Axman Werebear

by T. S. Joyce

  Here, in this “shitty little trailer park in the middle of nowhere” with a band of strangers who already acted more like friends than the people she’d known her entire life, Diem felt like she finally belonged.

  Chapter Eight

  Diem was humming with excitement by the time she saw the first truck picking its way down from the landing. The foliage here was so thick she could only catch glimpses of each truck as they passed through the trees, and when she saw Bruiser’s old clunker third in line coming home, she grinned big enough to crack her face open.

  A mixture of nerves and happiness filled her. The uncertainty came from not knowing if they would be as comfortable with each other after ten hours apart, but her excitement overshadowed her doubt.

  Brooke waved from across the dirt road as she plodded carefully down the porch steps of her and Tagan’s trailer. Diem waved back and jogged toward her to wait for the crew to return from a long day cutting lumber.

  Absently, she waved to the others who drove by like a sexy lumberjack parade, but her eyes drifted time and time again to the nose of Bruiser’s truck. He pulled in front of his trailer, and she bolted for the driver’s side.

  He threw open the door, and his gaze collided with hers. Smiling dark eyes and a big old grin just for her, and she was running straight for his outstretched arms. Not even the dirt smears on his cheeks and arms took away from how sexy the man was.

  He bent and caught her, then lifted her off her feet and spun in a lazy circle. “Damn, woman, it’s sure good to come home to a greeting like that at the end of a long day.”

  She giggled and gave him a half-hearted swat as he nuzzled her neck. “You’re getting me all dirty.”

  “Good,” he rumbled against her throat as he gave her biting kisses upward toward her ear. “I need to get you used to this. You aren’t in some fancy dancy mansion anymore, D.”

  A soft rumble emanated from her, and he drew back as if he’d been slapped. “Was that her?” he asked in a shocked voice.

  Pursing her lips to ward off the embarrassment, Diem nodded.

  “Mmm, my sexy dragon,” Bruiser murmured.

  He nibbled her bottom lip until she melted against him and the rattling growl came from her again. “You know,” she teased. “Most men would be terrified of that sound coming from a woman he was kissing.”

  “Not me. I like my woman dangerous.”

  She laughed at the idea that he found her dangerous. She was pretty much the worst dragon ever. Father and her half-brothers were terrifying, but Diem was a newborn kitten compared to them.

  “Guess what?” she asked coyly.

  “What?”

  “I cooked dinner for you.”

  Bruiser jerked his strong chin back as his eyes went round. “What? You cooked for me?”

  “I did.” And it was at that moment the smell of smoke hit her nostrils. And apparently Bruiser’s, too, because he inhaled deeply and shot a worried look at his trailer.

  “Oh, no!” Diem wiggled out of his arms and sprinted for the porch.

  Inside, spaghetti-flavored smoke billowed from the skillet on the stove, and she yelped in panic as she pulled it onto a cool coil and rushed to turn off the knob. “No,” she groaned as she lifted the edge of the clumped pasta with a spoon. It was completely charred on the bottom.

  Bruiser wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips against her shoulder. His body shook with laughter, and she rounded on him.

  “It’s not funny! I had this all planned out. I was going to impress you with my cooking. I wanted to prove to you I’m not just some spoiled rich girl who can’t do anything domestic. The meal looked perfect before I went outside. You were supposed to be proud of me. For once I was going to make someone proud.” Her voice hitched as she fought the sob that clawed its way up the back of her throat. “And now dinner is ruined!”

  Bruiser was doing an awful job of hiding his obnoxious grin behind pursed lips. “Diem, I don’t expect for you to cook for me, woman. But this,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen, “is so damned cute and so damned sweet, and if you ignore the smoke, it smells fuckin’ divine. Dinner is perfect.”

  “It’s inedible,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Look.” Bruiser scooped the top layer of pasta out of the pot and plopped it into a serving bowl. “Perfect. And the green beans and garlic bread look like they cooked up just right. Come here.”

