Part 1 (1/2)

Kandace and the Beast.

Shay Savage.

Dedication.

This is for Kandace.

Sometimes a person enters your life, and you have no idea what kind of impact she will have on you. You dont realize what shes doing behind the scenes on your behalf. You dont realize when you first speak with her that shes going to be instrumental in changing your life.

Kandace, I am in awe of your strength and bravery. Im impressed by your att.i.tude and the way you continue to keep everyone else in your thoughts when you have every right to think only of yourself and your family. You are truly an amazing woman, and I will be forever in your debt. As you take on this battle, I am right there beside you.

You got this.

f.u.c.k cancer.

Acknowledgements.

I want to thank Dani, Kaylee, Elissa, and Bethany for all their help in getting this together while trying to keep it all under wraps at the same time. I couldnt have managed it without your support.

I also want to thank my editor, Chayasara, for her record-setting editing speed, pus.h.i.+ng my b.u.t.tons, and subsequently making me a better writer. I dont usually win arguments with her, but I always learn something!

Thanks to Mayhem Cover Creations for donating the cover art for this project.

So many people have gathered to support Kandace and her family. My newsfeed is constantly filled with messages of support and pictures of gifts people have sent. I suck at trying to come up with an inspirational quote or the perfect gift, but I knew I wanted to do something for her to show how much she means to me. This little tale is it.

Kandace has always gone on about Bastian Stark, up to and including replacing promo media with her own face. I figured it was time to let her fantasy come true.

Proceeds will be donated to Kandaces medical expenses.

Chapter 1.

Waves from warm ocean water roll over my feet as I walk through the sand. Its an ideal day. The weather is beautiful, and I dont have a care in the world.

Theres the niggling feeling in the back of my head that tells me something isnt right; something isnt quite normal. What am I doing on a beach? The last thing I remember is a nurse affixing one of those medical wristbands on my arm. It had Kandace scribbled on it along with my birthdate and a code number of some sort.

The scene around me is incredibly idyllic. The ocean is the crystal-clear azure of the Caribbean, and the sky is a brilliant blue with just a few wisps of clouds scattered about. There are seabirds bobbing around on the waves. The sand is smooth and nearly white, and the temperature is perfectly warm and inviting but not too hot. The sun heats my skin, but I dont feel the burning sensation that would tell me I need more sunscreen.

I glance down at my pedicured toenails as my feet make their way along the sh.o.r.eline. I cant remember going to a salon recently”there hasnt been the time”but my toenails are a seash.e.l.l pink and glitter with the sunlight. I pa.s.s sandpiper tracks and seash.e.l.ls, but the beach is otherwise spotless. Im wearing a blue one-piece bathing suit with a pair of rolled-up mens boxers over them.

Boxers?

I reach down and run my fingers over the hem. They are way too big for me, even rolled over at the top. The edges are frayed, and there are little bits of thread reaching out and poking the blue bathing suit.

Do I own a blue bathing suit?

The thought is gone from my head as quickly as it entered. I close my eyes and turn my head to face the warm breeze coming off the ocean. The seabirds on the waves suddenly take flight, calling out into the wind. The smell of salt and sea-life fills my nostrils, and I smile.

When I open my eyes, my perfect setting is marred by a group of four men farther up the beach near a rocky outcropping, dressed in blue jeans and T-s.h.i.+rts. They look unkempt and rough as they loiter at the edge of the water. Theres a small boat nearby with its bow pressed into the sand and a long rope presumably attached to an anchor off one side. The men are a long way off but still look in my direction, watching me approach. I slow my pace, suddenly nervous. Where did they come from, and why hadnt I seen them before? I slow down a bit more, but my pace seems irrelevant because moments later, the men are right in front of me.

Looks like someone could use a little help. There is nothing sincere in the voice of the darkly tanned man with a long, black ponytail. He smiles at me, revealing a couple of missing teeth. You need a little help, sweetheart?

No. My voice sounds hoa.r.s.e. Im fine.

You really arent. A chunky guy with greasy hair leers at me, taking a step forward as a man with dreadlocks bunched up with a piece of twine at the back of his neck starts to laugh.

Hes right”Im not fine. I am supposed to be in the hospital, undergoing treatment for the umpteenth time. I shouldnt be here at all, and I definitely shouldnt be here with these men.

I think she needs some company, he says, and they all begin to chime in.

Yeah”Ill keep her company for a while!

Me, too!

Im definitely up for that!

They all snicker as I take a step away from them. I know I should turn and run, but my body doesnt comply with my wishes. My thoughts are garbled as my mind tries to make sense of where I am, how I got here, and whats happening. The danger feels real enough, but I cant seem to act on my fear. As I force myself to take a small step back, my arms are grabbed and pulled behind me.

I have no recollection of the man with the black ponytail moving into position at my back, but he now has me firmly in his grasp. I feel the touch of his breath on my neck as he holds me against him, still snickering. Finally finding my voice, I scream and struggle fruitlessly, and they all just laugh in response.

None of that, now, the man with dreads says. He covers my mouth with one hand as he rubs his scratchy face against my cheek. Were just gonna have a little fun.

He grabs for the top of my bathing suit. I feel his cold, clammy fingers on my skin, and I want to hurl. The men begin to talk about what they want to do with me, and the bubble of panic inside my stomach inflates with their words. What happened to my perfect, peaceful setting? How had it turned into a nightmare so quickly?

I hear a loud cry in the distance.

I turn my head at the same time as my attackers and look toward the noise. A man is running in our direction from the top of a sand dune. Hes barefoot, and his strong legs pound the sand as he runs toward us. His face is a mask of rage, and there is a knife clutched in his hand.

Hes tall and incredibly well-built. Hes s.h.i.+rtless, and I can see the clear definition of the muscles in his arms and chest. His hair is dark, and theres a couple days worth of growth on his face. Hes racing down the hill at incredible speed, the muscles in his legs flexing as he runs.

I know who this man is.

Sebastian Stark. Hes a champion at death-match tournament fighting. Hes deeply rooted in organized crime but has been hiding out near Puerto Rico, posing as the captain of a sailing vessel. No one has heard anything of him since his schooner was lost at sea during a storm months ago.

Thats not possible The knot in the pit of my stomach hardens. I look out over the sea”all the way to the horizon. Its still a calm, beautiful day. There are seagulls ama.s.sing along the sh.o.r.e and pecking at mussels on the rocks. The whole scene is all too perfect”all too surreal. It doesnt mesh with the arms gripping me from behind or the madman rus.h.i.+ng toward us from the dunes.

And Bastian Stark isnt a real person. Hes a character from a novel I read years ago.

As Bastian approaches the group, he speaks no words. Instead, he screams as he leaps into the air and collides with the man with dreadlocks. They crash to the sand, and with a single, swift motion, Bastian shoves his knife into the mans neck. The sand is immediately covered in blood.

I open my mouth to scream, but nothing happens. I cant move. I cant make a sound. All I can do is watch.

There is a flurry of movement. My eyes cant keep track of it all, and my feet feel as if theyve sunk into the sand, leaving me immobile and helpless as I watch the violence in front of me. The man who was holding me is no longer there”hes in the middle of the battle with the rest of them”but I can still feel the grip of his fingers around my arms.