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

He needs to suffer for getting into my business. He needs to suffer and bleed. He has a weak spot for Hayden. Somehow, he’s even managed to get that fucking Torasani to work with him. They have her place surrounded tonight. I thought I was home free when I saw Beast take off and leave Hayden alone. Then I saw one of the Torasani henchmen, walking the perimeter of her house. I did some digging and there are four men around her house. Four. Fucking cunt must have developed some new tricks in bed to get Beast to guard her that well. Shit. Maybe she’s spread her legs for old Victor himself. That’d make more sense. I always thought Hayden was as stupid as her brother, but maybe the bitch has more brains than I gave her credit for.

It doesn’t matter—none of it. They’ll slip up soon and that’s when I’ll have my opening. At first, it was only to teach Hayden a lesson. She’s made a fool of me all these years. Bitch hid the fact she was knocked up and then used my enemies to try and stay out of my reach. The bullshit I got from that, even from my own men. Now, however, it’s something bigger.

I have revenge to dish out. I’ve lost my family. I’ve lost my club. It’s all Hayden’s fault. I’ll make her wish for death. I’ll make her beg for it, before I give it. I might keep Beast alive to witness it. His death can hurt Hayden more if she watches. I bet the little cunt will beg for his life. I wonder how Beast will like watching Hayden suck my cock in exchange for letting him breathe? The thought makes my dick hard. I unzip my pants and take my shaft in my hand and stroke myself, watching Beast jump in his truck.

Yeah. I need to take my time and make my revenge perfect…and enjoy every fucking second of it.





101





Hayden





Michael never showed back up. I waited and waited, but there’s been no sign of him. I finally gave up, and went to bed. I tossed and turned, but I must have eventually passed out, because now the bedside clock reads three in the morning. I lay here listening, stupidly getting depressed when I hear nothing. Michael’s not here. I had hoped…

It’s all so frustrating, and I have no idea what happened. I thought everything was good and then…it just wasn’t. For a minute—right before he left, it looked like he hated me. I’ve gone over everything, and I have no idea what’s going on. It’s driving me crazy. I was worried it was me, and my first instinct was to cry. Then, I got worried something else was going on and my nerves were set on end, as panic filled me. Finally, I settled into anger again. He could have at least told me what was going on. Anger is the emotion that I’m keeping with me now. I don’t know where he is, I don’t know if he’s okay and most of all…I don’t know if he’ll be back. It’s not like my track record is great with men, but I thought this time Michael was one of the good guys. Maybe those men don’t exist.

I ease out of bed. I’m still a little sore from the workout that Michael gave me yesterday. Yesterday seems like a lifetime ago. The house feels weird with no one here. It’s had so many people in it lately, that’s become the new normal. Michael not being here makes it feel really lonely—as empty as I am feeling. I also can’t lie; I’ve been scared to death that Blade will show up when I’m alone. I’ve kept my mace close by, and I’ve managed to curse Michael for taking my gun away.

If my mind doesn’t change, I’m going to use the mace on him. If I ever see him again. I make it into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I can’t help but look across the drive at the old barn. The lights are out, but I notice Michael’s truck is parked under it and his bike too. He’s back. He’s back and he didn’t come here. He didn’t even let me know. He went back to the barn. What does that mean?

I should probably let it go for the night. That would be the smart thing to do, but then when it comes to men, I’ve never been that smart. I grab a flashlight off the counter, slip my feet into some flip-flops and walk over there. I hear the frogs in the background, and somewhere in the distance, I can hear a dog barking. I should get a dog. They’re more dependable than a man. A mean, junk-yard dog, maybe I could name him Beast and when he would do something I hate, I could put him outside with only dry dogfood.

I point the light up the narrow stairs that lead to the barn loft. My body freezes because I hear a sound from behind me. It sounds like a stick breaking, as if someone stepped on it and it snapped. I whip the light around to look behind me, expecting to see Blade standing there. I know it. I can literally feel him there. Shit. I hope I get the chance to tell Michael I hate him. I don’t…but I want him to think I do if he gets me killed.

My heart is beating in my chest so hard it feels like a jackhammer. My palms are wet and my nerves are stretched. Even Maggie, who is usually asleep by now, is moving and kicking nervously. Probably feeding off my energy. “Maggie, girl, your Momma’s an idiot,” I murmur to her. I zig-zag the beam of the light, but thankfully I see nothing out there. I’m only imagining things. It was probably an animal. I’ve seen quite a few opossums out here. They stir mostly at night. Trying to calm my nerves, I walk up the stairs. I cringe as they squeak underneath me because the sound seems abnormally loud.

“Michael?” I whisper, my voice cracking. I clear my throat again, right as I make it to the top step. “Michael?” I try again, using the beam of my light to look through the room. I am about ready to give up when I see him. He’s lying on his stomach, on the couch. His legs are hanging off it a good two foot. One hand is under his chin and the other is holding a bottle that’s sitting on the floor. I lower the light to it and the amber color gives way to what the liquid inside is. I swallow, beating down the fear. I don’t like men who are drunk. I’ve seen what can happen when they are. I’ve experienced some of it. I’m about to turn around and leave, when Michael’s voice stops me.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice slurring the words, but I still understand them. He doesn’t sound mean, maybe drinking doesn’t affect him like it can others.

“I was worried about you,” I confess, “I wanted to see if you’re okay,” I add, feeling stupid. I wanted to come over here and yell and scream at him, but after seeing him, I can’t. He seems so broken, so lost, lying there like that. Whatever is going on with him, is much bigger than him being upset with me.

“I’ll never be okay again,” he says, and the sadness in his voice is so thick and heavy it could almost choke me.

Forgetting to be scared, or even angry, I walk to him. I move the bottle out of his hand, putting it out of the way. Then, I kneel down, taking his now empty hand and holding it with both mine. I don’t say anything. Honestly, I’m not sure what to say. I’m surprised when he doesn’t jerk his hand away.

“What are you doing here, Hayden?” he mumbles, moving his head to the side so he can see me.

I’ve placed the flashlight on the floor and the beam is shining across the room, so our faces are still mostly hidden in the darkness, and I’m glad. I don’t want him to see the pity in my eyes, I know he wouldn’t like it. Besides, it’s not truly pity for him, as much as I’m hurting inside at the look of pain on his face.

“You shouldn’t be here.”