Page 7 of Beast (Iron Sentinels MC #4)

T he air between them was thick with tension, heavy and humming, like a storm waiting to break.

Pixie was aware of how close Beast stood. Too close, his frame a wall of heat and power as he looked down at her, eyes dark and wild.

Her breath hitched as his hand rose to cup her face. His touch, so gentle despite the calloused strength in his palm, made her heart lurch painfully against her ribs.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, voice rough with restraint.

He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, just under her eye, like he was memorizing the fragile curve of her.

Pixie couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She should say no. She should turn away.

But the fire licking at her spine, the heat pooling low in her belly, and the ache that had been growing in her chest for days—none of it would be denied. Not anymore. And then he kissed her.

Savage. Starving. Like he’d been holding back for far too long and finally let the leash snap. His mouth crashed down on hers, demanding and deep, and Pixie’s world tilted.

She gasped, caught somewhere between surprise and surrender, but Beast didn’t hesitate. He devoured her like he’d been waiting forever, and maybe he had. Maybe they both had.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she felt every hard inch of his body press into hers. Pixie could even feel his erection, pressing up against his jeans.

Every wall she’d built, every rule she’d clung to cracked under the weight of him. And then her hands found his shoulders, gripping tight as the breath left her lungs. Don’t stop! her body screamed.

She tore her mouth from his just long enough to whisper it. “Don’t stop.”

That was all it took. Beast growled low in his throat, a sound that made her shiver, and then he kissed her again—fiercer, deeper, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a hunger that matched her own.

Pixie kissed him back with just as much desperation. She slid her fingers into his hair, tugging, pulling him closer. She wanted to disappear into him. To forget the fear, the running, the past. For this moment, she wanted only him.

He pushed her back gently until her spine hit the wall. His mouth moved to her neck, hot and open, and she tilted her head without thinking, baring her throat like instinct.

“Fuck,” he whispered against her skin. “You drive me insane.”

Pixie’s legs trembled. She wasn’t used to being wanted like this—like she was the prize. Not a burden. Not a threat. Just ... desired.

“Beast,” she whispered, voice shaking.

He stilled at the sound of his name on her lips, just for a heartbeat, then pulled back enough to meet her gaze. She saw everything in his eyes—lust, yes, but more than that. Possession. Protection. Care. No one had ever looked at her like that.

“You scare the shit out of me,” she admitted, breathless. “Because I want this. You. And I don’t know how to want anything without losing it.”

Beast’s expression softened, the edge in his jaw easing just slightly. He pressed his forehead to hers, voice rough. “You’re not gonna lose me, Pixie. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her chest ached with the weight of that promise. And when he kissed her again, slower this time—gentler but no less intense—she let herself believe him. She gave in.

Beast pulled her past the living room and to the hallway, gripping her hand tight. Pixie didn’t resist one bit.

She followed, heart pounding, every step dizzy with anticipation.

She didn’t even realize they were headed for her room until Beast reached her door and pushed it open with a low growl in his throat.

The moment it shut behind them, he had her against the wall again, kissing her like a man coming undone.

Clothes disappeared piece by piece, tossed to the floor between kisses and soft gasps. Beast’s hands were everywhere—her waist, her thighs, her hips—like he couldn’t decide what to worship first.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped against her shoulder, dragging his mouth along her collarbone. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Pixie trembled under his touch, her fingers clutching his shoulders. “Then show me,” she whispered. “Please, Beast.”

His name in her voice undid him. He lifted her with ease, strong hands gripping her thighs as he carried her to the bed.

When he laid her down, he didn’t rush. He just stared for a moment, chest heaving, like he needed a second to believe she was really there.

Pixie reached up and cupped his face. “I want this. I want you.”

Beast groaned low and lowered himself over her, his body a delicious weight, his mouth finding hers again with a reverence that made her ache.

He kissed her like he needed her to breathe, their bodies pressing together, skin on skin, every inch burning. Beast didn’t rush. He took his time, leaving burning kisses on the side of her neck, the hollow of her throat.

Beast took her left breast into his mouth, sucking on the nipple until she cried out. He did her right as well, leaving an imprint of his teeth there. Seeing his mark there made Pixie shudder in anticipation.

He continued downward, kissing her ribs, her stomach, and finally the valley between her legs. She moaned, gripping the sheets above her as he put his mouth to her pussy. Beast licked and sucked the folds, finally closing his mouth on her sensitive clit.

When he sucked on it, Pixie came, shuddering under his expert tongue and mouth. When she came to, Beast positioned himself between her legs. He hefted them over her shoulders, his gaze never leaving her.

When he finally sank his thick cock into her, slow and deep, she gasped and arched into him, eyes fluttering closed.

“Eyes on me, Pix,” he said, voice husky. “I need to see you.”

She opened her eyes, met his. The connection in that moment stole her breath more than anything else had.

Beast moved inside her with a slow, punishing rhythm, his gaze never leaving hers. It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just release. It was something more.

He kissed her through every moan, every broken whisper of his name. Pixie clung to him like he was her anchor. When she begged him to go faster, deeper, Beast complied.

