Dylan snorted. The need to mark his mate was a feral feeling that wouldn’t be denied. It had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with intimacy, possession, and protection. He’d do anything and everything to keep Avery safe. Maybe Heath would understand when he quit running from his mate. He took in the man’s stern expression and sad eyes. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t.
When he pulled away, Avery grinned at him, lighting up the inky darkness. “You’re kind of cute when you get like that, you know?”
Dylan growled, bringing a laugh from Avery. He swept forward to plant a kiss on his nose.
Avery and Heath agreed on a plan that involved Avery handing himself over to a madman. Dylan had to remind himself Avery knew what he was doing and that Dylan would be there to take care of him should anything go wrong. With a reminder from Heath to have his tranquilizer darts loaded and ready, Dylan took up the rear of the train, following Avery who was being led by Heath to the back door of the cabin. As they approached, Dylan kept a watch on the windows. Not a curtain fluttered or shadow crept by, but he stayed alert.
With stealth only a trained professional practiced, Heath pushed through a slight opening of the back door. Dylan and Avery followed on his heels. Every lamp and fixture seemed to be shining at full wattage as he stepped into the den. Jaden’s scent was so dense, Dylan could almost taste it. It mixed and intermingled with several others, one of which gave him pause.
What the hell was Russell Metz doing here? Was he a captive as well? Without alerting Avery or Heath to this new detail, he kept his eyes and ears open. There was no question they were heading into a trap, but what it entailed and who was involved was still unknown.
As eerily silent as the outdoors, the empty den did nothing to quiet the voice in his head telling him to turn around and take Avery with him. His instincts had never failed him.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Babineaux.” Warren Harting’s unctuous tone crawled over Dylan like a million tiny spiders. He held back a shudder, certain the man would see it as a victory. “And you brought my friends toys to play with.” He smiled and gestured to where Russell and another wolf flanked him, both aiming guns at them. “Now, about that trade.”
AVERY FELT
like he was caught up in a soap opera. Was this real life? Were they really facing down a kidnapper werebear and a couple of gun-wielding werewolf thugs, including one of the pack betas?
Dammit, he’d known Russell was a shady bastard! Finally all the visits from Lawrence and Russell to Dylan’s shop and Avery’s weird encounter with Russell outside of Mr. Otis’s house made sense. Russell was as dirty as pond scum. Clearly he’d been spying and trying to get information about Avery the whole time—but for Warren, not Alpha Odell.
Son of a bitch.
Something inside Avery snapped, and before he could think better of it, questions started spewing forth. “What the hell is this? What did you mean about Lacey? Where is Jaden? And what the fuck is
he
doing here?” Avery pointed at Russell.
Warren grinned, the expression full of mockery and nastiness. Avery did his best to hide the shiver that cascaded down his back.
“Oh, yes,” Warren sneered. “Poor, sweet Lacey. My little toy. I know you’ve been looking for her. How does it feel to know she’s been here the whole time, not even two hours from where you live?”
Avery hissed, and his mouth started running yet again. “She’s the girl Sven said you had shackled and collared. So, is that the only way you can get women to sleep with you—money or force? It sure isn’t for your charming personality. Trust me, I wasn’t impressed. In fact, you disgust me. I don’t know how Sven can stand you.” Avery tossed his head and tipped up his chin, doing his best to look down at Warren despite Warren’s hulking height advantage. “And I didn’t say it when you asked, but I’d rather eat garbage than have sex with you. I’m sure Lacey feels the same way.”
Everyone in the room froze.
Avery realized his error a second too late.
Oh shit.
Why had he let his temper get the better of him? Why hadn’t he kept his cool? Bear shifters were notorious for being short-tempered. He’d thought Warren was too arrogant to be affected by a bit of mouthing off.
Apparently not.
Warren’s face went from red to a mottled purple. He roared—a primal, predatory sound that could never originate from a normal human’s vocal cords. Every ounce of self-preservation screamed for Avery to shift and get the hell out of there. His heart galloped as if it would break free of his chest, and his pulse raced thunder-loud in his ears.
He watched as fur sprang up on Warren’s skin. Warren’s mouth and nose began to change, elongating into a snout. Fabric ripped as bulging muscles shifted and tore at the seams of Warren’s clothing. Even his wolf goons looked startled and fearful as Warren abruptly transformed.
