Tame the Beast (Ever After #1) (12 page)

Clenching her drink in her right hand, Clara threw her left elbow into his side. Pain greeted her poor bone as it crashed into the brick wall he called a chest.

The curse that threatened to slip past Clara’s lips was caught between her teeth as she watched her harasser being ripped away. Her mind slowed, trying to process the sudden distance. There was no way it was from her doing.

In a blur of commotion, Clara’s attention snapped to her rescuer. She could almost see the hate that surged through his veins. Curses roared through the room as the three jerks held their ground against him, but it was a feeble attempt. There was too much alcohol in their systems. And he was red-hot, boiling fury.

Clara cringed as the sound of knuckles hitting skin rang through her ears and right down her spine. Her heart pounded with each strike.

She had never witnessed a fight before. If the sloppy battle of wills before her were the standard, then she would be happy to never to see another again. It was terrifying, and yet, she could not tear her gaze away from him. He moved like a beast ripping through easy, and completely drunk, prey until each dropped to the floor, gripping their sides. And Clara was left staring back at a pair of fuming stormy eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Drunken murmurs were left in Adam’s wake as he marched into the fraternity’s kitchen. If his rage wasn’t enough to send the few partiers in the room packing, the violent swing of the door did.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Clara’s soft voice called behind him.

His whole body spun in her direction. Still fuming, he asked, “What? You think you could’ve handled them yourself?”

“No. Although I doubt they would have tried—”

“Don’t be so naïve.”

Clara’s body went rigid. “Don’t be such an ass. I’m trying to say that you didn’t have to. But …” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

One look at her worried face and his anger vanished.

When Luke messaged him earlier, Adam expected to show up and casually bump into Clara. There was a greater chance she would be more receptive after a few drinks. He never thought he would walk in and find her being harassed by a bunch of drunken fools. The moment one of them put his hands on her, Adam saw red.

“You’re welcome,” he said before letting his bruised body fall to the nearest chair. He sat in silence, watching Clara rummage through the dirty white cupboards. “What are you looking for?”

“A plastic baggie,” she replied with a tone that implied the obvious. She dove into another drawer. “I need it for— Ah! Here we go.” She shuffled to the freezer and filled the gallon-sized bag with ice before handing it to him with a small smile. “Sorry. It’s the smallest they have.”

“What’s it for?”

She looked at him as if he asked the color of the sky. “For your eye.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s bleeding.”

Adam grazed his hand over his right brow. A warm liquid stained his fingers. “Assholes,” he muttered before shrugging it off like last week’s news. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Still.”

It was obvious she wasn’t accepting his he-man answer. Lifting the bag, Clara pressed the ice to his wound. The bitter cold was like a thousand tiny daggers. Adam jerked away, releasing something that resembled a caveman grunt.

“Hold still,” she demanded.

The sharp sting of the ice against the open cut caused more pain than fighting ten drunken losers. “Damn it, woman! That hurts.”

Clara adjusted the ice pack, applying more pressure than needed and sent him a stern glare. “You wouldn’t be in any pain if you didn’t get in a fight.”

“I wouldn’t have been in a fight if you wore something more appropriate to the party.”

“So this is my fault?”

Adam wanted to run his head into the wall. Of course she wasn’t to blame. That fault went to the drunken idiots. Adam released a heavy breath and said, “No. I didn’t mean it like that. Those idiots would have gone after anyone.”

Another flash of irritation filled her eyes. “Yeah, that makes me feel better. Don’t worry, Clara, you’re nothing special.”

“Oh my god, stop,” he said, groaning. Reasoning with her was useless. “I’m just saying it wasn’t your fault. Although, next time I suggest you dress less … like this.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Clara’s voice rose with concern. “This is far from the shortest skirt here. And the shirt is—”

“The shirt …” Adam fingers slowly reached for the gold chain around her neck before continuing, “is just revealing enough.”

His fingers played with the gold necklace. He’d noticed the chain during their tutoring sessions, but it was always hidden away. Adam followed the delicate links, enjoying the feel of her soft skin under his fingers. Tonight her light blouse exposed enough of her beautiful skin. A few more undone buttons and Adam could stop imagining what lay underneath the loose cotton of her shirt. He hoped something black and lacy.

