Bear King's Curves: A BBW Werebear Shifter Romance
By A.T. Mitchell
Content copyright © A.T. Mitchell. All rights reserved.
Published in the United States of America.
First published in February, 2014.
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it may hold to persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.
About This Book
HIS CROWN. HIS CURVES. HIS FATED MATE.
Lyla Redd has just stolen her last precious artifact from the Klamath Bear Clan. The curvy smuggler got away with it before, but she doesn't know serious danger can arrive anytime in big, dark, and very muscular packages.
When werebear Alpha Nick Tunder lays eyes on the voluptuous beauty he's been sent to kill, he realizes the mission is a bust. Taking back his people's treasure is the easy part. Keeping Lyla away proves much harder, especially when she pursues and ends up in his bed for a thorough spanking.
Then the other Klamath bears find a human woman on their turf. Fur and claws fly as Lyla is sentenced to a darker fate.
Soaring passions hide much to explore, just like the mysterious artifact that brought them together. Deep love, lust, and an answer to their woes in an ancient royal bloodline are almost in reach, if only they can put the pieces together and their hearts on the line.
Destiny makes very strange bedfellows and beautiful fated mates...
I: Curves to Kill (Nick)
“There. That's her, young man. Your target.” Elder Branson growled across the table, his angry face illuminated by the pale lamp overhead. “Take her out. Make it quick and clean, but make her pay.”
I reached across the table for a better look at the face glowing on his tablet. I smoothed my forehead, sweeping away small droplets of sweat.
The human backroom made me seep moisture. Or was it from seeing the face of the woman I was going to kill?
She stared out the screen at me above the name LYLA REDD, a face with soft curves instead of protruding cheekbones, her pale skin glowing beneath a police camera light. Dark hair with rusty red highlights flowed down her shoulders, wavy and tossed back, all the better to see the oddly amused quirk in her rosy lips.
I blinked. This wasn't going to be an easy face to kill. I inwardly sighed, knowing I'd have to conjure up every last morsel of my bear's predator instincts to finish the hit.
Under other circumstances, I would've admired her beauty. But I didn't dare admire anything about Miss Redd when the head Elder of the Klamath Bear Clan was asking me to snuff her out.
“An execution order. When was the last time we had one of those?” I asked.
“Long before you were a twinkle in your daddy's eye, Nick. Been about a century, I suppose. I was just a young bear myself. Two eyes and all.” Branson reached up, grinned, and toyed with the strap holding his black eye patch.
He'd always been a little creepy, playing up his missing eye to intimidate. Unease worked its way through my veins.
Whatever, man. I'll handle it. Just let me the hell out of here.
“You want me on recovery too?”
“Yeah. The girl should have a big heavy stone in her car, about like this.” Branson held up his huge wrinkled hands, grasping an invisible shape about the size of a softball. “It's a dusty emerald green thing with carvings of little bear figures on it. You won't miss it.”
I nodded. “So that's what this is all about.”
“Not the only thing. Just the final straw. This human female has made a business out of stealing our clan's treasure, our history, and selling it to third rate peddlers. Sometimes foreigner collectors across continents. You know their police don't do a damn thing about it.”
I knew. Every encounter I'd ever had with human officers ended in them dropping their guns and high tailing it the instant I shifted, stood up, and roared.
They were cowards. Worse, they were lazy.
The human cops in these backwaters just wanted to issue speeding tickets and stop a few stray crystal dealers.
What happened with the bears was none of their business, and that's the way we preferred it.
“Does this Lyla really deserve to die over this?” I narrowed my eyes, wondering why Branson insisted on such a final, deadly solution.
“I already told you – yes. She deserves this and a whole lot more. We're making an example out of this one.” Branson folded his hands, turning his one good eye on me. “You're an intelligent young man, Nick. I don't need to tell you how terrible it is to have some thieving interloper destroy our history, our culture. Not after everything they did to us this past century.”
Branson lowered his head for a second. I leaned on the wall, letting my mind wander to the countless stories about our people's struggle with mankind's authorities. The land theft, the taxes, the camps during the war...any werebear who didn't feel a growl prickling his throat at the ancestral memories didn't have a pulse.
“Understood. I'll do it, Elder. You can count on me.”
“Good.” Branson smiled. “You're the roughest hunter we've got in our ranks. I knew you wouldn't turn this down. Listen, when it's all over, I'll help you take that Alpha spot. I know this bloody enforcer lifestyle is wearing on you, Nick. You'd like to stay behind the lines and send the troops out, and you've earned it.”
“I enjoy this.” I spoke the truth. To me, there was nothing like the thrill of the hunt, nothing like patrolling the woods in hopes of finding some dangerous invader to tear limb from limb.
Out in the wild, we were just like any other bear. The human side disappeared beneath fur, fangs, and claws, reason buried beneath a raging hunger for blood.
“Well, love it or not, you're getting to the age where a man ought to be doing more with his life. Settle down, maybe join the construction crew or the planning committee. Find a mate in a good woman or a half-blood.”
