The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  “... my behaviour yesterday was despicable. That time at the bar? My behaviour was questionable...” His voice trails off, almost as if he’s truly ashamed of his actions. Who is this Jekyll and Hyde character?

  Unfortunately, it’s Mika who breaks rank and opens her mouth before I do. Since when did my meek little friend turn into the sass bitch three-thousand?

  “Go on, dick squeeze. Get on with it.”

  If I had water in my mouth, I would have done an amazing spit-take. However, since I don't have a mouth full of water, I not so subtly choke on the laugh that was attempting to make its way out of my throat. The only reaction that Mika gives me is some serious side-eye as I almost choke to death on air.

  But that’s fine, considering that Landon seems to have a similar reaction to mine; not expecting the 'dick squeeze' comment, he turns beet red, closing and opening his mouth like a fish out of water. Without knowing whether I should strangle her or laugh my arse off, I wave my hand in a 'carry on' motion— hoping that the awkwardness of the 'dick squeeze' comment and my almost choking to death will be left in the wake of the awkward as fuck apology that I'm still yet to receive.

  It’s the sound of a cough muffled by a closed fist that resumes the never ending overly awkward encounter. Dragging on for longer than necessary, I feel as if I may age significantly before the entire ordeal is over. If I didn’t already feel sorry for Landon, I do now. I also feel sorry for myself, because… you know... someone has to.

  “Right, so… anyway… I was coming to apologise properly because I feel that I may have overstepped a few boundaries.”

  “Lots of boundaries.”

  Now it’s me that’s giving Mika the side-eye. Can I really berate Mika for her snide remarks? Not particularly, considering that she probably learned all of her devastatingly bad habits from me. I would like to say that I was a good influence on Mika, but then she opens her mouth and I quickly change my mind. The odds are in our favour as Landon takes her snide comment in his stride.

  “Boundaries... yes, well. So, I’ve come to say I’m very sorry for my outburst Remi and I’m not exactly good at this spoken apology thing.” Shrugging his shoulders, he continues. “Drinking competitions, I’m good at. Working with an elite team in a guard designed to protect our people, that I’m good at. Apologising to two women because I was a misogynistic arsehole? I’m not good at that. I can’t even admit when I’m wrong, for fucks sake.”

  Looking behind him and spotting a chair opposite us, he parks his backside in the chair with a loud sigh and a deflated posture. In that high backed armchair, Landon looks like a small crumpled boy looking for immediate comfort; but it’s only the high back of the chair that provides the comfort that he so eagerly seeks.

  It’s a position that reminds me so much of Mika when I first met her, and it makes me feel empathetic towards the softer side of Landon that in the short time I have known about him, has only expressed this once. Other times we see a brutish, uncaring, womanising man, but underneath is a misunderstood and misinterpreted dragon with a seemingly hard past and a broken future. Regardless of the four dragons reasoning for turning up in this sleepy hollow of a town, should I really begrudge them based purely on their gender and their species?

  My change of heart is nauseating and stifling. What happened to Remi, badass extraordinaire, mysterious woman and master introvert? It’s entirely possible that my stone cold heart is thawing, warming up to a long lost feeling of companionship that I haven’t experienced in years. Before I jump in feet first into shark ridden waters, I should consult someone else about this super risky decision. Mika, my partner in crime and Bonnie to my Clyde is the only person who knows me well enough to solidify my decision.

  How does one capture the attention of their friend without potentially weirding out the only guy in the room? Or rather, the only man that lives predominantly on two legs, considering that if Lucius could speak, would definitely consider himself a guy’s guy. At the moment, he’s exhibiting signs of the common ‘couch potato’, currently sprawled belly up next to Mika, Lucius is still riding out the long food coma. Four paws in the air, and his front two paws are crossed over the front of his chest as though he’s holding his hands together, and his long red and white tipped tail is hanging off the edge like a limp noodle.

  Shuffling in my seat, I nudge Mika’s elbow with my own, disrupting her from the rhythmic petting she’s doing. Instead of looking up and you know, acknowledging me like a normal human being she pulls Lucius to her chest and mutters just three words.

