Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 143: The Big Bad Birthday

The rain hammered against the roof of Rajah’s private estate in the Capital. It was a rhythmic, soothing sound, a stark contrast to the heat of the Jungle they had just left behind.

Inside the master suite, the fire in the hearth had died down to glowing embers.

Rajah and Leonora were on the oversized divan, a tangle of silk robes and limbs.

Leonora was straddling Rajah’s lap, her hands tangled in his dark hair. The Tiger Lord, usually so loud and brash, was currently breathless. He kissed her neck, his stubble grazing her skin, making her shiver.

"You’re tense," Leonora murmured, her voice husky. She ran her thumb over the scar on his shoulder. "Still thinking about the Titan?"

"I’m thinking about you," Rajah growled low in his throat. His large hands gripped her waist, his thumbs pressing into the muscle. "You were reckless. Jumping at a Void user with nothing but a sword and a bad attitude."

"It worked, didn’t it?" Leonora smirked, leaning down to nip at his ear. "I like it when you worry. It makes your eyes go all dark."

Rajah groaned. He pulled her closer, the kiss deepening, turning hungry.

It was intoxicating.

Leonora’s hands slipped under his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his chest. "Rajah..."

That was it. That was the sound of his control snapping.

Rajah flipped them over, pinning her to the cushions. He loomed over her, his golden eyes burning with a predator’s intensity. He looked ready to devour her.

"Leo," he rasped, his voice rough. "You have no idea how much I want to..."

He stopped.

He froze, his face inches from hers. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long, tortured breath through his nose.

"Dammit," Rajah whispered.

He rolled off her, landing on his back on the rug with a heavy thud. He covered his face with his arm.

Leonora sat up, her hair a wild golden halo. She looked confused, and a little frustrated.

"What?" she asked. "Did I bite too hard?"

"No," Rajah groaned from the floor. "We are engaged."

"Yes," Leonora blinked. "That is generally considered a green light, Stripes."

"Not for the Sun-Fire Clan," Rajah muttered. "We have traditions. Rules. If I... if we... before the ceremony..." He sat up, looking miserable. "My ancestors would haunt me. And your father would skin me. I promised him I would be a gentleman."

Leonora stared at him. Then, she started to laugh.

"You," she poked his chest with her bare foot. "You are a six-foot-four Warlord but you’re afraid of breaking a courting rule?"

"I am a Noble!" Rajah defended himself, crossing his arms. "I have honor! I will wait until our wedding night, Leonora. I will treat you with the dignity of a Queen!"

He looked so earnest, so painfully traditional, that Leonora’s frustration melted away.

She slid off the divan and curled up next to him on the rug, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You’re an idiot," she whispered softly. "But you’re a sweet idiot."

Rajah wrapped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"Go to sleep, Lioness," he murmured. "Before I change my mind and dishonor my entire bloodline."

The next morning, the Little Whiskers Daycare was a war room.

It was January 15th. The Day of Doom.

The rain was still pouring outside, which was perfect for Rurik’s mood but terrible for party logistics.

Primrose stood in the center of the kitchen, wearing her heavy-duty blacksmith’s apron. Her White Tail was wrapped around a bowl of flour, her Silver Tail was holding a whisk, and her Sun-Fire Tail was currently acting as a stovetop burner, heating a pan of glaze.

"Okay, team!" Primrose barked. "Status report!"

Luna looked up from a pile of steaks. She looked stressed. Her rabbit ears were tied back with a bandana.

"We have the meat," Luna reported. "Ten pounds of premium ribeye, five pounds of venison, and a bucket of bacon. But Prim... are we sure about the Meat Cake?"

"Rurik hates sugar," Primrose said firmly, flipping a pancake with her hand. "He says sweets make his teeth itch. We are making a savory cake. Layers of steak, glued together with mashed potatoes, frosted with cream cheese and bacon bits."

"That sounds like a heart attack," Orion noted from the table, where he was scientifically arranging cutlery.

"It sounds like victory," Vali cheered. He was sitting on the counter, swinging his legs. "Can we put a sword in it?"

"We are putting candles in it," Primrose corrected. "But they are manly candles. They smell like pine needles."

On the floor, the rest of the pack was working on decorations.

Clover was drawing a picture. It was a stick figure of a giant, angry wolf with a speech bubble that said Grrr. She was surrounding it with little hearts.

"Is that Uncle Rurik?" Arjun asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Yes," Clover whispered. "He is scary, but he gave me a blanket when I was cold. So he gets a picture."

Silas and Jasper were blowing up balloons. Or trying to.

"These are black balloons," Jasper hissed, struggling to tie a knot. "Why are they black?"

"Because it’s a funeral for his youth," Silas deadpanned. "That’s the theme."

Vali jumped down from the counter. He held up a rock. A jagged, grey rock.

"This is my gift," Vali announced proudly.

"A rock?" Luna asked gently.

"It’s not just a rock," Vali insisted. "It’s a throwing rock. I found it in the garden. It has perfect aerodynamics. Dad likes throwing things. It’s practical."

"It is... thoughtful," Primrose lied. "Okay, keep working! We need this place to look festive but gloomy. Like a birthday party in a dungeon. That’s his aesthetic."

Primrose turned back to her cooking. Her Fire Tail flared up with anxiety.

