Bear Outlaw (She-Shifters of Hell's Corner Book 4)

by Candace Ayers

Bile rose in Bree's throat, stinging it. "Mom, I've gotta go, I'll call you later." She hung up and walked to the corner newsstand. Sure enough, on the front page of The Daily was a picture of her and Jakob, lips locked, the crowd at the baseball stadium behind them.

  Bree took the rest of the day off, feigning illness. When she pushed Jakob's doorbell, her heart was thudding like a drum. A man with light hair and matching eyes answered. He seemed to know who she was. "Jakob's upstairs," he said. "Please, come on in."

  The man seemed nice enough. He gestured for Bree to enter, but she stayed outside. "Can you just tell him I'm here, please?" But the man didn't have to. The second she'd arrived, Jakob had sensed her. He was already at the door.

  "Thank you, William," he said, and stepped onto the porch. William closed the door leaving them alone.

  "I can't see you anymore," she blurted before Jakob had even spoken. "I'm sorry. This just won't work."

  "Bree—"

  "No!" Her vision was clouded with tears that ran in trickling rivulets over her cheeks. "I don't want to be a part of your world! Don't you understand? It doesn't matter that I'm your mate. It doesn't matter that I love you. I don't want you."

  Jakob had been trying to put his arms around her, now he stepped back. Her eyes were red, and her words burned his insides. "You don't mean that," he said, his anger was not so much at her words as at the fact she had caused him pain.

  She nodded, fresh tears winding down her cheeks.

  "I do mean it. I don't want you." She said it with more force this time and saw the hurt hit Jakob like a bullet.

  "Fine," he growled. "You're nothing but a cowardly female anyway. You're not fit to be my mate. You’re not fit to be Queen of my pride." He regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was too late. They hung in the air like a heavy fog.

  Bree turned and fled from his doorstep before either of them could plant another dagger.

  11

  Jakob sat in his office listening to the representative from Remy Riders drone on. Outside, the sky was bright. Jakob cringed at it. His heart had swollen like a bruised limb. He could not believe it had been three days now since he last saw Bree. Despite everything that had transpired, he still craved her like a drug.

  He pushed her from his mind. His pride was right—no matter how flawed some of Blake's ideas were, the pride came first. He'd forgotten that for a moment when Bree entered his life. Now, he would never forget again. Bree—his mate—had deserted him. Yet, the pride remained. Yes, Blake wanted to rule, but Jakob had put him in his place. Thirty days without his brothers should clear his head. Power struggles were common amongst males in prides, and now that Mark and Tony were back on board, things would be right again.

  He turned his eyes back to the droning representative when there was a long pause. Jakob assumed it was his turn to speak and began barking orders.

  "I will not entertain another word."

  The drone's eyes flickered, uncertain. "But sir," he stammered.

  "This is my final offer. Take it or leave it."

  William handed the representative a packet. Jakob knew Remy would take it. He'd gone to great lengths to ensure they would. You didn't need spies when you had lion shifter abilities at your fingertips.

  The representative opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it. He took the packet, bid them good day, and left.

  Jakob stood. He was thirsty. Something sweet and creamy sounded delicious. He paused with his hand on his chair when he realized he was craving one of those damned lattes Bree was always drinking. He sighed. He would force her from his mind by whatever means necessary

  "You okay?" William asked.

  Jakob nodded. "Of course. They'll take the deal. We'll have their answer by tonight."

  William hesitated.

  "What?" Jakob roared softly.

  "I just... It's gotta be hard losing your mate like that."

  Jakob turned away. He did not want to talk about Bree. Not now, not ever. The only way to cut her from his life was to pretend that she did not exist. The problem was that even from miles away, he could still smell her.

  "I just think if the guys met her, she'd be more accepted. That's all."

  "It's not their acceptance of her I'm concerned with. Bree no longer exists. Is that clear?"

