The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  Planning my attack— because these boys should know better— I wait until they’ve become daring enough to walk further into the office. From their movements, I can only guess that they peruse the shelves of the old, classic books before making their way toward my desk, which is scattered with invoice papers, receipts and order forms. Nothing interesting, but things that are mine, regardless.

  I watch those boots come closer until they stand millimeters away from my curled up body. The shuffling of pages reaches my eardrums the same time that my blood slowly starts to boil. It’s a ridiculous reaction, but if there’s the first rule about dragons, it’s this: don’t touch their shit. Ever. Even if it is just paperwork.

  I see a few pages flutter to the ground, and it sends the large reptilian beast inside me into overdrive. Losing my own vision to her, I can only imagine that she is acting on her own accord. And to be honest, I don’t entirely blame her.

  Though I can’t exactly see, I hear and feel everything. The desk is obliterated first as my body surges through it, leaving a pile of broken fragments and a confetti of splinters. My hand, instinctively, wraps around Finn’s neck and hauls him away from my precious paperwork and into the opposite wall. I might only be average height, but the strength I have from being a shifter allows me to hold him up against the wall, high enough so the tips of his shoes only graze the floor.

  Fury is an emotion I haven’t experienced for many, many years. It feels like a roaring inferno in my bones and holds the screams of many inside my head. If you let it, fury only paves the way for hysteria, but I control the rage that plagues all dragons. Sometimes.

  I can tell that I’m not strangling him. My fingers are clutching the sides of his neck, allowing him to breathe freely, but also letting him consider all of his life decisions up until this very moment. His hands clutch onto my wrist with enough force that I consider letting him go, but instead, I persevere.

  “You thought you could come in here, into my shop, my office, and touch my things!” I growl at him with an anger that borders on bloodshed. “Do you not know what personal means? Huh? It means that it’s MINE!” I feel spittle fly out of my mouth at my exclamation. It must hit him because I don’t feel any errant drool once I’ve finished.

  “Rem— please— let me down.”

  The mating force pushes me to let go of his neck, but my warning has probably been well received by now. A male dragon wouldn’t ever let himself be strung up by a female if he didn’t realise that what he did led to him stepping on a few toes. He managed to stand on all ten of mine.

  As I pull my hand away, Finn drops to the floor clutching the sides of his neck. His breathing hardens as he tries to inhale more air than his lungs can manage, but when he looks at me, I don’t see hatred, anger or even disappointment. No, I see heat. Like a raging inferno set on destruction by fire. It’s his never-ending gaze that makes me feel like my clothes are going to melt off of me and onto a puddle on the floor. It makes my skin tingle along the edges, bringing goosebumps at the thought of his hands trailing over every inch of me, his tongue tracing edges that haven’t been traced in—

  “Remi, I’m sorry… We have a problem.”

  Well that snaps me out of my rage-fuelled-fantasy quicker than feeling the slap from a palm onto my bare arse. I’ve got whiplash from all the harsh emotions that I’ve felt in the last five minutes. Embarrassment, anger, rage, arousal from a fucking stare, and now, a small pinch of fear.

  Turning to face my boy who could do no wrong, I stare at him dead in the eye whilst I feel the Finn’s burning stare in my back. “Problem? What problem? Is daddy on his way to wreak havoc and finally cut me down?”

  “What?” Leland chokes out, “N-No, why would he come here?”

  “Huh. Good point,” turning around, I grab Finn by his upper arm and drag him to his feet. He towers over me, our height difference clearly visible as I look up at him, but he cranes his neck down to gaze at me. “You better fix my desk, you ginger giant.”

  His face goes from intense to comical. His eyebrow raises just a touch and the corner of his lip lifts, like he knows something that I don’t. That, or he’s farted and he’s just waiting for me to smell it. “I didn’t break it though, my Jewel,” His calloused thumb trails along the line of my jaw, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “You broke it, not me.”

