Claim the Bear (10 page)

It had sentenced him to death.

“Stop,” Dillon drawled.

Trees and brush passed the window of his pickup, but they weren’t what Breshia saw. Her mind swirled around the thought of Dillon, pale and bleeding, laying beneath the pride’s accusatory gazes.

She was breaking apart inside.

“Shhh,” Dillon crooned, rubbing her leg as he turned onto an overgrown dirt road.

She hadn’t realized she was sobbing. She’d done that a lot since yesterday. She’d gone years without being affected by anything or anyone. No cruel words had managed to wrench a single tear from her since her teen years, and now she just felt…everything. Every word, every touch, every kindness Dillon’s clan had shown her. Maybe she’d been stronger than she thought when she lived with the pride. Now, she couldn’t stop
feeling
. She was open, like a gash in a mountain, bleeding river water from the melting snowcaps above.

Dillon pulled to a stop in front of an old bridge, much too rickety to hold the weight of the truck.

“What is this place?” she asked, sniffling.

“It’s called Wrenn Dobbin Ditch. The water’s too cold to swim in right now, but I always wanted to take a girl here when I was in high school.”

She laughed and wiped her eyes with an old, threadbare T-shirt he’d handed her from the back seat. “So you thought day two of us being mated was the time to get it on at your chosen make-out point?”

“Well,” he teased with a grin, “if I’m going to die soon anyway. Kidding,” he said, dodging a swat. “I actually wanted to show you something. Stay there.”

She stifled a smile as she watched him jog around the front of his truck. For a big, dominant bear, he sure did seem to enjoy pampering her.

He opened her door and offered his hand to help her down. Then he zipped up her jacket and slung his arm over her shoulder. A thin trail led down a steep embankment, and when they were under the bridge, he moved some dead, tangled brush away from a fallen concrete column. He lay down on the widest part and held out his arms until she was tucked against his side and staring up at the underside of the bridge with him.

“You have trouble letting me in about your time with the pride, and that’s okay. I can wait. But someday, I want you to trust me enough with your secrets.” His voice had grown quiet and somber. “Then I thought that maybe you have trouble because you don’t know me yet.”

She lifted up and rested her chin on his ribcage so she could watch his face when he opened up to her.

“This was my place when I was a kid. I used to have a journal stored between those two pillars over there. I came here when my parents fought.”

“Did they fight a lot?”

His chest heaved upward as he propped his arm under his head and looked at her. “My dad did. My mom and I didn’t. He didn’t like women too much, and he didn’t like me for sticking up for Mom.”

“I’m so sorry, Dillon—”

“Don’t be. I’m telling you this because I want you to realize that everyone has shit, Bre. Everyone. Yours is worse than some, but you have me now, and I like listening. I like hearing about where you come from, and what makes you
you
. I like to learn about what has molded you into this sweet, caring, loyal, intoxicating woman. And you came into your own despite the carelessness of your people. That’s strength. We have one life. Every minute you spend allowing them into your head, you give them more power than they’ve already demanded from you. You’re wasting time.”

She filled her cheeks with air and puffed it out slowly as she rested her cheek against his chest. “I feel like I’ve known you a long time, Dillon McCain.”

He stroked her hair gently and stared at the creaking bridge above. Sunlight filtered through the cracks, striping everything.

If she could choose a moment to stay in for eternity, this would be it.

“I don’t want you to live scared, Bre.” His voice rumbled through his breastplate against her cheek. “You don’t have to be. You’re safe with me. You’re safe here, with the clan.”

“I feel more scared now than ever,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Now I have something I can’t live without. Before, it was just me and a sad life. No one would miss me if something happened to me, and maybe I wouldn’t have missed anything or anyone either. But now…” She cuddled closer. “Now I have you.”

“Shira won’t hurt me. Her threats were just her way of getting in your head. She wouldn’t risk her entire species coming into our territory and challenging second in the clan.”

Breshia frowned at the wooden beams above. “Second?”

“I have one challenge left with Aaron, but I’ve already bested him four times in four different fights. It’s almost done. Our bears are just taking their time figuring out who is more dominant. I’ll be named Bron’s second by next week.”

She jerked away and stared down at him to make sure he wasn’t kidding. “I didn’t know you were important to the clan.”

He huffed a laugh and looked at her with his eyebrows lifted high. “Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Everyone is important in the clan. Even submissives. We couldn’t function without them. They give dominants something to defend—something for our bears to care about.”

“What are you doing with me?” she whispered, shocked.

