Bearly Breathing (Alpha Werebear Shifter Paranormal Romance)

by Lynn Red

  Courage boiled inside him where before only venomous rage had seethed. It was from her, he realized, as he watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath. She gave him the strength to do what he had to, no matter how much he wished he didn’t have to do it.

  And where he was going? That courage was all he was going to have.

  Well, his courage, and his foot-long Bowie knife.

  Orion slid the leather sheathe out of backpack and tied the blade to his leg. He patted its worn, warm cowhide, and ran his fingers along the horn handle. His mother had made this knife, then his father stole it, and he stole it back. And ever since, it’d been in his backpack. Before Clea, that worn old Eastpak had been the best friend Orion had.

  He pulled one of the old hardback books out of his satchel and looked at the cover in the vague moonlight spilling into Clea’s bedroom. Philosophy from the Upanishads to the Cold War. A smile crossed his lips. How many nights had he spent reading this thing, trying to do something – anything – with his mind besides being consumed with anger? He could probably recite most of the excerpts by heart.

  Orion opened the cover and turned to the first dog-ear. It was the end of The Illiad, the part about Achilles’ hubris ruining him. Orion had always liked that part.

  Mostly because Achilles reminded him of his father.

  With a gentle snap he closed the cover and nestled the book in beside his other well-worn volume – Introduction to Dentistry – the one where he’d stored Clea’s diamond. He zipped the bag, again being careful not to make much noise.

  He buttoned his flannel and rolled up the sleeves, then pulled his trusty old jacket on, leaving the zipper undone, and slung his backpack across his shoulders as he stepped out into the night, closing the door behind him.

  As Orion kicked his bike to life, a thought occurred to him – hubris wasn’t the only lesson Homer had to teach. He also warned against all-consuming hate, against dwelling on revenge.

  Revenge. The word tasted sweet and salty all at once as Orion rolled it around his tongue.

  But this wasn’t revenge.

  No, this was pre-emptive security. A strike against an enemy he knew would make his life hell, an enemy he knew would kill everyone he loved.

  And Orion would be goddamned before he let that happen.

  The wind in his hair felt good, cool against his skin. He took a deep breath and then looked at the words scratched into the chrome around his speedometer. Kill, death, and hate all carved there, but he thought maybe it was time to do some editing.

  “Love,” he said into the night as he sped down the road. “Love is the only thing that matters anymore. That’s why I’m doing this. That’s why I’m risking my life. Love. Not revenge, not hate.”

  “Love.”

  And that? That felt better than anything.

  *

  He knew roughly where the gang was going to be, but wasn’t sure of the exact place, or where he’d find Mitch, or even why they were out, damming up rivers around Jamesburg.

  It didn’t make a lot of good sense, but then again, “sense” and “Mitch Samuelsson” were hardly ever mentioned in the same breath. Then again, after tonight, “Mitch Samuelsson” and “still breathing” wouldn’t be mentioned in the same voice. Neither would “Dirty Devils” and “extant motorcycle club.”

  At least, if things went the way they were supposed to go.

  Orion pulled his bike to the shoulder, not wanting to alarm the camp before he was good and ready to alarm them all at once. That particular event, he figured, would happen about... oh, fourteen seconds before he tore into Mitch, and about thirty-four seconds before the whole thing was over. In, and out, and fast.

  That is, if it all went to plan.

  Stalking slowly through the densely packed, overgrown Jamesburg forest, the rush of water struck Orion’s ears. He was close to the river that the Devils were supposed to dam up, but that’s as far as his knowledge reached. He may find a bunch of drunken bikers ten feet off the path, or he might have to walk until dawn.

  Thinking about Clea curled up and snoring, Orion hoped against hope that it’d be the first option.

  A sinking feeling hit him as he rounded the first bend, pushed through a handful of branches, and didn’t see any campfire, or any motorcycles, or any drunks. At the same time though, something was definitely off.

  Orion froze, craning his neck and trying to figure out exactly what it was that had him on edge. It took a moment, but quickly he realized what he was listening to: nothing.

