Bearly Tamed (BBW Shifter Security Romance) (Big Paw Security Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  She stumbled and collapsed, falling onto her rear. She didn’t know where to run. Her legs didn’t remember how to run. This was it. A calmness ran through her, some kind of chemical gift from her brain moments before her death. A final goodbye.

  The bear stepped over Linnie, keeping her safely beneath it as it pulled itself up on on it’s hind legs to confront the men that were charging towards them. The bear’s massive paw lashed out, and slammed the first of their attackers against the wall. The bricks shattered with the force of the impact, crumbling to dust from the force of the blow. The other man snarled, and his body twisted before Linnie’s eyes. She saw tusks dig their way out of the man’s mouth, and watched his face extend and his nose upturn as he shrieked, the sound became a high-pitched squeal as the transformation went on.

  When the squeal ended, the bear brought his face down, hovering it just inches from the upturned snout of the third hog-man. His head swayed side to side. Then the bear roared, a resounding, territorial roar, that was powerful enough to cause the hog-man’s hair billow out behind him from the intensity of the bear’s deep bellow.

  The hog squealed and leapt at the bear, long tusks aimed for the bear’s long neck. White foamy spit gathered at the edges of it’s mouth and stretched out behind it in long ropes. Sickly bloodshot yellow eyes narrowed as the hog Shifter flew through the air with surprising speed.

  The bear snarled and batted the hog away with it’s massive paw.

  Linnie felt a hand wrap around her wrist, yanking her to her feet, but the hand felt wrong. It wasn’t like Cain’s earlier. Sharp bristly hairs bit into her flesh and a rancid porcine face let out a high pitched squeal as it began to drag her backwards. Linnie screamed again, her throat rough and raw, and her voice filled with fear.

  And then, the hog’s hand was pulled from her wrist, as he was slammed against the wall, producing a loud crunch of snapping bones. Linnie took a step back, and then stumbled forward, again, when she felt a massive, powerful hand, covered in fur and tipped with dark claws, rest for a moment on her back. When she glanced to her side, Cain was stepping up to be standing alongside her. His shirt was torn and his pants shredded, his skin covered in short dark fur that was rapidly receding beneath his skin. “Move!”

  He moved alongside Linnie, shadowing her movements as he moved his hand from the small of her back to her shoulder. Cain kept Linnie bent over and maintaining a low profile. Once the pair arrived at Cain’s SUV, he opened the door on the passenger’s side, and practically pushed Linnie into the seat. Cain crossed the front of the vehicle, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  He shifted the SUV into drive, and pressed the gas. The vehicle peeled away from the curve.

  Linnie covered her face with her hands. No tears came. Her body was completely spent.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Always a price to be paid. It’s fine.”

  The SUV rolled to a slow stop, and Linnie could practically hear the suspension groan in relief. About two and a half hours ago, Cain had pulled into a gas station and told Linnie to stay in the passenger’s seat of the car. He’d gotten out, walked to the back of the SUV, and pulled out a crisp, clean shirt, plus pants and a jacket from the back of the SUV. Stepping out of sight, he’d donned them quickly before climbing back into the driver’s seat and pulling back out onto the highway. An hour later, Cain had turned off the side road they’d been on, and turned up a farm-path. Nearly a dozen twists and turns later, here they were.

  Cain cut the engine and hesitated a moment. Linnie watched his face, and his golden eyes, as he studied the cabin.

  “Stay here a second.” Cain murmured.

  Linnie shook her head. “No.” Her hand shot out and grabbed his.

  Cain sighed. “I’m not asking.”

  “I’m not staying here. I’ll stay right behind you.” Linnie tried to sound firm, insistent. After a moment, she continued, more hesitant. “Please. Don’t leave me here alone.”

  Cain’s golden eyes locked with Linnie’s. Despite her desperation, she did her best to keep the well of tears from showing.

  “...okay.” Cain said, bobbing his head just a little.

  The two got out of the car together. Linnie glanced into the woods around them, and then back to the cabin; she noticed Cain rolling his shoulder, stretching his shoulder. “Do you, uhh?” she asked, flicking her ear with her finger, as she scrunched her nose.

  Cain shook his head. “No. No scent, no noise. We’re alone.”

  Cain reached into the back of the SUV, and recovered a large black duffel bag, carrying it with ease.

  Linnie joined him in crossing towards the cabin, and saw Cain’s face twitch. “What is it?” she asked again, stiffening.

  Cain looked to her, confused a moment, and then shook his head. “No. Like I said, we’re alone.” He unlocked the door of the cabin to let Linnie in.

