Beast Behaving Badly

by Shelly Laurenston

  “And Blayne? The reason you were hanging thirty or so feet from the ground?”

  “Oh! Right.” Ric picked up a fry. “What about them now?”

  “What is going on with you?” Lock demanded. God, he hoped Ric wasn’t still mooning over Dee. That She-wolf was so out of reach for Ric, she could be on Mars.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “Why? Because you’re getting into fights with guys four times your size. When did you turn into your brother?”

  “I don’t want him taking advantage of Blayne.”

  “Blayne can handle herself.”

  Ric shrugged and again gazed out the window. “I guess.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you? You seem kind of… anxious.”

  Ric looked at Lock again. “What now?”

  Blayne dragged her backpack onto her shoulders. She was feeling really good right now. She was doing better. Everyone was saying so. The training from Bo was definitely paying off. Now, if she could manage to keep him off her back and out of her social calendar until the championships, she’d be golden.

  “Night, guys!” she said, waving.

  “Night, Blayne!”

  Gwen met her at the door. “You sure you don’t want to come to the diner with me?”

  “Nah. It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted.”

  “The fight with Mitch took a lot out of you?”

  Blayne growled and pushed the locker room door open. “He’s lucky I didn’t yank his nuts off.” Blayne froze right outside the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

  Bo leaned back against the opposite wall. He’d showered and changed into black jeans, a blue T-shirt, and work boots. His duffel bag was nowhere to be found and she knew he’d been waiting for her.

  “I’m here to take you home.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I already told you—”

  “Wait. I’m here to take you home after I take you out. To dinner. Tonight.”

  “I am not going out with you.” Especially when he had that tone.

  “You want to save my life, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got lion males trying to kill me.”

  “I said maybe. They may be trying to kill you.”

  “Right. But if we’re going out, if we’re dating, I can’t be taking advantage of you. Isn’t that right, Gwen?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Blayne shoved Gwen back into the locker room with one good push, and Bo nodded his head in approval. “Nice.”

  “This,” Blayne said after closing the locker room door, “is bullshit.”

  “Why? What’s a little date and a drive home between two people who’ve already slept together?”

  Even though Blayne knew what Bo meant, she still snarled when she heard that collective, “Ooooooooooooooh!” Followed by several “Told ya so” and “Ride it, Blaynie!” tossed in to really make her crazy.

  To show her annoyance, Blayne brought her foot back against the door and heard several barks of pain.

  “She mule-kicked the door!” someone yelled.

  “I don’t get what’s going on,” she told him. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Bo stepped closer until he towered over her. “I’m backing you in a corner, blocking you in, trapping you. But it’s your fault I’m doing that.”

  “My fault?”

  “Because you’ve put me in danger, I have no choice. Poor little me against all those big scary Irish male lions.” He placed his hands against the door on either side of her head. “And, yeah, it’s all your fault.”

  “How do you live with yourself?”

  “I can tell you that over dinner or we can stand here arguing the same damn point for the next ten thousand hours with your entire team listening at the door. Choose which is worse.?”

  “Fine. Dinner and you take me home. And then you are never to speak to me again.”

  “Let’s move that particular threat until after the championships, Blayne!” Gwen yelled through the door.

  “Shut up!”

  Bo hauled himself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and started his truck. He put on the heat, trying not to look too embarrassed when it sputtered to life since he never used the heat in his truck, even in the middle of the coldest winter. But Blayne was too busy seething at him to notice or care.

  Yet Bo had learned a lot about Blayne in the last couple of weeks, and if there was one thing he now knew, it was easy to distract her from nearly anything. Normally that aspect of her personality drove him nuts, but now he needed it.

  Reaching into the back of his truck, he pulled out the small bag.

  “I bought you something,” he said. He took the box out of the bag and placed it in her lap. She didn’t even look at it, so Bo opened the box for her—and waited.

  It took about thirty seconds for her curiosity to get the better of her, and she glanced down at the box. Two seconds later, angry brown eyes locked onto him.

  “A watch?” she demanded. “You bought me a watch?”

  “Don’t get mad,” he said. “This is just something to help you manage your time before you drive me to drink.”

  “Because I keep looking at your watch when I need the time, or because I was a few minutes late a couple of times?”

  “Fifteen minutes late. Fifteen is not a few.” He raised his finger.

  “Don’t throw it.” He grabbed the box back and pulled the watch out.

  “Let’s see how it looks on you.”

  “I can’t take this watch.”

  “Why not?” He pulled off the stupid, useless watch on her wrist, flinging it into the very back of his truck while ignoring her outraged gasp, and placed the new one he’d picked up that evening from a bear-run jeweler a few blocks from the sports center.

