How Beauty Loved the Beast Read online

  How Beauty Loved the Beast

  By Jax Garren

  Book three of Tales of the Underlight

  It’s all been leading to this.

  Jolie Benoit has become a skilled agent of the Underlight, relying on her savvy to complete assignments while Sergeant Wesley Haukon was out of commission. But an unexpected clue to the Order of Ananke’s diabolical scheme rattles Jolie, and she turns to Hauk for comfort.

  It’s been years since Hauk took comfort from the touch of another person, though his love for Jolie is deep and powerful. Uncomfortable in his skin, scarred by a terrible fire, he is unable to give in to the pleasures that Jolie so desperately wants to grant him.

  Meanwhile, the Order is lurking in the shadows—and when they strike, the blow is swift and terrible. Hauk and Jolie scramble to fight for their community, but with the future of the Underlight threatened, no one is safe. And Hauk will never be the same...

  Discover how it all began in How Beauty Met the Beast and How Beauty Saved the Beast.

  73,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  The month of May always brings, for me, the promise of new beginnings. I realize that it’s actually nearly the end of spring, but for some reason, I love the idea of May and that it means summer is coming and the fun is really about to begin!

  This month, very fitting for my excitement about new beginnings, we have three debut authors with stories releasing. Brighton Walsh joins Carina Press with her charming contemporary romance Plus One, where lifelong friends find deep-seated feelings growing into something more than friendship. Meanwhile, debut author Shawna Reppert has crafted a unique and captivating fantasy romance world in her male/male romance The Stolen Luck. Joining these two authors with a debut is S.G. Wong with the first Lola Starke novel, Die on Your Feet. Not only is this an unusual mix of mystery, paranormal and noir, but this book also has a striking cover that captured my imagination from the first look.

  Although not a debut author, Tamara Morgan joins Carina Press with the first in a new contemporary romance series. In The Rebound Girl, an outgoing plastic surgeon gets more than she bargained for when she offers to be the rebound girl for a sexy kindergarten teacher getting over his recent breakup.

  Along with new beginnings also come bittersweet goodbyes, and this month we wrap up Jax Garren’s fantastic science-fiction trilogy Tales of the Underlight. This series has kept us all on the edges of our seats with both the sexual tension between Hauk and Jolie and the fight to take out the Order of Ananke. Don’t miss the final installment, How Beauty Loved the Beast.

  Following up on her award-winning erotic novella, The Theory of Attraction, Delphine Dryden brings back sexy geeks and sizzling sexual tension in The Seduction Hypothesis.

  As well, we have exciting offerings from a variety of other veteran Carina Press authors this month. Jeffe Kennedy’s Ruby takes us to a contemporary world of BDSM and a sexy Cajun chef during the sensuality of New Orleans’s Mardi Gras. And last month saw the release of Volume 1 of our Love Letters anthologies. This month, discover four hot stories with a military twist in Love Letters Volume 2: Duty to Please.

  Sandy James, Shawna Thomas, Cathy Pegau and Stacy Gail all return to previously established worlds in their respective books. In Sandy James’s The Brazen Amazon, the Air Amazon is sent to protect computer wizard Zach from a rogue goddess who wants to use him to destroy the world. Journey of Dominion, book two of The Triune Stones series from Shawna Thomas, continues the story of Sara, trained from birth for one purpose: to reunite three ancient stones to restore balance to the lands.

  Female/female romance Deep Deception by Cathy Pegau follows the harrowing story of a beautiful agent and the woman she has no choice but to trust...until the secrets they’re each keeping threaten to get them both killed. And the plan for a demonic apocalypse is at last uncovered by a maimed member of the Nephilim and a scarred young woman who’s been to hell and back in Stacy Gail’s Wounded Angel, book three of The Earth Angels.

  Last but certainly not least, Dee J. Adams brings us the next installment in her high-octane Adrenaline Highs series with romantic suspense Living Dangerously. If you’re new to Dee’s books, you can easily start here, or go back to the beginning with Dangerous Race.

  This month, start a new series, revisit a favorite world or discover a new-to-you author with our May releases. And don’t forget to check out our catalog for backlist from these and other authors in all your preferred genres.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Dedication

  To LP and AP: No matter where you are, should you one day read this (sometime far, far in the future), know that you will always have a piece of my heart.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to my editor, Rhonda Helms, who is the shizz. I love working with you. Thanks again to Jessica Scott for answering all my military questions! Any mistakes are mine. Thanks to Katherine for the amazing web support. You are so freaking talented. Thanks to my parents for always being there—and for taking the girls when I needed to work. Thanks to my husband, for being a champ when I was on deadline and an all-around amazing person the rest of the time. A huge thanks to my sister for getting the ball rolling. I miss you!!

  And finally if you’re reading this, thanks to you! The support from readers has meant the world to me. Y’all are truly the best!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Grant Barrett wrinkled his nose as he shoved the pretty little redhead down the hallway toward his office. She’d had the nerve to try sneaking into the chemical plant he supervised, probably to do some destructive mischief or thieving. Somehow she’d made it past the fence before attempting to tiptoe by the bench where he took his smoke break every day at five. He’d recognized her immediately and seized her. Petty crime was clearly not her forte.

