Beast: Learning to Breathe (Devil's Blaze MC #5)

“Who is it?” I demand. If Michael knows who it is, then most likely I do. I’ve lived here longer. He studies me for a minute and something moves across his face, I’m not sure I like.

“No one you know. I need to call roadside assistance again, and tell them I need them to come to the house with a tow truck. Then I need to get some things out of the back of my truck. Can you hold the door open for me?” he calls over his shoulder, turning away from me.

“How can it be someone I don’t know? I’ve been here longer than you…” I return, confused. It feels like he’s dismissing me, and I can’t say that I like it very much.

“You don’t,” he just insists, putting his phone up to his ear. How would I not know them?

“Are they from your past?” I ask, suddenly making a connection. He used to belong to a club. These kind of things happened all the time with the Dwellers. Maybe Michael’s club isn’t that different from them after all. I don’t like the way that conclusion makes me feel. I don’t like thinking anything bad about Michael. Maybe he needed a fresh start. Maybe that’s why he left. I can understand that and if that’s it, then I can certainly understand that too.

Michael finishes his phone conversation, while standing at the foot of his truck, leaning into the tailgate. His head his down so I can’t see his face. His dark hair has spilled forward, covering him and what it doesn’t hide his beard hides the rest. He’s dressed all in black. I remember Pastor Sturgill’s remark yet again about Michael being an archangel. Right now, he looks like a fallen angel and he shouldn’t look as good as he does to me…

But he does.





44





Beast





I couldn’t tell her that this was the work of the Dwellers. I knew that would bring fear in her eyes—maybe even another panic attack. I couldn’t do it. I’ll deal with this on my own and make sure this doesn’t touch her. I was terrified thinking they were using me to get to her. That was one emotion I never thought I’d feel again. I’ve been so dead inside, I didn’t think it was possible. It’s further proof that Hayden is getting too close.

I almost kissed her a minute ago. The urge to take her lips was there, and for a second, I leaned into her and almost captured her mouth with mine. I wanted to taste her lips so damn bad. That would have been insanity. I don’t know what Hayden has been through, but it’s pretty clear it has traumatized her and given who is involved, I’m positive it was bad. Kissing her would have probably sent her running away and screaming.

On top of that…I ruin everything I touch. I’ve failed at the single most important purpose I had in life. I let the one person in my life who has ever loved me—who I ever loved, down. I can’t get close to Hayden. I’d end up just destroying her too. Lucy wasn’t wrong with her childish words. I am an animal. I’ve become the monster my brothers always said I looked like when they gave me my road name. A beast.

“Michael! What did you do?” Hayden cries as I make it to her, carrying the first box.

“Open the door, Hayden. It’s heavy,” I tell her, mostly lying. It’s heavy, but fuck I bench press double this weight without a sweat. I just don’t feel like fending off her questions. She opens the door, and I don’t look at her. It’s stupid, but I don’t want to see her face. I didn’t do it for gratitude. I don’t want that from Hayden. I’m not sure what I want from Hayden, but that’s not it. I didn’t do this for her. I did this for Maggie. She’s the reason I’m still here. I reasoned all that out. I can’t ignore the small voice inside of me that if the Dwellers are making a move then Hayden needs me too. I can’t let myself think about that.

I lean the box for the crib up against the wall in her nursery. Then I head back outside, all without looking at Hayden. I bring in the changing table, the lady said was a must. I don’t get it. I changed Annabelle on the couch just fine, sometimes on the bed, and fuck even the floor. I never had a problem. I didn’t even know there was a table. Seems as unhandy as fuck to me. Women like to make everything complicated. I place it against the crib box and go back out. Still not looking at Hayden. I’m avoiding looking at her and she’s gone completely silent. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. I make a couple more trips. These pieces are already together and covered in blankets. There’s a glider with footstool that’s black to match the rest of the furniture. And a dresser that’s made to match the crib and table. There’s also a small nightstand that goes by the glider. The bassinet was all I meant to buy. It’s there. Maggie shouldn’t have a broken one. This one is white with yellow ribbon accents. Next is a box of cushions and pads for the changing table, and the glider. All with pale yellow covers to match the design that Hayden has fixed on the walls. A crib mattress, a lamp with an elephant wearing a yellow tutu that for some fucking reason made me smile, and I had the woman add it to my purchases, different sheets and finally bedding that was as close as I could find to something Hayden would want. Hayden might bitch, but I figure all of those things Maggie needs.

When I get the last box inside, I set it in her living room, because half way into unpacking I discovered there wasn’t enough room to move in the nursery or hall until I got things put together and the old furniture gone. Then, left out of excuses or reasons not to, I look at Hayden. What I seen on her face isn’t what I expected. There’s no gratitude or even coy bullshit women do when they think they have you over a barrel. It’s…anger.

Fucking women never react like you think they will.





45





Hayden





He brings in box after box of things for Maggie. Each time he does, he doesn’t talk or even look at me. Each time he does, my disbelief grows. I run through so many different emotions, I get dizzy. There’s too many to grasp all of them, so I hold onto the one that I can identify the easiest.

“You have to take them back,” I tell Michael, when he finally looks at me. In response, he gives me a grunt. “I’m serious, Michael. They have to go back. I can’t keep them.”

“The fuck you can’t,” he grumbles, turning away from me and going back into the nursery. I watch from the door as he grabs the broken bassinet and begins walking towards me.

“What are you doing now?” I gasp, literally blocking the doorway.

“Making room in here so I can start putting the furniture together, while I’m waiting on the tow truck. Then I’ll go do some business, and come back this evening to finish putting everything together,” his dark voice rumbles.