“I want to take on more duties, but I'm not here to shuffle around bricks. I'm here to protect us.”
“And so you will.” Elder Branson nodded. “You depart this evening.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Usually, the Elders deliberated about these things and dragged their feet, especially in all dealings with the human world.
“Take the woods and the mountain passes if you need to. Surest path. I'll send someone out to the edge of town with a fresh change of clothes to pick you up. With any luck, we can catch this bitch while she's still in Klamath County, before she goes down to Sacramento and sells another piece of us away.”
“I'll do my best,” I promised.
The early autumn wind nipped at my neck as I stepped just outside our village. Spiced meat and smoke from fires rose high into the air, tickling my nose, a familiar scent that never failed to bring a smile to my face.
At the edge of the gray forest, I shifted, waiting until the moonlight was on my naked skin. Many trees had been stripped of their old greenery, and others were charred black in summer wildfires.
I could dispense with these clothes, but not the shoes. I kicked them off and waited, gathering the animal energy inside me.
I found my anger, my need to pursue and destroy. My bear was right behind it, surfacing from a deep, dark mountain stream.
Worn fabric shredded around me. My arms and legs contorted first, dropping me onto all fours. Claws sprang out of my fingers, and my spine clicked as bones thickened and formed the grizzly's trademark hump.
The night looked a little clearer to these fresh eyes. The rich smell of cooking was no longer so appealing. I sniffed at the air for something wild and raw.
I tipped my huge head up to the moonlight,
growling once. Off into the dense night forest I went, as fast as my big furry feet would carry me.
The roads through this isolated section of southern Oregon running into northern Califirnia were always rugged, slow, and unpredictable. Good thing bears could cut shortcuts through the terrain.
I moved northwest, soon throwing more energy into my walk when the tall trees began to ascend into hills. Shapeless animals tittered in the night, things that hadn't seen a bear in generations.
Real grizzlies had been extinct in these parts for more than a century. Clan outings were rare, and never for anything more than scouting or special surgical missions like the one the Elder had sent me on.
I'd never killed a human before. Would it excite the bear, the same way fresh blood pouring from a kill in the forest electrified my blood?
Hair prickled up across my body. I groaned and plowed on, moving down a steep incline, toward the town with the twinkling lights.
Klamath Falls treated us like any other distant, mysterious Indian tribe. For all intents and purposes, so did the US government. They'd done a good job of hiding our clan's special ability to shift from their journalists and investigators too.
My reckless side wanted to march into town in full grizzly form and enjoy the screams. But our people were treaty bound to remain in human form in outsider territory, weak and helpless looking, just like the humans.
An agreement with the Feds the Elders cut many years ago saw to that.
I snorted with disgust as I neared the edge of the road. Where the hell was he?
A dark car waiting across the road flashed its lights. I stood on two legs, yawning in the air, admiring the moon's beauty one more time with all seeing bear eyes.
I shifted. Fur and claws retracted, and it wasn't so hard to hold myself on two legs anymore.
The cold night hit me as fast as my body had altered itself. I waved, and the car kicked up dust as it wheeled around, lurching to a halt near the sandy curb.
“Gods, man! You didn't have to turn before I pulled up.” Beamer laughed, shaking the puffy hair on his head. “Your clothes are in the trunk.”
I heard the click as the old LTD popped its latch. I walked behind it and found the neat packed duffel bag, pulling out fresh boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt sporting some human team or other on it.
Not totally my style. But if I was going to get to her, I needed to look like one of them. Preferably a friendly, inviting one of them who could strike up a conversation with a twenty-something year old female.
“You ready for this?” Beamer asked, just as I put on my seat belt and we took off for the short drive into Klamath.
“Ready as I'll ever be. You got a lock on her location?”
“Yeah. The Old Pirate Pub just on the edge of town, almost out toward Midland. Ironic place for this bitch to hang out, right?”
I twisted in my seat, casting off some tension building in my bones. The girl was a bitch for what she'd done, but something didn't feel right about continually referring to her like that.
“Whatever. I'm not much interested in talking shit about this girl. Just want to do it and get away come morning.”
“Any idea how you're gonna take her out?” Beamer glanced over in the dark. His teeth still looked eerily big and sharp in human form.
“Quick and clean, just like Branson wanted. He offered me poison, but I wouldn't know where to start with that. Seems like a cruel way to go.”
“And a gunshot or a big claw swipe to the neck isn't?” He growled, brushing one hand through the air.
I sensed the feral excitement swirling inside him. It was the same uneasy bloodlust my bear shared, aching and ready for a kill.
“A quick way to put her out of her misery. Besides, I need to get to her hotel room to recover the artifact. Only one way to do that.”
He chuckled, low and throaty. “You're not a big player, Nick. You sure you can turn on that charm and get into her room? Guess it'll be easier to clean up the mess if she's naked.”
