Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Book 1: Origins
Book 2: The Ritual
Book 3: The Hunt
Book 4: The Betrayal
Book 5: The Journey
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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Defending the Bear
Blue Ridge Bears | Book 2
Jasmine B. Waters
Contents
Defending the Bear
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Defending the Bear
Chapter 1
Luke
The bars of my cage rattled noisily.
I rolled toward the sound with a groan of protest. I cracked an eye open to peer out of the cave opening to see what moron had decided it would be a good idea to poke the bear at the ass-crack of dawn.
In the dawn light, I could make out the hulking silhouette of my brother-in-law, Chance Kassower. He was a big guy. I mean huge. I was no slouch in the muscle department, but Chance constantly looked on the verge of competing for Mr. Universe.
He flashed a broad grin at me and raised a brown paper bag up to the light, so I could see it.
“I brought you breakfast. Mind letting me in?”
I glowered at him, still a bit miffed he couldn’t wait until after sunrise to wake me. He knew damn well how to dismantle the bars. He was the one who taught me to put them up after all.
I climbed to my feet and zombie-shuffled to the cave entrance. To say I wasn’t a morning person was an understatement. It had gotten so bad during my teen years, I’d actually put a sign on my door warning people that I was not responsible for what I said or did before coffee and a shower. Or a dip in the creek and a flat can of Coke as the case had been recently.
It all kept coming back to that in the end, didn’t it? I didn’t think of myself as a particularly materialistic man, but being an outlaw to both human and were-bear society really blew. Being cut off from humanity was necessary, as I didn’t really have full control of my bear. The bear spirit that forced me into animal shape once a month hadn’t been my idea, but I was stuck with it anyway.
Being separated from were-bear society had also been necessary. My stupidly stubborn sister had risked her life to save mine. Picking fights with the society I was ostracized from was a poor way to repay her. Which was why I had to deal with my annoyingly chipper brother-in-law turning up at all times to teach me what being a were-bear really meant.
I reached through the bars to undo the fastenings that kept them closed. It was a simple lock, and I sometimes feared it would fail to contain me. But my bear form was sorely lacking in the opposable thumbs department, so I’d been safe thus far.
Chance ducked his head to avoid hitting it on the ceiling. It wasn’t that my ceiling was low, it was more that Chance was just too big.
He tossed the paper bag at my head and with reflexes born of years on the football field, I caught it. Something inside the bag flattened with a wet smush of sound. The sweet smell of frosting met my nose, and I found I wasn’t too worried. Donuts were good smashed or whole. I pulled out one of the only slightly damaged pastries. He’d gotten my favorite, a Boston Cream with frosting dripping down the sides. Lucy must have told him, bless her. I noted he’d stuffed in a few Bearclaws as a joke, but I didn’t care. It had been a long time since I’d had concentrated sugar for breakfast.
He came to sit beside me as I laid into the breakfast. The fresh can of Coke he’d brought me rasped against the stone as he slid it toward me.
“Was this moon any easier?” he asked, leaning his head back against the cave wall. He’d asked me the same question every month for a year.
Chance was my mentor figure and parole officer all rolled into one. He’d been born a were-bear to a family of were-bears in Alaska. I’d been on the receiving end of a botched medical procedure to repair my knee, and while the procedure had healed me, it had damned me, too.
I’d killed my friend in my first violent shift. And, no matter how much Chance and Lucy assured me that I wasn’t to blame, Keith was still dead. Dead because he’d been a good friend who’d come to check on me when I was “sick” and had his throat ripped out by an angry bear.
I didn’t remember a lot of what I did as a bear. Chance said I wouldn’t until I gained control of the berserker spirit that had invaded my body. As the months had gone by, I had been able to remember bits and pieces. I dreaded the day when I could see that night in all its gruesome detail.
So, I answered him with my stock phrase. It was true, and I had to get enjoyment in this lonely place somehow. Antagonizing Chance was a fun and harmless way to pass the time. It never came to blows because we both shared the silent understanding that he could kick my ass six ways to Sunday if I tried anything.
“Better than the first one at least,” I muttered.
Chance sighed. I didn’t see why. He should have been used to the Elmsong brand of smartassery by now. He’d been living with my sister for over a year. Pretty soon, their kids would start talking and then he’d really be in for it.
“Every moon will be different until you’ve mastered your spirit. Tell me what you can remember about this one, if anything.”
It was my turn to sigh. “I was angry, as usual. Even more so about being trapped. That just drives the spirit bat-shit. I wanted to hunt, but I couldn’t get past the bars. I threw my stuff around the cave. End of story.”
Thankfully, Lucy had sent him with bear proof containers that I could store my things in after I’d shredded everything that first month. Walking around bare-assed in the depths of the Blue Ridge mountain range hadn’t been a picnic. I’d had bug bites in places bug bites should never be.
