Beast: Savages and Saints

by Seabrook, C. M.

  “Me,” I tell her, heat warming my cheeks.

  “Really?” Her eyes widen.

  “A lesson I learned from the smartest, most beautiful woman in the world.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, and who is that? I’d love to meet her.”

  I chuckle, kissing her again. And when I do, holding my wife in my arms, the promise of forever in front of us, I know that I’ve overcome the beast inside me. And with London by my side, I am the man I was destined to become.

  Epilogue II

  London

  Four years later

  “Happy Mama’s day, Mommy,” Rory says, jumping into bed with me, and kissing me. “Daddy and I made you breakfast in bed.”

  “You did?” I smile at the cherub face that beams at me and sit up, just as Abbott walks in the room, carrying a tray.

  He’s not wearing a shirt, and like every time I see him, my breath catches in my throat at the power and pure sexuality he exudes. God, the man is sexy - and all mine.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he says, grinning down at me. “Rory made you eggs and toast.”

  “Daddy let me break the eggs all by myself,” she says, bouncing on the bed, her curls bouncing with her.

  “Careful,” Abbott says, placing the tray on my lap, then whispers, “And careful with each bite. I tried to get all the shells out, but there might be a few left.”

  I chuckle and take a small bite. “It’s delicious,” I tell Rory. “Thank you.”

  “And Daddy made you coffee.” She starts to reach for the steaming mug, and I grab it from her before she spills it.

  “Thank you.” I take a sip, but my stomach does a small flip like it has been every morning for the past few weeks.

  Abbott sits on the bed next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and nuzzling his face against my neck. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

  “Open my card, Mommy,” Rory says, handing me a pink envelope.

  I smile, giving Abbott the tray to put on the side table, and open Rory’s card. Inside is a drawing of our family, and her attempts at writing Mommy, Daddy, and Rory.

  “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

  “Do you want to go get her gift?” Abbott says.

  Rory gives a little squeal and bounces off the bed and out of the room.

  “I actually have a gift for you,” I tell him, snuggling against his chest, and running my fingers over Rory and my name that he had tattooed over his heart.

  He cocks a brow at me and smirks, “Oh yeah? If it’s anything like the gift you gave me last night, I’m all in.”

  I smack his chest and laugh. “No. It’s better than that. At least I hope you’ll think so.”

  He shifts slightly so he can see me better, and grins down at me. “What is it.”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “An appointment with your tattoo guy.”

  “You think I need more ink?” He chuckles.

  “Just one more,” I tell him, running my fingers across the bare skin under Rory’s name. “Right here.”

  His brows draw down, and I realize he’s still not catching my meaning.

  “Another name,” I say, still trying to hint.

  He frowns. “Another—” Then his eyes widen, and he places his hands on my shoulder and pulls back. “Wait. Are you..?”

  Tears fill my eyes, and I nod. We’ve been trying for almost a year to get pregnant, and I was starting to get worried that maybe we couldn’t. Abbott kept insisting that our family was complete with just Rory, but I know he’s been wanting this.

  “Shit, London.” He cups my jaw, searching my eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I went to my doctor’s yesterday to confirm. I’m almost two months along. Are you happy?”

  “Are you kidding?” He kisses me, then pulls back. “God, I love you so much. We’re going to have a baby.”

  “A baby?” Rory asks, jumping back on the bed.

  “You’re going to be a big sister,” Abbott says, picking her up and placing her in his lap. “What do you think about that?”

  “Do I have to share my room with him?” she asks, frowning.

  I chuckle. “You’ll still have your own room. But what makes you think that it’ll be a him?”

  “Because all the babies are boys.”

  “She’s not wrong,” Abbott says, chuckling. Other than her and Lola, all the Savage and St. James babies that have been born in the past five years have been boys.

  “Maybe it’s time for another girl,” I tell him, resting my hand on my still flat stomach. I don’t mention that I had a dream last night that I was holding another little girl in my arms.

  I’d be happy with a little boy, but Abbott is so good with Rory, I can’t imagine him not surrounded by pink tutus and tiaras and fairy wings.

  He may hold two championship belts, but the Beast of Port Clover is a pushover when it comes to his little girl.

  “Why don’t you give her the gift now?” Abbott says, nodding to the wrapped gift in Rory’s hand.

  My daughter’s eyes light up again, and she hands me the rectangular present. “It’s a book,” she says before I have a chance to unwrap it.

  I smile, pulling the paper away. “Thank you, I’ve needed something to…” I pause when I see the photo on the hardcover book. It’s a picture of Abbott and me on our wedding day, and the title on the cover reads, A New Beauty and the Beast Story.

  “You made this?” I ask, meeting Abbott’s gaze.

  “I thought our fairy tale should have its own book.” Those dark eyes are soft, filled with so much love that I feel it in the deepest part of my soul. “Why don’t you read it.”

  “Read it, Mommy.” Rory snuggles against me and opens the book.

  My fingers shake as I start, “Once upon a time, in a small town, a young boy lived by a great lake. And although he had everything he could ever want, his heart grew hard. The boy was angry, and bitter, and fought constantly.”

