Beast: A modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast (House of Misfits Book 4) Read online

  Beast

  cambria hebert

  Contents

  Once upon a time…

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  AUTHORS NOTE

  ABOUT CAMBRIA

  BOOKS BY CAMBRIA HEBERT

  BEAST Copyright © 2021 CAMBRIA HEBERT

  * * *

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions

  thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief

  quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  * * *

  Published by Cambria Hebert

  http://www.cambriahebert.com

  * * *

  Interior design and typesetting by Classic Interior Design

  Cover design by Cover Me Darling

  Edited by Cassie McCown

  Copyright 2021 by Cambria Hebert

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used

  fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Once upon a time…

  A philosopher once said:

  He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

  —Samuel L. Johnson

  Prologue

  Witch

  * * *

  You’ve lost your mind. It was only about the one thousandth time I told myself this in the past hour. If you counted the minutes and days leading up to now, then it would be countless.

  Yet here I was anyway, ignoring my inner cynic. Shoving down my gut instinct.

  Ignoring everything for hope.

  My entire midsection buzzed with nervous energy, my toes practically screaming in pain at the way they were scrunched into the borrowed, too-small heels.

  I could have chosen another pair. I didn’t want to.

  Just as I didn’t want to ignore all the turn back! warnings my brain so generously inundated me with.

  The dress was something I’d found in a secondhand shop and honestly like nothing I’d worn before, but the sheath-style silhouette was on trend as far as I could tell when thumbing through fashion magazines. The strapless style almond-colored gown was embellished with sequins that were small at the bust and gradually got larger down toward the feet.

  They caught the light when I moved, and if a few fell off the hem as I walked, I just thought of it as my way of leaving a trail so my prince could find me.

  There you go again. Acting ridiculous.

  Pushing aside the thoughts, I put my chin up, the strands of my long dark-brown hair falling behind me. I’d fancied up the plain, straight strands with a few braids pinned at the back with a sparkly clip.

  The hotel lobby was glamorous and shiny. Every surface gleamed despite the amount of traffic such a place likely saw. My heels clipped over the marble, and I tried not to flush when I felt eyes wander in my direction.

  A place like this was out of my depth, not at all the kind I normally frequented.

  You were invited. I reminded myself.

  I might have called the invitation relentless if not for the charm that made it irresistible. My stomach fluttered a bit when I pictured sapphire eyes, which crinkled at the corners when they settled fully on their target. Smiling faintly, I recalled the way he’d leaned over the polished counter, getting closer, as if his presence weren’t already intoxicating enough.

  Men like him were dangerous. But perhaps also worth the chance.

  “I don’t fit in your world,” I’d told him.

  He replied, “Then make my world fit around you.”

  So here I was, walking through the lobby of a posh Upper East Side hotel, an unlikely guest at a high-society event. Usually, I was the one serving, not the one being served. But tonight was different, a chance to be seen for who I was and not just the status I lived in.

  A few lingering stares fastened to me as I walked down the wide, carpeted hall toward one of the massive ballrooms. I’d never seen such opulence in a hotel. Even the air I breathed smelled rich.

  The music wafting from the ball was instrumental but not at all boring like most classical pieces I’d heard. Whoever was playing inside was clearly talented.

  Women whispered, their eyes following me toward the wide double-door entrance. I couldn’t hear the words they spoke, but their intent prickled the base of my spine and set me on edge.

  “Excuse me,” someone said off to the side. Her voice was prim and filled with judgment.

  Calmly, I turned toward her, noting the way her neck was practically dripping in diamonds.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Her tone was suspicious.

  “I’m a guest.”

  The sound of her scoff seemed to echo up to the high ceiling.

  “A guest?” She sneered. “Impossible. You do not belong here.”

  And what exactly is here? I wanted to ask, but why bother? Her answer would be just as absurd as the rest of her.

  “Excuse me,” I said instead and turned my back.

  “Her dress is so cheap it’s leaving a tacky mess all over the floor,” the snarky woman woefully complained as she turned back to her friends.

  Brushing off the sting of her words, I focused instead on the man I knew was waiting for me inside.

  The wide entrance was like a frame for the lavish affair inside. The ceilings were draped in what looked like light-colored silk. Delicate lights twinkled between them, and a massive gold chandelier hung in the center. Immense flower arrangements stood in vases taller than me, green ivy trailing out of them to pool on the glossy tile floor.