  As his thumb rubs along my lower lip, I open my mouth and pull it in between my teeth. Just as I wrap my tongue around the tip of his thumb and suck, I hear a moan escape him. It comes out harsh and ragged, almost as if he didn’t want to show how much I affected him. But he knows it. No man can resist any body part of theirs being sucked with a ferocity that screams ‘I hold your balls in the palm of my hand, so try me.’

  I’m about to bite down slightly with my teeth when a strangled cough reaches my ears. “Remi, please. I think… I think I saw you… in a dream.” I try not to let my shock show, but I pull Finn’s finger from between my lips with a pop that makes him bite his lip in earnest. I throw a flirtatious wink his way before turning to face my claimed mate.

  God, it sounds so weird to say that.

  “You claimed him.”

  Yes, I'm fully aware! Stop reminding me like a nagging housewife!

  He's standing there next to the splintered desk with his chestnut brown hair hanging over his eyes, and his glasses perched on the end of his angular nose. But I don't stop to focus on those golden eyes that haunt me and excite me at the same time, or those full lips that beg me to ravish them morning, noon and night. No. My attention is claimed by his right shoulder. The shoulder that holds my precious claiming mark, a part of my soul and my eternal connection to another being. A purpose, a reason to live. Just one small reason to experience all that I should have in my miserable life.

  And he's just standing there, looking back at me like I hold the world in the palm of my hands, like I could cure world hunger with a click of my fingers, and as if I could turn the world on its axis in a breath. What did I do in life to deserve a man who could ever look at me like that?

  Moving closer to him, I wrap one arm around his middle whilst laying my palm over his claiming mark. It's the very small, sharp inhale of breath that sounds like music to my ears as I lay my head on his shoulder, losing myself in his arms. He relaxes underneath me, bringing his arms up around to clutch my waist and shoulders. It doesn't take him long before he's playing with a lock of my hair, twirling it between his fingers and pressing his lips firmly to the top of my head. It's an action so sweet and heartfelt that I can feel tears springing at the corners of my eyes from the sincerity of it.

  But I can't allow myself to cry at his affection. What if he started considering weird things, like if I cried during sex? Isn't that a major turn off? It is for me. You don't need to add anymore bodily fluid to the mix.

  "You said you had a problem. If it's not your dad, then what is it?"

  He sighs and as he breathes in and his whole chest moves with the action. It moves my head enough that I stop staring at the place where my mark lies and look up at him instead. His eyes are closed, so I see those dark eyelashes fanned out against his tanned cheeks. I would say I'm jealous, envious even of those eyelashes, but considering he's mine now, I guess I can lay claim to those eyelashes too.

  "I saw you, in a dream. But it wasn't you."

  "Right… explain this dream to me?" Placing my forefinger on his chin, I gently urge him to face me.

  "We were in the Grand Hall but it wasn't you. I thought it was until she said it definitely wasn't you. She was harder, tortured." He leans down slightly, bringing us close enough so that our lips are almost touching.

  It's almost as though he's trying to seduce me, and it's working. Trying to keep my head above clouds is hard as I fall under his spell, but the small part of me that isn’t entranced remembers what he said. “So, what did she look like? Was she… prettier than me?” Call me petty all you want, but my mate isn’t allowed to dream of females prettier than me.
>
  “Well, you see, I couldn’t tell,” he pulls me closer so that our lips are gently caressing each other, but only barely. “She was tall, had green eyes like yours. Pretty little iridescent scales like yours,” he mumbles against my lips before tugging the bottom one into his mouth, managing to nibble and suck on it in a way that has my knees buckling. “But then she said she couldn’t hurt me, because it would hurt you.” With a quick swipe of his tongue over my once-bitten lip, he pulls away a little bit, “She said you were twins.”

  Why does he tease me and then douse me in freezing cold water like that? Shivers run all over my skin as I understand the reality of what he said. It wasn’t me in that dream, no, but the only person I’ve ever known to be able to dream-walk is Radley. I should probably be excited that after four-hundred-odd years, she’s finally made contact. But I don’t know whether I should be mad at her for going to Leland instead of me. I’m mad regardless.