Carefully pulling out the locket nestled between her breasts, Adam distracted himself by asking, “What this?”

“What’s what?” Her words seemed distant. “Oh, you mean my necklace. My—uh ... my mother gave it to me. It was my grandmother’s. Well, one of. She had two. An old pocket watch that my sister has and this one. Pretty, right?”

“Very.” Adam restrained his smile. If her babbling were a sign that he was affecting her, then he would listen to it all night. He kept his gaze on the faded picture of the miniature globe. His thumb swept over the ancient piece. The letters CPL were engraved on the back.

“Clara Paige Leprince,” Clara answered in anticipation. “She died the year before I was born.”

“And your parents named you after her.”

“Sort of. My father fought for Clarabelle, but my mother insisted on keeping Paige.” An unfamiliar warmth pulled at Adam as he watched Clara smile wide. “He said after he met my mom, there wasn’t anything in the world he wouldn’t do to make her happy.”

“Tell me more about them.”

For a moment, she looked confused. “My parents?”

“Yes.”

Leaning back in his chair, Adam listened to her voice fill with the joy of distant memories. He was captivated by the affection in her words. She spoke as if it were her own love story.

Adam’s thoughts drifted to his parents. On the surface, it would appear Clara and him were cut from the same family cloth, but deep down she was romance and board games. He was board meetings and family duty. How could two stories be as different as night and day?

“Which is why you and I can only be friends,” Clara almost whispered.

Adam’s attention snapped back to her. Either she’d read his thoughts or he’d missed a vital part of her story.
How did her parent’s happy marriage lead to that conclusion?
Not letting his annoyance speak for him, he said, “I don’t follow.”

“Look, it’s obvious there’s something here, but I don’t do flings.” She averted her gaze from the heat of his eyes. “I want love. And passion—”

“I can do passion.” Adam inched closer, pulling her beautiful eyes back to him. “In fact, I’m very good at passion.”

Clara drew in a long breath and a smile stretched across her lips. “Oh, I’ve heard. Everything from teaching assistants to twins.”

Adam leaned back and his deep laugh filled the room. She could go from sweet to brash in one breath. “So I’m no saint.”

“Far from it.”

Adam took another chance and leaned forward again. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t change.”

Clara’s swift movements reflected his own. “I’m not trying to change you, Adam. And I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I didn’t say that. But you don’t change for people. You change for yourself.”

“I disagree. So what are you afraid of?”

Clara gently bit down on her lips. It was an unconscious effort to keep her mouth shut, but it drew Adam’s thoughts toward a much more carnal impulse.

“Honestly? Heartbreak.”

The color in her suddenly rosy cheeks enticed him further. If it weren’t for the hum of the party vibrating the kitchen walls, Adam would have slowly taunted and teased her until she was convinced he was worth the risk. He didn’t believe a broken heart was her biggest fear. There had to be more. After his talk with Luke and Deacon, it was obvious he would have to step up or step aside.

Adam leaned closer, pushing her soft cheek until her gaze saw nothing but him. His voice filled with desire as he whispered, “I can change that.”

Chapter Twelve

Finals were over! Choirs of angels sang from every corner of campus. Drops of pure bliss fell on Clara like each gentle snowflake that covered her knit hat as she bounced her way back to her dorm room. Two weeks of locking herself away from the social world had paid off. She could feel it in the brisk air. Better yet, Clara had survived her first semester at Beaumont University and had surprisingly enjoyed most of it.

She was busy dancing to her own little tune when Corin’s deep voice called from behind her. Clara resisted the urge to groan out loud as she turned to face him. He closed the gap between them in a few large strides.

“You’re in a good mood,” Corin said. “Finals go well?”

“I think so. How about yours?”

Corin shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

“That’s good.” The words rushed out. The last thing she wanted was to spend too much time with him. Things were still awkward since the night he tried to kiss her. “Well, I promised Rose I would meet her for lunch, so I better get going.”

