Bear in the Rough: Bear Shifter Romance (Broken Hill Bears Book 1)

by Ariana Hawkes

  “Nope. Military drills were pretty thorough. Even if I was only ever expending half my energy.”

  “So are you good? Shall I tell the event managers that you’ll be headlining?” Xander’s bear pushed at his skin, urging him on.

  “Hell yeah!” he found himself bellowing. “I’ll beat the crap out of that miserable Trey, or whatever his name is. I’ll show him and whoever else dares challenge me exactly who’s boss!” A bloodcurdling roar from his bear cut off the end of his sentence. Rocco looked impressed.

  “Xander, you’re back!” he said. “I’ll go let Len know the good news.” As he reached the front door, he paused. “And when the fight’s over, you need to find your mate.”

  “A mate,” Xander muttered to himself as he collapsed back onto the couch. “Why do the clan give a shit about whether I’m mated or not? I’m the Alpha. Ultimately, I’ll make all the decisions.” His life had changed so much lately, and his grief for his father cut him so deep, that the last thing on his mind was looking for a female to share his bed for the rest of his life. “I’ve got more important things to think about right now. Like the fact that I’ll be fighting the Black Paws’ best fighter, in public, observed by hundreds of shifters and humans, in a little over 24 hours.”

  He leapt to his feet and stripped his clothes off, not half a second before his bear burst out of him. He had to prepare. First, he’d run and hunt, test his reaction speeds, climb some tress and work on his arms. And then he’d shift back and lift some logs in his human form. He couldn’t fail at this. The stakes were incredibly high. Losing to the Black Paws would make him an unworthy leader, and could mean war, as other clans would try to step in and seize power.

  As his bear let off a roar of aggression, his stomach knotted with apprehension.

  Chapter Five

  “You know what this means?” Freya said, pointing to a dusty sign for Townsville, which indicated a side track, leading off the main trail.

  “Is it an actual town?” Eloise said hopefully.

  “You betcha!” The other two gasped.

  “We’re staying in a motel! Real beds! A shower! Nice food!” Marin shrieked.

  “Yup!” Freya replied, her joy mirroring theirs. “According to the guide, it’s another two miles from here, then we need to thumb a lift – apparently safe to do in this part of the country – and it’s another ten miles to the town. Are you game?”

  “Are you kidding?” Eloise said, already heading down the side track at a far quicker pace than she’d been going before.

  A guy known as Hiker Trash Bill picked them up within minutes of them arriving at the main road, and they were soon climbing out of the bed of his pick-up. When they saw the lights and stores and restaurants of the small town, they jumped for joy. They checked into a motel and took turns at having hot, steaming showers.

  “I’ll never take a motel for granted again. Not even a real shady, roach-infested one” Marin said, lying on her back on one of the huge beds.

  Freya burst into the room. She’d been downstairs getting advice from the receptionist on where they should eat that night.

  “There’s a great steak place in town,” she announced, eyes shining. “And there’s something else that I think will interest you ladies a lot – a couple of girls told me that there’s a wrestling match on tonight, in the next town, and that we should definitely go.” Eloise wrinkled her nose.

  “Wrestling? It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to see. I hate violence.”

  “Yeah. I was kinda planning on a hot date with the TV. I’m not sure if I want to trade that for seeing a bunch of big guys body-slamming each another.”

  “No worries. It was just a thought,” Freya said with a careless shrug.

  The steaks were the most delicious they’d ever tasted.

  “I think anything that doesn’t come out of a packet or a can probably tastes delicious right now,” Marin said, as she completely cleared a plate of a t-bone steak, baked potato and fries.

  “Shall we have dessert?” Eloise asked cautiously.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely!” Freya said. “We’ve earned this, ladies. Seriously, I just want to say how proud I am of all of us. The first part has gone way better than I expected.”

  “Even though I take up half of your tent every other night?” Eloise asked.

  “Hey, I’m getting used to it. You’re like a thermal blanket. I even miss you when you’re not there,” she replied, squeezing Eloise’s shoulders. Eloise giggled.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m kind of enjoying the trek. It’s been really cool to spend all this time with you girls. And I am pretty proud of myself for not giving up.”

