by T. S. Joyce
RED HAVOC BAD BEAR
(RED HAVOC PANTHERS, BOOK 5)
By T. S. JOYCE
Other Books in this Series
Red Havoc Rogue (Book 1)
Red Havoc Rebel (Book 2)
Red Havoc Bad Cat (Book 3)
Red Havoc Guardian (Book 4)
Red Havoc Bad Bear
Copyright © 2017 by T. S. Joyce
Copyright © 2017, T. S. Joyce
First electronic publication: June 2017
T. S. Joyce
www.tsjoyce.com
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Image: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Jonny James
Contents
Other Books in this Series
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
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Chapter One
War had never been hard for Jathan Barns to watch before.
It was part of life for a shifter, especially a Gray Back. His crew, like all the crews in Damon’s Mountains, were no strangers to fighting. Wars were fought under human radar, quietly, quickly, to inflict maximum damage to those who would come after his people, but minimal damage to the shifter reputation in the public eye.
No…war had never been hard to watch…until now.
He knelt on the pine needle-covered forest floor between two oaks and, in agitation, scratched his beard with his thumbnail. Lynn was at it again. Over and over, she’d called the shifters here to war, one at a time. Jathan had watched her from a distance over the last three weeks, and he wasn’t the only one. Creed Barnett, alpha of the Gray Backs, stood a hundred yards off, watching Lynn’s panther battle a monster she’d pulled from the mountains. Crazy Lynn had called Nox, the son of the Cursed Bear, to fight her. Clearly, she had a death wish. From the pissed-off look in Creed’s dark eyes, he knew it too. She was trying to end it. Again.
Jathan lifted his phone and took a picture. He’d done it every time she’d called a shifter to fight. He didn’t know why. Maybe soon he would show her the pictures and explain the damage she was really doing to herself. He wanted to throttle her. He wanted to shame her for being weak. Weak, weak, weak. Eden, Lynn’s best friend and Red Havoc crewmate, had told Jathan it was a broken mating bond that made her snap, but that was bullshit. Mating bonds didn’t exist, and love was a crock of crap people pretended to feel so that their lives could have meaning in the short time they were on this earth.
Lynn had snapped because she quit trying.
Jathan spat on the ground as the screaming panther and blond grizzly bear waged a war that had felled two damn trees already with the violence. Jathan knew what was coming. So did Creed. Lynn had a move at the end of a fight when she was getting tired.
Jathan narrowed his eyes at Lynn as she spun and raked her claws against Nox’s neck. She was goading him. Pissing him off. Hurting him so he only saw red. She’d been working her way through each member of each crew systematically, looking for one who would lose control. Well, she fucking found it with Nox. He was almost as crazy as her.
Creed was taking his shirt off now, preparing to Change to stop Nox from what Lynn was begging him to do, but there was no point. A massive silver bruin meandered out of the woods and paced along the edge of the battle. Nox was distracted now. Even if he was crazy, nobody wanted a fight with Beaston.
Lynn had her back to the silver bear, so didn’t know Beaston stalked the fight. She latched onto Nox’s throat until the blond bear bellowed in pain, and then she did it. She went weak. She slid to the ground and exposed her neck and asked for a kill bite.
Beaston charged, and Nox backed off. Lynn…weak, broken Lynn, lay there in the dirt, chest heaving, eyes vacant—she’d left this world again. Jathan wanted to yank her up by the scruff of the neck and scream in her face, “Fucking try. Try! Do better than this.” He’d wasted his concern for three damn weeks though, and she was no better than when her crew sent her to Creed to try to save her.
“Fuck,” Creed muttered. His eyes were too light to be human, and his face was contorted with rage. He was an alpha who took in the troubled souls and tried to rehab them, but Lynn was too far gone. Creed spun on his heel and disappeared into the woods. Beaston and Nox went their separate ways, while Lynn lay limp, breath steadying out as her long, black tail twitched every three seconds. One, two, three, twitch. One, two, three, twitch.
With an irritated sigh, Jathan stood and made his way to her. When he glared down at the massive, solid black panther, she locked those dead eyes on him. He wanted badly to hate her, so why the fuck was he here? Why did he follow her around, watch every fight, and make a list of the shifters in Damon’s Mountains she had called out? Why did he take pictures of her brawling? Why did he so badly dread his own fight with her? She would call him to battle, and he’d never shied away from a fight. He reveled in them. Fighting made him feel steadier. But the thought of fighting Lynn? It made him want to retch for reasons he didn’t understand.
It was probably because her Red Havoc Crew kept calling him, and he felt some sense of responsibility for her. Yeah. That was all. Tonight, when she was all tucked up in her little Crazy Lynn treehouse behind the Grayland Mobile Park, he would ride his Harley into town, drink until the whiskey pushed these inconvenient thoughts about a broken girl out of his mind, and he would find a local chick to hook up with. He would come back all better in the morning. Back to his self. Back to the Bad Bear that everyone said he was.
