The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  "So you don't… mock us?"

  "Fuck me seven ways from Sunday. Yes, I did, but only because you were being a twat. You deserved it."

  "Did I? Hmm... What do you deserve for talking to me like I'm only an ant?"

  "You and me have no kind of alliance. Not right now. You talk to me with the smallest ounce of respect and I will repay in kind."

  I feel the gentle caress of a finger trailing along my hand before I see it. You see, focusing on something, like anger or someone's ridiculously handsome face lowers your defences. I'm not sure if I like the advance, hate it, or merely crave it. Finn touches parts of me that have lacked a certain feeling for a long time, and now, he's stroking a kindling flame into a raging inferno.

  I feel the tingles go straight from my arm, through my body and down to the aching pit at the apex of my thighs. It's been a bloody long time since the coochie was serviced, but that doesn't mean it's in a bad condition. It's still in good working order.

  I'd like to say I don't give my surge of arousal away, but the little gasp that leaves my lips pushes Finnegan into motion. Before I've had the chance to comprehend, I feel his hands quickly, yet somehow gently, thread through the hair at the back of my neck as he pulls me closer. It's a little awkward, being pulled over the counter, but the intensity of the action only fuels my fire. If it could, my pussy would probably combust.

  As he draws me closer, he places his other hand on my arm to steady me. Centimetres from his lips, my eyes focus on them. As if he notices me looking, he pokes his tongue out slightly and runs it along his lower lip teasingly. I'm moments away from ripping my own clothes off because it's feels like it’s getting too fucking hot in here.

  Anticipation kills me. It's as though he knows this, and his breath blows across me in warm waves, making my mouth water in anticipation. I decide that I won't be the one to change my mind as I advance on him. I'm a moment away from kissing him when his lips come down on me in the most crushing way. He steals the opportunity to be dominant from me, smothering my need to control the situation and replacing it with my undying need to be compliant, obedient.

  The kiss is possessive. It's hard, fast and rushed all at the same time. It's like his beast is unhinged and in charge, displaying dominance without the need of a cock-measuring contest. Forcing myself against him, I reciprocate his kiss with a blind fury all of my own. Reaching up to wrap my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him closer so I can bite down on that bottom lip he teased me with earlier. It's succulent and supple beneath my teeth and the beast inside me purrs at the display of brute force.

  My errant hand fists the front of his shirt, pulling him down to my level and when he's there, I give myself the opportunity to touch parts of the forbidden male before me. My hand lingers on his slightly exposed chest, and I rub my fingers along his collar bone. The spark I feel in my fingers is quick and sudden, almost like an electric shock. But it must be a sensitive area, because Finnegan moans against my lips before pulling away and putting space between us.

  The feeling of separation is hidden under my unwavering desire. My spontaneous combustion is more or less a volcanic eruption, and if I checked, I'm sure that I'd find my knickers soaked. It’s the hard panting that draws my attention from my wet undergarments to the God-like man in front of me. His eyes are still milky— no surprise there— but I could never have prepared myself for the one word I never thought I'd hear.

  "Mate."

  It's gruff, but gentle. He doesn't spit it out like unseasoned food but rather nurtures it as it leaves his lips to find my ears. Shock makes me raise my eyebrows so that they hit my hairline. Shock makes me drop my lower jaw as if I have no control over it, and shock leaves me unprepared— yet again— for another response I don't expect. Except this time, it's coming from within me.

  "Mate. He's our mate, friend of mine. Our mate."

  Jerking back, I remove my errant fingers from his skin, the heat radiating from it becoming a little too much. At the loss of my touch, his eyes go back to their usual jewelled selves. That dark, royal blue stares back at me in awe. Somehow, as if he didn't really think I could've existed.

  "It's impossible. No one in the Dragon Realm has found their mate in over four hundred years."

  Rolling my eyes before I narrow them, because I'm a little offended at the comment, I throw yet another truth bomb at the feet of my enemy-turned-crush-turned-mate.

  "What, the mating balls don't work anymore?"

  "Mating balls? What mating balls?"