  "Yeah, just—"

  Jakob turned and threw a look at William that almost made him bite his tongue off. "I did not make you second so that you could question everything I say. There is nothing left to discuss."

  "Yes sir. Whatever you say,"

  Bree's mother wouldn't stop crying. It would've been funny if Bree herself wasn't so miserable.

  "B-b-b-but honey, he's such a c-c-c-catch." Bree's mother blew her nose into Bree's ear drum. Why, oh why had she answered her phone? Oh right, because her mom had left fifteen messages, the last of which said her father was at the doctor's. A lie, as usual.

  "I told you it wasn't serious," Bree said.

  "What about Walter? You can go with him now." Her mother's voice brightened and Bree sighed.

  It was true that Bree had said things with Jakob were not serious. She'd said that all along, hadn't she? It's not serious. They're all wrong for each other. But she'd also admitted—at least to herself that she loved him. She'd tasted the beer on his lips and the salt on his tongue and told him she would actually consider marriage.

  It was the lion thing.

  Of course it was! That made perfect sense. He'd performed some sort of sick werelion mind trick on her to make her think she was falling for him. What an asshole.

  But hadn't he saved her life too, that night in the park? "That was just his lion instinct kicking in."

  "What?" her mother asked.

  Bree realized she was talking out loud. As if she didn't have enough worries, she didn't need her mom to think she was psycho too.

  "Nothing. A client just walked in. Gotta go." Bree hung up without waiting for a reply.

  There could've been a client, Bree reasoned. She couldn't be on the phone talking to her mom if a client came in unexpected. Except, of course, Bree was at home. She walked to the kitchen and grabbed her half-full mug off the counter where she'd left it. There'd been no clients for the last three days. There'd been no lattes for the last three days. Bree had lain on the couch where she and Jakob had snuggled only days before and settled for some instant coffee given to her at Christmas by a co-worker as a joke. Her body's curves had lost some of their contour, and Bree thought if she didn't get out of the house soon, she'd end up with the twig body of her mother.

  Despite her concerns, Bree grabbed her cup of instant coffee, warmed it in the microwave, and plopped back onto the couch flipping channels with the remote. Aptly, the third channel was showing an animated rerun of a classic Disney movie, “The Lion King."

  12

  Blake stood outside the apartment building where Jakob's mate lay on the couch, waiting for her to come down. He'd been waiting since Jakob revoked his status as second in command. There was no reason for the bitch to stay up there so long. He could hear her crying through her window, but whatever pity he might have had was lost against the tyranny enforced on him by Jakob.

  Blake was to have no contact with the pride for thirty days. A sort of temporary exile. When he returned, he must submit to the wanI'vammo, an ancient release of dominance. He would essentially be giving up everything about himself that could be considered alpha. It was a heavy thing to ask of a lion. How would human men feel if they were asked to cut their balls off?

  The only other option was to remain in exile. At least, that's what Jakob thought. What he failed to realize, however, was that by exiling Blake, he had lost some control over him. Kings could only control their pride. Blake hovered in the chasm between pride and individual. As an individual, he had free will. Free will meant choices. It was not exile or nothing. It was exile or death... just not his death.

  Bree woke in the morning and forced herself
to put on shoes and a shirt. Pants were also not optional in this case, she reminded herself, and slipped on some khakis. She looked in a mirror and decided that she really did look like she'd been sick. Her skin was colorless, her eyes lackluster. Her hair was matted to her face. She didn't want to scare off her clients, so she at least ran a comb through it.

  When she got to work, sans latte, her co-workers told her how much better she was looking, which was strange because they hadn't seen her when she was "sick."

  Someone handed her a cup of coffee and she inhaled the bitterness of it, letting it refresh her, before moving into her office. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a man watching her through her window, but when she stepped over for a closer look, he was gone.

  "Paranoia's kickin' in. Good thing I got out of the house when I did."

