than a year.”

  She licks her lips. “I noticed that, too.”

  How many times have I tugged her into my arms and kissed her? A hundred? A thousand? I can’t begin to count. Never once did it feel as fraught as this moment, as if one wrong move will cave in the ground beneath our feet. “I’d like to.”

  A small furrow appears between her brows. “You’ve been commanding me to do all sorts of filthy things and now you’re asking for a kiss?”

  “It’s different.” Maybe it’s sentimental as shit, but I want her to choose this in a moment when I’m not railroading her. Sex and kink can be the glue that holds the three of us together long enough for us to figure out something more permanent, but it can’t be the only part of the foundation I fully intend to build. Not if I want it to last.

  I massage the tight muscles at the base of her skull and she weaves a little on her feet. “Can I kiss you, Isabelle Belmonte?”

  She hooks her arms around my neck and lets her mouth answer for her. I have to concentrate on keeping my feet at the first taste of her. This woman always kisses like she might never get the chance again. No hesitance. No shyness. She gives it her everything, every single time. It’s different than I remember it. Better. Neither one of us are holding back now.

  Lips and tongue and the barest tease of teeth.

  Her kiss is a challenge I’m only too happy to meet. I dig my hands into her hair, tilting her face up for a better angle, and she makes a happy little noise. I could kiss this woman until my dying breath, but I force myself to gentle the contact, to finally break it and lift my head. Her eyes have gone a little hazy and she’s leaning on me like she might not be able to hold herself up if I let go.

  Isabelle licks her lips. “Good morning, indeed.”

  There are so many things I could say, so many options that will push us toward my endgame or leave us in disaster. Instead, I kiss her forehead and gently set her away from me. “Take a shower and get ready. We’re having guests in an hour.”

  She blinks at me, something dangerous flickering into her dark eyes. “Beast, I have none of the things I need to get ‘guest ready.’ Gaeton doesn’t even have a hairbrush in his bathroom.”

  That’s what I suspected. “Trust me.”

  “Is this a kink thing?”

  If I tell her yes, she’ll stop arguing, but while I might lie to get my way when it suits me, honesty is the best bet right now. “No.”

  Isabelle picks up her coffee and stares at me over the rim. Her expression goes downright dangerous, every inch the powerful princess. “You know better than most that I have a public image to uphold. That’s not vanity; it’s fact. You bring anyone in here that aren’t my sisters, and it’s a territory issue. You know this. You can degrade me all you want for the next twelve days in private, but you don’t get to do it in public.”

  That’s about enough of that. I give her a long look that has her shifting her stance like a bratty submissive that just realized they’ve crossed over their Dom’s line. “I know what’s at stake, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize your standing or reputation. But I will degrade the fuck out of you in public when the situation calls for it.” I step closer, caging her in with an arm braced on either side of her body. “Because that’s what you get off on, princess. You want me to put you over my knee and flip up yo
ur skirt so everyone in the room can see how wet your cunt gets when I spank that pert little ass of yours. You’ll get off harder knowing you have an audience.”

  She’s breathing hard enough that I take the coffee back again to prevent her from spilling it on herself. Isabelle narrows her eyes. “That’s not fair. You just said this wasn’t a kink thing and now you’re throwing a kink thing in my face. You don’t get to have it both ways, Beast. You just don’t.”

  She’s not wrong. “I’m telling you to trust me, Isabelle. No more. No less.” I state it blandly, as if I’m not asking for the stars when we both know I am. She might trust me with her body, with her safety, but she’s never quite trusted me with her heart and future. Not yet.

  She considers me for a long moment and finally nods, but not like she likes it. “Okay. But if you’re only giving me an hour, I have to start now.”

  I step back. “By all means.”

  She picks up her coffee, as prim as the princess we call her, and strides back toward the bedroom. Gaeton walks through the doorway right as she gets there, and she goes up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. No telling if Isabelle notices the tension that thrums through his body at the contact, because she’s gone before I get another look at her face.

  Gaeton, though. He’s not awake enough to hide from me. His expression reflects the growing determination not to let this go. Or, rather, not to let her go. I still have to seduce him into agreeing to a new set of terms.

  Time. It all takes so much damn time.

  I pour him a cup of coffee and hand it over as he reaches me. He eyes it like I might have tossed some poison in, too, but ultimately takes a sip. “I’m sore as fuck.”

  That surprises a snort out of me. “If you came out of yesterday not sore, you wouldn’t be human.”

  He leans a hip against the counter next to me. A little too close to be strictly professional, but not close enough to see it as an invitation. He’s wearing those gray sweatpants again, and his big cock is a clear imprint against the front. Fuck, those things should be illegal.

  “Beast.” He says my name slowly, amusement flickering to life in his tone. “Are you checking out my dick?”

  No point in denying it. If I want him to come to terms with us wanting each other, playing coy is the wrong call. “Yeah.”

  “Funny fuck, aren’t you?” He takes another sip of coffee, watching me over the rim of his cup.

  I lean back against the counter. “Don’t think I’m going to forget the raincheck from last night.”

  “Hmmm.” He doesn’t look away, though a faint blush darkens his cheeks. Finally, Gaeton says, “Why is Isabelle in a huff?”

  Part of me wants to ignore his changing the subject, but I’ve learned to be a patient hunter over the years. I don’t have weeks to play this out, but I do have a little time. It’d be foolish not to utilize it. “She needs clothes. If we send for ones she already owns, Cordelia will figure out where we are and retrieve her.”

  Gaeton grins. “You called Tink.”

  “I called Tink.”

  He stretches, his fingertips brushing the ceiling. The move puts his entire body on display, and I allow myself to enjoy the show. Gaeton snorts. “Guess I’ll get dressed, too. Tink and Hook might appreciate the sweatpants, but it hardly sends the right message.”