  People milled about carrying flutes of champagne and glasses of wine and wearing clothing that I’d only ever seen on TV. Glancing down at my gown, I suddenly felt tragically underdressed.

  It doesn’t matter. He’s waiting.

  The thought fueled me on, and I stepped forward, my toes screaming. I was going to have one hell of a giant blister.

  Before I could cross the threshold, a man in a black suit with some kind of earpiece in his ear and a clipboard in his hand stepped forward.

  Clearing his throat, face impassive, he said, “Invitation.”

  A flicker of something I didn’t like burst
inside me. Shying away from the horrid feeling, I straightened my shoulders. “I’m meeting someone.”

  His face remained the same. “Name.”

  “Winnifred Maciel,” I replied. “Winnie.”

  He barely glanced at the list in his hand. “You aren’t listed.”

  “What?”

  “You aren’t on the list.”

  The woman down the hall snickered.

  “Check again,” I told him.

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Check. Again.”

  Whatever he heard in my voice widened his eyes, and his lips pursed. “Very well.” He made a show of looking through the sheets of paper before meeting my gaze once more. “Your name is not here. This ball is by invitation only. You cannot come in.”

  “But I was invited.”

  “Young lady, if I let in the room every woman that claimed to be invited, there would be no room for those who actually have an invitation.”

  “How embarrassing,” the woman wearing her weight in diamonds touted, appearing at my side. “Go back to where you came from, and if you can’t recall the way, just follow the trail your dress has left behind.”

  I said nothing, and she didn’t expect me to, instead moving past the man acting as a bodyguard at the door, who practically folded in half bowing as she went by.

  Hot anger fueled by shame rose inside me. My chest became so tight with it I felt like I might explode.

  “Should I call security?” the man asked, bored.

  A low growl ripped out of my throat as both hands shoved at the man. Shock registered across his face, the first real expression I’d seen from him. Lips parting on a surprised gasp, he stumbled back. I didn’t bother waiting to see what he would say.

  I marched past him, going into the ballroom he’d tried to bar me from.

  “You can’t go in there!” he yelled behind me.

  I ignored him and kept marching. This was all some stupid mistake. The second I found my date, he would clear all this up, and then everyone in the room would eat crow.

  Ignoring the curious stares from people all around, I saw the bar across the room and smiled. That was exactly where he would be.

  Weaving through the guests and around several impeccably dressed servers with gold trays, I made my way to the ornately finished bar.

  It didn’t take long to find him. His charm and presence dominated the room. He’d drawn a small crowd, but even so, they allowed him enough personal space so I could make out his broad shoulders beneath the tuxedo jacket he wore.

  Butterflies erupted in my middle, and I forgot about the embarrassment of getting through the door as I stared at the back of his blond head and the way the hair at the back of his neck flipped out.

  “Ander,” I called out, stopping several feet away.

  There seemed to be a collective pause of everyone around him. I felt the eyes of many, felt rather than saw drinks lowering from lips as people studied me.

  Ander’s shoulders tensed just slightly as he straightened from the bar. His head cocked to the side, and then he turned.

  High cheekbones. Straight nose. Strong shapely brows arching gracefully over eyes that looked like uncut sapphires. His skin was flawless, creamy and unlined. His full mouth pursed a little as his gaze flicked over me.

  An odd feeling overcame me, something akin to disappointment. Why wasn’t he smiling?

  “Do I know you?” he asked, voice bored.

  My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Ha-ha. Very funny,” I said, taking a step closer.

  The way his eyes narrowed made my feet pause. “Who said I was joking?”

  The air around us turned tense and stiff. I could practically feel it vibrating around us. The crowd that stood nearby was still and watchful, quietly taking in every single moment.

  “You do look a little familiar,” Ander said, looking at me again. “Have we met?”

  Someone off to the side snickered.

  All the humiliation I’d been pushing away rushed me, so strong it would be impossible to shove down once more.

  “Considering I’m your date, I’d say so.”

  A flicker of confusion crossed behind his eyes, but it was gone before I could fully register it, and he smiled. “You’re my date?” he mused. The crystal glass he’d been holding was handed off to a man beside him with lustrous dark skin.