But for now, like after every fight, he picked up her limp body and cradled the giant-ass panther to his chest. He ignored the growling because she never clawed at him, or bit him. She lashed out at everyone else, but not him. Not the person she should be clawing the most. Because a long, long time ago, before she got weak and pitiful, back when she lived just outside of these mountains, she was a tough girl. She’d had a quiet strength when they were kids. He’d watched her in school when she wasn’t looking. He’d wanted to figure her out, without getting too close to her, because she’d felt dangerous. But it was him who had been dangerous to her. He’d been to a hundred parties, but they were all a blur in his memory. All but one—the party he’d hurt
Lynn at.
The beginning of her end had all started with Jathan.
Her life would probably end because of him, too.
War had never been hard for Jathan Barns to watch before.
Not until the war lived inside of someone he wanted to save.
Chapter Two
Every day was the same as the last. Lynn Matheson winced when Jaxon set her down where he always did—in a yard of dandelions.
Jaxon. Jaxon? She looked around, but this wasn’t Red Havoc Territory. Jaxon Barns was up in the Appalachian Mountains with his mate. With Lynn’s crew. This wasn’t Jaxon, and she wasn’t in Red Havoc Woods. This was…what was his name? Identical twin. Funny. Bad. He’d always been in trouble when they were growing up. The local cops knew him by name. He rode a Harley and got arrested and got tattoos and piercings and didn’t give a fuck about anything. Bad grizzly, Bad Bear. Jason…no…Jathan. Jathan Barns.
She couldn’t muster the energy to hiss as he backed away and sat on the bottom stair of her treehouse. Beaston had built it long ago, and now this was her home for six more days. She was counting down.
Jathan was a hot boy name.
This place didn’t even smell like Red Havoc territory. It was all wintergreen and pine sap and oil from the logging equipment up the road.
A hot boy name for a hot boy. He’d always looked good. Time had treated him well. He wasn’t lanky anymore. He was built like a tank. A sexy, tatted-up tank.
Her focus was scattering like ashes on the wind.
Where was she again?
She blinked. Time must have disappeared on her. That happened a lot. She came to with a feeling like time had passed, but she had no idea how much. Jathan was still here, but he was leaning back against the stairs, hands behind his head, staring up at the blue sky. It was too damn bright out here, and her body hurt. She wasn’t healing very fast anymore. Nox hadn’t been a careful fighter. She’d almost had him. So close, if only Beaston had stayed away. Why was everyone here protecting her? Couldn’t they see she was already gone? Couldn’t they see she was unredeemable? This was Eden’s fault. And Jaxon’s. And all of Red Havoc who voted she come to the Gray Backs so the alpha could try to save her. She was too far gone for even Creed, though. Everyone here said that, and they were right.
Another blink. More time lost.
The shadow of the tree house was creeping closer across the dandelions. It would reach her soon. Maybe she would feel it, the instant the edge of the shadow touched her. Maybe it would be cold. She hoped she could feel it. It would be nice to feel something before the end.
Jathan was waiting for her to Change back. It was rude to keep him from his life. He always did this—waited for her to tuck her psychotic animal away. She would go through the pain of the Change, and he wouldn’t say a word. He would just lift her body up like she was helpless and carry her up the stairs, set her in bed, and leave until tomorrow.
Jathan Barns smelled sick, too. Not as sick as her, but his head was messed up, and that damage made his bear a beast, just like his identical twin brother, Jaxon. Jaxon. Was this Jathan or Jaxon? They looked the same. Same dark brown eyes and black hair. Same massive stature and thick arms and neck. Same smile for everyone but her. He only looked at her in pity or anger, but the fury part she didn’t understand. She hadn’t asked him to carry her around. What right did he have to be angry?
Six more days, and he would be free from whatever obligation he felt toward her.
With a groan, she forced the Change. It was a slow process because she did this too much, too often. Her panther didn’t let her keep her skin for long. She was sad and angry, just like Lynn, and somewhere along the way, they’d split completely. She was animal and human, shoved in the same body, and both of them hated each other. Neither one of them had been successful at digging out of the hole they’d gotten themselves into. Not even a little.
Jathan narrowed his eyes at her. Pretty brown, and they turned bright green when he was worked up. She used to have a crush on him when they were kids, but he never gave her the time of day. He was too cool for a shy orphan shifter trying to make her foster parents love her enough to keep her. He was a party boy, but she had real-life problems, and even if they lived in the same mountains, they were from two different worlds.
Her voice came out raspy when she asked, “What’s your favorite food, Jaxon?”
His eyes tightened at the corners, and his dark eyebrows drew down. “She talks. She talks, but she calls me by my brother’s name.”
