Page 17 of Her Feral Beasts

I snarl over my shoulder, then turn politely to the doctor. “I don’t, doc. I check my cock daily, if you know what I mean. And I always use protection.”

Used.Past fucking tense.

I look down at my index finger where me and my brothers have a serpent’s blood contract marked in black ink. I won’t be fucking anyone anymore. Not since Aurelia waltzed into my life that fateful day.

Her father made us swear to bring her back to him so he can execute her for us. We also aren’t allowed to mate with her according to this contract. There’s just something about an animus that finds it difficult to kill his regina. It’s not impossible, it’s just tough, and once you fuck your regina…well, your beast might not want to let go at all. Once we deliver Aurelia to him, the contract will be fulfilled, the mark will disappear and we will go back to living our lives as we did before.

We just have to make sure no one finds out about it. Especially our regina.

“Actually,” doc says, “you can’t always tell just by looking at the penis. May I do a quick body scan?”

“Can’t wait.”

There’s no disease or anything stored in any of my cavities, so I’m not worried. Weapons and drugs are for weaker beasts. All I need are my claws and teeth.

She nods, and her gaze changes, her magic surging towards me in a warm, gentle wave. My animus snarls in annoyance because it now doesn’t like any female but my regina touching me with her magic. But I refrain from physically growling because I don’t need to kill her. She checks over Eugene for good measure and though his heart beats rapidly under my fingers at the attention, he’s a good boy and remains still.

“All done, Mr Fengari and Eugene,” doc says. “I hope I don’t have to see you here again, but somehow I think I will.”

Smart birdie.

After she’s done with me, the big wolf takes me to meet Scythe and Xander in a holding bay, bursting with armed guards. Both are handcuffed in plain steel with matching red ‘Danger’, lanyards around their necks, twins to me. Xander is dressed in an orange jumpsuit to cover his nakedness, though his feet are still bare and he sneers at the guards around us.

The only female in the room, a tall lioness in her late twenties, nods at me.

She gives me the usual once-over before her eyes flick to Eugene under my arm. “The deputy headmaster will see you now.” Her shiny red lips curve into a smile before she turns and sashays out of the room. Scythe follows her while Xander and I are ushered through by the guards. She’s in a blue business dress which makes me think she’s Lyle’s receptionist or PA, whatever they’re called, and she wears her hair in a long golden ponytail down to her lower back. You can always pick out a lion by their hair; they always pridethemselves on the length and colour of it.

I’ll give it to Lyle Pardalia, he’s smart in sending an anima to get us. The three of us might not be good males, but we don’t hurt animas and children if we can help it. None of us take kindly to being ordered around, and it’s plain disturbing to see Scythe following anyone’s direction. And here we are, at a school that’s supposed totameus. It’s so funny I snort out loud and Xander gives me his ‘what the fuck’ look, glowing eyes flashing.

We’re taken through a series of corridors to the tune of the lioness’ stilettos, the thumping of the guards’ steel-toed boots, and Xander’s Mongolian throat-singing from his headphones. They didn’t even try to take it off him at the park. No doubt it was written on his criminal file with big red ink to leave them in.

Eventually, the floor becomes hardwood and we come across an elevator that we have to get into. It’s a process because they refuse to have us all in there together. The lioness goes in first, then my brothers and I go in one at a time with three guards a piece.

We all gather on the third floor where the senior staff must have their offices because here’s a number of important-looking doors and with bronze plaques along both walls. Lyle’s office door is the only open one, and when the lion sees us, he gives his assistant a nod and gets up from the redwood desk.

“Mr Pardalia will see them alone,” the lioness says loftily. “Guards will wait here.”

“Are you sure?” asks one that smells like an Eastern brown snake and I mark his scent.

She flashes him a look that could peel paint and the guard shuts his trap.

The three of us follow her into Lyle’s office. There’s fancy red carpet and the air-con is set super low, which I appreciate, but I also know it’s a known technique to help keep the more violent beasts calm.

The lioness swaggers back out of the office, moving her ass in a way that is meant to draw our attention. While I’m used to blatant female displays, I raise a brow as she passes me because I thought Lyle was supposed to be the stiff collar, rule-following sort who wouldn’t tolerate that type of thing. She closes the door behind her and I look at Lyle Pardalia properly for the first time.

I’ve seen him in his TV interviews before, but the beast is something else in real life. He’s a big lion, only a tiny bit taller than me and Scythe, at our six foot six. He wears an expensive navy three-piece suit over a body that’s broad and well-muscled enough to tell me he works out daily. His whiskey-coloured eyes are so sharp they don’t miss a single thing about the three of us, and I know that he’s made an assessment of our ferality in the space of seconds.

That’s what Lyle is best known for: rehabilitating rabid—and even changed—beasts. It’s brutal and painstaking work, but his success rate isapparentlysuper high.

There are three chairs in front of his desk, and the desk itself is super clean and organised. There are only papers, fountain pens…and a small faded blue wooden object that catches my eye. It’s in the shape of a person with wings and painted with clumsy hands. I get the urge to break it into pieces.

Lyle wisely doesn’t bother to offer the chairs and comes to stand in front of his desk, leaning against it and placing his hands on the edge of the wood in an open position to show us he means no harm.

To my chagrin, he ignores Xander and me and addresses our shark.

“Are we going to have a problem, Scythe?” he asks plainly.

The fuck? He should be askingme. I snarl, “I’m going to ruin your life, lion.”

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