  I pull away sharply and it surprises him. But instead of consoling him, which I probably should do, I push through a nightmare of messed up paperwork and over to my decimated desk to open the bottom drawer. Those two move closer to me to see what I’m doing, but considering any secrets between us will soon be null and void, I pop the false bottom with confidence and pull out the small, crystal ball from inside of it.

  Finn looks at me quizzically whilst Leland looks at me like I’m some hokey-poke spiritualist whim-wham. You know, like ‘I see ghosts’ and shit? I guess he fully expects me to whip out poltergeists and curses like they’re fucking confetti. Nope. No dead paranormal funky-monkey shit today. I’m just gonna talk to my sister through a glass ball like an A-grade idiot.

  The stand for the ball has disappeared somewhere amongst the rubble of my desk, so instead of having somewhere to hold it so I could vent my anger properly, I’m now having to improvise. Thrusting the ball into Finn’s empty hands, I growl an angry, “hold it” before perching in front of it. My eyes are level with the center of the ball, which also happens to be held just above Finn’s crotch. Hm. Awkward positioning.

  “Why did you dream-walk Radley?” Shouting at the ball, I rage on. “Why, after all this time why did you contact me? Huh? Not even me, actually, my mate! But you knew that already didn’t you, you snake. Miss ‘I’ll never say a word but I hear everything!’” Breathing harshly, like I’ve run a marathon in record time, I lean closer and whisper to it. “If you want to tell me anything you asshole, you come and tell me. I know you know how to get in and out, you’re just too busy hoarding something like the rest of us!”

  When there’s no response from this stupid thing, I start pulling at strands of my hair as if bringing on a slight pain would get her to respond. Knowing her, she’s either sitting on the other side blissfully ignoring me, or these stupid glass balls don’t work like her witch friend said they did. Fucking witches.

  I’m standing here muttering to myself and pulling out my gorgeous, ginger hair, and Leland has started picking up pieces of paperwork. He doesn’t just bundle up all of the pages and shove them on the side like I expect him to, no, he picks them all up and is now sifting through and reorganising them. Bless his heart, I knew I liked him.

  Finn is still standing in front of me with the ball, but he’s not standing as rigid or as taut as before. His hand comes out towards me to pull me close to him and I go willingly. It’s only seconds before I’ve curled into his body; fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

  “So it was your sister who visited Leland in his dream?”

  “Yes, it was her. But I don’t know why she’d dream-walk to me after all these years.”

  “Could it be because of us?”

  Confused, I look up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re twins right? Don’t you share some kind of twinergy? Surely if something happened that changed your energy, she would feel it… You know, like claiming a mate and forming a mate bond?”

  I can imagine that our energy does change, but considering I never paid attention to it, I doubt I would've noticed. It's a bit confusing as there's no exact science, but if anyone would know how twins work, it'd be Finn. I'm surprised his brain isn't just an encyclopedia of knowledge and random facts. Like, do you know that ducks have a corkscrew dick? Because I didn't until Mika told me.

  Nodding my head a little, I relax against Finn before moving away to my desk, picking up large wooden fragments. The comfortable silence hangs between us before it's popped by the gentle ginger giant.

  Best not to call him that out loud.

  "If this thing does work, do you think she could be looking through it right now?"

  Concentrating on clearing up, I mumble, "she?"

  "Yeah, your sister?"

  "Oh, Radley. Yeah well, possibly. She does have the visual orb whereas I was given the audible orb. If she is looking through it, she has a close up view of your junk."

  Cringing, he moves the crystal, glass orb, piece of shit away from his junk and onto one of the shelves on the bookcase. It sits there, lording over my office and looming like a demonic presence. My sister is slightly creepy in a weird way but not a devil’s advocate way. Though I can’t help but feel that she’s sitting on the other side silently judging me. She always fucking judged me.