  She sat on the plush leather sofa she offered her patients when they came in, and let her body sink back into it. It felt good, like cool hands wrapping around her. See, I can do this. She urged herself on. That's right! I don't need whatshisface. Screw him.

  It took her a second to remember why she was so mad with Jakob to begin with, but when his cruel words flashed back— You're not fit to be my mate. Bree knew she'd made the right choice. There was a knock on the door and Mary and Peter Ableman came in. "Hi," she said, glad, for once, to have company. Even the Ablemans.

  She watched them a second before realizing something was different about them. They were holding hands. Not just because they were in Bree's office and felt like they had to put on a show, it looked like they actually wanted to clasp their fingers together and cuddle against each other.

  "Why don't you guys tell me what's been happening. You look," Bree paused, almost coughing on the word as it sprang from her throat, "happy."

  Mary beamed at Peter. "We are." He kissed her gently on the lips and Bree's insides pinged. She turned her head quickly before they could see the nausea roll over her. When she turned so abruptly, she saw the same man she'd seen earlier outside her window. She squinted, trying to make him out, but he was already gone.

  "We're in love again," Mary said.

  Bree snapped her head back around, annoyance registering in her voice. "What?"

  Mary and Peter looked at each other. "We are," Peter said, defending themselves.

  "Love? Each other?" Bree knew she should stop the outburst that was frothing over, steeped in the memory of her last few days without Jakob, but couldn't reign it back. "Since when? Last week you two could barely be in the same room. I'm supposed to believe all that changed overnight?"

  "Yes," Peter said, daring Bree to defy him. He and Mary clasped hands tighter, Mary eyeing Bree with a new suspicion.

  "How?" Bree asked.

  Mary spoke up now. Timid to start, her voice rose with each word. "I found a lump in my breast. It turned out to be nothing. But..."

  Peter finished the thought "...it made me realize what I might have lost. I just never considered it before. That she might not be here. Might not exist." When he looked back at Bree his eyes were moist.

  Bree scoffed, but to them she said, "Well, that's great. I'm happy for you two." Apparently, Bree's outburst hadn't offended them enough to leave. Of course not, Bree reasoned. They were idiots. They thought they were in love? Just wait till the next time Peter cheated on her. Still, their faces glowed with the intensity of a first crush. Whatever they felt tomorrow, today they were very much in love.

  Blake was tired of watching Bree. She was boring. He didn't understand Jakob's attraction. She was too plump, and her hair was too short. She was everything Blake despised in a woman.

  He hummed to himself while he watched her. He didn't have anything better to do. But the more he watched Bree, the less he wanted to. When that loveless couple walked into her office, doting on each other as if their affection were real and not just the probable onset of a drug induced euphoria or too much alcohol, or whatever it was people like them took to make themselves high on love, Blake thought he might actually die from boredom.

  He removed himself from Bree's window and the spot he'd nestled into beside a shrub. It didn't matter what he did right now, he'd realized. He was still a part of the pride, and although Jakob's powers over him were limited now that he was in exile, it was enough to stop him before he could finish what he wanted to start. He'd have to fix that before his plan could work.

  13

  Bree arrived home from work more tired than she'd ever felt in her life. Her body ached. Her head hurt. She had a small handful of sleeping pills her mother had given her months ago, when Bree had a tooth pulled. The pain had caused her to have a number of sleepless nights until her mother had slipped the little blue gem inside her palm and told her to take two and call her in the morning.

  Bree flipped her head back and swallowed the pill with a bit of water. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  The first dream she had was only slightly scary. A small man in a large room was watching her. As he watched, he smiled. Only his teeth were too long and too gnarled to be human. The man followed Bree into her next dream. She stood in her kitchen, cooking eggs. They smelled delicious, and Bree wondered if she had any hash browns to go with them. She needed her latte. She turned around to grab it off the table and the man with the teeth was there. His teeth grew longer and longer until they reached across the room and slashed Bree's wrists. Blood poured from her in a steady stream, forming rivulets of red around her feet. She began to run.

