Rescued by the Beast

Rescued by the Beast

By:  Kelly Lord  Completed
Language: English
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Kian Jones is a cage fighting biker who knows what it's like to lose everything he's ever loved. A series of traumatic events steer him down a dark and dangerous path, forcing him to lead a kill-or-be-killed lifestyle. When fate leads him to his pint-sized princess, exotic dancer, Gianna Donahue, he must protect her from a rival gang member who wants to claim her for himself.

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78 Chapters
One
Kian Jones "Now, does everybody understand?" our fifth-grade teacher, Miss Halloway, asked, searching among the class."Yes, miss," we all answered in unison, mumbling in an unenthusiastic drawl.She cupped her hand around her ear, displeased by our response. "I'm sorry, what was that? Repeat it so I know you've learned something."There was huffing and groaning from the class, but I remained silent. My teacher's eyes were on me the whole time, and I was embarrassed about that."Tell an appropriate adult if someone approaches you with drugs," we all muttered out of sync.Her green eyes held my gaze a moment longer, and I noticed an element of concern lingering within them. The home bell startled her, giving me the chance to scamper away.I snatched up the tatty satchel that my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Banks, gave to me last year. It used to belong to her son, Charlie, when he went to school fifty-seven years ago. She was like a grandmother to me and always made sure I had at least on
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Two
Kian"My teacher knows that something's wrong at home," I confided.She exhaled heavily as she sank into the chair opposite me. "And she told you as much, did she?" Mrs. Banks commented, cradling her own mug of cocoa.As I nodded, a worried frown formed across my brow."This can't go on forever, Kian. Folks were bound to find out sooner or later," she spoke gently, airing out the truth.It seemed so final coming from her lips, which wasn't much comfort at all."Can I live here, with you?" I asked, clinging on to a shred of hope.The corners of her wise old eyes crinkled as she smiled. "I'm almost eighty-five, and we're not blood-related. The clan leaders would flat-out reject it." She shrugged, stating what I already knew deep down. "But then they would have to peel you from my withered fingers before I'd hand you over to them." She gave a hearty chuckle, throwing her head back."What's the worst they could do to me at my age? Force me into the pit to face clan justice?" Her eyes met
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Three
KianI woke at the first sign of sunlight, my eyes stinging raw with fatigue, having hardly slept a wink. The deep rumbling snores coming from my parents’ room was enough to tell me Dad was still here. That meant Mom was somewhat stable, or so I hoped.Tossing back the sheets, I dangled my legs out of bed to sit up. I stretched and yawned, then rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Tomorrow was Saturday. I just had to get through one more day of school, then I could hang out with Jaxton.He was the only friend I had who was my age. Jax was home-schooled, and our dads were mutual friends. They introduced us during a Cage fighting match, and we became great friends ever since.It took me no time at all to shower and change, not wanting to spend a moment longer in the grubby bathroom. Brown scorch marks stained the edge of the tub from where Mom would prepare her next fix. I could still smell it faintly in the air, even after I opened the window to let out the steam.The house was calm when I c
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Four
KianI knew they meant well, but if they really wanted to help me, then they'd drop it. Sometimes, it was better not to shake the bee's nest if you didn't want to get yourself stung. Back home, there was a two-hundred-pound grizzly who was just itching for an excuse to pull me out of school. I came here intending to keep my head down, and maybe I would finish school with a fighting chance of a future instead of earning a future by fighting.They watched me with analyzing eyes as I placed my lunch bag down on the wheeled trolley along with everyone else's. The lunch ladies would collect them up later and wheel them away to the kitchens.I then took a seat at my desk, waiting patiently for rollcall. I could be a real golden boy when I wanted to be. My mask of angelic innocence had been rehearsed to perfection. That came in handy for a kid like me. Most of the time I could blend in, just like everyone else.The scent of Miss Halloway's floral perfume wafted past me as she made her way ov
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Five
Kian At some point during the early morning, my exhausted mind succumbed to a dreamless slumber.I didn't hear Dad calling me from the doorway, nor him stalking into my room to shake my shoulder. It was the shock of the cold liquid drenching me that ripped me from my serene-like state."Huh? Dad! What the hell?" I spluttered, aghast.He gave a gruff hmph, scowling down at me, clutching an empty glass in his hand. "I've been calling you for the past twenty minutes," he complained."Sorry," I grumbled, rolling out of bed."We leave in ten minutes," he mentioned, widening his eyes seriously before stalking out of the room.I rolled to sit on the edge of my bed, hearing the front door open and Dad's Jeep engine roar to life. The guy had zero patience, and I knew better than to keep him waiting. After hurrying into the bathroom to do my business, I washed, scrubbed my teeth, then dressed quickly. Mom was still sound asleep when we left."First things first," Dad mumbled as we were nearing