  “Cheers to that,” Marin said, holding her glass of wine aloft, and they all clinked glasses. “And are we ready for the next 2,000-or-so miles?”

  “Hell yeah!” they said in unison.

  When they got back to their room at the motel, Eloise and Marin immediately settled on the beds and put the TV on, but Freya was feeling restless. As tired as her body was, she felt like her mind needed some stimulation. She kept thinking about the wrestling. It wasn’t WWF. The fighters were the fabled shape shifters. She’d never seen them before, but she’d always had a kind of horrified fascination toward them, as most humans did. Suddenly, she made a decision.

  “Ladies, are you sure you don’t want to see the wrestlers tonight? They’re shape shifters.” Marin shuddered.

  “Ugh, no thanks. The thought of them scares me so much.”

  “Same,” Eloise said, from the comfort of her bed.

  “I think I’ll go,” Freya said, and no sooner had she decided than she was rummaging through her clothes for an outfit that looked half decent. She changed quickly into a black tank top and blue shorts and said goodnight to the girls.

  The two girls she’d spoken to earlier gave her a ride to the venue, and half an hour later, she was standing in front of a sport stadium, fizzing with excitement.

  “How many?” demanded the guy in the ticket booth.

  “Just one,” she said. He looked her up and down.

  “I’ve got a single seat left ringside. It can get pretty heavy down there. If there’s any bloodshed, you’ll see it real close up. Do you want it?” Freya thought for a minute. She was here now, about to see the most feared species on the planet fighting. Why not get up close and personal?

  “Yes,” she said.

  An usher led her through a tunnel and along a passageway, right up to the seats surrounding the wrestling ring. As she took her seat between two burly men, the smell of the place hit her. It was intense and musky, and kind of exciting. She had a perfect view of the ring. It was just like the wrestling rings she’d seen on TV – blue mat flooring and red and white ropes. She thought of the violence that must have taken place inside of those ropes and she gave a little shudder. The ring was separated from the seating area by a very tall sheet of glass, with what looked like an electric fence on top. For that, she was relieved.

  It was very loud in the venue, excited voices struggling to make themselves heard above each other. But when the music introducing the beginning of the match began, the noise was on a whole other level. The audience cheered and clapped and whooped. There was a huge screen at one side of the venue, displaying a close-up view of the ring. The cameras were focusing on a small box located on the outside of the glass, where the compère was introducing the fighters.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special fight for you tonight! As those of you who saw his brother’s last fight might be aware, Xander the Great is back! He’s been away for five years. None of us know where, but we can only assume that he spent a lot of time kicking ass. Because he’s bigger and tougher than ever. He’s the only one of the Broken Hill Bears never to have been defeated in a fight before. He’s rough, tough and he takes no prisoners. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Xander the Great!”

  An incredible surge of noise rose up from the audience
, three times as loud as before, and Freya felt like her ear drums were going to burst. This man sounds like a hero. But who is he? As the entire audience craned their necks toward a tunnel at the far side of the stage in a fluid wave of motion, she found herself wishing she knew who this man was. A dark figure appeared at the entrance, and the screaming and whooping became hysterical. He was still too far away for her to be able to make him out, but he was moving fast through the glass-walled tunnel, and a second later, a massive hulk of a man leapt over the ropes, as lightly as someone much smaller, and stood proudly in the center of the ring, hand on hips as he surveyed the crowd.

  Freya’s pulse beat so fast as she drank in the sight of him that she could feel it in her throat. He was stunning. Absolutely the most incredibly masculine male she’d ever seen. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, and his body bulged with huge, bulky muscle. He was wearing only a pair of wrestler’s shorts, in a shiny black material, with bear motifs sewn onto them in red and white, leaving his entire, amazing torso on display. His pecs and biceps were pumped, his abs were hard and chiseled and thick cords of muscle banded his forearms. His hands were huge, with well-defined knuckles, and he held them in loose fists. Her eyes were drawn to the diagonal grooves that went all the way from his hips to the waistband of his shorts, and she licked her lips unconsciously. She was so overwhelmed by the masculine beauty of his body that it took her a while to notice that his face was gorgeous too. He had dark hair in a military-style crop, wide set dark eyes beneath heavy brows, and a hard, square jaw. He was the essence of masculinity. A stunningly attractive fighting machine. And he’s a bear? She tried to imagine him being half animal, and she gave an involuntary shiver. The thought was repellent, yet strangely enticing.

