The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  Just as I step out of the front door, I hear the loud pounding of feet on the hardwood floor from inside the shop before both lithe bodies file out of the shop behind me. Finn stands there with his books in hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. I guess that now I’m his bonded, yet not claimed mate, that he thinks he’s entitled to all the freebies in the world. Guess who's bringing those books back as soon as they’ve read them so that I can sell them? He is.

  Locking the door, which proves slightly difficult because of the damn stickiness, we meander down the street towards the Café. The moon hangs in the sky, illuminating all the pathways along the road. It also bounces off of our mix of skin tones like we’re white clothes under a UV light. It’s kind of romantic, taking a leisurely stroll with my new mates. It is, until Leland doesn’t see a break in the path which sends him flying into the dew-covered grass foliage. It happens so quickly that I don’t have a chance to react until the poor sod is pulling his head away from the earth, his clothes dotted with various wet marks.

  Clutching Finn’s shoulder to remain upright is a task as my knees are ready to buckle. I’m bent in half at the waist, clutching onto the space between my ribs and my hip with a pressure that breaches the border of pain. Finn’s body shakes up and down a little as he watches Leland struggle to get back up without making himself wetter. I feel like we’re a bunch of close friends, and even after knowing each other for a short period of time, having the instant connection makes it easier on myself.

  The only easy friendships or familiarities I had were with Radley, the only family I grew up with, Lord Draconis of my time, because he was a father figure I longed for, Mika, the shy girl with the skittish temperament with a love for books, and Lucius, who as grumpy as he is, just wanted someone to want him, so I did. But now I have two more to add to that list of people, Leland, who now could no longer keep a secret from me— even if he wanted to, and Finnegan, who could do me no harm due to the mate bond that fizzles under my skin occasionally like popping candy or a gunpowder-spiked sparkler.

  Our walk finally ends a few hundred yards away from the Café, which is very clearly closed. The dark interior and ‘we’re closed’ sign are a dead giveaway, but my stomach still growls with a ferocity that rivals even the fiercest of predators. It manages to make both of them look at me as if I was seconds away from caving in on myself. “Well, it looks like we have to find another alternative. How’s the food at the Hotel?”

  “Ghastly.” Leland shakes his shoulders as if he’s fighting off a shiver, and Finnegan grimaces at the words, confirming my suspicions that Ariane and Zachariah do not provide the best room service. Unless you’re requesting sex toys or one of those fancy swings. That leaves The Wyvern’s Nest which only serves drunk-food, like cheesy chips or chips in gravy. So the only place to go for food is my place. It’s not somewhere I take many people, but now, I guess I have no choice to share. A shiver rolls along my bones like a foreboding presence, but I shake it off and base it on old prejudices.

  “I guess we’ll have to go back to my place then. It’s a bit of a walk.”

  "After sitting on my arse and sorting your paperwork out for hours, a walk won't kill me." Leland grumbles as he looks down at his feet absentmindedly, kicking some of the loose stones towards the grass verge. Finnegan however pushes his side up against mine, letting the heat from his sculpted body warm mine, fighting off the bite of the cold air.

  He leans down to whisper in my ear, "I don't mind going to your place, maybe you could show us your things… your books… your bedroom?" And from that comment alone, my body heats itself in places where the chill doesn't touch. It's almost like I'm a small wildfire, waiting to ruin others around me. "The possibilities are endless…" he draws out the last word, licking his tongue along the shell of my ear, making me feel like an animal in heat. It's a glorious sensation, but I somehow manage to stop myself from climbing that man like a tree in the middle of the street like a rabid koala.

  Pulling the sides of my coat closer around me, I shake my hair out and turn so we're heading back the direction we originally came. I start walking without saying a word, because if I did I would probably say something stupid like 'sure thing cowboy', 'hi-ho sailor, away!' or something even more ridiculous. I'm supposed to act like I'm in control of my emotions, but my lower lady is marching to the beat of her own drum.

  I guess it's time to get these boys back to my place to show them what for, and more importantly, who's the boss. If anyone is going to do the flirting and teasing, it's gonna be me. And I'm gonna be really awkward about it too.