  If she had been feeling generous, Linnie would describe the cabin as ‘rustic’ and ‘cozy’. A large moose-head hung over the fireplace. Two wide, comfortable-looking chairs and an overstuffed leather couch were arranged in a semi-circle around it. Stuffed fish were on display along the walls, and three - no, four - stuffed birds rested on furniture throughout the room. One corner of the room held a bed and a low shelf with about a dozen books on it, and in the opposite corner there was a modest kitchenette, including a fridge that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a propane stove.

  Linnie blinked. This was a far cry from what she was used to in the city. “It’s…nice.” she muttered, trying to smile. Is this how she was going to be living from now until the trial, hiding in log-cabins in the woods?

  “Your room is in the back. I’ll be sleeping on the couch.” Cain said, as he removed his jacket.

  Linnie gasped. Along his side, his white shirt had turned blood-red, and was stuck to his body by the damp blood it had absorbed. “Oh my God!” she said, before biting her lip.

  Cain shot her a glance, with an irritable look on his face. Seeing her concern, his face softened. “It’s…it’s fine. It’s…”

  “What, just a scratch?”, Linnie said, crossing towards Cain. “Sit down, let me take a look.”

  Cain opened his mouth to protest, and Linnie gave the large man her best no-bullshit expression.

  Cain sighed, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Fine.” he murmured, sitting down on his heavy-built chair.

  Linnie gasped again, as Cain revealed torn flesh, running from about an inch and a half above his hip to about the same distance from his underarm. “How are you not screaming? You drove for hours like this? It looks like you got carved up with a butcher knife.”

  “A tusk, from that guy. He caught me off guard.” Cain said, with a grunt. “It’ll heal.”

  “Sure,” Linnie said. “Where’s your first-aid kit?”

  Cain tried to give her a dismissive look, but Linnie shook her head. “Hell no. This is happening. Bathroom?”

  Cain nodded. “Under the sink.”

  Linnie walked into the bathroom, opened the cabinet, and pulled out the black bag. “What’s with that? I thought you guys were supposed to be immune? Isn’t it only silver?”

  “You mean cowboys?” he said.

  “Shifters, smart ass. I thought it was like, silver bullets or nothing?”

  She heard Cain shift in his chair, and harumph. “I wish. How can you be immune to a sword or a punch in the face? We’re still make of skin and bone. I still get cut.”

  Linnie made her way back to the table by the kitchen, and knelt beside Cain to examine his wound. She searched the medical kit for something to clean the injury. “So you’re no tougher than the average guy?“

  “I didn’t say that.” Cain interrupted. “We get hurt, we bleed. But our wounds heal faster. Really fast. Fast enough that no sword, or bullet, is going to be enough. That’s all.”

  Linnie looked up and down the wound, and then up to Cain’s golden eyes.

  His lips curled up a bit. “Except silver. Or the tooth o
r claw of other Shifters. Those wounds last. They hurt. They burn.”

  Linnie nodded. “What about iodine?”

  Cain chuckled. “That’ll hurt. But at this point, what’s a little more pain?”

  Linnie nodded, and soaked a cloth with iodine.

  Cain grabbed her hand, and she started, looking to Cain’s face. Their eyes locked. “I’ll growl. I won’t hurt you.”

  Linnie nodded again, and raised the cloth back to the wound, and gently squeezed a little iodine on the injury.

  Cain snarled, and slammed a fist on the table; for a moment, his face twisted, and Cain’s mouth opened to reveal dangerous-looking incisors.

  “Sorry …” Linnie started, but Cain shook his head.

  “No. It’s okay,” Cain nodded his head. “Pain is transitory.”

  Linnie’s eyes widened, and shook her head. “Wow. Fuck that.”

  Cain guffawed, and Linnie smirked, bringing up a cotton ball to daub the wound down. “Does this hurt?”

  “It all hurts,” Cain answered. “Pain can be worked around. Controlled.”

  Linnie brought out a bandage, and the medical tape.

  Cain shook his head. “No need. Wound will be healed in a day; bandages just make them itch.” He stood, and walked over to a chest set along the wall.

  Linnie sighed. “So, how long are we gonna be here?” she asked. She watched him stand in front of the chest and studied the thick, dark body hair across his shoulders. There was something…primitive and virile about that hair.

  He opened the chest, and reached inside. “A day.” he answered, and then paused. “Maybe a few days. My partners will look into the family. We’ll stay here. We stay out of the way, and keep you safe.” Cain pulled a sweater on as he spoke.