  “Well, now she can see all of us and if she wants to tell us something, she can come and find us.” He shakes his index finger at the orb. “No hints though, Radley. You found Leland, you can find us.”

  “If you have the balls that is.”

  “Hey,” turning to me, he looms over me as I’m crouched on the floor surrounded by too many numbers to keep track of, “don’t you antagonise her, you spitfire.”

  I narrow my eyes and feign hurt, clutching my hand over my heart. “Did you just call me an aeroplane?”

  Finn’s face is comical as it drops under the realisation of what he just said. He skips over his words, trying to repair my somewhat fragile ego. “N-No, that’s not what I meant at all! I mean that your attitude-”

  “Now you’re questioning my attitude?”

  Dragging his hands down his face, Finn looks like he’s stuck between wanting to punch me or fuck me. I’m not opposed to either considering that I can hold my own in a fight. “Your attitude is one of the things I love about you, but right now, I’m not sure if it’s pissing me off more than it turns me on.”

  I preen under his backhanded compliment. He likes my attitude. I think that’s better than him saying he likes my face. Personality one, looks zero-ish. Smiling up at my ginger giant, I reach my hand out towards him for him to grab. He takes it gently, as if touching it too hard will cause it to snap and break, but I fool him and pull him down with all my might so that he collapses onto the floor beside me, sending pieces of paperwork scattering around him in an effortless bustle.

  An attempt to stop myself from laughing is all that it is, an attempt. As the paperwork descends around us, my laugh escapes from me like a balloon bursting. It’s loud, boisterous and completely shocks Leland who was engrossed until we sent his stacks of neatly piled paperwork into a blizzard around us. Which inevitably, only makes me laugh harder than before.

  Finn looks up at me from the floor, and Leland glances over at me with a small smile on his lips, shaking his head at the hilarious approach I’ve taken. Making the serious situation light hearted has made it easier for all of us to connect a little better in this awkward moment. I’m lucky that our prolonged silences are comfortable, because otherwise things would be a hell of a lot different right now.

  But instead of them looking at me like I'm clinically insane, or medically deranged, they laugh along with me. The rest of our time in my office is spent picking up paperwork, and to my dismay, actually organising it. For hours, we sit and file away paper after paper until the moon overtakes the sun in the sky. We miss the sunset, only to be interrupted by the collective growl of our stomachs. Even dragon's are susceptible to hunger pains.

  "It's quite late. Do we want to head
to the Café and see if it's still open?"

  "Don't you have a clock?" Standing up from his neat stacks of paperwork, Leland wanders over to the desk, which is still in a state of disrepair, looking for some sort of timepiece.

  "If there's one thing I don't hoard, it's clocks." Taking initiative, I go to the paperwork stacks and file them into the filing cabinets. Ensuring our hard work is not squandered.

  "Why not clocks?" Interjects Finnegan. Turning my head I realise he's not in the office anymore, so he must have said that on his departure. He must obviously be browsing the shelves in the shop as we speak.

  "Other than the infernal ticking noise?"

  “So that’s your only reason?” He shouts from what must be the back of the shop. So he’s probably back in everyone’s favourite section. “The infernal ticking noise?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Slamming the filing cabinet closed, I turn and lean back against it whilst looking at Leland, who's staring at a piece of paper covered from top to bottom, back to front with that weird, deranged smiley face. The slam captures his attention and he looks up at me quizzically, as if my sentence is unfinished. Without a second thought, he mouths ‘are you sure?’.

  “Well, I also don’t like the subtle but neverending reminder that time waits for no man, and isn’t a friend to no man either.” Shrugging my shoulders, answering Leland’s question and Finn’s at the same time, I leave the office with the youngest of the four on my heels. As I pass through the shop, I notice Finn has five books stacked up in his arms and is browsing the shelves for more reading material.

  Shaking my head at our very-similar interests, I walk towards the front door and wait for the other two to catch up to my actions. My stomach rumbles sound like a whale’s mating call and I'm in need of nourishment. The food kind.