  “Funky town, Poughkeepsie.”

  With that uttered statement Landon lifts his head and stares at Mika, completely confused— his eyebrows almost fuse together at her random selection of words. It’s enough for me to pay attention to his hair which hangs down in front of his eyes. He uses his free hand to push his hair back over his scalp, the same way that those guys on TV adverts.

  Obviously not a Supernatural fan, the literal translation is ‘There is a gun at my head. Drop everything and run’. The thing is, Mika doesn’t have a damn gun to her head, so the words are spoken only to embarrass the living shit out of me. Mika’s method of distraction serves only to humiliate me and not to save our skins, it’s a win-win for her, but a lose-lose for me.

  Mika’s antics leave me slack jawed and dumbstruck, especially when she wanders into the office at the back with Lucius held securely in her arms. Leaving me to clean up the metaphorical mess that she’s left behind.

  “Is that a nickname or something?”

  I kinda forgot that Landon was still sitting there throughout this small ordeal, so I turn to face him. How the fuck do I explain this? Simply? Comically? Throw myself to the dragon and admit my friend is a total ass-face?

  “Hah… nickname? Noooo...” Shit Remi… Think… Think!

  “That’s what Mika says when she has very bad bowel issues.” WAIT, WHAT? I said think, not come out with fucking bowel movements! Oh well, I guess this is karma coming early for Mika.

  Landon blanches and his skin loses a bit of its colour. If that didn’t already prove to be a normal reaction, he also shudders as if someone has walked over his grave. Of course he would, who wouldn’t at the mention of tumultuous bowel movements? At least the guy takes it like a champ and doesn’t start gagging at the earliest convenience.

  “I guess that’s a better way of explaining a sickness than just coming out with it.”

  I would’ve made a joke out of his sentence, saying that she may come out with something, but behind the closed door of the office I hear a smash which sounds similar to my favourite lamp being tossed on the floor and shattered into a million little pieces.

  “Hah! Yes, well, I better go and see if she’s feeling alright.”

  Moving away slowly, trying to seem as normal as possible, I make my way back to the office where Mika is currently destroying my furnishings. All I wanted was some advice, now we’ve delved into this awkward situation. As I get to the door and raise my hand to knock, there’s a little voice from the corner, confused and out of place.

  “Right... yes…”

  Feeling deflated about the whole situation, especially the down-and-out dragon in the main room, I knock once before pushing the door open. Mika is situated on my office chair, with Lucius on her lap she looks like a modern day villain. But right now, I need to understand Mika, not chloroform-me-and-feed-me-to-the-sharks Mika.

  “Well, what’s the issue?”

  I shrug my shoulders, tip-toeing around the subject. “I mean, I don’t know,” scuffing my shoe on the floor, I add: “Do you think he’s sincere?”

  “About as sincere as a psychopath.”

  “Mika!”

  “What? He can’t blow up at you like the other day and then mosey back in with a ‘I don't know how to say sorry, so sorry.’”

  "I get that, but it isn't going to be all sunshine and roses. Do you think that maybe, the big, bad dragon may be a little bit misunderstood?"


  Her eyebrow perks up, conveying her confused thoughts clearer than her words ever could. "What do you mean?"

  "Well you heard him didn't you? 'Working in an elite guard to protect people', he's not the kind of person who has had the finest life, especially if he's a dragon."

  She levels me with one of those gazes that only has one interpretation; explain. So explain, I do.

  "Mika in the Dragon Realm, young dragons are conscripted into the Lord's Guard as soon as they reach a-hundred-and-eighteen-years old. They rarely have a choice, the feeble are swiftly removed, the sick or the permanently injured are reduced to lesser roles and females are only allowed to avoid the call if they're pregnant or soon-to-be married. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if all of them, bar the twitchy Leland fella has done some time in the guard, willingly or otherwise."

  "You mean, it's forced?"