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Six
KianWe arrived at the old, abandoned warehouse standing above the Cage. Dad knocked on the heavy iron door in some secret code, then waited.There was a scraping of metal, and then a strange pair of eyes appeared behind the open slit in the door."State your name and your business here," a male voice commanded in a blunt, gruff, Hispanic accent."Razor, and I brought my boy for the inauguration," Dad replied.The viewing hole was slammed shut, and a moment later, the door was pulled open. "Go on through," the same guy spoke.He was dark and exotic, and his eyes were like pools of molten amber with black vertical slits for pupils."Is he a . . .," I whispered to Dad."Shh, Kian; yes, he's a cat shifter," Dad answered, keeping his voice low. "Mind your manners," he reprimanded. "It's rude to point and stare.""I've never seen one before," I chatted excitedly.That was the truth; I hadn't. What I had learned at school about the cat community was that their numbers were few. They were hi
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Seven
Kian My eyes focused on my reflection in the grubby, mottled mirror, ignoring the dark clumps of hair that fell to the floor like feathers from a plucked turkey. The noisy vibration absorbed through my skull each time Lexi dragged the clippers over my scalp. When she was done, I ran my hand over the millimeter-long stubble, feeling the coarse texture against my palm. The boy staring back at me was skinny and gaunt, like some sick kid in the hospital who only had months left to live. "You look bad-ass," Lexi complimented. I eyed her with intrigue, trying to work her out. "Thanks," I replied, unsure how best to respond to her comment. She met my gaze in the mirror and smirked. "What?" She pressed me for an answer, seeming wise to my silent analysis. "Just come out and say whatever it is you want to say, little bear. Don't be shy because it doesn't suit you." She placed a hand on her cocked-out hip, delivering a bucket-load of sass. "Little bear?" I scrunch my face, highly offende
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Eight
Kian "You're up next, little bear," she muttered sadly, turning her gaze away. I locked eyes with my pal, Jaxton, who was standing over by his father, the President of the Roughnecks biker gang. His nickname was Throttle. I didn't ask why. A wide grin stretched across Jaxton's face as he bounded over to me. "Kian!" he called out, looking happy to see me. I slid down from the stool, clearing the short distance to greet him. "You suit your hair short like that," he remarked, pointing to my scalped head. "But I don't." He gestured to himself with an indignant scowl. "I look like a boiled egg," he complained. Jaxton's blond hair used to hang in wavy strands, reaching down to his shoulders. His momma let him grow it long so he could tie it back in a hairband. Just how his dad wore his. Now a mixture of light versus dark was being swept up from around the stools to where it was all pushed into a shaggy pile against the wall. "Dad says we're gonna be fighting each other in the Cage," J
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Nine
KianMy feet rooted to the spot as he began to circle us, pacing the ring with observational eyes, scanning for any sign of weakness. "Your fists and shoulders should be up, with your chin and elbows down, eyes up," he barked out the instructions.I swallowed away the dryness as my eyes locked onto his, distrusting and cautious."Good," he voiced confidently. "Always keep your eyes on your opponent. Because if you don't . . ." He twisted his body in a sharp turn, taking a swipe at Jaxton. Jax must have watched him in his peripheral vision and managed to nimbly dodge out of his way."Smart move," Ricochet praised. "Now, I want you all to form pairs and face one another." He walked around us, correcting our posture. "Place your feet diagonal, a little more than shoulder-width apart and bend your knees. Your strength is here, in your core," he coached while tapping my midriff. "Better balance equals greater mobility." He began to demonstrate using actions. "Dominant hand forward. Take sh
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Ten
Kian Dad was always saying how he hated growing up dirt poor. He gave it his best shot, but drink always got the better of him. I hated living in poverty too. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe getting good grades wasn't enough. The rich stay rich and the poor stay poor. Nobody was going to give me a handout in life. Those of us who live in the slums of Forest Hills were regarded as “the scumbags of society”. You didn't see the clan leaders investing any cash into our neighborhood. We were out of sight, out of mind. We didn't get the fancy parks and picnic greens like the clean part of town did. Kids here played out on the streets, drawing over the pavements with chalk or smashing bottles at the side of the road. Those said roads were not maintained like the ones in town. Ours were crumbled and full of potholes. Around the picture-perfect suburbs, they had convenience stores, bakeries, a cafe where people would sit outside and chat. Over at our side of town, we had one corner store that sto
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