  When Xander the Great began to speak, his voice was so deep and powerful that it shocked her.

  “That’s right, John. I’ve been kicking a lot of ass all over the world, and now I’m back, stronger than ever. And all I can see is that there’s a whole lot more ass that needs kicking.” He curled his lip. “I’m sending a message to the Black Paw Bears right now: if I was you, I’d roll over and admit defeat, if you don’t want your asses sending into orbit. I know the shit you’ve been pulling lately, and I’m going to punish you for it. Every last one of you!” He finished up with a wild roar that sounded more animal than human, and a shot of adrenaline ran through Freya’s veins. She discovered that she was holding her purse so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. There was something so exhilarating about this man and the way he presented himself. Right now, as he stalked around the ring, every single person in the audience hanging on his every word, he looked fit to burst out of his skin.

  “Thank you, Xander,” the compère said nervously. “Wow. That’s one determined bear we’ve got here. If I was a Black Paw fighter, I think I’d be quaking in my boots. That is, of course, unless I was their ultimate fighter. Because Xander is not the only undefeated fighter here. The Black Paw Ridge Bears are also fielding their biggest, baddest, most unforgiving fighter, Troy!

  “Ladies and gentleman, you’re very lucky, because tonight, you’re going to witness, with your own eyes, the defeat of one of these two warrior bears. An event never seen before! For one of these guys, it’s undoubtedly going to be humiliating. But for the victor, it’s going to be a game changer. Please welcome to the stage the fearless, the inimitable, Troy!”

  There were whistles and screams again, and also a deeper sound, like a boo or a groan, Freya registered, as another dark shape emerged from a different tunnel and somersaulted into the ring. Freya gasped at the sight of the second fighter. He was equal in height and build to the first guy, but he didn’t share his good looks. He had a broad, high forehead, under which sat pudgy features, as if they’d been compressed by the weight of that great forehead. His lips and cheeks were fleshy, and his eyes like long slits. Like an evil baby, she thought distractedly. He pounded one fist into the opposite palm, making a loud slapping sound and he paced around the ring, face contorted with fury as he announced what he was going to do to his enemy. There seemed to be something malevolent in the way he carried himself, and she felt repelled by him, and immediately decided to root for the other guy.

  “They say I’m a dirty fighter,” he was saying. “And I’m telling you: they got that right! This ain’t no WWF pussy shit. This is real fighting, and there are no rules. Troy is going to take down any motherfucker who crosses him, and make him as sorry as shit that he dared face me as an opponent!”

  This time, there were more cheers than boos. It was a convincing speech, and he looked so menacing as he delivered it that Freya shuddered at the thought that he might flatten the other guy. Troy and Xander came together in the middle of the ring and bumped fists. Freya watched Troy drive his fist right back so his knuckles bumped hard against Xander’s. But Xander evidently met him with equal power as a grimace of pain flashed across his face.

  “Gentlemen, please take your corners,” the compère shouted, his voice so weak and reedy in comparison to theirs. Xander and Troy hulked over to opposite corners of the ring and the starting bell rang. Both men hurtled into the middle of the ring and Xander threw a punch that connected with Troy’s cheekbone, and Troy swiftly retaliated by aiming a kick at his ribcage.

  The fighting was brutal. Like nothing Freya had seen before. It was like the wrestling she’d seen on TV, but also boxing, with some martial arts maneuvers thrown in too. There didn’t seem to be many rules, outside of the bells going to mark the start and end of each round. The object seemed to be to flatten your opponent, any way you knew how. She wasn’t an expert at watching fighting by any means, but, as Troy had boasted, he seemed to succeed by fighting dirty, aiming well below the belt, going for jabs in the kidneys, kicks in the face. Xander seemed like a more measured fighter, relying on his huge bulk and strength to pummel Troy with his fists, throw him down with his body weight, and pin him in choke holds. He also seemed to be thinking three steps ahead, always anticipating his rival’s next move.