  “I failed.”

  Bruiser canted his head. “Even if you burned all the food, I’d still eat it. You didn’t fail. This looks delicious.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “I’m not. I’m starving and can’t wait to eat with you.” He approached slowly and gripped her waist, then dragged her against him. “My mate. This is perfect. More than I ever expected.” He leaned down and sipped at her lips until she melted the rest of the way against his taut chest.

  It was really hard to stay mad at herself when Bruiser was so forgiving. But then again, perhaps this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe she’d been treated too harshly by the people who had raised her, who made her feel like she was never good enough. Between Father and the nanny he’d hired to bring her up, she’d been scolded often and given praise seldom. Bruiser wasn’t like that, though, and she was going to have to learn to get over her insecurities. He deserved the best of her, burned pasta giggles and all.

  “I don’t know about you, but I prefer my food burnt.” Diem wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight, a thank-you for being so sweet with her mistake.

  “I’m actually surprised you don’t just eat ashes, you little fire-breather.”

  “I’m not a fire-breather, but I do like my steak well-done.”

  “Oh, now that’s just wrong. Just pass my cow by the fire and I’m ready to eat.”

  “Gross,” she said, biting his pec gently. “Go clean up and I’ll get our charred dinner on the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, then kissed her right on the hairline and headed for the bedroom.

  She watched him saunter away until he ducked under the doorframe, because dang, that man could fill out a pair of old, faded holey work jeans. A dirt-smeared white shirt clung to his defined back, as if he’d entered a wet T-shirt contest just for the benefit of her pervy eyeballs. Ripping her gaze away from the door he’d disappeared through, she set the table double-time. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could get to her naughty plans for him tonight.

  Diem had psyched herself up all day for spending another night with Bruiser, but she grew more and more nervous through dinner. Fooling around was one thing, but actually making love to him was huge. She was guaranteed not to be very good at it. And she definitely didn’t want to disappoint her mate…

  “What’s wrong?” Bruiser asked from across the small two-seater table in his kitchen. “You’ve been quiet the entire meal.”

  “I went into town today.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Good.”

  “Brooke drove me, and we had a nice lunch together, and I picked up a few things Mason didn’t pack for me, and then I picked up groceries so I could cook the only thing I knew how to, and even that didn’t turn out very good.” She was rambling. “And I went to the doctor.”

  The confusion in his coffee-colored eyes turned to worry in an instant. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just…well, I got these.” She pulled the tiny pack of pills from her pocket. She’d gulped down the first one before she and Brooke even left the parking lot of the pharmacy.

  A slow-simmering grin spread across his face as he stared at the tiny packet. “Damn, woman, I thought something was actually wrong. Are you seducing me with contraceptives?”

  “Well, I know you said you didn’t want to be with me until I was on the pill and had condoms. I got those, too, but I didn’t know which ones to get, so I got a party pack of like ten different kinds, and oh, my gosh…” Diem put her clammy palms against the heat i
n her cheeks to try and relieve what was probably an epic blush. “I’m sorry.”

  “There is nothing in the world for you to apologize for, D. I’m really glad you took care of all that today. It was hard enough trying to resist you last night. Tonight would’ve been brutal.”

  “For me, too,” she admitted softly. “I like you.” Those last words slipped out unbidden, but she wouldn’t take them back. She felt how she felt, and Bruiser should know he was cared for.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but a pounding knock sounded against the front door. Tagan stuck his head in before Bruiser could get a “come on in” past his lips.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” the alpha asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Diem said. “I’ll just go in the other room.”

  “No.” Tagan shut the door behind him and canted his head at her. “I meant, can I talk to you?”

  “Me?” Her voice came out a meek squeak, so she cleared her throat and asked again in a stronger voice, “Me?”

  “You want me to leave?” Bruiser asked.

  “No,” Diem rushed out at the same time Tagan said, “Yes.”