Beast felt so good inside her, so perfect. Each time their bodies joined, it felt like their souls touched. Sweat coated their bodies, and when Beast shifted the angle of his thrusts, Pixie arched her back and whimpered.

He’d found her sweet spot and kept aiming for it, until the pressure building inside her burst. The room fell away from her line of sight and Pixie cried out, screaming his name. Beast pumped in and out of her a few more times, before growling and finally climaxing, burying his mouth in her neck.

For a while, there was only the sound of their breathing. Then Beast shifted, gently rolling to his side and pulling her with him, so her cheek rested on his chest and his hand cradled the back of her head.

Pixie didn’t speak. She didn’t have the words. She just lay there, wrapped in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm.

****

I t started with a knock . Soft. Barely there. But in the silence of the late night, it might as well have been a gunshot.

Pixie froze mid-step in the hallway, a tray of clean glasses balanced in her arms. Most of the guys had gone to bed or were passed out drunk in the lounge.

The clubhouse was quiet, the kind of quiet that made her skin crawl.

She glanced toward the main entrance, heart thudding.

No one ever knocked. She set the tray down slowly, quietly, and tiptoed closer.

Maybe it was a club member who forgot their keys. Maybe it was nothing.

But something felt wrong. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

Pixie’s throat dried up. Her feet moved on instinct, edging toward the heavy door. She knew better. She should’ve gone for one of the guys. Should’ve gotten Beast. But what if it was just someone harmless?

She peeked through the side window. Empty.

No one was there. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

And then she saw it, half-shadowed in the distance, just beyond the security lights.

A figure. Tall. Male. Standing too still to be casual.

Her breath hitched. No. It couldn’t be. She turned away from the door fast, but too late.

A brick came crashing through the side window with a deafening shatter. Pixie screamed, ducking instinctively as glass sprayed across the floor.

She ran. Down the hall, heart in her throat, shouts breaking out from the lounge. Doors slammed open. Someone—she didn’t know who—yelled her name.

Then she heard it. Her name again, but this time from outside.

“Pixie!” The voice was unmistakable. Dark. Mocking. Familiar.

The man who haunted her dreams. Brad. Her brother’s old best friend. The one who had destroyed everything.

“Come on out, sweetheart! I just wanna talk!”

Her legs nearly gave out as panic flooded her system. But she kept running, feet slamming against the tile, heading straight into Beast’s office. It was instinct, her anchor, her shield.

But she didn’t need to get that far. Beast was already storming out of a side hallway, shirtless and barefoot, his gun drawn, rage etched into every line of his face. Behind him, Gunner and two others flanked the hall, weapons ready.

“Pixie!” Beast’s voice cracked like thunder. “You with me?”

She could only nod, breathless and trembling.

He crossed the distance in two long strides and caught her in his arms just as her knees buckled. She buried her face in his chest, shaking uncontrollably.

“I saw him,” she whispered. “He’s here. He was right outside.”

Beast turned to Gunner, voice cold. “Lock it down. No one in or out.”

Gunner was already on the move, barking orders, rounding up the prospects.

Beast’s arms tightened around her. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, baby.” But his voice held barely leashed fury, his body coiled like a predator ready to strike.

Pixie barely registered the commotion around them. All she could see in her mind was him—that cruel smile, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

He actually had the guts to confront him. Later, after the clubhouse was locked down and guards were doubled at every entrance, Beast guided her into his room. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands still shaking. He knelt in front of her, his large hands covering hers, steadying them.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—he knocked, and I thought—”

“Stop,” Beast said, firm but gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He was waiting for a moment like this. He was baiting you.”

Her eyes welled with tears she refused to let fall. “He’s not going to stop. He won’t quit until I’m dead. And now he knows where I am. I brought this to your doorstep.”

Beast stood abruptly, pacing. Anger radiated off him in waves. “We’ll handle him. I’ll handle him. No one threatens what’s mine and gets to breathe easy.”

Pixie looked up at him. “You can’t stay on high alert forever.”

“Watch me,” he snapped, then dragged a hand through his hair. “Pixie ... you don’t get it. You’re not just some girl passing through. You’re ours. You’re mine.”

The words should’ve terrified her. But they didn’t. They grounded her. Still, fear lingered like smoke in her lungs.

“I don’t want anyone else hurt. I can’t ... if something happened to you, or one of the others, because of me—”

Beast walked back to her, cupped her face in his hands again. His voice was low, a promise etched in steel.

“Pix, we’ve had this argument before. You’re not a burden. You’re not some stray we’re babysitting. You’re family now. You think I’m letting you go after everything we’ve been through?” His eyes burned into hers. “You’re not running again, Pixie.”

She blinked fast, a tear slipping down her cheek despite her best efforts. “So what now?”

“Now?” Beast’s voice was grim. “Now we hunt the bastard before he gets another shot.”

Pixie’s breath hitched. For the first time, it wasn’t just fear swirling in her chest. It was hope. Maybe she couldn’t erase the past. But with Beast and the Sentinels at her back, maybe, just maybe, things would really be all right.