  Jakob dropped his scotch and doubled over. Bree! She was in trouble. He could feel it in every fiber of his being—he must protect his mate. The hairs on his neck stood up and grew into a thick dark fur. Jakob shifted without a thought to the separation between them of late. None of that mattered. His mate was in trouble. She was hurt. She was bleeding.

  Please God don't let me be too late.

  Jakob ran through his house and out the door, a fire under his tail. William watched him run by and didn't ask questions. He'd seen that look on a lion before. Trouble.

  Jakob ran down the street, taking the fastest route allowed him. He didn't care if he was seen by motorists. Pedestrians were irrelevant. Besides, it was late. Darkness lingered over the city and the drunks coming out of the bars on a Tuesday night wouldn't be believed if they claimed to have seen a lion running down the street.

  He followed Bree's scent, relying on its strength to lead him through shortcuts. He ran down an alley and cut his paws on something sharp. He didn't stop until he reached Bree's building. The door to the building wasn't shut properly. A crack revealed light from inside and it only took a nudge from his nose to push it open all the way. Jakob slipped inside and barreled up the stairs.

  Bree's door was locked. Jakob heard her scream from inside. "No! No please! It hurts!" He didn't waste a second. Bree's door stood at the end of a long hallway. Jakob backed down it and ran full speed. The size, weight, and sheer power of his lion was no match for Bree’s door, and when he slammed against it, it opened without protest. He ran into her bedroom and saw her writhing under the covers. He jumped on the bed, ready to rip apart whoever was hurting her, but there was no one.

  He sat back on his haunches, watching her. A nightmare. She was having a nightmare. She was safe. Jakob was so relieved, he licked Bree's face and she woke up startled. When her lids fluttered open, she saw a huge lion head staring down at her. She thought she was still dreaming at first, but then she smelled him. Scotch and sweat mingled in the air, acting like an aphrodisiac. "Jakob?"

  He transformed in front of her. One second he was a great beast, impossibly huge, fangs exposed. The next, he was her Jakob.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked. It was too dark to see all of him, but she knew he was naked. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  "I thought you were in trouble," he said, standing at the edge of her bed. She could make out his outline now. The moon shone through the window just enough to highlight his muscles... all his muscles.

&nbs
p; "I was dreaming," she said. Then the dream returned, and so did her sobs. "He was killing me," she said through mouthfuls of tears. Jakob was by her side in an instant.

  "No one will ever hurt you while I'm here," he said. He was so close. It was impossible not to feel his breath on her face. Bree's own breath flowed out of her in rapid waves, her heart struck thunder in her chest.

  "You came here because I had a bad dream?" she whispered. His massive hand reached out and stroked her neck. The covers were off her and Bree's curves glowed full and round as starlight passed through her open curtains.

  "I didn't know it was a dream," Jakob said. He felt silly for that. Embarrassed not to have differentiated between a dream and reality, but it was worth it to see Bree again. Her flesh was pale in the dark of her room, and when he touched the smoothness of her leg with tentative fingers she didn't push him away.

  "I've missed you," she said. Having him here, so close, it was impossible to deny her feelings. If she'd never seen him again, she might have stood a chance, but the second she opened her eyes she knew it was pointless to deny the truth.

  She was his.

  14

  She grew more conscious of his naked body as he sat on her bed. Even this close, he was still too far. She didn't think she could breathe without him nestled against her. There was so much of him to see, so much of him to touch.

  "Come here," she said, moving to the middle of the bed to give him room. He slid next to her, his blood running thick and hot in his body. Bree ran her hand up his arm and he shivered.

  "I should never have left," she confessed.

  "I should never have let you go."

  He leaned into her and when their lips met it felt like a sizzling explosion of sensations. His lips were firm but tender, and almost too hot to touch. Bree pressed harder against him, hoping to get burned.