“You’re doing well. I’m surprised you’re even that lucid in such a short amount of time.”
“Lucy didn’t have any trouble with her first shift,” I grumbled.
I was being an ass, and I knew it. After letting my sister take the fall for something that I’d done as a teenager, I shouldn’t want her to have to struggle ever again. She’d gone through enough shit in her life without going on a crazed rampage.
But when I’d heard how docile her bear had been, I’d felt sick. Were her shifts easier because of the way she’d gotten her bear? Or was it something inside of me that caused it to be so much harder? Was I weaker than she was, somehow? It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did.
“Lucy was pregnant,” Chance reminded me. “It’s nature’s way of protecting the children. If her bear was as violent as yours during that, she could pick a fight that endangered her lif
e and theirs. I assure you she’s struggling just as hard as you are now that the children have been born.”
Guilt washed through me. Damn it. Would I ever stop feeling this way? I must be the most selfish bastard in the world. There shouldn’t even be a spark of satisfaction at that news. There should only be pity.
“Right.” I sighed, and cracked open the Coke. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s how we all are at first. You were merely unlucky. I’d say I wished it had never happened, but….”
He trailed off, and I knew why. Chance was in the same boat as me in a way. He shouldn’t be grateful that Keith Page died. But if he hadn’t, if I’d never become a monster that he’d been ordered to track down, he’d never have met my sister. He wouldn’t have the shiny, happy life he lived now.
“Yeah, I get it,” I said quickly, before some philosophical or, God forbid, actual emotional shit started.
Chance cleared his throat. “Yeah. She’s doing well. You’ve got more control than she does at the moment. You can voluntarily shift outside of the full moon.”
Sure, I could shift outside of the three-day lunar cycle, but what good did that actually do me? The madness gnawed at the edges of my mind every time I’d tried. I wondered if it was anything like a bad trip. I’d never gone in for that sort of thing myself, but I’d heard the horror stories, and I couldn’t help but compare notes.
The creepy-crawly sensation that slides over your skin? Yeah, that was definitely there. My sense of time went completely out the window. The experiences only came back in fragments, if I could remember them at all.
It was worse when I was aware of the sensation of the fur pushing through my skin, replacing it. When the crunch of bones warping to support my new form is the auditory equivalent of an explosion, destroying my semblance of reality for yet another three-day stretch. Why the hell would I choose to do it voluntarily unless I had to?
“Good for me,” I muttered bitterly, downing the rest of the Coke in one long go. I hoped he’d brought another case. I’d finished off the last of mine a few days before, and I didn’t think it was wise to hike the miles-long journey to get to the nearest town with a supermarket.
“Come on,” Chance said, pushing to his feet. I crumpled the paper bag and followed him. As usual, he’d parked a few miles away, so we’d be forced to walk and talk on the way to get whatever Lucy had packed for me.
Just once, I wished I could tape his mouth shut, so I didn’t have to dredge it all up again. The best tactic I’d found to stop the interrogation was to get him on a personal topic.
“How are the kids?” I cut in before he could open his mouth.
It was kind of hard to explain how a face that looked chiseled from marble could soften in any way. I think it was somewhere in his eyes. Every time I mentioned Aaron and Amy, he got this soft, gooey look on his face.
It kind of hurt to watch. I’d never met the twins. The trek through the mountains was too dangerous for children their size. I probably wouldn’t be able to meet them until they were well past the fun, baby stage.
I hated how bitter the thoughts were. I should be happy for my sister. Lord knew she’d been through enough, dragging my sorry ass through high school. She’d taken the fall for me, claiming responsibility for the very accident that had robbed her of the use of one leg for years. I shouldn’t begrudge her a family and her little slice of happiness.
“Amy said ‘daddy’ a few days ago,” He said proudly. “Though Lucy claims she was saying ‘doody’ and needed a change. She’s been coaching her to say ‘mama’ for months.”
“How did you know?” I blurted, feeling my cheeks burn even as the words tumbled from my mouth. I didn’t want to have a discussion about women with Chance. It was sure to involve my sister, and that would get awkward fast.
He raised a thick brow at me. “How did I know what?”
“Lucy,” I mumbled. It was out. No stopping it now. He’d just pester me until I answered. “How did you know? She said that you were mates, but I guess I don’t understand how you were both so certain.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and we trudged through the woods for five minutes in blissful silence. When he finally answered he seemed to be measuring his words carefully. It must be some mystical bear crap. He only went all Yoda on me when “bear stuff” came up.
“It’s hard to explain. It’s not love at first sight. It’s more like…an epiphany. Before I saw her, my life made sense, but when I laid eyes on her, it was like a revelation. I couldn’t see the world in quite the same way anymore. She had to exist inside of it for the world to make any sense at all.”