  “Bo, it’s too expensive.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “You want me to believe that you got this from some street vendor?”

  Instead of answering, Bo stared at her until Blayne blinked and looked back down at the watch. “You got this from a street vendor?” He kept staring since it worked the first time. “For how much?”

  “Fifty,” he said vaguely.

  “Fifty? For this?” She gave a little snort. “I would have haggled them down to thirty-five bucks at least. It’s not even a name knockoff. Meirston? What’s that a play on?”

  “I have no idea.” Actually it was the brand name of a very old and very powerful bear dynasty that had been creating and selling jewelry since the time of Moses. At least that’s what it said on its marketing materials. “It’s nice though, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It can take a lot of abuse.”

  Her lips pursed. “Which means what, exactly?”

  “Do you really want me to spell out your clumsiness?”

  “No. That won’t be necessary.”

  “Good.” He rested his hand on the gearshift. “You still mad?”

  “Livid.” But then she smiled at him. “But I’m thinking I can get over it if the meal’s good.”

  “It’ll be the best,” he said, pulling out of his spot. “I promise.”

  “There she is,” the kid next to him said, pointing at the truck pulling out of the parking lot. “She’s with—”

  “Don’t care.” He patted the shoulder of the driver. “Keep close, but don’t spook ‘em.” The van followed after the couple, and he walked back to be with the rest of his team. He’d only been doing this job for six months, but it paid better than what he used to do for twenty years.

  Mercenary work was unstable and ten times more dangerous. Yet once a man acknowledged that he was dealing with animals, not humans, the rest of this gig was easy.

  He lit a cigarette and gripped one of the poles so he could keep standing.

  “Are we ready?” he asked the tech who handled the tranquilizers.

  “Yep.” He handed over the gun that was used to tranq elephants. That
would be for the hybrid’s boyfriend. They had a second, smaller tranq rifle for the hybrid, but they’d be better off nailing her up close with the syringe instead, and grabbing her at the same time. Of all the hybrids they’d taken down, the wolfdogs were the hardest. None of them seemed to have the same internal systems. Put in too much medication and they could die on you. Put in too little…

  He scratched the wounds on his neck.

  But they’d been watching the energetic little wolfdog for months now. Their tranq tech positive she had the right dosage for someone of the freak’s size and weight.

  Still, he knew better than to count on that. Once the team got her in the van, they’d chain her up and keep her that way until they made the trip up north to what everyone called the Fight Farm. So even if the tranq wasn’t enough for her, no problem. The wolfdogs, although tough to manage, were still dogs. Once he learned how to handle a female with actual claws, the rest was a walk in the park. Because unlike real dogs and cats, the humans knew what that gun to the head or knife to the throat actually meant.

  Making his job so much easier.

  They were in Brooklyn, sitting at a stoplight, when Bo realized that little Miss Short Attention Span was playing with her watch. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her head down and her finger pushing at the different buttons.

  Bo glanced back at the four-hundred-thirty page user’s guide that came with that particular series of Meirston watches. A version sized for the cubs. Besides wanting to help her manage her time, he wanted her to have a level of protection that even average shifters didn’t have. Bear protection.

  Normally, Bo would hand over the directions at the same time he gave Blayne the watch, but he knew if he gave her the directions now, she’d figure out it was the real deal and had cost him a hell of a lot more than fifty bucks. But still… if she hit the wrong button, he’d be paying that hundred-grand tab that came from accidental alerts because he knew from Blayne’s tiny apartment she couldn’t handle that financial hit.

  “Uh”—he scrambled—“you know what’s cool about this watch?”

  “What?”

  “There’s an emergency beacon.”

  “An emergency beacon? In a knockoff?”

  “It’s a really good knockoff.” Or whatever.

  “What’s the beacon supposed to do?”

  Bo stopped at another light and leaned over, grasping her wrist.

  “When you’re in trouble, you pop this open and pull this little piece out, and press this button. It will send out a beacon signal that can be traced by certain military types.”

  “Certain military types?”

  “Our military types.”

  He internally sighed in relief when she pulled her hand away from the watch rather than continue playing with it. “What kind of trouble do I need to be in?”

  Even better, she was asking questions about it. Good. Excellent. “Trapped in the Andes and forced to eat your friends because there’s no way out is a good example. Missing the downtown bus and needing to make a dentist appointment… bad example.”

  She gave a little laugh as he moved ahead. “In other words, follow my dad’s rules on when to bother him and when not to. Skinned knee, suck it up and take it like a Thorpe. Skin hanging off your face after wiping out on your Harley, then definitely call but don’t expect sympathy.”

  Bo nodded. “Kind of like my uncle’s rule. Unless body parts are actually detached, he doesn’t want to hear about it.”