  In no time at all, we find ourselves walking up to my haunted looking cottage. Surrounded by its dense foliage and overhanging trees, it looks like it's been plucked straight from a horror movie. I relax as I climb up the small steps to the front door, unlocking it without a second thought. I didn't want to give myself the opportunity to back out, tuck tail and run. As long as they stay in the house and don't venture around the place, we'll be just fine.

  Stepping through the door frame, I kick my shoes off and leave them sitting by the front door neatly. It's a silent hospitality rule, along with using a coaster, and flushing the toilet after you use it. Both of my companions make their way inside and deposit their shoes next to mine, like they've been doing this for years. My heart flutters at the sight of our shoes lined up, but it stops abruptly when Finnegan drops his books on the table with a loud thud and he walks to the kitchen, opening and slamming doors in his wake.

  I don't have time to warn him about not making such aggravating noises before a little ball of burnt-orange fur runs from the bedroom and leaps onto the kitchen counter with a grace I've never seen before. I'm still admiring the flawless jump— because normally it's like a panicked scramble— when Lucius begins to hiss and snap and scream like the world is on fire.

  The shrill noise pierces the air and Finnegan knocks his head off of the cupboard door in an attempt to get away from the devil spawn. It's something he manages until I pull Lucius off of the counter and into my arms like a rabid, vengeful beast. Teeth and tongue and claws flail about like sails in high winds, and the only way to calm down a particularly pissed off animal is to feed them. It's a theory I've practiced many, many times.

  The fridge and the chicken are only a few steps away. Hauling Lucius under my arm like a surfboard, I make my way towards it while he makes my life more difficult by becoming a life-sized jelly fox. As he lets himself become dead weight, I find it harder to hold onto him. In my stress-filled haze— why didn't I warn them about the damn fox— I notice Leland leaning against the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips. I guess he thinks the whole thing is hilarious, but I have other ideas up my sleeves.

  Opening the fridge and removing the Tupperware container of chicken, and hip-bump the door closed. Throwing the tub at Leland, who catches it effortlessly. He looks up at me with a 'what the?' look, but when my eyes travel down to the demon-fox and back to him, his eyes become desperate and pleading. It looks like he's saying 'oh please, dear Lord don't make me', but I'm pretending not to understand the message those pretty gold eyes are sending me.

  I let Lucius go and because he's so amped up, he slides along the floor with little control. The only way he manages to stop is by bumping into Leland's feet, but even then he desperately tries to prevent it by pushing his feet out in all different directions to lessen the speed. As they collide in a small little boop, Lucius looks up at Leland. There's no way of telling what Lucius' expression is, but Leland shakes the tub to rattle the chicken like he's attempting to deflect the fox's attention, and it works.

  Lucius is a simple animal. Love him, feed him, never leave him, but also kinda leave him the hell alone. At the sound of the rattling chicken pieces, Lucius sits up on his hind legs and starts making a grabbing motion with his paws. It's cute and utterly adorable, and a collective canon of 'awww's' sound from all three of us.

  "Go and sit on the sofa with him Le," I
wink at him, and he smiles back, "I'll make us all some food whilst you feed la bête."

  "La bête? I didn't know that you knew french?"

  Turning towards Finn, I find him holding a bag of pasta and some sauce— where the fuck did he find those?— taking them off of him, I mumble, "I don't, I ran out of English words to call him, so I moved onto French. It's far more colourful and brutal when it wants to be."

  "So," leaning his hip against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, he looks down at me, his head tilted and his glasses seconds from slipping off of his nose, "you insult your fox in different languages? That's the only reason why you learned it?"

  "Yep," popping the 'p', I turn away to grab a pot out from the cupboard for the pasta. With it in hand, I move around him to the sink where I fill it up with water. "He still knows it's an insult. I still get the side eye and shrill scream, so it's no different." Placing the pot on the stove, I dump the whole bag of pasta in it as soon as it starts to boil. "I guess he knows that when it's in a different language it's more like a term of endearment, but he still hates it."