I tried to mull that over. That sounded pretty intense, to be honest. It didn’t sound like something I was ever likely to experience, trapped in the Blue Ridge Mountains, away from any were-bears. It was ironic that my transformation into a monster is what allowed my sister to find her happily ever after. Without my connection to the bears, Chance may not have looked twice at her.
The bitter feeling rose to choke me again. Fortunately, we’d reached the truck. It was Lucy’s new vehicle, and I couldn’t blame him for wanting to take it instead of his Firebird. When he began to unload I saw that Chance had indulged me again. Among the supplies we unloaded were several six packs of beer.
I didn’t know how many bottles it would take to get the sour taste out of my mouth, but I was willing to find out.
***
My tolerance for alcohol had gone through the roof after my first transformation. My metabolism was higher now than it had been when I was sixteen and playing sports. Consequently, I had to eat more to keep up. Another unfortunate fact was that it took a lot more booze to get me drunk.
So by seven in the evening, I had consumed more alcohol than the most die-hard frat boy and was still struggling to maintain my buzz. I tore off another piece of beef jerky and flopped onto my back, chewing thoughtfully.
This really had to stop. I was going to poison my liver one of these days, high metabolism or not. And this wallowing really was pathetic. I didn’t want to end up like my great uncle, drowning my sorrows in a bottle. I’d give the pity party another few weeks, and then I’d have to start making some changes.
Chance’s description of finding a mate sounded nice, if not a little too saccharine for my taste. I just wanted a plain, old, boring relationship. At this point, I didn’t want the love to end all loves. I’d just settle for someone willingly putting up with my company. I just wanted a loving touch that didn’t belong to my sister.
I didn’t want destiny leading me around by the nose telling me who to choose. Maybe if I moved to a cave lower in the mountains I might be able to get cell reception. I could try one of those online dating sites.
And say what? Fugitive were-bear, desperately seeking soulmate? Or at least someone who doesn’t mind a messy cave?
Yeah, I could just picture that going over well. At least that last bit I could chance. I rolled off of the plush couch cushions that Lucy had purchased at a garage sale for me. They made for a better bed than the cave floor. Mattresses, even used ones, were pricy, and I didn’t want her spending that much on me. The monthly foodstuffs were bad enough. She had two kids to look after.
I picked up the empty bottles, stuffing them into a now empty grocery sack. I wobbled only slightly on my way to the cave entrance. I ended up shuffling out of the cave wearing only a loose pair of basketball shorts. It should have been freezing this far up in the mountains, but I was comfortable. I wondered exactly how cold it would have to get before it bothered me.
I bent to put the bag into yet another bear-proof container I’d stored outside the cave to hold my trash. As I did, I heard a high-pitched whine, almost as if a mosquito had flown past my ear. A second later something lodged in the cave wall above me.
I flattened to the ground and dropped the bag. It took my brain crucial seconds to place the cylindrical metal object with the fluffy pink tail that ha
d lodged itself in the stone. It took still more time to shake off the shock and plot a course of action.
I scrambled on my knees for a few seconds, trying to get my feet under me. There was no point in trying to fight. Whatever had just shot at me was probably perched on a tree or bunkered down on a hill far from the cave. Out of range of any physical attack I could muster.
So, my only choice was to flee. My bear pushed to the fore as I darted into the trees. It demanded the use of our shared body.
I am faster than you, it seemed to say. It was frightening how clear its thoughts and motivations were becoming. At first, it had been only a maelstrom of rage and unintelligible shrieks. Now the storm had quieted to a dull roar, I could make out individual thoughts and instincts.
I know the land, it coaxed. I will not stumble here.
I’m smaller, I thought back. Harder to shoot.
But the bear spirit didn’t seem to grasp the concept of guns and the advantages of being smaller and more agile. All it knew was that there was danger in the woods, and that it was more durable than me.
It only took a minute or two to affirm the bear’s assertion that the forest undergrowth was a hazard. I stumbled often and while that probably helped keep me from being shot, it would only take one false step to break my ankle.
I could hear pursuit behind me, and it seemed to be gaining. Among the familiar scent of the trees, the prey that lurked in the brush frozen in fear and the scent of my own passage in the woods surrounding the cave, was a new odor. It was a scent that provoked my bear to new heights of rage.
Wolves. There were wolves encroaching on my territory. More than that, they moved with more precision and purpose than any pack I’d encountered thus far. It was extremely rare to meet up with a pack of Red Wolves in Appalachia, and most predators had steered clear of me. To the discerning nose, I smelled like a black bear, and not many things were willing to fuck with a black bear in its own territory.
So, the wolves were not natural wolves. Even desperate packs didn’t like to face off with bears. These must be were-wolves. Perhaps even the sort that had tried to kidnap and turn my sister last year. What had she called them? The Ulfhednar?
Defending the Bear (Blue Ridge Bears Book 2) Page 1