  I turn the page. There’s a photo of Abbott when he was about ten, his right eye is black, and he stares at the camera broodily.

  “Who’s that, Daddy?” Rory asks.

  “That’s me when I was a few years older than you.” Abbott grins at me.

  I keep reading, my heart swelling at the work he went to to put this together.

  “One day, a young girl came to Port Clover. She was beautiful, and the boy fell in love with her the moment he saw her. The girl offered the boy the most precious gift she could give him, her heart. But the boy was too blind to see the gift.”

  I turn the page again, and I realize that each page is filled with pictures of Abbott and me.

  I suck in a shaky breath and try not to cry as I keep reading. “The boy loved the girl, but he did something that he knew the girl would never forgive him for. So he took his pain, and he made himself a beast. From his cave, he watched the girl grow into a beautiful woman, but she lived in the sun, and the beast had condemned himself to the darkness.”

  Abbott squeezes my hand when I choke on the last words.

  “Can you finish reading it?” I ask, not trusting my own voice.

  He smiles and takes the book from me. “Ashamed and disgraced, the beast’s heart grew colder and harder every passing day. But the woman saw him. Even hidden in the shadows, concealed by the monstrous form he’d taken on, the woman saw the boy she once loved.”

  “That’s Mommy,” Rory says, pointing at a picture that I’ve never seen before, one that Abbott must have taken of me when I wasn’t looking. I’m on the beach, staring out at the lake, a small smile playing on my lips.

  Abbott kisses the top of Rory’s head, then continues, “The beast knew that he could never be good enough for the woman, but one day she lured him out of his cave, and into the sunlight. At first, he was terrified that she’d finally see him for the beast he was. But she saw through his haggard appearance. And once again, she offered him a gift.”

  “What was it?” Rory asks, eyes wide.

  “Her heart,”
Abbott says.

  “And did he take it?” I ask, smiling.

  “He did. And he gave her his in return. And the curse was finally broken—”

  “And they lived happily ever after,” Rory says.

  Abbott chuckles. “Yes, they did. More happily than the beast had ever imagined was possible.” He shuts the book, and Rory takes it, scooting back on the bed, and starting from the beginning of the book again.

  I curl up in his arms. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  He tilts my chin up and brushes his lips against mine. “Yeah, I do, sweetheart. But I promise you, it’s nothing compared to how much I love you.”

  My heart swells with love, and I run my fingers over the ink he had tattooed on his chest the week before we got married.

  He who accepts his failures and learns from them, can overcome the beast and be the man he was destined to become.

  Laying in his arms, I know that even though the world will always know him as the Beast of Port Clover, Abbott Savage is undoubtedly the man he was always destined to become.

  About the Author

  Amazon bestselling author C.M. Seabrook writes hot, steamy romances with possessive bad boys, and the passionate, fiery women who love them.

  Swoonworthy romances from the heart!

  For more information:

  www.cmseabrook.com

  chantelseabrook@gmail.com

  Also by C.M. Seabrook

  Men with Wood Series

  Second Draft

  Second Shot

  Fighting Blind Series

  Theo

  Moody

  Wild Irish Series

  Wild Irish

  Tempting Irish

  Taming Irish

  Savages & Saints Series

  Torment

  Gravity

  Salvage

  Beast

  Princeton Charming Series

  Kissing Princeton Charming

  Dating Princeton Charming

  Losing Princeton Charming

  Forever Princeton Charming

  Standalones

  Melting Steel

  Preview: Moody

  Prologue

  Moody

  Four years ago…

  My head is pounding, my ears are ringing, and my tongue feels like it’s two sizes too big for my mouth, but the hangover is nothing compared to the sharp pain that slices my chest when I look down at the woman in my bed.

  White sheets drape over her lush curves. Blonde hair rests in gentle waves around her shoulders, across the delicate line of her back.

  Isabelle Stewart. Izzy. My best friend’s sister. The friend who’s currently fighting for his life in Intensive Care because of me.

  One punch. That’s all it took. One fucking punch, and the next thing I know Griffin is on the mat, eyes rolled back in his head, seizing.

  I never should have agreed to the fight. Griffin’s a good fighter, but he’d been warned by several doctors that one more head injury could be fatal.

  Idiot. Him. Me. Believing that we’re gods of our own mortality. What bullshit. Twenty-four years old, and he may never wake up again, because I’m a greedy son of a bitch who has no fucking control in or out of the ring.

  “Moody?” Izzy stretches and blinks up at me, her blue eyes full of question and concern.

  I have to turn away, because I don’t deserve the sympathy I see there, and I know that if I let her in, even an inch, I won’t be able to walk away. And that’s exactly what I have to do.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the gym.” I finish buckling my belt, then lean over to pick up my discarded t-shirt. “I’ve got a fight this weekend.”

  “If you want to go to the hospital later, I’ll go with you.” She sits up, watching me warily.

  “No.” The word comes out harsher than I intend, and I see her wince. “Your father made it clear he doesn’t want me there.”

