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

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Michael yells through the noise, and I scream. Okay, it isn’t a bear. But he’s hairy and mean enough to be one.

I jerk around to face him, pulling the heavy chainsaw with me. Only, I forget to let off the throttle, and in my fear actually press harder. I hold the chainsaw in front of me like a weapon, wielding it like I’m Hercules lifting a sword. This probably isn’t a smart move, because it’s really heavy, and my arms are so tired that it begins to tip back towards my chest and face. I lean my body back to get away from the weapon, adrenaline making my body shake. I admit the smarter thing would have been to let off the throttle, or to at least pull my arm forward, but I’m kind of in a panic. I also pee a little on myself, but I’m blaming that on Maggie. She does like to dance on my bladder.

I scream again when the hand I have on the handle of the chainsaw is grabbed…hard. My first reaction is to fight for control, which lunges the chainsaw toward Michael. I, stupidly, still don’t take my hand off the throttle and instead try to get control of the chainsaw. I don’t know why, except it’s mine, and he looks mean. I don’t think it’d be wise to give it to him.

Okay, maybe that’s a good enough reason.

When I don’t immediately turn loose, he twists my wrist, and the pain spreads instantly from there and up my arm. I cry out, but lose my hold on the chainsaw. He grabs it and physically throws it away from us. It lands ten feet across from us in a large mud puddle—instantly dying. I stare at it. I glance at him. Next, I glare at the hold he has on my wrist. Then, I look at him again. His long hair is loose now. It’s not held back by anything, and the rain has drenched him so that beads of water cling to his face and neck. His long beard reflects the same state and there are droplets of water running from the burly hair.

Lightning chooses this moment to blast through the sky, highlighting his face. I blink against the rain, thinking what I just witnessed can’t be true, and jumping as the sound of thunder rolls around us. Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom, chooses this moment to unleash another large flash of lightning. I think Mother Nature might just be a bitch, because now I can see clearly. My captor’s face is revealed in the stark light. His dark eyes are looking down at me, and I swear it appears as though liquid hate is rolling off him and pouring into me. The stark scars on his face are menacing with so much anger held on his face, and right before we’re plunged back into darkness, an image of Jack Nicholson from the movie, The Shining comes to mind. I jerk my hand to get it free.

He refuses to let go.

I try again, with the same result.

Finally, after all this, I do what any sane woman would do under similar circumstances.

I faint.





9





Beast





I’m about to light into the crazy fool when she goes slack in my arms. I’m tempted to let her fall in the rain and leave her laying there. With my luck, she’d pick up that fucking chainsaw again and actually succeed in killing herself this time. Instead, I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the door of her house.

She might be pregnant, but she weighs next to nothing. She’s obviously not taking care of herself, another mark against her. I shuffle her body around so I can open the door, then I take her inside. The house is cool, almost cold. I walk her through the small hallway. I have to walk at an angle to prevent raking her legs or head against the pale blue walls. I get her into the living room. There’s a piece of crap couch in there with actual duct tape covering tears in the worn fabric. All the money Pistol made through the years and this is the shithole his sister lives in.

My stomach turns, and if the man were alive, I’d be sure to kill him again. Laying her on the couch, I then proceed to the small fireplace. Grabbing a couple pieces of wood that she has placed close by, I put them on the fire while raking through the red embers. It doesn’t take long for the popping and crackling sound of wood burning to be heard.

Glancing back at the woman, I see she’s still out. I think about taking her coat off, something to help so that she doesn’t catch pneumonia from being so wet. In the end, I do none of that. I don’t have it in me to touch her, and I don’t really want to look at her.

Instead, I walk back through her house, looking for the window that was broken. I find it in a small bedroom in the rear of the house. It’s obviously the room she is turning into a nursery. There’s wallpaper on the walls that’s a pale yellow about half way up the wall that has little stripes on it. The rest of the wall has been painted a creamy white and there are zoo animals hand-painted above the wallpaper. The animals are cartoon like, but expertly drawn. They’re all wearing some kind of strange article of clothing in yellow that matches the wallpaper. There’s an elephant wearing a yellow beret, a penguin wearing a yellow tie, a hippo wearing a yellow tutu, and I stop looking when I see a lion wearing a yellow hat and matching scarf, because by then, I see the window.

Raking my hand along the side of my face, I scratch my beard, and automatically search for the deep groove of the scar I have there. I shouldn’t bother. This isn’t my job. This woman isn’t my concern. Still, I find myself figuring out what I need to board up the window in here. If I don’t do it, the crazy woman will be back outside trying to saw the damn tree again. I look at the baby furniture in the room. Clearly secondhand, and though there’s nothing wrong with buying used furniture, these pieces are crap. They’re completely worn-out, about all they are fit for is a bonfire. Then I notice the crushed bassinet.

Something sifts through my gut that I can’t name, and I’m not about to investigate. Whatever the feeling is, however, becomes the deciding factor. I find a flashlight on her kitchen counter. The batteries are weak so the light is pale at best, but it will have to work. I go outside to the small shed by her house I noticed earlier. It doesn’t take me long to find the supplies I need.

The first thing I grab is an axe that’s hanging on the side of the wall, then take it back to the tree. I cut off enough of the branches so that I can physically push the tree, dislodging it from the house. The rain has slowed, but it hasn’t stopped, so that’s all I fool with for the night. Then I return to the shed to grab the ratty old piece of plywood and some assorted nails. It’s not much, but it will work until she can get someone out here to work on it.