  I nod. “They’ll be here in an hour.”

  Gaeton rumbles out a laugh. “You only gave Isabelle an hour’s notice? No wonder she’s pissed.” He fills his coffee cup back to the brim. “We doing this tonight?”

  “I don’t think it’s wise to wait. It’s a Band-Aid, but it might make Ursa back off long enough for us to figure things out and return to the territory.” Even that might not be enough to divert her at this point, but I don’t think she’s hungry enough to try for a full-scale war. I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong before, and people I cared about paid the cost.

  I won’t let it happen again.

  Gaeton stares at his bedroom door. “Think it’s a mistake to plan this without talking to Isabelle first?”

  My first instinct is to say no. We’re the generals, we’re the ones trained in what is essentially urban warfare. Orsino got his hands dirty right there with us until he was too sick to do so. He always kept his younger two daughters out of it, but Cordelia and her wife were there the last couple years, working on earning the trust of the people they command without Orsino overlooking everything. Sienna is dangerous in her own way. But Isabelle has always, always been kept away from the darker parts of what it means to be the Man in Black’s daughter. I want to keep her shielded from it now.

  But he’s right. Trying to protect Isabelle Belmonte is what got us into this situation to begin with. If we’d both been honest when we started dating her, if one of us had slowed down long enough to realize that our hatred for each other felt a whole lot like stifled lust… The list goes on.

  I finally nod. “We should talk to her.”

  “Ha.” Gaeton slaps my shoulder. “So you can see reason.”

  He has no fucking idea.

  Chapter 17

  Isabelle

  I’m a disaster. A shower helps clear my head, but Gaeton’s not set up for anyone but him. And Gaeton does not use makeup, hair products, or own so much as a hairbrush. I’m left to finger comb my wet hair and braid it back from my face. I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it out of this braid without a vat of conditioner, but it’ll do for now.

  It’s not until I’m finally finished that I realize my next hurdle. “I have no clothes.”

  Beast looks up from his phone, frowning at me like I’ve just said something obvious. “That’s the point.”

  Gods save me from dominant men. I speak slowly because the urge to yell is almost overpowering. “I have no clothes, Beast. People are showing up in fewer than ten minutes and I’m naked.”

  Gaeton walks out of the bedroom dressed to the nines in a black suit and a button-down shirt in a deep blue that’s almost the same color as Beast’s eyes. I wonder if that was on purpose. Beast is wearing his normal uniform of dark jeans and a plain T-shirt; today it’s black. I wish I’d grabbed the shirt of Gaeton’s that I wore to sleep in. Standing here naked is not an option, no matter how cavalier these two are acting.

  “Isabelle.” There’s a strange soberness to Gaeton’s voice that brings me around to face him again. “If we choose to have you naked, that’s how you’ll be.” Before I can argue, he raises a hand, dangling a length of fabric from it. “Come here.”

  Even as I cross to him, recognition slams in to me. I know this fabric. It’s a black silk robe that I bought him years ago, because I wanted to see his big, rough body clothed in a decadent fabric that I could open like the best kind of present. I still remember how hard we laughed when he put it on, and how much I enjoyed the sex that came after.

  I reach out a shaking hand and touch it. “You kept it.” I would have thought he took everything connected with me, dumped it in the nearest trash can, and doused it in gasoline for good measure. I certainly hadn’t left the things that reminded me of him lying around.

  But I hadn’t had the heart to destroy them, either.

  Every one of the little rose trinkets he bought me over the two years we dated currently occupies a carefully packed box in the back of my massive closet back home. I look up into his dark eyes, trying to find answers to questions I can’t begin to voice. “You kept it,” I repeat.

  “I kept it.” Nothing more, but what more answer do I need? He could have a thousand reasons for hanging onto it, and none of them might mean what I hope they mean.

  That he still loves me. That maybe he never stopped.

  He holds it open so I can step into it. The robe dwarfs me, pooling at my feet and gaping at my chest despite my attempts to tie it firmly. It’s hardly a good option for meeting strangers, but they would have to pry it off me to make me change at this point. I can’t stop stroking the fabric, can’t stop remembering all the times I lay sprawled acro
ss his chest and did the same.

  There are so many things to say, and I can’t find the words to even begin. Before I have a chance to, the buzzer announces the arrival of Beast’s guests. I take a seat on the chair facing the door and don’t miss the way Gaeton leans against the wall at my back while Beast goes to answer the door despite it being Gaeton’s apartment. Do they even notice how they’ve shifted their relationship since my father’s death?

  I rub my hand against my chest. Maybe there will come a time when the reality of my father being gone forever doesn’t hit me with an almost-physical blow. When the loss of him doesn’t rise like a rogue wave to drown me when I least expect it. Maybe.

  I tense as the door opens, but the woman who walks through isn’t the stranger I expect. I blink. “Tink?”

  Tink stops short and narrows her eyes. She’s a pretty, plus-sized white woman with a mass of blond hair and the personality of a honey badger. She’s also a brilliant designer and responsible for most of the formal clothing in my closet right now. The man at her back is tall with medium-brown skin, a close-cropped beard and black hair that falls to his shoulders. Hook, the leader of one of the smaller territories in Carver City.

  Tink looks at me for a long moment and then turns and levels a glare at both Beast and Gaeton. “What. The. Fuck.” She points at me. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Um,” I say.

  “No, they get to speak for themselves.” She talks over me like I’m not even here and turns to point that accusing finger at Hook. “Did you know about this?”

  He raises his hands. “I know as much as you.”

  “Good, because we would be having words.” She spins back to Gaeton and Beast. “We’re friends. I consider us friends.”

  I have to twist to see Gaeton and he looks like he’s facing down the honey badger I compared Tink to. “We are friends, Tink.”