  The question remained whether apprehending Jolie Benoit, daughter of media baron Reginald Benoit, one of the world’s most powerful men, would be an annoyance...or a coup.

  Jolie trembled, eyes darting fearfully about. Grant kept a firm hold on her elbow as he marched her down cement walkways deep into the inner reaches of the plant. She was a beautiful thing, just a few years into her twenties with a figure that was more than easy on the eyes.

  He cleared his throat and pulled his gaze back up where it belonged. “A soft girl like you doesn’t belong in a harsh place like this. I recommend you leave the larceny to the more seasoned criminals in that rabble you’ve aligned with.” Though born into the good life, Jolie had deserted her family to dance in a bu
rlesque company and hang out with anarchists. If Reginald was less of a pompous ass, Grant might feel sorry for him. But as Reginald was not merely an ass but a power-mongering bull, he didn’t feel the least twinge.

  Jolie’s voice quivered as she asked, “Where are you taking me?”

  He couldn’t help another glance at the red lace and lush curves revealed by the deep V of her blouse. Of all the things to wear for breaking and entering. “To my office, dear.” Where he would be alone with Reginald Benoit’s daughter.

  Come to think of it, having her here was definitely a coup.

  He unlocked and opened the door to his private sanctum in the heart of the plant and escorted her inside. “Sit.”

  She rubbed nervous hands on her jeans and sat in one of the plush chairs by his desk, head bowed as she peered about the room like a trapped rabbit. But there were no exits, other than the one he stood in front of.

  “Don’t think about trying something. We’ve passed enough locks even that scarred brute hiding from the law with you people couldn’t get in here.”

  Her head jerked up with more force than he expected from her demeanor. “A couple of locks wouldn’t stop Hauk from finding me.”

  Was that pride in her voice? Grant crossed his arms and frowned. “A beast who murdered seven of his fellow soldiers before going AWOL and joining up with anarchists? I don’t think loyalty is his strong suit.” Although rumor had it the felon had taken a particular interest in the redhead. Not that Grant could blame him. As far as Jolie had fallen, though, it still surprised him that she might reciprocate the feeling. Burned from head to foot in a fire of his own causing, ex-Staff Sergeant Wesley Haukon was not only vicious but frighteningly hideous.

  Her gaze sank to the floor, and she shifted uncomfortably. Ah. Her words were nothing but bluster. He should’ve known.

  She meekly submitted to a pat-down, a not altogether unpleasant experience on his part. Her pockets held a phone, a tube of lipstick and a set of car keys. The girl had tried to break into his plant without a single weapon. He set her belongings on his desk and turned back to her.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Big green eyes peered up at him, pleading, and he couldn’t quite tamp the surge of lust her utter helplessness inspired.

  He leaned his hip against the arm of his chair and shoved his hands into his pockets, determined to think, not feel. She posed a reasonable question. He couldn’t hang on to her indefinitely; he needed a plan.

  Jolie clenched her fists, ice-blue chipped nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. She visibly gathered her courage, trying to appear oh-so-brave as her eyes ventured to his then hastened away. Her voice nearly choked as she said, “My father—”

  He raised an eyebrow, and she stopped, clearly understanding who was in control here. “Your father doesn’t know you’re here. Yet. He and I have differences of opinion on how a few things in The Order should be run. And then you showed up on my turf. All alone.”

  The Order of Ananke, a philanthropy both he and Reginald belonged to, had a two-fold mission. They served humanity by secretly bringing her industries and government under a central control. Most people were too lazy or too stupid to make democracy effective, so Ananke gave them a semblance of one and pulled the strings behind the scenes. Fossil fuels, pharmaceuticals, military might, the news, even the food chain had men from Ananke at the helm, working to serve a human race that was falling apart from failed experiments in public education, social equality and “free will”—whatever that meant.

  Misplaced faith in free will, that was the crux of the world’s most pressing problems. Ananke was the Goddess of Destiny, Goddess of hard choices and Fate. Free will was an illusion men believed in to make them sleep better at night.

  This was the second and most important mission of The Order, to recognize the true will of Her, of Ananke, and to bring it about. Life on earth would improve for everyone as more people accepted the will of Fate and followed Destiny without a fight. The Order of Ananke was here to show humanity the way of truth.

  But Reginald Benoit wasn’t a real believer. He believed in the power The Order wielded but sought to use Her like a tool. Grant could picture in his memory Reginald and other men like him attending rituals with empty disdain for the meaning beneath them. They went through the motions out of habit or social pressure, all while thinking more of their cigars and the beds of their mistresses than cowering in awe and gratitude before their Goddess.

  Reginald had the audacity to believe their success rested on the work of men and not the grace of Her. But didn’t this frail little girl cowering in Grant’s office just prove his faith was right? Fate had blessed him because of his devotion to Her.