  The air was full of grunts and the merciless pounding of flesh on flesh and bone on bone. The audience was very vocal too, whistling, cheering and hissing as one vicious blow after another was struck, and Freya joined in right along with the others. She felt an odd burst of pride every time her guy sent his opponent spinning against the ropes with another crunching blow. At the end of the first three rounds, she wasn’t sure who was leading. They seemed to be perfectly matched. But in the middle of the fourth round, Troy climbed up onto the ropes, dove at Xander, and landed on him with his full weight. There was a sickening crunch as Troy’s forehead smashed into Xander’s face. Freya gasped. Xander roared in pain and fury. His hand went up to his face, and when he took it away again, there was blood all over the bridge of his nose. He kicked Troy away as he staggered to his feet, and there was silence as the audience collectively held their breath. Freya anxiously looked at the digital clock, positioned up high, counting away the seconds. Nine seconds of the round remained. Xander shook his head, as if trying to clear it, or shake off the pain, and Troy dove at him again, driving his fist into his jaw. Xander went down hard. The bell rang and, along with everyone else in the ringside seats, Freya leapt to her feet, her hand clapped over her mouth. Xander pulled himself up, and sighs of relief echoed around the room. He walked a little unsteadily over to his corner and sat down heavily on the small chair that had been put out for him. Blood streamed all over his face, and Freya’s stomach lurched at the sight of it. She watched anxiously as one of his team applied tape across his nose, someone else poured water into his mouth through a spout, and a third guy talked urgently into his ear while pounding his fist into his palm. Meanwhile, two very tall, very lithe women catapulted themselves into the ring and paraded around with cards bearing the number five, held up high. Freya curled her lip in instinctive hatred for the way the women dressed up like bimbos in skimpy bikinis. But on a second glance, she noticed that they had bulging muscles too, and the e
xpression on their faces was anything but bimbo-ish. They looked fierce, like they could tear a man apart. Are they half-bear too? she wondered.

  Too soon, the bell rang. Xander’s team tried to help him to his feet, but he shook them off with a roar and bounded across the ring. Troy swaggered up to meet him, but he wasn’t prepared for Xander’s onslaught and Xander landed him a right hook followed by an uppercut that sent him sprawling against the ropes with so much force that he fell right through them, over the edge of the platform, and crashed to the ground in front of the audiences’ feet. Freya didn’t see him land as he was on the far side, but there was no mistaking the mocking laughter that followed. His opponent had humiliated him. Xander didn’t celebrate though; he stood in the center of the ring, hands loosely bunched into fists, and calmly waited for him. Freya glowed with pride for this fighter who she’d only heard of half an hour ago. There was something about him; something calm and dignified. Animal though he was, he seemed almost regal.

  Troy hauled himself up onto the platform and vaulted into ring. And then he became a whirlwind of fury, aiming kicks and punches and head-butts wildly, his face contorted with hatred. They ended round five both on their feet, then round six, seven and eight. By the start of round nine, both men were covered in bruises and gashes and bleeding heavily from cuts on their faces. One of Troy’s eyes was swollen and half shut, while Xander had a black bruise under his eye from his smashed nose.

  The bell rang and both of them went in hard. For a while it was a pure show of strength, fists pounding on flesh, and Troy was being pushed backward, against the ropes. Xander seemed confused; Freya saw his brow furrow. Was Troy giving in too easy? Too late, he realized it was a trick. As Troy fell back into a corner, he used his arms to support himself while he brought both legs up in a powerful kick. He connected with Xander’s jaw, sending him spinning across the ring, and crashing down onto his back. Freya expected him to get up right away, but he didn’t. He lay spread-eagled. Troy paced in front of him and gave a howl of victory. The referee began the count. Ten seconds. By three, Xander hadn’t moved at all. By five, he lifted his head, but his body seemed to be paralyzed. At seven, he struggled to get up, but collapsed down again. Freya’s hands clenched the arms of her seat so hard that her muscles cramped. Every single fiber of her being was focused on Xander.