In the Arms of the Beast

by K. A. Merikan

  Knight shrugged. “Ask your husband.”

  Enough was enough. Beast clenched his fists and stormed out of the garage. A part of him wished for a poor soul to stop him over some petty bullshit. But there were no volunteers for him to vent his anger on, so Laurent would be getting the brunt of it.

  Beast slowed down, holding on to that thought. Would he? Would Beast unload his anger on Laurent? It wasn’t even a question of strength and size inequality, because Laurent seemed fearless, but arguing with him was so counterproductive.

  Beast needed a different approach. One that could actually help them make some progress and pull Laurent back where he belonged. To their apartment, to their bedroom, and even to that damn bathtub. Beast would’ve been ready to do pretty much anything for a chance to wash his teeth in a steamed-up room while Laurent talked to him about the book he was reading.

  But a nasty voice at the back of his head whispered that none of this craziness would have happened if it wasn’t for the egg. If the issue of children came up at some point in the future, they would have at least known whether their world was doomed or not. The search for a surrogate could have taken years, which would have given Beast time to adjust to the thought of being a father. His life wouldn’t have to change so abruptly.

  He wouldn’t have to share Laurent so soon after the wedding. He was still greedy for Laurent’s attention, but his desperation to keep his husband to himself had left him alone in the apartment. Laurent was gone, not even willing to look at Beast, as if he suddenly found him undesirable.

  He rapped at Laurent’s door, maybe a little too hard, but Beast no longer had patience for subtlety. He inhaled a large gulp of air and rested his hands on either side of the door, listening. Waiting.

  It only took a moment for Laurent to open, but he stilled at the sight of Beast, and his pretty lips parted. “Can I help you?” he said with that defiant expression. Beast loved him, but Laurent could be such a little shit sometimes.

  “Why did you take Marcel off club grounds?” was the first thing that burst out of Beast’s mouth as he pushed his way into the small, modestly-furnished bedroom. It didn’t even have an en suite. Who the hell put Laurent into a room with shared bathroom facilities? He was the club president’s husband, for fuck’s sake!

  Laurent crossed his arms but took a step back. “I was running an errand so I took him. Since when do you care about him?”

  Beast pulled his hands down his face. “I never said I didn’t. Why do you always make assumptions about people without hearing them out? First me, then Elliot, then Shadow, and now me again!”

  Laurent frowned. “I have taken my time to assess all three. And I acknowledge my mistakes. Has something changed that I don’t know of? You realized you haven’t actually been ‘forced’ into having a child?”

  Beast counted to ten in his mind. “You’ve pushed me, so don’t deny it. But Marcel is already here, so why are you being so sour about this? He’s mine, and I’m going to pay for his keep. You don’t need this whole job circus.”

  Laurent’s lip curled. “Oh. So this is what it’s about. You want to make sure I don’t have means of my own and remain financially tied to you? Well, I am sad to inform you that this is the year 2018, and I have obtained gainful employment as a bartista.”

  Beast’s brain stumbled on the word. “What’s a bartista?”

  “It is a job in which you create, serve, and sell artisanal coffee beverages.”

  Beast was torn between wanting to scream at Laurent and cuddling him. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to take care of everything? Keep you safe in this world you don’t know much about? Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he asked, taking a step closer, because where Laurent was involved, cuddling was always the temptation.

  “Our last argument has revealed to me I may need to take care of certain matters on my own, so I’m trying to earn more money before the baby hatches.” Laurent did raise his warm brown eyes at Beast, and they beckoned Beast closer. Or was it just Beast superimposing his own needs on Laurent?

  He stared back, hypnotized by the depth of the dark gaze. His feet moved, but Laurent backed away until he hit the wall. He looked so frail in comparison to Beast’s own tall, meaty frame, yet he intended to take on the world on his own, regardless of whether he was ready for it. Beast hated and admired it all at once.

  “Our argument revealed nothing like that. The only thing it revealed is that you find it easy to let go of me,” Beast said, struggling to voice a complaint so vulnerable.

