Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 113332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“That’s barbaric,” Laurent said, appearing out of nowhere between Fox and Joker. His chin was high up in that snotty way Beast found adorable despite detesting it so much sometimes. Beast hadn’t told Laurent when Magpie was to arrive to minimize interference, but Laurent must have found out, because why else would he be out when his hair wasn’t perfect just yet?
Not that he didn’t look beautiful, but the waves, which were always so carefully defined, now appeared like an untrimmed bush of messy curls. And he hadn’t even bothered to tie the mop of dark hair back, as if he’d left the apartment in a hurry.
No one else would notice the change, but Beast had learnt Laurent’s habits by heart and paid attention to every detail that could inform him of his husband’s moods. It didn’t go just one way either. He and Laurent irreversibly changed one another. And the same way Beast analyzed Laurent’s mane, Laurent would be drawing conclusions from the fact that Beast hadn’t mentioned why he and his men had been standing in one place for the past thirty minutes. And behind his pleasant smiles was venom that would eventually end up in Beast’s flesh if Laurent found something amiss. No matter the violence Beast’s fists were capable of, Laurent trusted they would never turn on him and wasn’t afraid to challenge his husband.
That was the kind of relationship they both wanted, even if it came with unexpected consequences.
Joker snorted. “You are married to one of us ‘barbarians’. Get used to it.”
Laurent stepped closer to Beast and hugged his arm, despite still wearing that snotty scowl. “Beast is an exceptionally well-read man.”
Beast saw the tension on his friends’ faces when they tried to keep from laughing, but the sudden appearance of a cavalcade of vehicles gave everyone new focus. “That’s him,” he said, noticing the huge golden Hummer flanked by two black limousines.
Everyone remained still as the vehicles paraded along the asphalt road, only to stop in front of the main entrance of the clubhouse. The driver’s door opened in a flash, and a bald man in an immaculate gray suit and reflective shades emerged, speeding to open the back door as if his life were under threat if he couldn’t reach the handle within the span of two seconds.
Vars squeezed Beast’s shoulder in passing and approached Magpie, who left the Hummer in all his finery. Despite it being late April, cold wind blew under Beast’s jacket, and the same gusts of air pushed Magpie’s black curls into his face, leaving the initially perfect hairdo in disarray. The man’s leopard print coat—which Beast hoped was fake fur—waved in the air like a ripped sail during a storm, and his scarlet suede loafers had to suffer the indignity of sinking into mud as soon as he stepped outside.
The driver gawped and dove back into the car, returning with a beautifully-carved wooden plank, which he placed at Magpie’s feet. And once the red loafers were safe from dirt, the… servant, guard, or whoever else that man was, crouched next to his master and proceeded to clean the colorful suede with a brush and cloth.
Laurent’s hand tightened on Beast’s, but they both followed Vars’s example and pretended to not notice the slavish gesture.
“Shall we move this conversation inside?” Laurent asked, as if he were the host. With the heavy wind, Beast couldn’t blame him for wanting to take initiative, bur he was not the host, and Beast needed to take the reins of the situation. He left Laurent behind and shook Magpie’s hand, even though it meant having to awkwardly hover his arm over the servant’s head, before gesturing at the entrance in invitation.
Magpie waved his manicured hand and stepped off the board, straight on the first step leading inside the old building. “Malachite, you can continue inside.”
Nobody questioned the servant gathering the wooden plank and following his master inside while two other men remained in their black limos as if they’d been given their orders telepathically.
Beast led the way, while the club members flanked their guest on the way inside. The life partners of bikers didn’t get involved in important matters without being asked, and the girlfriends of his brothers would have surely taken the hint, but Laurent followed them like a bloodhound.
Beast chose to ignore his presence for now and settled on walking alongside Magpie, who was eager to catch up with his former henchman, Vars. They were halfway down the main hall of the original manor house, which was now devoid of the sculptures Laurent had told him used to stand in alcoves, when Beast heard hurried footsteps.
Laurent had broken into a jog in an attempt to overtake men much taller than him, his puffy hair floating with every step he took. Laurent had told Beast that in his own time, he was considered tall, and the way he compared in that department to the men of today remained a source of frustration for him. Which was exactly why Beast didn’t want to say anything, even though his partner’s sudden approach pulled on the strings of his nerves even before that pretty mouth opened.