  “Well, so would I if it was an insulting endearment.” Nudging himself closer to me, he starts opening various draws until he finds a wooden spoon, which he hands to me. Probably to stir the pot— but not quite literally. “Do you have a cutesy nickname for me, Remi?” He purrs my name like he’s bringing the cat to the cream.

  “I have a few,” stirring the pasta, I shrug a shoulder. “First off it was Leppy, but now, I’ve resorted to the GG.”

  Puzzled, he questions, “The GG?”

  “Yeah, you know, The Ginger Giant.”

  He looks at me like I’ve said something offensive, which, I mean, technically I have, but I also stated a few truths. It’s the bark of laughter from the front room that captures both of our attentions. Leaning in the direction of the door, I see Leland sitting on the sofa with his head leaning back as his laugh becomes louder and more fulfilling. There’s a few choked words escaping between the barks of laughter, but after straining to understand, I realise he’s constantly repeating Ginger Giant over and over again. It riles Finn up a bit, his cheeks and neck staining rouge as his anger begins to cloud his judgement. It's a strategically placed hand that brings him back to me and further away from ripping the Kid’s head off. Squeezing his bicep, which is rock solid, I press my chest up against his side, bringing his attention to me and my boobs which are squished against him.

  “Do you have a pet name for me? It’s been a few days… so, I expect one by now.” Smiling, I wait for his reply. It’s not long before he answers, and it's not exactly what I expect.

  “You’re my Jewel,” he reaches to stir the pasta in the pot, hunger still the main focus of his brain.

  “Jewel? That’s… unexpected. Why Jewel?”

  He bends to kiss the top of my head, a sweet gesture that makes the beast inside of me preen like a child getting kissed by their first crush. “Because dragon’s hoard riches and jewels alike. Now, if you want me to call you Gold instead, that could be arranged.”

  “Uh, no. I think I’ll stick with the Jewel nickname. As long as you promise not to call me Precious.” I mock-shiver, conveying my instant disgust at such a horrid, common nickname. I hear Finn chuckle from beside me, and I whack him with the wooden spoon for good measure.

  "Promise. As long as you don't call me Ginger. It's too close to a stripper's name, and I can't have that cramping my style." I turn to question his style, but catch him gyrating to the music in his head. His moves are jagged and rough, but he still manages to look sexy in his dark jeans at tight fitting v-neck shirt with plaid over shirt. He stops abruptly after a second, composing himself before facing me. "What's your nickname for him?"

  "Who?"

  "Leland. We don't really have nicknames for him because he's never really given us a reason to give him one."

  "No embarrassing stories on the road?"

  Finn shakes his head and sighs. "No, he's generally a recluse. Did his job and then lost himself among the mountains of code he trawled through. No drunken stories, no embarrassing moments."

  "Huh." Turning to the pot again, I notice that the pasta is almost ready, so I try to think of a suitable nickname for Leland. I can only really think of Kid, which is what I've called him multiple times before. "I only ever called him Kid, you know, like a baby goat." Chuckling to myself, I add, "the other two are easy. Alpha and Hothead. Until I come up with better ones, those will have to do." I can't stop myself thinking out loud, "where are those two knobs anyway?"

  Scratching the back of his neck, Finn looks anywhere but me. I don’t understand how these guys can go from a confident, dick-jerking individuals to a nervous, shy person in seconds. Is there something that he doesn’t want to tell me? I glare at him while simultaneously draining the pasta from the pot.

  “They’re staying at the Hotel while we have the opportunity to get to know you a little better.” He turns away and starts opening my cupboards again, looking for bowls. I ease his pain a little by pointing him in the right direction of the kitchenware and he manages to grab three bowls. Looking at the monstrous amount of pasta we have, and the amount of people there is, I surprise myself, yet again, by opening my fat mouth. “Why don’t you invite them here for dinner?”

  A fork clatters onto the worktop behind me and a large shriek comes from the living room like a very loud, clear, audible protest. Looking back, I see Leland with his mouth hanging open ready to catch flies, Finnegan with his hand in the air, holding onto the invisible fork, and Lucius, who’s standing with his front paws on the back of the sofa, looking between Finn and Leland like there’s an imaginary ping-pong match going on.