Avery gulped, his throat so dry the action hurt. His stomach twisted up into knots and lodged itself under his diaphragm, making it harder to breathe. He stepped back on watery legs. Dimly, he heard gunfire. He wasn’t sure who was shooting. His surroundings had erupted into chaos, but he could focus only on the massive, infuriated grizzly that had appeared in Warren’s place.
Someone gripped Avery’s forearm and jerked him to the side. He found himself staring at Dylan’s broad shoulders as his mate used his body to shield him.
Russell and the other wolf, whom Avery didn’t recognize, seemed to have overcome their shock. He saw them shifting out of the corner of his eye. Dylan and Heath both surged forward, trying to fend off a bear and two wolves all at once, leaving Avery exposed again.
One of the tranq darts found its mark in Warren’s furry shoulder. Another poked from his left side, where Dylan or Heath must’ve hit him.
Avery saw Heath raise his arm to fire again. Russell’s wolf jumped him and chomped down on his wrist before he could get off another shot. The gun fell from his fingers and skidded across the hardwood floor. Avery dove for it and scrambled to his feet just as Warren charged. He squeezed the trigger, planting a third dart near Warren’s ear.
Warren snarled in rage, shook his gigantic head, and moved even faster. He lifted a huge paw, and before Avery could dodge, backhanded him with enough force to send Avery flying.
Avery struck something so hard pain exploded from every point of contact. He landed like a ragdoll in a heap of twisted limbs, shattered glass and shards of wood raining down around him. For a second, his eyesight went black. His head spun, and the roiling nausea in his stomach made him worry he’d be sick.
There was another roar, and Avery could feel Dylan losing his mind through their mate bond. No doubt he was reacting to Avery’s agony and the sight of him being bitch-slapped—bear-slapped?—across the room.
Avery tried to move. The mere attempt sent an excruciating bolt through his rib cage. He moaned and curled onto his side, hurting so badly he couldn’t think straight or keep track of what was happening with the others.
The stress-shift loomed over him as his animal reared up in his defense. Avery didn’t try to fight it. He let the shift wash over him, sighing at the sensation of his spines as they pierced his skin and his vision warped and shrank.
When it ended, he had the presence of mind to free himself from his clothes and scurry under whatever it was he’d struck. A cabinet of some sort? He couldn’t tell from his position. He was acting on instinct, not paying attention to anything else, aware on some basic level of how easily he could be crushed in the melee and how much of a risk it would be to leave himself out in the open.
He wanted to look, wanted to ensure his mate was okay, see who was winning the fight, but the instinct to ball up and protect himself was too strong to be denied.
Avery gave in to it, tucking his snout against his chest.
The world went dark.
FOR A
moment, Dylan’s heart stopped. Everything—his breath, his world, his life—came to a halt at the sight of his mate’s crumpled body, unmoving on the floor. Then he turned his rage on the one who deserved it. Aiming the tranq gun again, Dylan fired—a shot that hit the bear square in the chest. Warren in his grizzly form was gigantic. Covered in thick chestnut-colored fur, the bear was over five feet tall on all fours. His long torso filled a big chunk of the kitchen. Dylan couldn’t even think of his own size in comparison for the fury blanketing him, heavy and cloying. If the bear died tonight, Dylan wouldn’t lose any sleep.
In front of him, the bear snarled, his sharp teeth bared in challenge—one Dylan was all too willing to accept.
“You’re going to regret that, Warren,” he swore, as he stripped off his clothing and tossed it aside. Nobody touched his mate.
Even in human form, Warren was massive, but Dylan was quick. And most of all, he was pissed. No one hurt his mate and got away with it.
From the corner of his eye, Dylan saw movement from Avery’s side of the room. Then his body shrank into a ball of prickly spines, buried within his clothing. Dylan let out a silent sigh of relief. If he’d lost Avery…. He shook his head, he wasn’t going there. Relief swamped him until he saw a flash of ruddy wolf turn in Avery’s direction. As the tiny hedgehog waddled his way under the china hutch, Russell raced toward him, leaving Dylan helpless to do anything when a grizzly entered his line of sight with a sneer on his face.