  Laurent’s gaze softened, and he put his fingers against Beast’s chest. “You have no idea how wrong you are.”

  Warmth spread in Beast like a gulp of hot cocoa. He couldn’t force himself to analyze if Laurent was lying or not. He wanted to believe him. After all, hadn’t it been Laurent who proposed marriage in the first place? He couldn’t have changed his mind about love in the span of three days.

  Maybe talking was overrated. Maybe Beast could show Laurent what he was missing. And he knew that under the ice prince facade hid a personality with scalding-hot passion. A dormant volcano that just needed a nudge.

  He stepped forward until Laurent’s head rested against the wall. Beast had him trapped, yet Laurent made no attempts to free himself. Maybe he’d been waiting for this. Maybe all they needed was a reminder of how well they worked together, how beautiful were evenings Beast didn’t have to spend on his own.

  “I missed you,” Beast whispered, moving his lips against the smooth skin of Laurent’s forehead.

  Laurent’s breath hitched, and the gentle fingers sliding to Beast’s sides were heaven after days of deprivation. “I miss you every day, but I can’t fall into this craving when there is so much still unsaid.”

  But the way he clutched at Beast was in stark contrast to the words. It was warm and got firmer with every passing second. Beast didn’t want to wait. He leaned down to get his forearm under Laurent’s knees and pulled him up. The slender arms instantly found their way around his neck, and the dark eyes sought his, already burning.

  “Later.”

  There was nothing better in the world than knowing he was Laurent’s weakness. When it came to anything else, Laurent’s resolve was steely. He argued as if he were in a bare-knuckle fight where one used words instead of fists. And yet, to Beast’s touch, he yielded like butter on a hot pan.

  “But… I…” Laurent couldn’t even finish a sentence, let alone argue. Beast had this.

  “Shh,” Beast whispered and pressed his lips to Laurent’s, overwhelmed with the relief that he could still make Laurent lose the plot. That he could still make him pliant, no matter how angry he was. Instead of going straight for the bed, he moved along the room in slow steps, letting Laurent feel his strength, his silent promise to protect him forever.

  Laurent didn’t even try to talk anymore. He wrapped his arms around Beast’s neck and kissed him.

  Knight knew shit. Beast had a better handle on Laurent than anyone.

  When someone knocked on the door, Beast could’ve fucking shot the guy, but anger gave to shock when the door swung wide open and no one other than Magpie walked in, ruining this perfect moment.

  And what made it even more surreal was his looks. The hair that had been perfectly styled whenever Beast saw him now was anything but, and the fine, extravagant clothes have been replaced by a silk robe that opened at the front, revealing a muscular chest with a bit of dark hair.

  “What is the meaning of this? I came the moment I found out,” Magpie said, as if an intruder had any right to demand answers. “I hear the two of you split up. My child will not be growing up in a broken home!”

  Beast’s confusion turned into fury. “I told you already, and I will say this again: it’s not your child!”

  To Beast’s endless frustration, Laurent slid out of his arms, staring at Magpie like a child caught eating straight out of the cookie jar. “And our private matters are private.”

  Magpie wagged a finger
at them. “Oh, no no no! You don’t have the right to privacy when this child has literally been inside me! This baby needs stability, not two fathers who can’t decide where they stand with one another!”

  Beast accidentally knocked over a chair in his anger. “And how do you even know what happens here, huh?”

  Magpie’s back straightened as if he’d just swallowed a broom. “I have reliable sources within this house.”

  Great. Just great.

  Beast snarled. “This is none of your business. And since you just walk in here as if the place belongs to you, you should know that we were about to make up, and you fucking ruined it!”

  Laurent cleared his throat and clasped his fingers at the front of his body. “It’s a delicate matter,” he mumbled. “Beast isn’t sure how he feels about fatherhood, so I’m making other arrangements.”

  The bubble burst. Laurent wanted to discuss their problems in front of a stranger? Fine. “You should have asked me about this a long time ago. But now that we are knee-deep in this mess, I’m going to help save the world, and you’re going to sit at home and keep the egg safe, not run off to town and carry it around like it was made of chocolate!”