  There were no night birds chirping, no crickets, and no frogs croaking. It was like someone had taken a vacuum and sucked out all the sound from the woods. “Hm,” Orion grunted. “Never known these woods to be quiet. Especially not at night.”

  He sucked a big breath, trying to sense any kind of animal scent, or... any scent, really, but it was just a blank slate. No hint of earth or dirt or the just-fallen rain. Someone had cleaned this place, almost like they were...

  A shriek from Orion’s left preceded a gash that opened on his leg before he noticed who gave it to him. Whoever it was hit so fast they’d already gone again. And of course, left no scent or hint of their presence.

  He spun on his heel at a rustling sound to his left. This time, Orion heard the leaves rustling and shot his hand out, expecting another attack. His hand caught nothing but air, but as soon as his swing finished, something bit horribly deep into his right biceps.

  “What are you?” Orion hissed.

  “More like where are you?” a tiny voice screeched. In his confusion, Orion missed another wild swing. That time he caught dragged up a handful of leaves before a sharp, if small, set of teeth locked onto his forearm. He waved it around, until the creature detached itself. Orion heard a grunt and then a whistle of pain when it hit the ground.

  “You’re on the ground, now,” Orion said with a pasting of self-satisfaction in his voice. “Whoever you are.”

  “Doesn’t matter who I am,” it said. “Only thing that matters is who I work for.”

  Oh God almighty, Orion thought. The squirrel.

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” he cursed, crouching into a low ready stance to try and either deflect the next blow or catch a squirrel. He snatched at the air, where he thought he heard his opponent, but once again grabbed nothing, and once again, was rewarded for his excitement with a bite.

  “You better make time,” the squirrel squeaked. “The longer you thrash around like an idiot, the more tired you’re going to get. The sooner you tire yourself out the sooner all my friends can tie you up and take you to Celia!”

  Heaving a huge sigh, sweat dripped off Orion’s face and down into the crunching leaves below. Another lunging strike came, but this one he saw coming. Orion positioned himself in the middle of a quicksilver pool of moonlight. He didn’t have much warning, it’s true, but some was better than none.

  “Hya!” the little voice cried.

  Orion closed his fist. In it, he felt a tail.

  Holding the thrashing creature up in front of his face, Orion was more than a little surprised at what he found. The thrashing, twisting, writhing creature was bigger than any squirrel he’d ever seen. “You’re one ugly jackass,” he said, squinting and holding the two-and-a-half foot tree rat at arms’ length. “I’ve only ever seen you from a distance. Up close, you’re really something else.”

  “Like you have much room to talk,” the little thing said, finally getting too tired out to keep thrashing around. It let out a soft sigh and hung limp. “Your head looks like a cigarette burn.”

  Orion squinted, trying to make sense of what the squirrel said. “That’s not... oh, the burn. Right, yeah that’s clever.”

  The thirty or so pound squirrel was starting to weigh on Orion’s arm. “What should I do with you?” he asked. “I can’t exactly just put you down, because you’ll just bite me again. And I can’t really keep you around. I guess I could unscrew your head.”

  Orion felt arou
nd in the dirt with his foot. He slid the toes of his boot under what seemed like a good-sized specimen and flipped it up into his open hand.

  “N – no! What are you doing? Keep that away from me!”

  The bear let out a little laugh. So it is true? I thought this was just some bullshit they did on TV to look cool. He brought the stick near the squirrel as she started getting cranked up again.

  “I’m warning you, you big idiot! Keep that thing away! No!”

  Just to test, Orion moved the stick closer to the tiny, gnashing teeth. The squirrel struck at it, like she had no control over her own impulses. Almost caught it, too, before he pulled back quickly.

  She was breathing hard, kinda wheezing. “I told you. I swear to God if you do that again, I’m... just put me down! Put me down and I’ll take you to Celia the easy way. Keep this up and it’s gonna hurt a,” she paused when Orion brought the stick near her mouth and she just had to lash out at it. Frustrated, the little thing shook her head.