  Bruiser froze, half-standing from his chair.

  “Stay then,” the blazing-blue-eyed alpha commanded.

  Bruiser took his seat again as Tagan pulled up a rocking chair that was sitting in the corner. “Brooke told me why your dad married you off.” Tagan jerked his head toward Bruiser. “Does he know?”

  Bruiser nodded as his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. “I do.”

  Tagan’s attention swung back to Diem. “I’m sorry for that. It’s messed up. I wanted your permission to tell the others so they aren’t left out of the loop on this one. I wouldn’t bother normally, because it’s you and Bruiser’s business how to handle all of this, but your dad is a beast, and I’m guessing he isn’t going to take you shunning his traditions well. I get a bad feeling up my neck when I think about it, and I want my crew to know about any risks.”

  “I understand,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the edge of the table. Power crackled in the air and weighed heavy on her chest. Bruiser’s building discomfort mixed with an angry Tagan had her wanting to shrink into the woodwork. “Can you tell them when I’m not around, though? It’s all really embarrassing for me.”

  “Of course. Whatever you want.” Tagan sighed and drummed his fingers against the table. When she snuck a glance at him, the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re one of the crew now, Diem. Your battle is ours, and your worries are ours, too. You aren’t alone, not anymore.”

  Diem shook her head, sickened by the thought of the Ashe Crew ever placing themselves in Father’s path of destruction over her. “I’ll handle my father,” she promised, determined to keep her new friends safe from the danger she brought to their little paradise.

  “Not alone,” Tagan said, voice stern with finality.

  “Not alone,” Bruiser agreed, tone somber.

  “Anyway…” Tagan knocked once on the table and stood. “Drew set up a Slip ’N Slide flip-cup challenge, and we could use you two if you aren’t busy.

  “What’s that?” Diem asked.

  Bruiser’s earlier anger apparently forgotten, a wicked smile commandeered his face as he said, “You’ll see.”

  “If you don’t have a bathing suit, Brooke is a hoarder of them and has about ten you can choose from to borrow.”

  “Oh, I bought one today in town,” Diem said, growing excited. Beer and water and something about a flipping cup, and this sounded fun. “Brooke said I’d probably need one for hillbilly hot tubs and tubin’ season.” Whatever that meant.

  “Good, I’ll see you out there then.” Tagan stood and walked off, but hesitated at the door. “Diem, I didn’t tell you yesterday.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Welcome to the Ashe Crew.”

  Diem tried to smile, but it came out a pathetically emotional lip quiver. “Thank you,” she rasped through her closing throat.

  Tagan nodded once and disappeared out of Bruiser’s trailer, and her sense of belonging slid a little more comfortably over her shoulders.

  Diem had a mate and friends, and now she had an alpha.

  Chapter Nine

  “Okay, I think I got it, but just in case I don’t, can you explain the rules again?” Diem asked Bruiser.

  “I got this,” Drew said, shoving past her mate and latching his giant hand around hers. “You suck at explaining.”

  “Hey,” Bruiser huffed.

  Diem looked behind her sympathetically as Drew dragged her toward a long plastic table lined with cups of beer. He had just confused the stuffing out of her, though, so Drew was right.

  “Stand here and practice so you know what you’re doing because you are on my team, and my team wins. What are we?”

  “Um, winners?”

  Drew squinted his blue eyes and frowned. “Well, don’t say it like a question, Diem.” He lifted his voice louder. “What are we?”

  “Winners!”

  “Better. Now look, chug that. Do it. It’ll loosen you up.”

  She did as she was told and downed the cup of light beer. “Okay, now what?”

  “Put your cup right side up on the edge of that table and knock it with your fingertips. Try to get it to flip upside down. Here, like this.” Drew gulped another cup down and showed her how to play flip-cup.

  She tried a few times—or more accurately a few dozen times—until she was comfortable with the motion.

