Page 18 of Beautiful Beasts

I slowly move in and out of her as we both come down. “I love you, Bella,” I whisper against her lips.

“I love you, too, Dante,” she replies as she tries to catch her breath.

Such sweet words, coming from a sweet fucking woman.

I don’t deserve her sweetness, but I will take it and continue to take it from her.

I will claim her and continue to claim her because we are now both two beautiful Beasts together.

12

Bella

I t’s starting to get colder, but I shouldn’t be surprised. We do live in Seattle, and the weather is somewhat comforting. My whole life has been nothing but pain, and I never knew what my father was going to think of next to do to me, but I could always count on the weather.

Most don’t like the weather of Washington, but I have lived here my whole life, and I honestly don’t know what I would do if it was always warm and not raining. I wrap my jacket tightly around my body as I walk outside and head towards the roses that Dante said reminded him of his mother. I am grateful that he opened up to me the way he did. I know it was hard for him. Walls surround him, some of his own making, while others were created for his protection.

Men like Dante have to be paranoid and on edge; not knowing who you can trust has to be difficult. It seems, just like with me, that everyone who comes into contact with Dante wants something from him. I guess I am no different, but what I want from him has nothing to do with his money or the house I live in now. No, what I want is inside him. I want his possessiveness, his jealousy, and his controlling nature. I want the protection of his arms around me, his words being whispered into my ear, his touch on my skin, and his cock in my pussy, stretching me like no man has before. I want the look in his eye, the look that is filled with both desire and darkness.

What I want from him are things he has never fully given to any other woman. I guess I am selfish that way.

Before he touches me, he asks me to tell him I need him, and I do. I do it without thinking because he is asking me to tell him the truth. I do need him. I need him to help me escape and remind me that I am more than just a toy men use for pleasure.

I take a deep breath as I turn the corner and stop a few feet from the roses. The wind begins to pick up, so I lift my head, close my eyes, and breathe in the scent of the roses and the rain in the air. I open my eyes and look at the dark grey clouds. They remind me that I am home, a real home, and it has nothing to do with the walls this house gives me; it is because of Dante and Harley. They both have given me something I have never had: a stable environment. How fucked up is that?

But it is true. Harley is Dante’s trusted right-hand man, and I trust him. It’s not only because Dante trusts him. There is something about him that calms me and makes me feel safe. It’s different from the way Dante makes me feel. I don’t know, I can’t explain it, it’s just a feeling.

I lower my head, walk over to the bench, and sit down. Looking at the white roses that Dante says reminds him of his mother and me makes me wish I knew my mother the same way that Dante did. I, for one, can’t remember my mother, or at least not everything about her, and the things I do remember, I wish I could fucking forget, but I can’t. You would think a small child wouldn’t remember certain things, but I guess I am not normal. There is nothing about me that screams fucking normal.

I am the daughter of a man who cared more about his fix and pleasure than he ever did about his daughter.

I am the daughter of a man who thought it was okay to have sex with his daughter.

I am the daughter of a man who thought it was okay to pimp out his daughter to other men.

Like I said, there is nothing about me that is fucking normal. I am used to being used and abused. I am not used to being treated with respect, and until a few weeks ago, I never knew what love was or what it could be. Now, because of Dante, I am questioning everything I think I know.

“Bella,” I hear Gus call from the distance.

I turn and look forward and see Gus quickly making his way across the yard, stopping about a foot away from me. Gus is a good-looking man. He has longer blond hair that he usually tucks behind his ear. His eyes are dark brown, and his skin is covered in tattoos. Today, he is wearing a white button-up shirt with the top button undone, black slacks, and black dress shoes with a piece on his right hip.

“Gus,” I say softly as I watch him put his hands into his front pockets.

I look into his eyes and see anxiety, uncertainty, and desire. Gus is a mystery like most of Dante’s men. They all keep their distance and don’t say much to me; Gus, on the other hand, has said more to me than the others. At first, I didn’t like him because I know what he thinks of me. He thinks I am just a whore. He thinks he knows my history with my Griffin, and he thinks he knows me, but he doesn’t.

The only one who understands me is Dante. He is the only one I have let in, but there is still a lot he doesn’t know. If things continue as they have been, I can see myself telling him anything he wants to know.

I am starting to understand Gus. He is just blunt and doesn’t hold back what he is thinking. It is still annoying, but I can respect him for it. I would rather him say what he thinks than keep it to himself. At least he has the balls to say what he is thinking.

He slowly makes his way over to the rose bush and kneels in front of it. “It means something,” Gus says softly, keeping his eyes on the roses.

“What?” I ask, watching him closely.

“Dante, trusting you to watch over these roses,” Gus explains.

“I know,” I reply softly.

Gus takes a deep breath, turns, and looks at me. “I just hope he doesn’t hurt you, Bella,” he says in a low, pained voice, catching me off guard.

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