  As clear as being shoved up against a brick wall and having his fist in my face, while threatening to put my sorry ass in prison. I let the bastard hit me, multiple times, because hell, I deserved it.

  “Give him time. He’ll realize it wasn’t your fault.” The compassion in her voice tightens my chest.

  I grunt, knowing she’s wrong. “Don’t you have class today or something?”

  A small quiver of breath, and a slight flare of her nostrils; it’s the only indication she gives that I’ve hurt her.

  I curse myself under my breath, fighting the urge to go to her, wrap my arms around her, and take the acceptance and love she so easily gives.

  The stain of her innocence is still on the sheets. Fuck, if I’d known she’d still been a virgin, I never would have taken her so carelessly.

  Repulsion rolls in my stomach. Not for her, but for what I’ve done.

  The Destroyer. That’s what they call me in the ring, and I’ve never felt it more than now.

  Everything I touch I destroy.

  I’ve done asshole things before, but never to this magnitude.

  The knowledge of the mistake I made the night before pounds into my brain like a bloody sledgehammer.

  I’d been drunk. But it was no fucking excuse. I knew what I was doing when I let her drive me back to my place. Knew exactly how it would end. I’d told myself I deserved a few hours of relief from the pain. But it was just an excuse. I needed her. All of her.

  Fuck, she was the only thing holding my shredded sanity together.

  Izzy. Perfect, beautiful, innocent Izzy. I know the girl has been half in love with me for years, but I kept my distance. Not only because I knew Griffin would beat the shit out of me if I touched her, but because she’s too good for me.

  It’s not just that she’s gorgeous. Hell, I’ve had my share of beautiful women. But not one of them possessed the light that Izzy illuminates. Like a beacon in the darkest pit of hell, one smile makes my chest clench and my heart miss a beat.

  And she’s smart. No, not just smart – brilliant. At twenty-two, she’s already finishing up her second year of med school. And I have no doubt she’ll graduate with honors, whatever the hell that even means, but it’s something she always seems to be stressing about.

  College was never an option for me even if I could’ve afforded it.

  Fighting is all I know. The only thing I’m good at. My saving grace. The one thing that kept me going when life decided to kick me to the curb. My only regret is dragging Griffin into it with me.

  Like Izzy, he’s got book smarts. He could have done anything he wanted. Instead, he traded a lucrative career at his father’s law firm for the adrenaline rush of the ring.

  And now what does he have? A brain bleed and a forty percent chance of never opening his eyes again.

  A cold shiver races down my spine.

  Izzy’s watching me, her gaze full of apprehension.

  “Maybe I can come over after I visit Griffin. I can give you an update and–”

  “I’ll call the hospital if I want an update.”

  Silence. Shit, I’m such an asshole. And I hate myself for it.

  “Right.” She blinks and a single tear slips down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away.

  If I was a better man I’d go to her, tell her everything will be all right. But the thing is, I know the truth. Nothing will ever be all right again. I’ve destroyed both our worlds, and the longer I stay, the more destruction I’ll leave in my wake.

  She deserves so much more than the black emptiness I carry inside me.

  “Okay,” she says softly, reaching for her clothes. Each movement is tortured, stiff, and I can almost hear the self-degrading thoughts going through her head.

  Tell her the truth. Tell her what an asshole you really are. Tell her that her brother is in the hospital because of you. And not just because it was your fist that caused the aneurysm to burst, but because he never would have been in the ring in the first place if you didn’t need the money to pay off your fucking gambling debt.r />
  Tell her anything to make her hate you instead of hating herself.

  “I’ll go.” She slides off the bed, gathering her clothes.

  “Yeah.” I rake my fingers over my face. “That’s probably for the best.”

  Her sharp intake of breath is worse than a slap to the face.

  Bastard. Asshole. Prick. I know I’m all those things and more. But the best thing I can do for her is let her walk away.

  I pace restlessly as she finishes getting dressed and finds her purse and keys.

  Gaze downcast, she moves towards the door.

  “I’m sorry, Izzy.”

  “Don’t be.” She turns, her hand resting on the door handle. She looks at me, and her blue eyes are full of resignation. “I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”

  Her words bite, but I know she’s right. Only for the first time, I wish she was wrong, because as she walks out the door I know I’ve just let a piece of my heart leave with her.

  Chapter 1

  Izzy

  Four years later…

  “I hate parties,” I mumble under my breath, taking the glass of wine that my brother Griffin hands me.

  He gives me one of his lopsided smiles, the right side of his face slightly slack. It’s the only tell-tale sign of his brain aneurysm, along with the slight drag of his right foot when he walks, but I know he hides the internal ones. The headaches, the mood swings, the depression.

  “Your fiancé seems to be enjoying himself.” Griffin nods in Jason’s direction, where a roar of laughter comes from the group of men surrounding him.

  Jason looks over at me and winks, a broad smile stretching across his handsome face.

  Fiancé. I still haven’t gotten used to the word. It just seems so formal. So forced. But then, I’d barely gotten used to dating him when he popped the big question – in front of both our families on Christmas Eve.