  Laurent’s face went beet red. “Mess? You’re calling our baby a mess? Did you hear him?” He pointed to Beast. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Everything is a problem to you. I’m not a pet! I look through books that could help us every day, but you’re the big man because you’re out there ripping branches off trees with your bare hands?”

  Beast snarled. “I just think you should focus on the kid and keeping him safe, since you wanted him so much. I don’t know how that’s a difficult concept.”

  “I can have a job and take care of Marcel. Lots of people are single parents nowadays. I won’t leave him because of hardship. I used to work from dusk ‘til dawn, and this is nothing in comparison. I can even help with what needs to be done right now with the trees, because I can multi-task.”

  Words like that sounded alien in Laurent’s mouth. Every time. Every single time.

  “I already told you. You are not a single parent. I am taking on this responsibility—”

  Laurent scowled. “Oh, poor you, having to take on this chore. This burden.”

  Beast had no idea why Laurent had to be so vicious about it, so relentlessly hurtful.

  Magpie grabbed his head. “This is hopeless. What have I done?”

  It took all of Beast’s willpower not to punch the bastard in the face, so he swung his arm and sent a glass pitcher against the wall instead. “You gave him an egg, and now he cares about it more than about me.”

  Magpie’s eyes went wide, and Beast had never seen him so lost. So human.

  Laurent shook his head. “It’s not ‘an egg’! He’s your son, and his name is Marcel. This isn’t an either-or situation.”

  “Isn’t it? Because you haven’t even seen his face, and you’re ready to throw away everything we have for him. He’s stolen you away from me!”

  “I am not a thing to be stolen!”

  Magpie raised his arms. “How about we all take a deep breath and—”

  “No,” Laurent said. “I would like for the two of you to leave.”

  Beast had to fight the stinging in his eyes. “I hope you’re fucking happy,” he snapped at Magpie, before turning on his heel and storming down the corridor with muscles so tense he could feel them applying unpleasant pressure to his bones.

  He walked blindly, with blood pulsing in his head like a war drum, so it took him a while to hear the steps following him. He turned around ready to smack someone.

  Magpie. Of course. Beast still tasted Laurent on his lips, and he could have had his sweet husband in his arms right now, but no. This fucker had to burst in uninvited.

  “What?” he snapped, keeping his fists in check only because Magpie was some kind of demonic entity, after all.

  Magpie straightened his back. “If you and Laurent are having such a hard time, I could take Marcel and Laurent to New York so that the child hatches in comfort.”

  Beast had Magpie backed against the wall, hand on his throat, before he could even think through the proposition. “Hands off my man and my son! They’re not going anywhere.”

  Magpie swallowed against Beast’s hand, squinting. “Fine, but I’m not leaving until all of this is sorted out. I can’t trust the two of you with Marcel.”

  There it was again. Magpie butting into a family that wasn’t his. Beast could turn a blind eye on it for now, because it was preferable to Magpie going psycho on them and kidnapping Marcel or completely going off the rails.

  “Fine. Have your spy find a room for you,” he said, and walked off with a head full of icy fire.

  If Laurent wanted to play the silent treatment game, then so be it. Beast would see if Laurent really could last that long without him.

  Chapter 16 - Laurent

  With his hair tucked into a neat man-bun, Laurent eagerly await his first day at work. He’d arranged for Elliot to pick him up, but Laurent was now angry with himself, that instead of getting his driver’s licence done, he’d succumbed to lust for Beast. A weaker man would have claimed it wasn’t their fault, but Laurent owned up to his mistakes and flaws. Beast was like the top shelf Belgian truffles at the supermarket. Irresistible, rich in flavor, and came at a significant cost.

  With each passing day, Beast’s cold demeanor and complete lack of interest in him was an itch he couldn’t scratch if he wanted to keep his pride. He wished for their whole argument to be over, but such hope was in vain. The problem didn’t lie in differing opinions, but in the way each of them imagined their future, and both ways were incompatible. How was ‘true love’ supposed to help with such a dilemma?