“Exactly what I want to.”

“You’re second to a legendary alpha, Dillon. Even I’ve heard about the Cress alphas, and you’ll be Bron’s right hand man now. And you chose a broken lioness as your mate?”

“Well, when you put it that way, what was I thinking?” He dodged her pinching fingers and rolled off the pillar. His booming laughter filled her with such warmth and she chased him. “I take it back. I’m too important to be mated to a submissive.” He bolted for the gravelly bank.

She was giggling so hard she could hardly breathe as she ran after him. Turning, Dillon ducked around her and she threw her arms around her middle and laughed harder than she could ever remember doing.

He stood straight and the smile dipped from his face.

“What?” she wheezed.

“I like the sound of your laugh.” He approached slow and brushed the hair out of her face.

“I like you,” she whispered.

He looked down at her with such tender affection. “I can tell. You’re open with that stuff.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. You don’t play games with my head. You’re good about reassuring me you like being around me. I never thought I’d find someone like you.”

“Me either,” she admitted.

“Oh, you never thought you’d find someone like you either?”

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, then nipped his bottom lip. “You know what I mean.”

His eyes grew serious and stormy as he searched her face. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to let me tease you. You know, after all you’ve been through.”

“It’s going to take a long time to feel…right. But I already feel different than I did. And now I have something to motivate me to be better. You deserve a strong mate, Dillon McCain, second to a Cress alpha. I want you to be proud to have me on your arm.”

He cupped her cheek and angled his face. The blue in his eyes pooled with honesty when he said, “I already am.” Slowly, he leaned down and tasted her lips.

She melted against him as time dragged by. It could’ve been seconds or minutes, she didn’t know. Time didn’t have meaning when she was surrounded by his strength like this. Maybe he was right. She couldn’t imagine Shira hurting someone so strong, so confident. He wasn’t a submissive like her. He was strong and dominant, and battle-tested. He had to be to climb to second in the clan. It was easy to think Shira’s threats were empty when her mate was kissing her, and swaying side to side with her in a slow dance near the place he’d never shared with anyone else.

Breshia had been tested by the fates, and now she was being rewarded with this man. Nothing else could explain how she got so lucky with him. He couldn’t know what he’d already done for her, but she would spend the rest of her life making sure he knew just how important his kindness had been to her.

His warm hand slid up the back of her sweater, creating trails of heat where he touched her. The wounds Thomas had given her were already closed up, thanks to her ability to heal quickly, but they were still tender. Dillon seemed to know this and skirted them altogether. With a practiced
snick
, he unfastened her bra and slid his palm to her front, cupping her full breast on one side and tugging softly at her nipple until her knees locked. His jaw worked as he kissed her deeper, and when he pulled her closer, she surrendered completely. He took over everything. It was impossible to fear the future when Dillon had the ability to draw every coherent thought from her body.

With a soft, content sigh, she sank back onto the pebbly beach with him. “Dillon?”

“Hmm?” he asked, unsnapping her jeans.

“I love you.”

He froze and eased back enough that she could see his slow smile. “I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you tell me when you rub your face against mine,” he rumbled. “That’s what it means, right?”

Dipping her chin, she nodded.

Slowly, he leaned forward and brushed his clean-shaven jaw against her cheek, then worked his way to her other side.

Her chest filled with waves of warmth and happiness as he silently declared his feelings for her. She’d never thought she would find a love match, but here she was, in the arms of a man she was growing to love more deeply than she thought possible.

Her hips bucked in reaction to his erection bumping her leg, and she clutched onto his shirt. Desire blazed through her so fast, it made her stomach feel like she’d jumped off a cliff. Her fingers shook with desperation to rid herself of the uncomfortable feeling, and the only way she could do that was for Dillon to cover her. Now.

A whimper wrenched from her throat as she fumbled with the zipper on his pants, and he murmured, “Okay, kitty. I know time’s up.”

His lips crashed onto hers as he yanked on her clothes. He wasn’t even fully unsheathed before she rubbed her hips against his in desperation to be as close as she could. His teeth grazed her lip as he pressed on top of her and slid into her wet heat. He didn’t withdraw right away. Instead, he lifted up on tensed arms and watched her face as he rocked gently.

Already, she felt better. Her stomach settled under his adoring gaze, and as he pulled back and rammed into her again, she arched her neck and closed her eyes. Dillon’s rhythm built slowly, but he didn’t hold back like he had the other times he’d coupled with her. He wasn’t gentle this time, and she was glad. She stretched around him, accepting all of him as he slammed into her, slowly at first, then faster and faster. His pants still clung just below his hips, but she didn’t care. Running her hands under his sweater, she pulled him down until his chest rested on hers and enveloped her in the warmth she’d come to crave from her mate.