  Linnie was surprised how much it changed Cain’s look; he went from a threatening, protective guardian, to a cuddly…Linnie giggled inside her head. A cuddly teddy bear. “So, is there a TV around here?” Linnie looked around the cottage.

  “Nope,” he said.

  “WiFi?” she asked, bracing herself for the answer she already knew was coming.

  His rumbled with laughter and he shook his head. “WiFi? This isn’t a cozy cafe with a fake fireplace and pumpkin spice lattes. TV? WiFi? Darlin’, there’s no power out here.” Cain answered. “Power means a power bill. That means paperwork. Very dangerous people pay very boring people lots of money to read very boring paperwork. Then they find what they’re looking for,” he said. “Who they’re looking for.”

  “What about the fridge?” Linnie responded, pointing with her thumb. Her other hand clutched her phone. For the first time in almost two decades she might have to survive without her phone.

  Cain shook his head again. “Not plugged in. We bring ice. There’s ready-to-eat meals in the kitchen cupboards. A pump out back to bring water in.” Cain said, nodding his head towards the back of the house.

  Linnie paused for a moment, opened her mouth to ask a question, thought better of it, and closed it. Then she reconsidered, and asked, “But, what are we going to do?”

  Cain remained stoic. “There’s books.”

  “What if we get in trouble, though? I mean, is there a phone?” Linnie stood up, and gave the room another look.

  Cain shook his head. “No cell towers out here. Off the grid means off the grid. We’re out here for at least a couple weeks.” He seemed to recuse himself as that last bit slipped out.

  “Weeks? What do you mean weeks? A moment ago it was one day, maybe a few days. Now it’s weeks?”

  “It’s always been weeks, Linnie,” Cain said, looking away. “Look I’m not the best at babysitting, ok?“

  “Babysitting?” she said, her pulse racing. “Babysitting! I’m not a child, you condescending meathead! And I’ll have you know that I was a professional nanny, so you’ve managed to insult me and my career.”

  “I keep people safe. I protect them from other people who want to hurt them,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not as effective at protecting people from themselves.”

  An awkward pause hung between them, and it seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room.

  “I…can we start over?” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry that I offended you. Sometimes I speak without thinking.”

  Linnie crossed her arms while she studied the room. She dropped herself into a pleasingly comfortable leather chair. “This whole thing is stupid. I’m not gonna testify. I’ll go into that courtroom and clam up.”

  She looked to Cain. In the past, when she’d gotten to this point of her speech, someone had always interrupted, reassured her of her safety, told her how necessary it was for her to speak against the crime syndicate, and how brave she was. Then they’d let up a bit. Better food, a few trips out so she could shop a little. Maybe a salon trip.

  Cain’s flat expression said he wasn’t moved.

  “Right? I mean…pow!” Linnie made a finger-gun, and shot herself in the temple. “I mean, that’s how it works, right? I testify, they come at me.”

  Cain walked silently into the kitchen.

  Linnie shook her head. “No. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. I never asked for this! I was just…why should I die for this? No, if I…I could recant. Take it all back. Refuse to testify.”

  Cain paused to lean on the table, not moving, just listening to Linnie.

  “That’d work, right? I mean, they’re only after me because of the charges. I don’t have to help. The DA, he can’t make me testify, right?” Linnie elaborated.

  Cain blinked slowly.

  “Right?” Linnie said, hoping to get an answer from Cain.

  Cain sighed heavily in response, and shrugged. “I got lost on my way to law school.”

  Linnie nodded. “Exactly. Right?”

  “I’m gonna go chop some wood. If you need anything, I’ll be listening. Just call.” Cain’s answer was short, entirely on point, and avoided everything Linnie was desperately trying to talk about.

  Linnie sighed, and slumped in the chair. If that was as talkative as Cain got, this was shaping up to be a long few weeks.

  The first few hours were challenging. There were no screens, no cell reception, not even a radio. At first, Linnie passed the time by staring out the window and watching the trees. Then, she wandered around the cabin again, checking the stock of ready-to-eat meals. She grimaced at the one labeled ‘Ham Slice in Natural Juices’.

  She examined the various hunting trophies, then studied the paintings, and finally resorted to the books. Faulkner, Shakespeare, and Vonnegut; they all seemed a bit like heavy reading. The last real book she’d read was something by Chuck Palahniuk. Something her friend had pushed into her hands, gushing over how amazing it was.

  Cain walked in from outside, closing the door behind him and unbundling a big satchel full of split logs. He laid them next to the fireplace and gingerly placed a few logs into the stone enclosure. Then he took a small tin from the shelf above the fireplace and put a small fuzzy ball beneath the logs. “Lint.”