  As if on cue, the girl licked her glossed lips. “Surely...we can work something out.” She eyed him under thick lashes and leaned forward, further revealing the soft and plentiful beauty beneath her shirt.

  Grant wasn’t in the habit of pressuring women into bed with him, but this one was a burlesque dancer. She stripped for men all the time. Why not for him? If she was a present from his Goddess, it couldn’t be wrong.

  He stood straighter, enjoying the view of looking down at a beautiful, helpless, quivering woman. A woman who could have had power over him if she’d stayed with her father and followed the right path instead of philandering with anarchists. He smiled. “I think we can work something out.”

  Slowly she stood. Her hands went to her hair and pulled out the combs securing it into a tight pile at the nape of her neck. She shook her head, and red curls tumbled around her shoulders, bringing with them the scent of citrus.

  Reginald’s daughter was truly and exceptionally gorgeous.

  She gulped, as if steadying herself, then reached for him, slipping a hand around his neck.

  So easy, he didn’t even have to make a demand. As if it was Fated to be. His smile grew. Oh, it would be so nice to use Reginald Benoit’s lovely daughter however he liked.

  A sting at his neck took him by surprise. “Wha...” His knees went weak, trembling and then unable to support him. They gave out. He reached for his desk. It was too far away, and he fell.

  The girl caught him and lowered him to the floor.

  “What did—what did—”

  “It’s okay, Grant,” she said in a businesslike voice. Where was her fear? “It’s a sedative. I haven’t poisoned you, although I’m starting to think you deserve it.”

  His vision blurred as her hands raced across his body, not to pleasure him, but to...rifle through his pockets?

  She retrieved her lipstick. “Brayden? I’m in.”

  She was talking to her lipstick? No, it had come apart. She’d hidden a communication device inside the tube.

  “Yup, his office. He did exactly what I said he’d do.”

  She snatched his badge and his keys, and the world faded to black.

  * * *

  Jolie shook her head as she retracted the needle hidden in her hair comb and plugged her iPhone into Grant’s computer. Because men were predictable idiots, the first mission she’d planned herself was going like a charm. She wasn’t sure if that made her more stoked by her success or depressed on principle. She executed a script on her phone that would crack any passcodes and download Grant’s emails and document folders. As the cracker script started, she dragged him behind his desk, just in case anybody peeked inside, and moved to the file cabinet behind her.

  Before long it became obvious the paper file she was seeking, the one that proved ChemCorps had been lying to the FDA regarding their toxin reports, was not going to be so easy to locate. It was dangerous work breaking into a plant for a file folder, but this chipping away at Ananke’s control was what the Underlight did. Instead of a violent, Guy Fawkes style insurgency, the Underlight exposed unethical practices of Ananke’s corporate empire and garnered popular support to take down those giants, one news article, one court case, one internet campaign at a time.

  Occasionally acquiring proof of mi
sdeeds required a little...reconnaissance. Like breaking into the center of a highly guarded chemical plant.

  Jolie studied the room for a likely hiding place for those papers. The opulence Grant Barnett had managed to squeeze into an underground compound was ridiculous. Real oil paintings hung on windowless walls, the floor was large enough for two Persian rugs, and his desk was a Lexington. Jolie had grown up around luxuries like this and could tell the difference between good taste and a show-off.

  Grant was definitely the latter.

  She toed him with her leather boots. “Where do you keep your secrets, Grant?” Not that he could answer her. That sedative was designed for somebody a lot harder to take down than doughy-cheeked Grant. She glanced around the room. “You’re probably too proud of your cleverness to store them behind a painting.” She frowned at the carpet. “Cellars under the carpet only come in shacks...at least in the movies.” She looked up. “Bingo.”

  A Franklin bench, an antique piece that folded from a chair to a stepladder, was stored at an odd angle. “Right beneath the ceiling tile you replaced in a different direction than the rest of them. Nice job.” She flipped the bench to a ladder, climbed up and, as she suspected, found that the ceiling tile removed with ease to reveal a crawlspace.

  Inside was an accordion folder. Jolie decided male predictability did have its perks and smiled. Yup, her first mission to take point on was going exactly as planned.

  Noise outside. Voices approaching.

  She ducked her head for cursing her luck. She glanced over to the desk. Grant was well tucked away and the screensaver had kicked on, hiding the file transfer. In all likelihood, nobody would notice the wrong phone was plugged in.

  A knock at the door. “Mr. Barnett? Anderson dropped by and wants to see you. Mr. Barnett?”

  The doorknob rattled. Jolie grabbed the edges of the ceiling and pulled. Reinforced. The tile was going to be a tight squeeze, but she thought she could make it. She pulled herself up enough to kick the Franklin stool closed then did a muscle-up into the tiny space, thanking her lucky stars her latest dancing troupe was happy to let her perform as an aerialist. That work gave her good reason to maintain the arm strength it took to climb a rope or dance on a hoop...or pull herself into the ceiling rafters.