Dillon growled out her name as her bucked into her. Pressure, tingling and burning for release, filled her slowly, and she raked her nails against his back as her shuddering orgasm ripped through her.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, arching his back under her nails and exposing the thick cords of muscle in his throat.

He froze for a second as the first jet of warmth shot into her, then gave her a few more quick thrusts as she pulsed around him and cried out.

Dillon collapsed beside her and drew her body flush with his, draping his leg over her as if he instinctively knew the chill was biting into her bare legs.

“Logan says we need to eat after we’re together,” he murmured in a sleepy voice as he stroked her hair.

She nuzzled closer. “You asking me out on a date?”

There was a smile in his voice when he answered. “I am, woman. We’re doing this all backward, but what do you say?”

A purr vibrated her throat and he smiled down at her.

“I’ve never been on a date,” she admitted as soft heat spread through her cheeks.

“Good.” He inhaled a long breath and pulled her tighter against him. “I like being your first everything.”

She couldn’t tell him now, because her emotions were threatening to overwhelm her again, but she was glad no one had showed interest before. She was glad no one had asked her out or wanted to bed her. She got to share these important moments with Dillon—her mate.

Her purring grew louder and he chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against her face.

And slowly, he leaned down and brushed his cheek against hers again.

“Do I look okay?” Breshia asked. She wasn’t preening. She just really wanted Dillon’s honest opinion on whether she was dressed appropriately for the dinner at Muriel’s house.

“You look beautiful, now stop fidgeting. They’ve already accepted you. Be yourself and they’ll like you even more than they already do. I promise.”

She smoothed the wrinkles from the green sweater Dillon had bought her in town one last time and lifted her chin.

“That’s my girl,” he said, throwing the gearshift into park.

A fire pit with a blaze was set up in front of a cozy cottage. The lights from the house illuminated the front lawn making up for the cloud-covered moon. It was a one-story, and small like Dillon’s house. The surrounding woods were filled with nocturnal animal sounds and early spring birds chirping back and forth as they settled in for the night. It seemed like the perfect woodland retreat for a pair of shifters and their new baby.

Samantha and Bron pulled up beside them in Bron’s giant, jacked-up black pickup. Samantha waved as she hopped out with a covered dish.

“Oh my gosh,” Breshia breathed. “Were we supposed to bring food?”

“No,” Samantha said, hooking an arm in hers and leading the way toward the couple who sat near the fire pit in lawn chairs. “I just brought some peach cobbler for desert. Muriel doesn’t like cooking.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Muriel explained as they approached. “It’s that cooking doesn’t like me. I’m a chronic food burner.”

“She’s getting better though,” Logan said as he clapped Dillon on the back in a rough, mannish greeting. “Here, Breshia. Take my seat. I’ll go grab a few more.”

“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile.

Dillon held the chair steady while she sank into it, and Samantha took the chair between her and Muriel.

“Where’s Abigail?” she asked.

Muriel held up a wireless baby monitor. “I put her down a couple of hours ago. Kid sleeps like a rock, but I’ve already checked on her four times. It’s weird being all the way out here and away from her.”

“Samantha laughed and twitched her head toward the dark window closest to them. “She’s what…ten yards away from you?”

“Yeah, but it feels weird not being in the house with her. Gah, I can’t explain it. You’ll see, Sam. Laugh now, but when you have a cub of your own, those momma instincts are serious.”

A green bronco like the ones at the Seven Devils clan picked its way up the gravel drive and Samantha waved.

“No quick movements, okay?” Dillon murmured against Breshia’s ear. “Not until Ethan gets to know you.”

“Ethan? You mean the one who tried to kill me?” Her voice came out a scared sounding squeak.

“It wasn’t really Ethan as much as Bear. His animal is boss, but he’ll ease up when he figures out you aren’t a threat to our people. Don’t worry.”

But visions of Bear charging her with murder in his eyes made her shrink back into the lawn chair in terror.

“If you act scared, you’re going to set him off,” Bron said.

Great. She stood on shaky legs and tried her best to smile at the towering man who approached behind a blonde-haired woman at least two heads shorter than he was.

“Ethan, Reese,” Dillon said, gripping Breshia’s shoulders from behind. “This is my mate, Breshia.”