On all four paws, the grizzly was an impressive beast. When he stood on two legs, Warren took the word frightening to an entirely new level. Nearly ten feet of bear loomed over Dylan, and when Warren raised a paw and moved to hit, swat, or otherwise decapitate his prey, Dylan ducked to avoid the off-kilter blow. Missing, the bear’s gigantic paw collided with the kitchen faucet, tearing it from the mount and sending a spray of uncontrolled water shooting into the air and subsequently the floor around them. Keeping Warren distracted long enough to take him down would be more difficult now that every step was a skid or slip in the water.
Dylan let the shift take him. As hair sprouted from his skin, Dylan finished undressing and dropped to all fours. Racing around wet floors was bound to be less clumsy on four feet as compared to two. When he blinked up at the bear again, the world was sharper.
He raced through the shower of wetness, around Heath and the unknown wolf, hoping the tranquilizers that had tagged Warren kicked in sooner rather than later. At least four darts had struck him.
The kitchen was a good size, but with three wolves, a bear, and a hedgehog, there was very little room to maneuver, which was why Dylan found himself with a bear close—too close. The big paw came out of nowhere, sending him sailing onto the kitchen table. The solid oak beneath him creaked and groaned under his weight. Then Warren raised himself on two feet again, roaring down at Dylan. When Warren fell to take him out, swinging those razor sharp claws in Dylan’s direction, Dylan rolled to the side, barely missing the hit while leaving Warren off balance to crash into the table, shattering it. The scent of blood assailed him—Warren’s. The mangled table scattered across the wet floor, a shard stabbing out of Warren’s flank. Warren snarled, and Dylan raced across the kitchen to where Russell was still pawing at his mate.
Passing by at a breakneck speed, Dylan nipped hard at Russell’s hind leg and when the wolf spun around and flashed his teeth at Dylan, Dylan didn’t feel fear, only relief that his mate was not the center of that asshole’s focus anymore. Russell dove for Dylan, Warren on his heels.
With nowhere else to go, Dylan turned and slid into the unforgiving metal of the oven. No time to grumble or baby himself. Dylan pushed off and darted through the kitchen and to the living room. A swat to the hind leg from the bear was what stopped him, the agony of bear claws searing through his flesh.
It was then that Dylan noticed Russell had gone back to fishing under the cabinet for Avery. When he howled, a victorious sound, and pawed Avery from his hiding place, Dylan knew it was now or never. The only good thing was that it distracted Warren long enough for Dylan to come up with a plan.
As water continued to rain down, Dylan leaped at Warren, raking razor sharp claws down the bear’s side. On four paws again, Dylan went for the bear’s back leg, sinking his teeth into the soft tendons back there, intent on taking Warren down.
One step and then another, Warren listed to the right then to the left, and Dylan was ready to howl in success. Digging his teeth in farther, the taste of blood poured into his mouth and still, he couldn’t be bothered to let go. This time when Warren shook his leg to detach Dylan, the bear fell to the floor with a crack, splitting porcelain where he landed.
Without hesitation, Dylan unclenched his jaw and whipped his head around to Avery just in time to see a red-and-blue dart bury itself in Russell’s neck. The smaller wolf yelped and began pawing at the foreign object jutting out of his grayish brown fur. Relief poured through Dylan when Heath appeared—arm bloodied but not damaged—with a gun in hand, aimed at Russell. The wolf, smaller than the bear, didn’t last as long with the sedative coursing through his veins.
The other wolf—the one Heath had been battling—lay unmoving on the floor. Dylan didn’t know if he was dead or knocked out. He didn’t much care.
Drawing in a deep breath, Dylan let the shift wash over him. The burn and tingle of his receding fur usually soothed him, but this time nothing could ebb the edge of anticipation in getting to his mate. Once he was on two legs, Dylan squatted in front of the bear. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t make it out of this place alive, but you deserve a punishment worse than death, and the detective over there is going to make sure you get it.”
Warren gave no indication he understood or even heard what Dylan said. Smacking his coarse snout gained Dylan no reaction either. And with that he went to retrieve his mate.
Avery didn’t shift. He didn’t even move, and Dylan’s pulse kicked into overdrive before he hurdled the broken table to reach his mate. Dylan felt for their bond and sighed at the thrum coming from his mate. Avery was okay. Kneeling beside him, careful of the splintered wood and shattered glass, Dylan lifted Avery, then cradled him to his chest.