  Colour me surprised, though, am I really surprised? That asshat ruined everything when he stepped into power— the fucker purposefully stopped the matings from happening. I guess that was so that every blithering idiot in the Realm would be loyal and devoted to him, rather than someone else.

  "That would explain why there aren't any, or little to no mates in the Realm. Why? Because they haven't had the chance to touch whilst experiencing pleasure." I shrug, bored. "That's how you find your mate."

  A rumble comes from deep within him. It wasn't one of those cutesy rumbles that make you feel warm relaxed and fuzzy, it was the ‘I'm-gonna-fuck-shit-up’ rumble, which is impressive, considering Finn seemed as calm as a cucumber on most occasions, and was elated and slightly turned on a few seconds ago.

  "It doesn't matter anyway, considering your mate, that being me, wouldn't have been there anyway. I left the realm long before you were born, you realise," the next part dawned on me, "damn it, does that mean I'm some cradle snatcher now? How old are you?"

  Instead of answering, he gives me a smile that screams pain and pleasure at the same time. His eyes look me up and down, and at that moment I can do nothing to stop myself from drowning in his attention. The mating instincts rise up within me, and I'm seconds away from preening myself under his intense gaze. Unfortunately for me, mating instincts rule over everything, and it makes my bad ass motherfucker side die down within me. But make no mistake, the sass queen is still the reigning bitch around here.

  Figuratively slapping myself, I shake myself from my mate-induced stupor. No man has ever ruled over me like the Lord of the Manor before, so they sure as hell aren't going to start now. I remove myself from the top of the counter, considering that I'm still laying slightly on top of it, and take a few steps back. Away from him, away from his scent, all in the hopes that I can clear my head.

  It's slightly less foggy now, so I can see where I'm going. Finn still looks at me with the heady, hooded eyes as if I'm the juiciest apple on the earth. Mmmm, juicy.

  “You need to figure out what the hell is going on and fast, because there’s no way that anyone could know about this. Your life is more in danger than it ever was before.”

  He snorts, shaking his head side to side. “Ever since we left the Realm, we knew we’d never return to our normal lives, or live, as soon as we entered the walls. But darling, you’ve just given me a reason to stroke the flame that lives within, and fall in love with life again.”

  He circles around the counter, advancing on me like the carnivore looking at a delicious snack. I can see his beast fight for dominance every step of the way, but ultimately, it’s probably all the blood rushing to his little head that’s making the decisions.

  Am I complaining about it though? Uhhh…. Not really.

  Instead of grabbing me and pinning me deliciously against the wall like I’d expect him to do, he surprises me. I expected rough, hard caveman sex. But when I get it, it’s a loving and gentle embrace. The beast may be the dominant, but it seems that Finn is the submissive here. His hand cups the side of my cheek gently and his thumb runs along my lower lip as if he’s cataloguing the feeling to memory. His hand against my cheek feels right. It feels like home. And as much as that comforts me, it scares me at the same time.

  “You infuriate me as much as you excite me… How maddening is that?”

  A smile crosses my lips, “You’re entirely bonkers, but I’ll tell you a secret-”

  “All of the
best people are.” I laugh as he finishes my sentence. Okay, well it’s not technically mine, it’s Caroll’s, but semantics.

  “Are we gonna start finishing each other's-”

  “Sandwiches?”

  “What? No. I don’t share my food with anyone. Get your own sandwiches.”

  His laugh cuts through me, but it’s warm, hearty and joyful. “Not into Disney films are you?”

  Confused, I pull away from his thumb. “Not really, Mika’s has made me watch a few, but the next one she wants me to watch is about a clownfish.”

  “Ah, right. Well, maybe we’ll have to change that.” He moves his hand into my hair and tugs on it slightly before pulling away completely. I feel the absence of his touch instantly, as if a snowstorm has swallowed the hellfire he left behind. Before I have the chance to call him back— why, I have no idea— he opens his wallet, drops a few notes on the counter and picks up the bag of books, heading towards the exit.

  Before he leaves, he turns back to me with a smile and a wink, giving me enough subtle nudges to fill my thoughts with for a few days. “Don’t forget me Remi, because I’ll be back. And I'm not leaving without my mate.”