“I knew it,” Reese said. Stepping around the fire, she pulled Breshia in for a back cracking hug that left her utterly stunned.

Ethan stood a safe distance away as Reese moved to hug Samantha. The fire threw flickering shadows across his striking features as he said, “I’m going to go get you a beer, and then you’ll forgive me for trying to kill you.”

“Okay,” Breshia whispered, fighting the urge to hide behind Dillon.

Ethan disappeared inside, along with Muriel, who mumbled something about checking on Abigail, and Breshia’s legs gave. With an
oomf
, she sat hard onto the chair and stared at the firelight. When she’d recovered enough to control her breathing, she found that Logan and Bron were both staring at her with smirks on their faces.

“You all right over there?” Bron asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Afraid her voice would shake, Breshia nodded as Ethan stuck a cold beer bottle in her palm.

“Forgiven?” he asked. His eyes were churning silver, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in what looked like a smile.

“Forgiven. Let’s not mention it anymore.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Fair enough. So,” he said, crossing his arms. “You and Dillon, huh? You must be pretty special to turn this old bachelor’s head.”

“Hey, Dillon,” Logan asked, as he flipped a row of steaks that were laid over a grill on the fire. “Remember that time last week when you said…” he pitched his voice high, “I’ll never claim a mate as long as I live. None of the girls here interest me at all.”

Dillon popped the top of her beer and handed it back to her, then took a swig of his own he’d retrieved from a blue cooler near the porch. “And I meant it. Clan woman play too many mind games. I was waiting for Bre.”

“Awww,” Samantha said, clutching her hands to her chest like she was watching a romantic movie.

Unable to help herself, Breshia giggled. She liked this rag tag group of shifters. They were funny and easy to talk to, and from their acceptance of Logan, it was clear they had big hearts. She hadn’t ever admitted it out loud, but she’d always wished for friends like them.

As the night went on, the banter became easy. Breshia didn’t talk much, but she didn’t have to. She had more fun observing the relationships between her new clan. The couples, each affectionate in their own ways, and the groups of friends. The guys, joking and calling names, giving the girls a hard time, and the women holding their own. They ate steaks, and fire-roasted potatoes and whole cobs of corn. And as they settled around the fire with full bellies, Dillon pulled her onto his lap and relaxed into a plastic chaise lounge chair. He nuzzled her neck as she told Samantha and Reese about how she knew Abigail had a lion cub in her.

She felt so animated here with these new friends. Not dead, like she used to feel inside. Survival mode didn’t make up the bulk of her life anymore. Now, she could actually relax and enjoy herself for the first time in as long as she could remember. No one here expected her to be perfect, because as they shared stories about how they’d met their mates, it was clear that they weren’t perfect, and that was okay. No one stared at her freckles or said mean things, or even judged her clothes. They made sure to include her in the conversations and joked with her, as if she already belonged here.

“Are you happy?” Dillon asked, half of his face immersed in the yellow glow of the firelight.

She opened her mouth to tell him just what this all meant to her, but a soft rumbling sound halted her words.

She looked around, but no one else seemed to hear anything. She was just being paranoid and sighed in relief.

Logan jerked his head up and frowned at the empty, gravel driveway, and Ethan stood slowly from his chair and faced the dark woods where the sound was coming from.

“I hear it, too,” Dillon said low.

Logan looked back at his mate. “Muriel—”

“I know,” Muriel rushed. Turning, she bolted for the house.

The first set of headlights ghosted the hilly drive, and then another and another.

Bron dialed out on his phone and asked a woman he called Trinity to gather the clan. “The lions are here,” he said, right before he hung up.

Three black SUV’s came to a stop in front of the house. Winter stepped from behind the wheel of the lead vehicle and a cruel smile twisted her lips as her cold gaze landed on Dillon. “Shira sent us to carry out her promise. You,” she said, pointing to Dillon. “You’ll die tonight for what you’ve done.”

“Bre,” Samantha said low. “You can’t fight, can you?”

Breshia’s heart pounded against her breastbone, and everything in her wanted to flee as the Portland pride, then the Chicago pride filed out of their cars. They outnumbered the bears three to one. She reached deep inside of herself, but she couldn’t manage to conjure her cowardly animal, no matter how hard she tried.

“No. I can’t change,” she said, panicked and panting for breath.

“It’s okay,” Dillon murmured, pulling his shirt over his head. “Go inside with Muriel.”

“I can’t just leave you here.” Her words sounded forced as she pushed them past her closing throat.

