Page 5 of Knot His Beast
She stays to make sure no one goes too far and kills me, or decides they want to take me with them when they’re through. This is a business, after all, and she likes to keep an eye on herproduct.That’s the only reason she stays. That and it ensures she gets paid at the end.
I’d hate to think it was for some other reason, like she actuallyenjoyswatching alphas abuse her son. Despite how much I hate her, I’d like to think even someone as evil as her wouldn’t think like that.
“Not tonight.” The man glances at her as he drops his pants, his hand moving to his penis that seems to already be hard. “Tonight, you leave us, and you sit outside in the hallway like the obedient little crack whore you are.”
Mandy watches as he kneels on the bed, moving toward me before straddling my chest the same way my mother had, and despite her hesitance, she nods and backs through the busted door then turns out the hall light.
“Your mom said you’re a really good kid, son.” He scoots until his knees are in my armpits and all I can smell is the volatile scent of his arousal. “Now open your mouth and show me how good you can really be.”
CHAPTER 2
Bentley
14 years old
Breathingin the fresh morning air, I grin as I gaze at my family’s property. Dad said that we’re going to check on the cattle today. They’re happily grazing, and I think Mom is coming out with us. My grandmother is watching my siblings because they’re too young, which makes sense to me.
Laura is only four months old, so she’s definitely too little for something like this. While Mom will baby wear while doing chores, it’s not safe for her to do while riding a horse.
I have to admit that my mom is my hero for being able to juggle so much. She’s a complete badass, and when equipment breaks and no one else can fix it, she always manages to coax it back to life.
“Dad!” I call out, seeing him glance over at me with a smirk as he sees me. His wild blonde hair is hidden underneath his cowboy hat to keep the sun off his face. It’s well broken in, as are his jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing.
We aren’t the kind of ranchers who always seem to look perfect. I can’t help but sneer at the Runway Ranchers with their ridiculous brand new jeans and boots that don’t have a single scuff on them.
So much of the ranching world seems to be changing, and I know my dad is concerned.
He’s currently talking with one of his ranch hands, probably to discuss our ride up to go see the cattle.
We have them about an acre away from the main house, where they're happily free grazing. They’re typically pretty tame, so I don’t think Mom or I will have an issue today. Dad wants to make sure they’re all happy and healthy.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad says, watching with a slight pinch between his eyes as I walk over to them in my jeans and boots.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
Dad doesn’t know that I can hear him when he talks to my mom late at night. There’s a worry in their voices about our surrounding neighbors.
There’s a lot of animosity and competition between my family and everyone else around us. He thinks I don’t know about the cut fence lines or that the stable fire on our property was arson.
I may be fourteen, but I’m pretty smart. I don’t want him to worry that I’m growing up too quickly, but rancher children aren’t babied in this world. My four year old twin sisters are already helping my mom with chores, because this ranch needs all the help it can get.
I also don’t believe my mom should have to do all the cooking and cleaning. She’s taught me how to make simple meals so I can take a day every week to help with dinner. I really enjoy being helpful, and she kept an eye on me as she nursed Laura.
So no, I’m not the typical fourteen year old boy. I understand how hard it is to keep this place running. Add on the ruthlessness of the other families, and it’s even more frustrating.
Just last week, Dad began insisting on driving me to school instead of taking the bus after I got into a fist fight at the stop a mile down the road. Bobby Trumaine decided to tell me that I have so many siblings because the ranch hands on my ranch take turns with my mom.
I wasn’t going to allow him to spew such bullshit about one of my most favorite humans on earth. Bobby can get trampled by a bull for all I care, but my father reminded me that my violent thoughts aren’t going to help in the long term.
I know this, I do. My mother is mild mannered, my father never uses his belt on any of us, and he doesn’t overindulge his intake of alcohol. I’m a lucky kid.
I just have a lot of pent up anger. I can’t help it.
“Nah,” Dad lies. “I do want to get moving, though. Can you get your mom?”
“Be right back,” I say excitedly, almost tripping over the porch stair as I rush.
“Careful,” Dad calls out, chuckling. “You don’t need any more bruises, Bentley.”