  Yes, I just invited the other two dickheads— sorry, guys, to my house for dinner. I’d like to say I was dropped on my head as a baby, but that ship sailed far too long ago to be used as a viable excuse anymore. No, maybe my icy heart has been thawed out. Now, it just means I feel things, but that doesn’t stop me from being a massive bitch. Life is all about balance, especially when I toe the line between being a walking phallus and a gentle flower.

  “Are you sure you want them here?”

  Mixing in the pasta sauce, I shrug my shoulders like it doesn’t affect me in any way, shape or form. It does, but for peace of mind, I act like I’m fine. Which we all know is women-speak for ‘I’m definitely not fine.’

  I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

  “They shouldn’t have to hole themselves up in that horrid Hotel room with terrible amenities just because you two decided to get the warm and fuzzies.”

  “I did not!” Leland screeches from the other room like a petulant, prepubescent child. “You kissed me!”

  Shocked, I turn and shake the sauce and pasta covered spoon in his direction which unfortunately covers Finn in tomatoey goop. I would laugh, and I will in a second, but first, “you cannot use that against me!” Shrieking, I launch the spoon in his direction. “I was white girl wasted, you asshat!”

  The spoon flies through the air with the velocity of one of those foam-bullet guns that the kids can buy in gift shops. It might not fly fast like a bullet, or swing effortlessly like a well forged sword, but it still has the desired effect. Although the Kid has glasses, he still gets hit by the red sauce covered projectile on the edge of the shoulder. The sauce goes every which way but left, and a small dollop splashes onto Lucius’ small snout. Unphased by the flying object, Lucius licks his dollop from his nose before moving over to lick the sauce off of Leland, who’s still a little dumbstruck considering I just assaulted him with a wooden spoon, and not in the way he probably expected. Instead of me slapping him with it, he was decorated with it instead.

  Finn grabs me around the waist and hoists me up against his chest, which makes me panic for a little before I relax into his hold. I thought we were having a cute little cuddle, but when he flexes his fingers against my ribs, I start to laugh uncontrollably whilst screaming at the same time. Normal react
ion, I think, and from the way that Finn carries on with the torture, I expect he doesn’t care.

  Through my struggle, I watch Leland take out his phone and ‘shoot’ off a text, or at least, that’s what I presume he’s doing. He’s tapping his phone rapidly, but the phone has no buttons. What is this sorcery? I can barely type on that small thing I brought the other day, and that has several buttons! I can only think that he must’ve texted the other guys to summon them to my humble abode, but with my currently and never ending dilemma, I don’t have a moment to stop and ask. The only thing I can do is scream, “turn down the pasta!” Because if that pasta burns, I will be a version of furious that they’ve never experienced before.

  “Assholes, the both of you.” I blow a puff of air to dislodge a piece of hair that’s dangling right in front of my eyes, and Finnegan holds out a hand like a peace offering which I blatantly ignore. You can’t tickle the shit out of me, and then offer a hand-up afterwards. That’s not how this shit works. Hauling myself up from the floor, I march over to the pasta which Finn somehow managed to turn down amidst all of the ruckus, and start spooning the pasta into bowls. Thankfully Finn follows my lead and starts getting two more bowls out of the cupboard before I even ask him too.

  Hell, if he’s actually mine, then at least he’ll make a good house-mate. Let’s just hope he likes washing dishes and other things. Dishing out the pasta, which looks like the most depressing meal I’ve ever made, I look to Leland for a conformation. “When are they arriving?”

  He’s staring at Lucius, evaluating his closeness as either friend or threat, but he spares two seconds to answer me back. “They’re practically running. Fresh, hot food was too good of an invitation to pass up in their eyes.”

  Taking a second look at the plain, boring pasta, I mutter. “They’re gonna be severely disappointed.”

  A hand snatches a bowl from underneath me, and just as I go to complain, a kiss lands on the top of my head again and I know it’s Finnegan. “They won’t be disappointed, anything is better than that Hotel food. Even cheese and crackers.”