Dillon turned and gripped her shoulders. In her peripheral, she could see a white faced bear burst from Samantha, and twin giant grizzlies from Ethan and Bron. “I can’t fight like I need to if I’m worrying about you,” he growled. “You don’t have a chance in your human form. Get inside.”

Something was niggling at the edges of her frantic thoughts though, and she opened her mouth to argue. Something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like the kind of attack she’d expected. It was too straight forward, too obvious. This wasn’t the way lions hunted.

Dillon gritted his teeth and backed away. A smattering of pops and cracks echoed off the silent woods as Dillon morphed into a towering grizzly. He gave her one last, hard look and turned.

Near the cars, the lions were changing too. She backed toward the house, hating herself for her cowardice, hating her lion for hiding when she needed her.

Bron bellowed a roar and the bears charged. Body’s clashed, and slaps and snarls echoed through the woods.

“Come on, you goddamned lion!” She had to help them—help her friends. Help Dillon.

Movement shadowed the tree line alongside the house, and drew her attention. Squinting, Breshia stepped away from the window light enough to make out two figures in the dark. A woman and a lion slunk through the night and disappeared behind the house.

It was all so clear now.

This wasn’t about Dillon or her pairing with him at all. Her fall from the pride was a distraction.

Her eyes widened as the first wisps of fury snaked through her.

This was about Abigail.

The sound of a window shattering had Breshia bolting for the front door. Shira would kill Muriel if she stood in her way. She’d kill the cub’s own mother if it meant she could feel like she won.

Breshia ran down the hallway and skidded to a stop in front of Abigail’s nursery. Muriel stood in front of her crib, facing off with a massive lion with a mane as black as pitch. Thomas.

Fear chilled her blood as she stepped into the room. Shira stood in the corner, eyes riveted on the crib.

Breshia hissed as she maneuvered herself beside Muriel.

“Down girl,” Shira said as Thomas paced a circle around her legs. “I’ll accept you back into the pride after tonight is through. I’ll need help raising my daughter.”

“She’s not your daughter,” Breshia said low. “She’s Muriel’s.”

“No,” Shira drawled out. “Can’t you smell her? She’s a lion cub, and this bitch is a bear.”

A long, low rumble came from Muriel’s chest, and the churning silver in her eyes said she wasn’t far from changing. “I should’ve killed you the first time you trespassed on my land,” she ground out.

“Dillon!” Breshia cried out as Thomas lunged for Muriel.

Searing, ripping pain blinded Breshia as her lioness exploded from her skin. When she looked up, Muriel’s black bear was locked in a snarling clawing battle with Thomas. The massive lion drew Muriel farther away from Abigail until their battle tumbled into the adjacent bedroom. She needed to help Muriel, but her instinct told her to stay glued to the crib. Shira was using pride hunting tactics—distracting so she could finish the hunt.

Over her cold and lifeless body would Shira ever touch Abigail. Oh, she could see the child’s future all laid out with the pride. They’d hide her bear lineage, and she’d grow up only knowing half of where she came from. She’d be mated to Samuel after he was groomed and trained to be as heartless as the rest of them.

A roar left her as Shira approached, and three more short bellows wrenched from Breshia’s throat in warning of the death that was coming for her.

“You wouldn’t fight me,” Shira said in a bone-chillingly calm voice.

Breshia wanted to back away. She wanted to run under the cruel glare of her alpha, but Muriel was depending on her. Abigail’s future depended on her finding her bravery.

A slow, empty smile stretched Shira’s face as she dodged Breshia’s claw. Through the doorway, she could see Thomas leap onto the bear’s back. Muriel was fighting for her life now.

“I’m going to kill you, Breshia,” Shira hissed as she dropped to all fours. She changed into a huge, cream-colored lion.

Abigail was crying, filling her little lungs and wailing with all of her might. The sound of the child’s terror snapped the coward right out of Breshia. Shira was going to die for the pain she’d brought here tonight.

Breshia pounced, pressing her claws and catching Shira across the neck. Iron filled the air, thickening it with the sweet scent as pain ripped down Breshia’s side. Pushing her legs, she clawed and bit, herding Shira from the room and into the hallway. Pictures shattered on the floor as she threw Shira’s body against the wall and sank her teeth into the scruff of her neck. A roar of pain left her alpha’s lips, and she hooked a powerful paw around Breshia’s middle. With a shrug of her muscular shoulders, Shira slammed her, back-first, into the edge of the living room couch. The wind knocked out of her, Breshia gasped for air and tried to get up.