“I’ll walk with you.” His long steps fell into place beside Clara. “So we’ve missed you at the apartment the last few weeks.”

Clara shifted under the weight of her bag. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy. You know … with finals coming up.”

“I heard.” His voice was tense. “Adam mentioned it. Sounds like you had enough time to tutor him again.”

The little hairs on the back of Clara’s neck stood up at the sound of Adam’s name. She didn’t want to discuss him. Not with Corin. Ever since the night Adam fought off the drunken wolves, Clara felt obligated to help him again. To her surprise, Adam was nothing but a studious pupil. Gone were the days of his heavy flirting and constant innuendoes. Clara should have been relieved, but instead, it left her feeling confused and slightly annoyed.

“Corin, I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” She was in the perfect mood. She didn’t need Corin to ruin it with his misplaced jealousy.

“I just don’t get why you’d take him back after the way he lied to you.”

“Take him back?” Clara stopped so fast she almost slipped on the icy ground. “We were never going out to begin with. Just because I’m helping out a friend doesn’t mean—”

“The fight?” Corin interrupted.

“Was just one friend protecting another,” she said with a little hostility. Even her final wasn’t this big of a pain.

“If you say so. But it sent a different message to everyone else.” Corin sent Clara a heated stare. “Look, there’s a lot you don’t know about the guy. I’ve watched countless girls throw themselves at him. They’re all the same. They think they’re something special just because Adam Beaumont looked their way. They think they’ll be the one to tame the beast,” he said mockingly. “And what do you know? They’re all crushed when he turns out to be exactly like his reputation. Don’t be that girl, Clara.”

She returned his gaze with a glare. “Try giving me a little credit.”

Her effort to storm away was short lived as his large hand pulled her back. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Well don’t. I never asked you to. And we both know you’re as bad as he is, so don’t pretend you’re not.”

She tried to escape again, but he blocked her with one large step. He moved so fast, she almost collided with his large chest. The familiar pulse of annoyance rippled through her. She was tired of oversized men blocking her path.

“When will you see that I’m the only one looking out for you?” Corin asked. “Adam doesn’t care about you. Rose is too busy with Luke. Half of Adam’s friends are just there because they know his name will open up future doors. The other half hates him because he slept with their girlfriends. No one’s going to give two shits when he uses you.”

“Oh yeah? And Luke and Deacon? They seem to care about what Adam does.”

A deep, menacing laugh echoed throughout campus. “Those two dipshits? They’re more like his little loyal subjects.”

“And you?”

Corin’s voice grew uncomfortably calm. “Adam can be an asshole, but like I said, he can open a lot of doors for me once I graduate this shithole. And I know you’ve dreamt of getting away from all this …” Corin took a step closer, and his hard stare softened. “I’m sorry if that sounds rude. I just never thought you would fall for someone like him. You and I are the same. We want the same things. Together we could easily make a name for—”

“I think I’ll make a name for myself, thanks.” Successfully ducking around him, Clara made a break for it. There was no way she was going to stand there and listen to Corin pretend he was doing her a favor.

“Don’t come crying to me when he screws you over,” Corin yelled.

“I’ll be sure to remember that at the Dean’s holiday party,” she called behind her before quickening her pace.

Clara wasn’t going to let him ruin her good mood. She’d learned from their first year of school together that Corin was the type of guy to say and do whatever he thought would get him ahead in life. He was a ticking time bomb with a short fuse, and Clara wanted to be miles away when he finally went off. If it weren’t for his own family name, he would have been in juvenile detention long before he ever graduated high school. He was nothing but a thug with a trust fund.

* * *

The night was almost perfect. For the second time in the past few months, Clara found herself seated at the large dining table at the Beaumonts’ grand estate. She was impressed by the home the day she came for lunch, but tonight the place was immaculate. Every inch was decorated to perfection. Large ornaments and garland lined every mantel. Candles scented with cinnamon flickered at every height. If it weren’t for the modern attire of the many guests and recognizable Christmas tunes, Clara would have sworn she leaped right into one of her historical romance novels.