Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(31)

He’s off me now, getting to his feet. I squirm and whimper, trying with every bit of strength I have to get away, but they hold me down like I’m nothing but a rowdy calf.

“Alright, give it to me,” Shayne says. “And make sure you hold her down tight.” A boot steps on my thigh and the bile rises up in my throat. I close my eyes, praying a man with green eyes will swoop in and save me. But that’s the movies. That’s not real. This is real. The dirt in my face, the smell of hot iron, the men holding me down. I open my eyes and watch a thumb with a scar move slowly back and forth along my wrist.

“Got her?” Shayne asks, sending me into a final panic that has me straining, and crying, and thrashing with everything I have left inside me.

“Yeah. We got her.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN




Ava




I’m in a haze, a dark haze, drifting aimlessly, until I hear a voice. His voice. Near me. There’s another man’s voice too, but it sounds far away. My lids feel heavy, my body hurts. One place especially. My hip. Why does my hip hurt? Then I remember. I remember it all. The boot on my thigh. The white hot stab of the iron. The pain. The smell of burning flesh. I must’ve passed out then, because I don’t remember anything else, or how I got here. I want to weep, weep so bad, but I hold it in, not wanting to give myself away. There’s more pain, in my shoulders, and I’m cold. It takes a minute for me to figure out my arms are bound behind me, and I’m naked. I grit my teeth to keep the scream in. Instead, I try to focus on where I am.

I peer through my lashes to see flashes of dark wood and brown leather, blurry shapes that resemble a desk and a sofa. Beneath me, I make out the brown and white patches of a cowhide rug, with natural hardwood beyond, and know I’m lying on my side on the floor.

“What do you mean you can’t keep him?” Shayne’s voice spikes, grabbing my attention. The other voice comes in again, coming from a speakerphone. A voice I now recognize as Sheriff Carson.

“Like I said, he’s got bigwig lawyers. He’s a fucking movie star, Shayne! You didn’t think that would bring some heat down on me? The fucking press is all over the place. Christ, even the damn county DA called me already, grilling me up and down about this.”

“I don’t give a fuck who he is! I want his ass to stay in jail! I got a witness. She’ll sign a statement.”

“And he’s got old man Hanley saying just the opposite. Saying you attacked him. Claimed it was self-defense.”

“Fuck!”

“Sorry, Shayne. My hands are tied here. I got to let him go. And unless you want a shit storm of publicity on your hands, I say drop the charges. Ain’t nothing good gonna come from it.”

Silence, then Shayne’s tight-lipped voice. “Fine. Drop the fucking charges.” With a click the static is gone, followed by a loud crash of things falling to the floor.

More silence follows, for what seems like an eternity, until I hear the creak of a chair, followed by footsteps. They grow louder until I see his boots next to me. The beast is close. So close. I struggle to stay completely still, but know my breathing gives me away.

“Found yourself a movie star, did you?”

His voice is quiet, but the fury is there, buried just beneath the surface, yet still so loud. Slowly, I open my eyes to see him towering over me, looking oddly weary, then he steps away and collapses onto the sofa, staring at me.

“What happened to you?” he asks, his gloomy gaze roaming over my body. “You’re covered, in cuts, and bruises, some the size of fingertips. And you’ve got bite marks, on your neck.” Shayne leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. “Did he do that to you?”

I blink, but can’t bring myself to answer.

He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure it out. “I saw the way you looked at him. So…if it was him…” He pauses. “Then…you must’ve liked it. Is that it, Ava? Do you like it rough? Do you like it when it hurts?”

My throat tightens and I look away.

Shayne sighs and the silence comes again.

It’s daunting. Before, when he was full of anger, the beast was easier to read, easier to predict. But this—this dreaded calm is so much worse. I have no idea what’s coming.

The sofa creaks and he’s up and moving again. His footsteps stop behind me, where he crouches down, and with a surprisingly gentle touch, he rolls me over so I’m on my stomach. I tremble when he runs a fingertip over a cut, then another one. “We both know I’m not a tender man, Ava, but I would’ve taken care of you. I would’ve made it good for you.”

His words are spoken so quietly, so sincerely. But it’s a trick. The beast is playing tricks.

I brace when his finger moves to my hip, circling where he’s marked me. “You might find this hard to believe,” he says, his voice growing softer, “but I meant what I said at the altar. I do promise to do those things. But it didn’t mean I wouldn’t punish you, wouldn’t hurt you for what you did to me. You lied to me. You broke your word to me.” He pulls my hair back, so he can see my face. “Didn’t you?”

I close my eyes and swallow.

“What was our deal, Ava, hmm?”

A tear pushes past my lashes, and he runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping it away.