WHOOSH.

"Ah! My tail!"

She spun around. Her tail had accidentally brushed against a bag of marshmallows. They were now on fire.

"Orion! Fire control!" Primrose shrieked.

Orion sighed. He raised a finger. A small glob of water shot from his tea cup and extinguished the marshmallows.

"We are going to burn the building down before he even gets here," Orion muttered.

A mile away, the Jaeger Estate loomed in the rain. It was a massive, gothic mansion made of grey stone and iron. It looked like the kind of house where vampires retired.

Inside the main training hall, Rurik was indeed brooding.

He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his scarred back as he swung his massive greatsword in rhythmic, brutal arcs.

Swish. Swish. CRACK.

He wasn’t fighting an opponent. He was fighting the air. He was fighting the calendar.

The door creaked open.

Caspian walked in. He was holding a sleek, silver umbrella. He looked painfully elegant in the damp, dusty hall.

"You look like you are trying to murder the humidity, Wolf," Caspian drawled.

Rurik didn’t stop swinging. "Go away, Fish. I’m busy."

"Busy doing what?" Caspian folded his umbrella. "Contemplating the inevitable march of time? Mourning your lost collagen?"

Rurik stopped. He lowered the sword. He turned slowly to face Caspian. His eyes were dark and dangerous.

"I am training," Rurik growled. "Because unlike you, I don’t rely on magic tricks. I rely on steel."

"Magic tricks?" Caspian raised an eyebrow. He tapped his trident, which materialized in his hand from mist. "I recall saving your furry backside in the North with these tricks."

"You got lucky," Rurik scoffed. He wiped sweat from his forehead. "Why are you here? Don’t you have a daycare to run? Or a hair appointment?"

"The children are... occupied," Caspian lied smoothly. "And I found myself bored. I thought, perhaps, the great Wolf Lord might be up for a spar. Unless, of course, your joints are aching today? It happens at your age."

Rurik’s eye twitched. The bait was taken.

"My joints are fine," Rurik hissed. "I could snap you in half like a twig."

"Prove it," Caspian smiled, spinning his trident. "No powers. No domains. Just skill. First one to yield buys dinner."

Rurik cracked his neck. A feral grin spread across his face. This was exactly what he wanted. Violence to distract him from the date.

"You’re on," Rurik grunted. "Prepare to get wet, Fish."

He charged.

Back at the Daycare, it was noon.

"He’s coming!" Vali yelled from the window. "I can smell him! He smells like rain and anger!"

"Places!" Primrose shouted. "Turn off the lights!"

The room plunged into darkness.

Primrose stood behind the table, holding the Meat Cake (which was surprisingly stable, though the mashed potato frosting was starting to melt).

The kids hid behind the sofas. Luna hid in the kitchen doorway.

The front door unlocked. Click.

It swung open.

Rurik walked in. He was soaking wet. He had a black eye (courtesy of Caspian), but he looked oddly satisfied. Caspian walked in behind him, looking perfectly dry but limping slightly.

"Good fight," Rurik grunted, shaking water off his coat like a dog. "You almost had me with that water-whip." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"I let you win," Caspian lied, closing the door. "Out of pity."

Rurik snorted. He reached for the light switch.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Rurik muttered. "Did the Fox blow a fuse again?"

He flipped the switch.

CLICK.

The lights flooded the room.

"SURPRISE!"

"ROAAAAAR!" (That was Arjun).

"HAPPY DAY OF DOOM!" (That was Vali).

Rurik froze.

His hand was still on the light switch. He stared at the room.

There were black balloons everywhere.

There was a banner that said YOU ARE OLD BUT WE STILL LIKE YOU painted in clumsy letters (clearly Vali’s handwriting).

There was a cake made of meat.

And standing in the middle of it all was Primrose, wearing a Happy Birthday hat on each of her three tails.

Rurik didn’t move. He didn’t speak. His face went blank.

The silence stretched. It became awkward.

"Did we break him?" Silas whispered from behind the couch.

"Run," Jasper hissed. "He’s charging his attack."

Rurik slowly took his hand off the switch. He looked at Primrose. He looked at the Meat Cake. He looked at Vali, who was holding up his rock.

Rurik took a deep breath. His chest expanded.

"I told you," Rurik said, his voice low and dangerous. "I hate this day."

Primrose stepped forward, brave as ever.

"We know," she said, holding up a plate. "That’s why we didn’t make a vanilla sponge. It’s ribeye and bacon. And we didn’t invite any clowns. Just us."

She smiled, her tails wagging tentatively.

"Happy Birthday, Grumpy. Now sit down and eat your meat before I set it on fire again."

Rurik stared at her. He looked at the meat mountain.

The corner of his lip twitched.

He walked forward. He grabbed the throwing rock from Vali’s hand. He inspected it.

"Good weight," Rurik grunted. He patted Vali’s head.

Then he looked at the cake.

"Who mashed the potatoes?" Rurik asked.

"Me!" Luna squeaked.

"Good," Rurik sat down at the head of the table. He picked up a knife. "At least someone here has taste."

He looked around the room at the terrified but hopeful faces of his chaotic found family.

"Well?" Rurik barked. "Are you going to sing? Or are we just going to stare at the steak?"

The room exploded into cheers.