  At least now he’d have work as distraction, new people to meet and exchange ideas with. If Beast truly meant what he’d said and wanted to learn to love their child, then Laurent could give him another chance, but he would not accept whatever scraps were thrown his way any longer. He was a proud man, and he would not only earn his keep but also raise his child—without anyone’s help if necessary.

  He had gotten help with the job interview though. Knight knew the café owner and had put in a good word, which had been Laurent’s saving grace, because he wouldn’t have known how to search for employment in 2018. For the sake of this job, Laurent had to pretend he’d grown up in a cult to excuse all his shortcomings, and that was embarrassing enough.

  As if his life weren’t difficult as it was, Magpie had been serious about moving in with them until Marcel’s hatching, but instead of staying in one of the guest bedrooms like a normal person, he’d had his henchmen create a campsite for him. Since a single tent, no matter how grand, wouldn’t be enough for a man of status, Magpie had several, each with heating and electricity. It was madness, but work would keep Laurent away from their benefactor’s endless questions and awkward attempts at relationship negotiation.

  “Again, what is the perfect brewing time for an espresso?” asked the manager, appearing behind Laurent’s back without making the slightest sound.

  “Uh, thirty, Mr. Linde.”

  The owner of Sweet Break was a man whose age was difficult to guess. There was silver at his temples and the skin at the corners of his eyes showed the slightest hint of crow’s feet, but nothing about his demeanor, body language, or anything else pointed at a mature age. He wore fashionable clothes—or so Knight had told Laurent, because Mr. Linde didn’t look like the majority of people living in Brecon—a moustache with ends that curled up and a coiffed do that was lush toward the top of his head and faded on the sides. He also wouldn’t stop insisting that his employees called him by his given name, which made Laurent extremely uncomfortable each time.

  “It’s Kenneth, Laurent. Mr. Linde, ugh,” he said, shuddering. “Stop making me feel like a geezer!”

  “Please excuse me, I’m still trying to get the hang of it.”

  Mr. Linde patted Laurent’s shoulder. “You’ll get
there eventually.” He grinned at Laurent as if he were talking to a puppy with half a brain, but Laurent held back his wrath and hid it behind a smile. He’d had plenty of practice after years toiling for Mr. Barnave.

  “I’m a quick learner. Please set me to any task, and as long as I am instructed, I promise to pour my heart and soul into it.”

  A young woman with a head of ringlets laughed out loud while placing pastries into a basket on the counter. “Someone’s eager.”

  Mr. Linde smiled and squeezed Laurent’s shoulders. “I like an employee who’s proud of their work. We’re opening in two minutes. Tierra, would you take the specials board outside?”

  The girl winked at Laurent and grabbed a stand comprised of two chalkboards facing away from one another, before heading off to Brecon’s main street. Sweet Break was a nice place, nothing like the taverns of Laurent’s own time with their dim light, sooty ceilings, and the smell of beer soaked into every single surface.

  The coffee shop was bright thanks to numerous windows, and the scent of this place was unreal—all coffee, chocolate, caramel, and butter mixed into an aroma that had Laurent longing for the little pastries it sold. Or the huge sandwiches called panini.

  It was clean, the owner did his best to make Laurent feel welcome, and during the days of Laurent’s ‘training’, he’d insisted Laurent didn’t miss a minute of his midday break, claiming it improved productivity—according to science. Such comforts had been an alien concept in the world of hard labor and long hours Laurent had come from. And even though the machinery used to make the simple drink that was coffee still confused him, he valued the nice atmosphere as much as the simple yet rustic decor of the café housed in a building that in his time used to be the local doctor’s house.

  There had been a downside to working with Mr. Linde, though. An unexpected one that had hit Laurent when he’d least expected it. Considering Sweet Break was an expensive establishment, Laurent had imagined Mr. Linde would offer all things indulgent, that beverages would be served in the highest quality plastic no matter their impact on the environment. Instead, the coffee shop was a plastic-free zone, forcing customers to bring their own reusable cups, and offering paper straws as the only option.