  "It's like the human war— World War One? Back in the day, if you had a coin dropped in your drink at the bar, you had to enlist or your wife or mother would come and give you a white feather, deeming you a coward. Same rules apply here, but the only way you leave the guard is by losing something that you entered with… you know possibly a leg, maybe an arm, or in most cases your sanity…"

  Mika moves herself in the chair, changing her villain pose to something more reclusive, disheveled and uncouth. We can all be sympathetic to those who have experienced the spoils of war, and supernatural disputes are not that uncommon or even different than the human ones. Our heroes aren't glorified though, they're boxed up and hidden at the bottom of a grove, forgotten and abused.

  The best of us are just used as an unfortunate stepping stone between the start and the finish line.

  As though she's pondering over her decision, Mika rubs Lucius's ear between her thumb and forefinger, massaging it to scratch the constant itch. It's the mindless motion that helps to keep Mika focused, her mind contained to thinking of one thing, rather than a multitude of minor issues.

  “Do you think that maybe, we should give this dragon the chance to prove himself? Everyone can be misunderstood, given the chance.”

  Instead of answering me, Mika picks Lucius up under the arms as if he was an infant. She repeats the question to him in one of those super annoying high pitched voices. You know, the voices that people do when they talk to their pets? That voice.

  “Should we twust the big bad dragon? Should we Wucius? What if he hurts us, hmm? Shall we maim and cut him up into teeny tiny pieces? You think we should?”

  My expression reads total disgust— I never talk to Lucius like he’s a dependable, snotty-nosed infant. I converse with Lucius like he’s a very intellectual gentleman, or a brother who has just hidden worms in my shoes for the third time, but there is no inbetween.

  As Mika goes to nuzzle her nose on his, he lets out a very small growl. After just being woken up abruptly from his food coma, as well as being spoken to like he’s an invalid, Lucius is probably not a very happy bunny. Or a happy fox. She forgoes the nuzzle and places him back on her lap gently, she narrows her eyes accusingly.

  “Don’t growl at me like that. You can’t like being the little spoon all the time and then refuse to be babied.”

  Lucius turns his head to look at me like what Mika said is preposterous. If he could talk right now, I guess he would be eloquently questioning the laws of the world, “why can one not be the little spoon without being babied? What is being babied? What really is the little spoon? What is a medium spoon? What if there were four little spoons?” The possibilities are endless.

  Interrupting Lucius’ sulking session, Mika interjects, “give him a chance, Remi. But if he steps out of line, we maim at dawn.”

  “I’m not sure that’s ho-”

  “Remi. One chance. One. Let’s hope that that imbecile doesn’t fuck up your expectations of the entire dragon race.”

  Grabbing the ends of my hair, I tug at them nervously. I could give Landon and his friends one chance to prove to me that they’re not all the same. Not how they used to be. Prove that the actions of others do not impede on themselves. I can do this… I can be… trusting.

  Okay, maybe just a smidgen. It’s not like we’re going to go on lunch dates or trips to the pub together. Small, baby steps.

  “Okay, just one chance.”

  I only came here to apologise to this woman and the tiger shifter for my behaviour the previous two times they’ve bumped into me. Or me bumping into them, rather. My plan was fool proof and simple. Apologise profusely, gain some sort of respect, whether it was the basic level of respect or a higher respect for actually having the balls to apologise, and then leave before things got really weird.

  Suffice to say that my plan was mediocre at best. How did I ever logically think that I would be able to be as calm and collected as I thought I could be? There’s something that stops all rational thought when I’m around her.

  With coppery hair so sleek and straight that it looks as soft as silk, and green eyes that remind me of the jade statues in the temple in the Dragon Realm, coupled with an unusual air of fragility that surrounds her, Remi is perfection embodied.

  How could I not acknowledge or appreciate the toned body that she hides under baggy clothes? Finnegan explained how she looked in a dress at the bar the other night. Toned and supple, the thought of her curves in a figure hugging dress only made my fantasies grow in severity. I could see myself dragging my large hands down her milky white thighs, her gentle moans caressing my eardrums like a feather teasing skin. There are no limitations to what I wouldn’t do to that woman, I’d play her body so well that I’d be mistaken for a skilled pianist.

