Page 8 of Beast
Shane swallowed hard, his bravado faltering.“Yeah.Yeah, sure, Beast.Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He shot Pixie a nervous glance before slinking away, disappearing into the crowd like a dog with its tail between its legs.
The clubhouse slowly returned to life, the moment already fading into the background of the night.But Pixie was still frozen in place, her breath coming too fast, her body too tight with the remnants of adrenaline.Beast turned to her then, his dark eyes locking onto hers, searching.
“You okay?”Beast asked.
She nodded automatically.“I can handle myself.”
His gaze didn’t waver.“I know you can.Doesn’t mean you should have to.”
Her stomach flipped at the rough sincerity in his tone.He didn’t look at her like she was weak.Didn’t pity her.He justsawher.And that scared the hell out of her.
“Thanks,” she muttered, dropping her gaze.
She turned to leave, to escape to the kitchen where she could breathe again, but Beast’s fingers brushed her wrist before she could go.It wasn’t a grip.Wasn’t forceful.Just a touch.A brief, lingering weight that sent heat curling through her despite every instinct screaming at her to run.
“If any of them bother you again, you come to me.”
She swallowed hard.“Why do you care?”
He hesitated.Then, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, he said, “Because you remind me of someone.”
Something tightened in her chest.She didn’t ask who.She didn’t want to know.Instead, she pulled away and walked toward the kitchen, her skin still burning where he had touched her.
She didn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified.
Beast was dangerous.Not just because of the power he held in the club, but because of what he made her feel.And Pixie had spent too long running to start feeling anything now.
****
Beast watched as Pixiedisappeared into the kitchen, her slim frame vanishing behind the swinging door.He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away.
The pull he felt toward her was unsettling, a slow, insidious thing creeping under his skin.He had no business feeling this way about a girl like her—too young, too skittish, too damn tempting.
She wasn’t club material, not in the way that meant something permanent, and yet, every time he saw her, every time she moved past him with that wary glance, he had to fight the urge to pull her in, to claim her before someone else tried to.
A heavy arm slung over his shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Drink?”Gunner asked, his voice knowing, like he’d caught Beast in the middle of something he didn’t want to admit to.
Beast grunted in agreement.He let Gunner lead him to a table, grabbing a beer from one of the club girls who was smart enough to keep her distance.His mood tonight was unreadable, even to himself.
He took a slow sip, eyes still tracking the room.Pixie was back, weaving between tables, head down, focused on the job.He noted, with some satisfaction, that no one dared to bother her now.They’d gotten the message loud and clear.She was his to protect.Not officially.Not in any way that made sense, even to him.But that didn’t matter.He wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on her.
Gunner leaned back in his chair, gaze sharp.“All right, what was that about?”
“Nothing,” Beast muttered, taking another sip of his beer.
Gunner gave a low chuckle, unconvinced.“Bullshit.”
Beast exhaled through his nose, feeling his temper flicker to life.He wasn’t in the mood for this.
“I mean Pixie,” Gunner clarified, nodding toward the kitchen.“She’s not just some stray you picked up.”
Beast didn’t respond right away.Instead, he swirled the beer in his bottle, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light of the clubhouse.
Finally, after a long moment, he admitted, “She reminds me of Evelyn.”