  Straightening away from the bar, Ander took a step closer, eyes never leaving me. His stare was intense. Something about it made me want to squirm.

  “If you’re my date, then who is this?” Stretching out his arm to the side, he held his hand palm up, and the group of admirers around him parted so a young woman could step through. Her long, graceful fingers slid over his palm, and I watched as his much wider ones closed around hers. Before lowering their now-clasped hands, he lifted hers to press a kiss to the back.

  She preened as though she’d been awarded something great and then turned her head to settle the weight of her green-eyed gaze on me. Her hair was blond and done up ornately with a freaking tiara sitting on her crown. Her dress was gold, falling in perfect waves all the way to the floor. There wasn’t one average thing about her, and just seeing her next to him made me feel like the worst kind of wilted flower.

  “But you invited me,” I said stupidly. Oh, how I was going to regret those timid words later.

  “Oh, sweetie,” the blonde at his side said. “Why on earth would Ander invite someone like you when someone like me is already by his side?” A flash of something cruel glinted in her green gaze. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  Those around us laughed.

  Under my ribs, my heart started pounding heavily. The burn of shame was back, tingling my toes and rushing up my legs to pool in my stomach. “But you did! We’ve been talking for weeks!”

  “Ander, have you been playing games in the slums again?” the man at his side asked. His voice was not at all reproachful. It was instead amused. The ice in his glass clinked as he lifted it to his lips. “Didn’t you say you’d stop?”

  Ander’s upper lip curled, and he shot a look at the man. “Shut it, Garret.” Turning back to me, he said, “I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but that’s enough. I don’t know you. I’ve never spoken to you.” His eyes roamed over my outfit, clear distaste in his gaze before settling back on my face. “I definitely wouldn’t ask someone like you to be my date.”

  My throat burned. Behind my eyes felt scratchy and dry. The tightness in my chest was nearly unbearable, but that wasn’t the worst thing.

  The worst thing was realizing I’d been played. I let him make me believe there was no line between us and it didn’t matter I wasn’t from his world.

  Furious rage bubbled up inside me unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

  Was this all a sick game to him? Flirt and sweet-talk me for weeks just so he could humiliate me in front of people I didn’t even know? Did he do this just to prove how much of an outcast I really was?

  “You’re scum.”

  He paused in turning away, glancing back at whatever he heard in my voice. “What?”

  “You’re rich, dress up in these fancy clothes, drink your fancy champagne, and probably don’t even have a clue what real life is like. But that’s not enough for you people, is it?” As I spoke, my voice grew higher and higher, my words drawing more attention. “Everything you have still makes you empty, so you have to embarrass and reject people like me to make yourself feel full.”

  Something tumultuous flashed in his gemlike eyes. “I don’t make the rules.” He spoke almost menacingly. “I just live by them.”

  Just then, security broke through the wall of people watching us as if we were some kind of prime-time drama. “Let’s go,” a man said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

  I shook him off, stepping closer to the man I’d come here thinking of as my date who now was more like my enemy.

  Words fell off my tongue. Words in a language I didn’t often speak but
considered the language of my soul. My grandmother told me to never be anyone’s doormat. To never let anyone get the best of me.

  I spoke rapidly, my sharp tongue guided by the anger and hurt I felt so profoundly.

  “Que el sabor de la humillación te manche tu lengua y el reflejo que me obligaste a mirar se refleje en ti multiplicado por diez. Que lo que está dentro brote de tus poros para manchar tu apariencia impecable con una verdad brutal. Cualquiera de aquí en adelante sabrá de qué estás hecho con solo una mirada. Deja que las llamas de mi ira te marquen eternamente para que nunca puedas olvidar tu rechazo a un corazón honesto y arder para siempre en arrepentimiento.”

  The feeling of my head flopping on my neck was what brought me back and paused my tongue. Blinking past the hazy, intense emotions gripping my mind, Ander’s cruelly handsome face swam in my vision. So close. Much closer than he’d been before. My heart leaped for a fraction of a second before everything that was happening crashed back over me once more.

  Painful pressure dug into my upper arms, and my head still lolled. He was shaking me. His fingers gripped me so tight I knew my skin would bear the bruises from his unrelenting grasp.

  “Let go!” I roared. Outwardly, it sounded more like a gasp.

  “I could say the same to you.” He snarled.