  I shift discreetly in my seat so that I can rearrange my dick in my pants so that it doesn’t hold my trousers up like the fucking center pole in a tent. It’s not like I can blame anyone else for the raging hard-on but myself, considering my dirty thoughts have escalated from unsolicited kisses to full on red room, temperature and BDSM kinks. I can only thank the stars above for the lingering chill in the bookstore— it’s the only thing close enough to a cold shower right now. Walking back to that cold, unmoving hotel with a raging boner is not something I could fathom to do at this very moment.

  Just as I’m pushing my engorged length down the side of my left leg, the door to the office opens and Remi exits, alone. My hand stills in my lap as her eyes land on my very visible dick. Without seeming like the creepiest bloke on the planet, I try to remove my hand without drawing too much attention to it, but at the slightest movement, Remi’s eyes home in on my dick like a heat seeking missile, unforgiving and unrestrained. Pupils dilate like a cat high on the nip, Remi looks away whilst coughing to relieve her dry throat.

  Can’t say I blame the woman, considering my trouser snake is anything but average. Unfortunately though I have had the misfortune of experiencing Remi’s sharp wit and sarcasm, so in order to avoid the impending dick jokes, I move my hand to the arm of the chair... the safe zone as I see it.

  Her eyes follow my hand until it’s firmly resting on the arm, unmoving and not in any need to cup my dick any time soon. It’s an unconscious move, my brain doesn’t need to send signals to my hand for that one. It’s all muscle memory now.

  “So, I get why you apologised, so thank you for that.” Perching her peachy little ass on the sofa, she crosses her left leg over her right, thrusting those boot-clad feet in my direction.

  “Yeah… It’s hard to apologise when I don’t really know how to do it…” The words that come out of my mouth don’t make sense to me, so I doubt that she understands what my pea brain was on about either. I’m a stammering idiot, saying words only to fill the lingering silence while I imagine Remi with her boots off and her cute feet in my lap as she lays on her sofa. I’m dying to know if she paints her toenails, because that’s a massive fucking turn on. It’d make me go hard within seconds if they’re painted black as the night, there’s something about black nails on a woman which sends all of my blood vessels south.

  If
she’s been talking, I haven’t been listening. Searching Remi’s persons with my eyes for any hint of black nail polish, and coming up empty, my thoughts start wandering into darker fantasies. What would it be like to tie her up, to gently press slightly melted ice cubes against her perky tits and make her beg until there were no rational thoughts left. Having her submissive under me would be the best gift I ever received. My need to dominate is spurred on by the need to have something of my own.

  Not having to care for anyone but myself is a temporary roadblock in my future life plans. Without a woman to claim as my own, my life has been filled with dwindling one night stands, disappointed stares and unforgiving remarks. For someone who’s looking to fill the void in their life, my advances have gone unanswered and ignored.

  “... so, I’m curious… what did you mean by ‘you know how to protect people’, you mentioned something about a guard?”

  Shaking myself out of my sex filled day dreams, I narrow my eyes hesitantly at her question. If she had asked me this prior to my outburst the other day, I’d understand the question. I’d put it down to having an infatuation with men in uniform. But she mentioned something the other day in anger that stuck with me, and it’s been pulling at my brain since.

  “Wait, just hold up a fucking second. Before we get onto my jaded past; what did you mean the other day when you said something about me being unimportant? About me being less than Lord Draconis?”

  My unwarranted outburst is returned by her heated glare. Eyes as sharp as daggers, I feel the cut of her stare like a physical wound. Maybe I should’ve started with a proper apology rather than jumping to the defensive position straight away. “I’m sorry, Remi. I can’t— I can’t help the outbursts. Today and the other day. But you can’t ignore what you said, what did you mean and more importantly, what do you know?”

  She’s still staring at me with a ferocity that’s starting to scare me. Almost as if she’s sussing me out. I imagine the cogs turning in her head furiously, the prolonged silence before mounting conversation makes it feel like it’s going to be a long one, especially if her foreboding statement is anything to go by.