  “It’s gonna hurt?” Orion laughed smugly. “What is?” Again he teased her with the stick, again, she lunged.

  Her teeth clattered, and the squirrel shook, and then she clamped her jaws down on the splintering wood. Her teeth hung, and in one smooth motion, Orion dropped the stick and grabbed the squirrel by the scruff of her neck, holding her in such a way that she couldn’t scratch, couldn’t bite.

  Then again, he was holding her in both hands, and having to strain to keep her from twisting away. She sputtered and spat, and finally managed to detach the stick from her mouth. “I warned you! You screwed with Billie one too many times! And then that stick thing? That was one step too damn far!”

  “Billie,” he said. “That’s right. I remember that beaver squawking your name. I’m a little confused though, what, exactly did you warn me about?”

  Billie twisted around in Orion’s hands, not trying to get away but obviously trying to see something or someone, out in the woods. “Just keep taunting me, fluffy,” Billie said with a sneer. “Just keep on keepin’ on. Shit’s about to get real.”

  Orion scoffed. “What are you—”

  That’s when the sound of leaves hit him like a truck in the face. It wasn’t just rustling, wasn’t just wind going through the leaves and pine needles. It sounded urgent, desperate, like a horde of locusts devouring a field – just that inevitable, infinitely growing din of...

  Squirrels.

  Orion snapped to attention, hurled Billie to the side and crouched, letting his muscles rip through his clothes and the golden fur stream out of his pores. Of all the ridiculous things he’d seen, this? This just about had to be the stupidest.

  He thrashed his massive jaws left and right, snapping at the empty night air.

  But then, his teeth clamped down on something else – something that scratched at the inside of his mouth until he released.

  One set of claws turned into four. One mouth to eight. Suddenly, not only was Orion being attacked by a tidal wave of furious squirrelly assailants, he was being overwhelmed by them. As fast as he could, he snapped his jaws or swiped a paw. Each one took out several of the pint sized jerks, but it was no use. The faster he knocked them to the side, the sooner another wave attacked.

  Blood ran down the sides of Orion’s face, and welled up out of a thousand tiny wounds on his face, shoulders, arms and neck. Every inch of his body stung like absolute hell. Cold wind whipping through the forest made it even worse, and when he finally fell, toppled by the onrush, the dirt in his cuts made him roar in pain.

  Orion looked up, pinned by the world’s most absurd ambush.

  Helplessly, he watched as the horde bound his wrists, and even though he damn near got a leg out – and took out five or six squirrels when he did – they caught him again, tying off his ankles.

  And then, as if to appear and rub salt in his wounds, that nasty little mutant, Billie, reappeared, with a smarmy grin and his backpack.

  “So, fluffy,” she squeaked.

  You have no idea how angry that makes me.

  “Want to be a dentist?” she hissed the last syllable. “The old biker gang tough act not something you want to keep doing forever?”

  The only thing in Orion’s mind was Clea, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to anything going on, although she wouldn’t be for long. Dawn was coming on fast.

  “Teeth are a noble profession,” Orion snarled as he shifted back into human form. “And anyway, you’re just a thug no better than the gang. Or me, I guess.”

  “Difference,” Billie clicked her teeth. “I’m doing this for a paycheck, yeah, but I’m also doing it because I’m helping Celia protect the forest! You? You were just doing it—”

  “Because I had no choice,” Orion hissed.

  Billie shrugged. “Either way. Oh, what is this?” she tossed his dentistry textbook on the ground, followed by his beat up crank radio, and then held onto his philosophy text and let the backpack slide off of it, into a rumpled pile in the dirt. She waddled up and stuck it in his face. “Oh we’ve got dog-eared pages. Don’t you know not to do that?”

  She waved a finger in Orion’s face. He drew his lips back in a silent growl. Apparently, taunting him from the ground wasn’t good enough. Tiny claws jabbed Orion’s skin as the curious-looking creature walked up his legs over his belly and stared right in his face. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to open this book to some ironic passage?”