“Jathan, Jathan, Jathan,” she whispered three times so she could remember it. She wouldn’t, though. Her mind didn’t work very well anymore.
“Pizza.” He rocked up to the sitting position and cracked his knuckles. “You?”
“I’m Lynn.”
“I know your name. I’m asking what is your favorite food.”
“Oh. Food. Food is good. I’m hungry.”
“What for?”
“Ribs before I hated Red Havoc.” Barret had made her ribs to try to draw her out of her treehouse and back into the crew. She wasn’t dumb, just broken. She didn’t like being manipulated with her favorite things.
“Well, that was a weird fucking answer.”
“Chicken fried steak. With gravy.”
Lynn pushed herself up on her hands and knees, then settled onto her bent legs. Jathan was staring at her tits now, but she didn’t care. Nudity was natural, and all shifters had to deal with it since they were young. Tits were tits. No one had enjoyed the sight of hers since…Brody.
Blink. Time was lost.
When she opened her eyes, she was in the tree house, lying in her bed on top of the covers. And she wasn’t even naked anymore. When Lynn sat up, she let out a tiny gasp for the ache in her muscles. She fingered the hem of the sundress Eden had packed for her before she had left Red Havoc Territory. It was white with pink flowers and was, literally, the girliest thing she owned.
The smell of fur hit her nose, and she jerked her attention to the back wall of the treehouse where Jathan stood with his broad back to her, hands clasped behind him as he stared at the marks she’d etched into the wall.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked, his voice low and growly.
“You don’t scare me,” she murmured. “Nothing does.”
He slid her a bright green-eyed glare over his shoulder.
Okay, he was a little scary. Like…fourteen percent intimidating when his scary-beary was at the surface. “What are the marks, Lynn?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “My countdown. Six more days, and Creed’s time is up.”
“You mean six more days, and your time is up,” he snarled. “Put your shoes on.”
“What? No. I’m staying here, and you had no right to dress me in this—”
“I’m taking you into town, we’re going to eat chicken fried steak, and you’re going to actually live for the last six fucking days of your countdown. And I swear to God, if you fight me on a single thing, I’ll strap you into my truck and take you so fucking far away from anyone who would put you down, you couldn’t scream loud enough to get attention. And I’d make you live out your entire life with me staring at you and counting your billion remaining breaths. Put your fucking shoes on.”
Lynn pursed her lips. Okay then.
She slid off the bed, dared to cast him a dirty look, then slipped her feet into a pair of tattered, black flip-flops that didn’t match just to spite the bully currently standing against the wall, watching her. He had the same color eyes as Beaston. The snarl in his throat and the weight of his dominance made the air feel like clay in her lungs. Someday, she had no doubt he would be alpha of the Gray Backs. Creed’s days were numbered as king of Grayland Mobile Park unless he pushed this bruin out of his territory.
Jathan jerked his chin toward the small bathroom. “Go brush your hair.”
“Fuck you.”
Jathan was to her so fast he was a blur. He gripped her arm and pulled her into
the bathroom, pushed her down onto the closed toilet lid by the shoulder, yanked the brush off the counter, and then he did something that stunned her to her bones. He gentled his hand and ran the brush through the ends of her snarled, red tresses, then worked his way up.
“You’ve brushed hair before.”
He was quiet so long she thought he would ignore her the rest of the time he forced her to get presentable, but after a while he said in a softer voice, “Willa is my mom. She made me and my brother do this shit for her when she was feeling lazy or had two glasses of wine in her hands and needed help. She’s ridiculous.”
“You love her.”
He huffed a breath. “She’s one of the very few things I love. Do you want to do your make-up, or do you want me to? I’m pretty good at making people look like hookers. Mom made me watch stupid fucking tutorials online on how to do smoky eyes, but mostly I will make you look like a frightened raccoon.”
Lynn huffed a strange sound, but it startled her, and she jumped. When she looked up at Jathan, he was frowning down at her, but his expression wasn’t harsh anymore. It was curious. “Did you just laugh?”
Blink. Time was lost.
****
Jathan lined her lips with a petal-pink color she kept with her other make-up. God, she was pretty. Always had been. Full lips led to a perfect, little pixie nose, high cheekbones, soft brown eyes slightly slanted like cat eyes, fair skin, a light dusting of freckles he hadn’t bothered to hide with foundation because he liked her spots. And that hair—red as fire and flowing down her shoulders in soft, rolling waves. She was too thin now, and her eyes had dark circles under them. They looked vacant, as if she was dead already, especially when she was checked out and staring straight ahead, like right now. But even as a broken bird, she was a swan.
What was he doing?
Squatting down in front of her, he rested his hands on her knees for balance. She was warm and alive, and in six days she wouldn’t be anymore. He wanted to puke. Such a waste.