  I don’t hear him leave, but the sound of the bell hits me like a freight train to my senses. I have a mate. He’s here, and he’s alive. It took nearly a thousand years to get to this point, but here I am. Remi, First Knight of the Lord’s Guard, Enemy to the Lord, a powerful supernatural on the run.

  And I have a mate.

  Lucky me.

  •°•

  I try to remember what that guy at the shop told me. Unlock the phone. Press the numbers to type the number I want to call. Press the green button to make the call. If you’ve typed the number in correctly, it’ll connect. If it doesn’t, I will have called some random person. He didn’t tell me what to do if that happens though.

  Seriously. It shouldn’t be too hard. But modern technology repels me like the way that two positive magnets repel each other. I avoid it like I avoid people, mostly. Except one tall, athletically built, genius minded red-head. Damn it. Stop thinking about Finnegan! After typing in the number, I wait until the ring-ring noise is replaced by a click. That must mean that she answered, right?

  “Mika, Mika! Fuck. How does this stupid thing work? Why are the buttons so small?”

  “Remi? Are you calling me from a phone?”

  “Yes, I’m calling you from this small, handheld, cellular device.”

  “Wait. Hold up. Where did you even get a phone from?”

  “The shop. Where else would I get one?”

  “You know how to use it?” The question is slightly condescending, but I brush it off.

  “The guy showed me. It wasn’t too difficult.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “You left it on the fridge in case of emergencies. I would consider this a big, fucking emergency.”

  “It must be an emergency if you willingly bought a phone.”

  “They wouldn’t let me use the one at the store. Plus, it was stuck to the wall.”

  “Right… stuck to the wall… Where are you?”

  “On the way home. Bring a bottle of wine, actually, bring four. Some shit went down, and we need to recuperate.”

  “Okay, I can be there in two hours. I’m a little busy at the mo-”

  “Make it one Mika. We’re in trouble.”

  “Us? We’re in trouble?”

  “The whole town.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yep.”

  She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again, her breath ragged as if she was rushing. “Okay, okay. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  “Cool, I’ll see you at the house. Bring Lucius treats. He misses you.”

  “It’s been a few days!”

  “He’s like a dog. Times that by seven and it’s been nearly a month or so.”

  “Okay! Fine!”

  “Cool, okay. See you then.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone only lasts a few seconds before Mika speaks into the small device again.

  “Remi, are you gonna hang up?”

  “Hang up? What’s that?”

  “Ending the call?”

  “Oh. I don’t know how to do that. Can you do it for me?”

  “How do you not know how-” she groans, “Yeah sure. One sec.”

  The phone clicks and the communication between me and Mika over the small thing in my hand goes dead.

  I guess that's what hanging up means.

  "Git… nuvva… thissss."

  It seems the connection between my brain and my mouth has reduced to that of a toddler. My motor skills have also lost the ability to function, because instead of pushing the glass towards Matthius like I intended to do, my arm ignores me and swipes it across the bar and onto the sticky floor with a smash that echoes throughout the quiet place.

  Just as a sigh escapes Matthius, because he clearly hasn't been drinking on the job, Mika lets out a high pitched laugh that fills the calm, quiet void. She even pounds her fist down on the counter— out of time— to make her point. I am drunk, and she, the person behind said drunkenness, finds it hilarious.

  She definitely got him to spike the drink with something.

  "Another one Remi?" Matthius' low voice rolls over me, "that's the seventh glass you've broken tonight."

  I snort. One of those ugly, pig snorts. "Leev nexxx to edge, git knok'd uff…"

  "I don't even understand what she's saying anymore, that slur is unbelievable."

  "Don't leave it next to the edge, it won't get knocked off." Mika pipes up. I can see her holding her glass firmly between her fingers, even though it sits on a napkin so it can't slide off the bar top.

  "It was in the middle of the bar!"

  Shrugging, Mika continues to giggle at me. I'm not particularly surprised. I am a 'hot mess'. I know I am, because Matthius grimaced at me and told me earlier. It's partly his fault though, because he served me those drinks.