  Sticking her diminutive thumb between the pages, Billie opened the book, squinted a little, and then let out a very pleased “ha!”

  Orion struggled, but the binds were tight enough that all his struggling earned him were burns on his wrists where the plastic bit into his skin.

  “Oh man, yeah, this could not possibly be better.” At length, Billie quoted the part in The Illiad she’d opened to, and then laughed out loud when she finished. “Maybe next time you could learn a lesson from the shit you read, fluffy. Pop quiz. What killed Achilles?”

  Orion narrowed his eyes to slits. Rage boiled up inside him, but more than rage, more than hate, was the terrible feeling that he’d let Clea down. She was going to wake up and find him gone and not know why. Good thing he’d left that note, but still. It was cryptic, and he had no idea when – or even if – he’d ever see her again.

  He clenched his jaws as Billie clicked her teeth. “Time’s up,” she said. “Arrogance. Outrageous arrogance. Hubris, pride, whatever you want to kill it.” She chuckled. “Well, I meant ‘whatever you want to call it’ but ‘kill it’ works too.”

  She tapped her foot, slowly, rhythmically, on Orion’s chest for a few moments before she hopped to the ground and threw his book over her shoulder with a thump. “Drug him, bag him, and throw him in the van,” she said.

  “Wait! Wait, I—”

  Was all Orion managed to stammer before whatever it was that coursed through his veins took hold, freezing his muscles and knocking him out cold. His eyes drooped, his mouth went slack, and his fingers fell, lifeless on the ground beside him.

  “That went faster than I thought,” Billie said, looking down at his prone, limp body with something resembling concern. “You sure you dosed him right?”

  “Yep!” one squirrel piped up. “Just like you said, one full needle!”

  “I... uh, yeah that’s not really what I meant. That’s enough for like thirty doses.”

  “Me too!” another one said, chipper as anything. “Got him just like you said!”

  Billie cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips in a moment of thought. “So that’s...” she counted on her fingertips, then her toes, then back to her fingers. “Well whatever, I’m just glad he’s a big boy. He ain’t much use to anybody dead, even as a rug.”

  The squirrels all tittered for a second, then filed off one at a time.

  “What a day,” Billie said, pulling out a tiny pack of cigarettes, and taking a drag. “What a damn day.”

  As the squirrels maneuvered underneath Orion and around him, to cart him of
f to the waiting van, Billie made sure to get one good kick in at his ribs.

  -19-

  “The only thing slower than snails screwing a glacier is you two doing... anything!”

  -Celia

  “Are we done yet?” Celia Maynard paced back and forth, staring over the edge of the river – the last river – she still needed to dam. “I’m so ready to go home and have a nice pint of whiskey and a bath.”

  “You mean a pint of beer, right?” Billie asked. “A pint of whiskey is—”

  “Shut up, no, I mean what I said!” Celia was at the phase of excitement where it’s very difficult to tell if it’s excitement or anger or confusion. “Celia Maynard means what she means and says what she does and does what she talks about!”

  Billie took a deep breath, and leaned backwards against the tree that was just about to make history.

  “Ready, boss!” Another of the squirrels, one who wore a nametag with “L-241” on it. Celia thought it best to refer to the workers by numbers instead of names. It eliminated the possibility they’d think she liked them.

  In the three months since she’d started damming up Jamesburg’s rivers, they had all been successfully blocked, and thanks to the fact that this last one was so damn big, water had kept right on flowing through the town. No one noticed the rest of the rivers with the Greater James continuing to fill the reservoirs. After this though? Holy shit was Celia excited to see the look on that arrogant prick of an alpha’s face.

  “Where’s that bear?” Celia asked Billie, almost as an afterthought. “I thought you caught him? Mitch’s stupid kid. The one who saved that girl from being punctured and saved me from a life sentence?”

  “I think you’ll probably still get one. I mean, damming up a town and then breaking all the dams at once to flood the place out is probably somewhere on the same criminality scale as dropping a tree on a—”

  “Shut up, Billie! The bear! Where is the bear? Focus, focus, focus.”