My arm resting on the window frame twitched in annoyance. How was he treating this like a joke?
“Just be there by dawn. I'll have everything mopped up by then and we can get rid of the rest somewhere out by our land. Need to recover that damned stone too.”
“Okay, charmer. Let me give you a little advice my Pa used to tell me about human women: don't fuck anything you think you might kill.”
I forced a meager smile to be polite. Even if I wasn't assigned to take her out, fucking her would've been last on the list. Human women didn't appeal to me.
Certainly not the scrawny, sneaky thieves auctioning off our history. And bears as persecuted as our Klamath Clan had nothing but history.
I pushed my way into the smoky bar, slowly walking along the stools. Lots of big, boisterous men sat laughing and sipping their beers.
At first, I worried someone else might have zeroed in on her for a pickup. If this was going to go off without a hitch, I needed her alone, damn it.
Then I saw her. From the back, Lyla looked like any other girl with long dark hair and a glowing green drink in her hand, out on the town to unwind for the night.
But she wasn't like anyone else. This woman was my target, and knowing that honed my senses to lock onto her.
I eyed the open seat next to her. I went for it, gently nudging away her heel as I turned the chair and sat, getting my first full glimpse of her when she was halfway through a sip of margarita.
Deep, dark eyes spilled into mine, a little surprise glowing in them like soft starlight. She stretched, never breaking eye contact, setting the drink down and exposing her full curves.
I sucked in a quick breath, hoping it wasn't visible.
That chest...those hips...Gods, she was full figured. Big, beautiful, and ripe in a way I'd never seen on a human woman. Let alone a single female in the clan, where nothing but toned muscle mattered.
Lush. The best word for her, lush all over with curves poised to make my heart jump. Or maybe some other place on my anatomy I didn't want to indulge just now.
No doubt. This was a real human woman.
A woman, or else a witch. The wanting heat in my head made me wonder if I'd been enchanted like something out of the old legends.
Worse, she was still looking at me, waiting for me to open my mouth. When I ogled her for two more seconds, she pushed her drink a little further away, and finally opened those kissable full lips.
“Hi, I'm Lyla Redd. Do you always gawk at women this way, or are you just drunk?”
Oh, shit. Her voice is just as smooth as those legs.
This job had just gotten a whole lot harder. Quick, clean, and over fast suddenly seemed a million miles out of reach.
II: Big Hard Mistake (Lyla)
I saw him moving slowly along the bar's edge, seeking an empty seat and an easy pickup. His type were as common to bars around here as cheap imports, though they rarely looked as good as him.
I sipped my margarita slowly, letting the fiery sweetness wash into my belly. I watched him in my peripheral vision, and then took a complete gander.
My, my, my...where did you come from, big boy? You'd make a mighty fine companion if I were here for date night.
I watched him carefully, breathing slow and shallow. Waiting, waiting, just waiting for the disappointment to surface on his face as his eyes roamed my body.
It always happened. Suppose it was inevitable when a man caught sight of those love handles, that plush tummy I always kept tucked beneath a couple layers, even during the warmer months.
Margarita salt ground on my teeth. I pinched them together, breathless and waiting, hoping he'd hop up from the stool and move on.
No such look.
He was staying put, and looking at me with – what? Desire?
Well, at least it wasn't disgust. No, he was staring very intently, just on the nice side of being creepy.
Shit. Hope this isn't some undercover cop. Better find out what the hell he wants.
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“Hi, I'm Lyla Redd. Do you always gawk at women this way, or are you just drunk?”
His face hardened. I dragged my eyes up slowly along his hard body, admiring the ridges and angles that formed his chest, all the way up to his magnificent jaw line.
Yeah, he'd put his hours in at the gym.
“Nicholas Tunder. Everybody calls me Nick.” He extended a hand. “And no, I haven't had my first drink yet. Couldn't help but wonder what a lady like you is doing all by her lonesome in such a dingy bar.”
He glanced up – probably making sure the bartender wasn't in hearing range. I smiled and pushed my hand into his.
His hand closed. He shook mine, firm and friendly. Uncanny warmth rushed beneath his calloused skin.
I stared into his bright eyes, trying to get a read on him. Men were never easy to read, especially one as guarded as this.
It seemed like he was feeling me out, and not in an I'm-going-to-bust-your-ass kind of way.
“I'm finishing a long day. Unwinding before some travel tomorrow. You?”
As the bartender made his way around, my companion paused to order a scotch. Then the stranger – Nick – leaned toward me, casual, but measured.
“Ah, you're not a local then. That's a real pity.” He shook his head.
I laughed a little. My, that was forward. He sure knew how to bait a girl too.
“Pity? No, sir. I never like to spend too much time up here. Can't wait to get back through North Cally and back to civilization.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Nothing but rednecks and ranchers out here. Not really my type.”
“Too isolated?”
“I guess you could say that.” I sipped my green alcohol, letting it flood my stomach. Nick watched in silence, bathing me in another slow simmering smile.
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