A Monster's Beauty (In the Arms of Monsters, 3) by Sam Crescent

Chapter One




“This place is nice and cozy. I can see why you like it so much,” Reaper said.

Preacher stared at his enemy across the room. He wanted to kill him but he couldn’t. In his whole life, he’d never desired anything as much as running the tip of his blade across the man’s throat and watching him die. This was fucking unfair and he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming. He should have. Two years Robin had been with this disgusting prick, and yet she was still alive. Sure, she’d been hurt when he found her, but who had she been running to, or running from?

“You better shut your fucking mouth,” Bear said.

Neither he nor Bear wanted this man near them, but they had no choice but to accept him into their home. Preacher felt sick to his stomach.

“Or what? You’re going to attack me to death with your words? Please, we all know I’m not dying tonight or anytime soon.”

“You look happy with yourself,” Bishop said.

This was just another cross for Preacher to deal with. Not only did he have Reaper, the fucking leader of Slaves to the Beast, but now he also had his own traitorous son in his home. Two people he wanted to kill more than anything. Things couldn’t get any fucking worse. They probably could, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now. Nope, as far as he was concerned, they’d already gone fucking bad. Never had he considered himself to be an optimist, but right about now, he was hoping for something, anything to make this all right. There was nothing. The need to kill was strong and building with every passing second, but he kept it at bay. This wasn’t the time nor the place to kill all the fuckers here tonight, even if they did deserve it.

“Why shouldn’t I be happy? Do you think this has been easy for me?”

“I think you’ve been pissing yourself laughing at all of us.”

“No, not at all. Believe what you want, Bear, but I happen to love your daughter.”

“Bullshit,” Bear said.

“I need a drink.” Preacher left the main sitting room, going into his office and finding the best kind of whiskey money could buy. He didn’t even bother with a glass. No, this time, he went straight to the bottle. Downing several large gulps, he closed his eyes, relishing the burn. He couldn’t handle this. There was no way Reaper loved Robin. It just couldn’t work. It shouldn’t work. The son of a bitch was a fucking monster. Robin, though, he knew from experience she had a way of getting under your skin without even trying. She didn’t see her charm, or how men wanted to protect her. He did, and even now with the revelation of a baby, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, love her, and tell her it was all going to be all right. He’d find a way.

“I’m sorry,” Bishop said.

Now his shitty night got even worse with hearing his son speak. There was a time he did love his son. Bishop was his world. Not enough to marry the kid’s mother, but enough to care. All of that had changed in the past few months, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t killed him before.

“I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight.” He didn’t turn around to look at his son. He was holding on by a thread, a really tiny fucking piece of thread.

“I know you’re pissed.”

This time, he did look at his son and laugh. “You think this is all? I’m a little pissed?” He certainly wasn’t drunk. He’d need a hell of a lot more alcohol to even start to numb the shit going on in his brain. Of what he wanted to do to his own flesh and blood. No, Bishop wasn’t his son. There was no way a son of his would help his enemy.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Bishop shrugged.

Preacher took another couple of gulps of whiskey. “Let’s start with angry. I suggest you go back to your little fuck buddy.”

“I’m not fucking Reaper.”

“You were supposed to be a Twisted Monster, you little shit. Instead, you gave her to them, and you think a little apology and pretending to give a fuck is going to make it all better?” he asked. “You think that’s all it takes?” Where did he go wrong with this kid? What did he do to have all this shit land on him the way it did? He didn’t have any answers. Being a dad had always been new to him. He knew deep down he wasn’t a good dad, but there were far worse out there.

“I made a mistake.”

“No, you royally, totally, and unforgivably fucked up.” He didn’t know how much more he could control his feelings. Everything was coming at him so fast. Between seeing the baby, the look in Robin’s eye, and knowing what Bishop had done, he was ready to wage an all-out war. His hands shook with his need to kill. It had been a long time he’d felt this way. Any other time, he’d just attacked and done whatever he felt was right, no questions asked, but right now, he was far from happy with any of this. He had an overwhelming desire to fuck something up and that anything could be his son. Right now, as he looked at Bishop, he didn’t recognize him.