  “Good. So, when the person in front of you, me, flips my cup and throws my hand up like this, you slide down that tarp as fast as you can, then chug your beer, then flip it and signal the next person. Fastest team wins. Got it?”

  “I’ve totally almost got it.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “What will we win?”

  “Bragging rights and more beer.”

  “Right.”

  “You ready?”

  “I’m mostly ready.”

  “Okay, line up!” Drew yelled, pulling her back past the giant blue tarp soaked in suds and water.

  The Ashe crew filed into two separate lines. The men wore swim trunks, and Diem blinked hard at the sea of muscles, tattoos, and scars. Brooke and Haydan stood waiting by the table of beer to judge there was no cheating because apparently cheating at Slip ’N Slide flip-cup was a thing. Brooke wore a little yellow bikini and showed off her gorgeous baby belly proudly, stretch marks and all. God, Diem loved it here. She’d seen half the crew at some point lean down close and talk to Brooke’s unborn cub as if he could hear them.

  The way the men treated women here, it was impossible to feel self-conscious, especially when the other women were so confident with their revered place among these dominant grizzly shifters.

  “You’re going down, Daye!” Skyler called from the other line.

  “That’s Keller to you, as soon as I fill out the paperwork.” Oh, geez, she sucked at trash talk.

  Drew shoved her into the third spot in line, right in front of Bruiser.

  “Is this where the weakest link goes?” she joked.

  “No,” Bruiser said, brushing his lips against the back of her neck. “This is where the badass dragons go.”

  “Huh?” Denison asked from the other line.

  “Nothing!” Diem called with a grin.

  She pulled the strap on her bright green bikini top tighter and narrowed her eyes on the beer table. Brooke and Haydan held up their hands and the former called out, “Ready, steady, go!”

  Diem’s hands shook from nerves as Brighton took the first turn for their team. What if she fell on her face and messed up and everyone was mad at her for sucking at team sports? In her defense, dragons didn’t exactly play well with others. Or at least the Daye dragons didn’t. She was pretty sure her half-brothers would lose for their team just to be assholes.

  That was the Daye way.

  But she wasn’t a Daye anymore, and black bear blood ran through her veins fro
m her mother’s side, a fact she was growing prouder of by the day. And when Drew took a turn and flipped his cup and his hand shot up in the air, well, Diem took off determined to not be the weakest link in her team’s chain. She fell stomach first onto the tarp and squinted against the flying water and bubbles to the raucous encouragement of her team behind her. They were chanting her name as she slid onto the grass and sprinted for the table. Drew murmured encouragement as she downed the beer and set her cup right side up. The first time she missed, and the second time, too, but the third time was the charm, and she shot her hand in the air as Drew grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a rag doll as he whooped. Her bones were thoroughly rattled, but nothing could touch this feeling as she watched a proud grin stretch across Bruiser’s face as he took off for the tarp.

  Skyler flipped her cup a moment later and raised her hand, and the race was on between Bruiser and Kellen. Bruiser’s abs flexed with every powerful stride, and he slid onto the tarp without abandon. He and Kellen shot down it like two muscly rockets, then raced for the table. Their cups flipped on the first try and at almost the same moment, they raised their hands.

  Everly was up for Diem’s team, and she cheered so loud for Brighton’s mate. She was the nicest, sweetest person Diem had ever met, and she wanted badly for Everly to be the one to shoot their team to victory.

  Everly flopped off the tarp and ran for the table, chugged her beer, and flipped the cup twice before Danielle reached the table for the other team.

  “Come on, Everly!” Diem cheered. “You can do it!” She grasped Bruiser’s hand and jumped up and down beside him.

  Everly flipped the cup, and it wobbled, but landed a split second before Danielle’s did. The team erupted into a deafening victory cheer. Clapping, ear-splitting whistles, and she and Everly were hugging and laughing and jumping around in a circle. Bruiser picked them both up in his meaty arms like they were no bigger than toys, and when he set them down, Brighton kissed his mate until she looked drunk.