  "I think she's had too much Fae juice. If she's never had one before, she's gonna have a cracker of a headache in the morning."

  "Hmm? Oh. That's her own fault. She'll get over it."

  I can promise you one thing. I will not get over it. Why? Because it wasn't my fault. Damn you Mika, you conniving little shit.

  My arm does that thing where it moves of its own accord again, and instead of patting the bar— signalling that I want my drink, now— it decides that Matthius's arm will bear the brunt of my drunk mind.

  I can't help it. It's right there, and even though my mind is shouting 'oh hell no girlfriend, don't you do it, nu-uh', my arm goes 'never seen a big green arm before, let's touch it'. Even the beast inside of me is silent.

  As my hand cups his rather large forearm, I ask again, politely. "Dwinkkk… na-ow." Okay, maybe not as polite as I thought. Fuck. This Fae shit they drugged me with is fucking me up. Is there an antidote? Before I do something incredibly stupid? Like test my luck, for example.

  My inner consciousness but not drunk rambling is interrupted by the door opening. This isn't a pity party for one plus guests, but I kinda didn't expect anyone else to be awake at this time. The only people who are up at five am are the loved and the lonely.

  I expect a vampire or a wolf to walk in the bar, but that's just my stereotypical thoughts speaking. I can't help but nearly fall off my chair when I realise who it is that's coming in for a hot toddy. None of our usual suspects, oh no. It's Finnegan— surprise surprise— Leland and Landon.

  Just three out of the four amigos. That's fine. I can't be bothered to deal with asshat number one at the moment. Especially when my limbs are like jelly and my mouth has a mind of its own. It'll probably say something stup-

  "Haaay matey! Yuh lil' ginja leprechaun yoooou."

  "Mate? I thought she was a hu-"

  Mika interrupts Matthius. "Well thank God! We've finally moved onto the slightly-structured sentences part of the alcoholic stupor!" Shaking her glass at
Matthius, she gives him her best version of kitty cat eyes. "Another for me and a water for Remi please."

  He nods, still a little confused at the mate comment but goes to make her drink anyway. I'm not sure if he thought that was a shitty pirate impression, but before he can remove himself completely from my presence, I grab onto his arm again like a clingy baby octopus. Using my free hand to make the universal sign for drink, I mutter, "beeer puh-lease Matty-us."

  It seems although my reactions are becoming more refined and less like a flailing fish, but Matthius still finds my antics hilarious. Mika must also think this because she brings her sleeved hand up to her mouth to disguise her laugh as a cough.

  The three interlopers just stand there like they've walked into a parallel universe with little to no understanding of how it works. It's only as Finn grabs his balls— sorry— bearings that he moves his arse into action.

  He doesn't sweep me off of my seat into a heated kiss that goes from my lips down to my nipples. No. He does that weird thing again and buries his head into my hair and takes a long sniff. It was awkward the first time, but my drunk self makes my life a little harder for me. In the blink of an eye I'm following suit by hurling my nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling as though he's a tree and I'm starved of oxygen. The animalistic side of me moves to stake my claim. I lick my tongue along his neck and up to the back of his ear, where I nibble on his earlobe.

  His moan is breathy, but that doesn't stop it from echoing around the bar like a lone person in a cave. It also doesn't stop me from falling off of the stool.

  The ground comes up towards my face quicker than a bloke cums for the first time when he finally puts his P in the V. That's a term I learned from Mika, but it fits in this scenario. I've had my nose broken a few times— it's always healed— but never by the sticky floor of the local pub. There’s a first time for everything, I guess. Accepting my fate, I let myself greet the floor without any attempts to stop it. I close my eyes instinctively— I’m not a fan of watching the bone snap, but the crunching noise I can deal with.

  Except, the floor never comes. I don't feel my cartilage snap in two or pain blossom across my cheekbones. It never happens. Which must mean that someone caught me before I inevitably hit the deck. Peeking through my semi-closed lids, I realise that I haven’t been caught and then cradled like a damsel in distress. No. I’ve been caught because someone caught the back of my shirt, and it's holding all of my weight whilst I’m lying parallel to the floor.