  Blayne smiled. “I guess your family must be proud of you, huh? You being a big hockey player and all.”

  Bo shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to them in a while.”

  “What’s a while?”

  “Since I left.”

  She turned a little in her seat so she could look at him with wide brown eyes. “Since you left? You mean ten years ago?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Why haven’t you spoken to them in so long?”

  He shrugged, not sure why she seemed so upset. “I don’t know. I was busy.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she gawked at him.

  “Okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

  “How do you not stay in touch with your family?”

  “By not picking up the phone and dialing the number?”

  “That’s… disheartening.”

  “Disheartening?”

  “Disheartening.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need family. Everybody needs family.”

  He shrugged, still not sure why she seemed so upset about it. “I guess I’m lucky then.”

  “I guess.” She didn’t say anything for a long time after that, simply stared out the window. He wondered what she was looking at, thinking about. Was she thinking about him? His lack of family? Or was she still angry at him? Maybe her mind had jumped to another topic all together? The world? Society? Politics?

  What was the name of that actor in “Godfather Part Two”? I know I saw him in that old episode of “Law & Order” last night, but I can’t remember his damn name. It’s going to drive me crazy until I remember!

  They were less than a mile from the restaurant they were going to. Bo had already called ahead, and the owner would have his best table set up and waiting for them. But first Bo had to get something out of the way, so he pulled over at a corner on a deserted street.

  She looked around. “Why are we stopping?”

  He let out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “This watch is totally not fake, is it?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Blayne.” He turned a little in the seat so he could face her. “First off, I’m sorry I ambushed you earlier.”

  “You should be. There has to be an easier way for you to get a date.”

  “With anyone else, but you weren’t giving me much choice.”

  Her hands dropped in her lap. “What does that mean?”

  “It means…it means…” Bo shook his head. He couldn’t think straight. Not with her so close. “Fuck it. Who cares what it means?”

  “If you’re going to get all pissy about it—what are you doing?”

  And that’s when Bo kissed her, his mouth pressing warm and firm against hers, his tongue easing its way between her lips.

  The contact startled her simply because she really hadn’t been expecting it. But not expecting it didn’t mean it wasn’t welcome. And goddamn if the man could kiss as well as he played hockey.

  Blayne tilted her head to the side so they could both more easily enjoy the other’s mouth and tongue. God, she was so enjoying. He tasted good, his tongue stroking hers in a way that made her think of oral sex. She didn’t know why, but she wondered what he could do when they got around to that…

  Wait. If they got around to that. If. The man wasn’t in yet. Right? Right, Blayne?

  Huh?

  Bo suddenly pulled back from her, his tongue licking his lips as if he were still tasting her, his eyes locked on her mouth. Had he closed his eyes at all when he’d kissed her? “I’ll be honest,” he murmured. “I’m not sure if that helped the situation or made the rest of the night that much longer if I can’t do that again until I take you to your front door.”

  If she could speak, she’d totally agree with him. Maybe she should forget about all her recent rules about hooking up with a guy. Maybe she should just throw caution to the wind, forget about the pasta, and take the big hybrid home to her way tiny apartment and put her really sturdy bed to use. True, it wasn’t like her but… but…

  But God she really wanted to.

  Blayne grabbed his hand and said, “Bo—”

  The sound of shattering glass filled Bo’s way-too-big truck, and the hybrid’s big chest and shoulders jerked forward, shoving Blayne back into the passenger side door, Bo’s body keeping her pinned there.

  Wincing from the sudden pain in her head where her skull had met the door, Blayne pushed at
Bo’s shoulder. “Bo?” she called out. “Bo? Can you hear me?”

  Confused as hell, Blayne leaned up a bit. The window hadn’t been destroyed completely. Instead there was a healthy-size hole in it and cracks running through the glass that was left. Looking back down at the hybrid on her, she saw the metal tip of something poking out of his brown-and-white mane. Blayne reached around and gripped it, pulling it out until the dart slid from his skin. She lifted it up and stared.

  “Fuck—”

  The passenger door flew open, and since Blayne had been leaning on it, she fell back with it. She saw black ski masks and knew she was in trouble.

  Someone jammed a needle into her neck, and she felt liquid forced into her veins. She cried out, her first instinct to fight, but she remembered how fast Bo dropped, and she went limp instead, her eyes closing.

  Hands grabbed hold of her arms and legs and lifted her out of Bo’s truck. She felt her body carried to a running vehicle. She sensed it was a van by the way they were able to haul her in and get in with her without any trouble. She heard a male voice ask, “Kill the other one?”

  “No. Leave him.”

  Blayne felt a moment of relief flood her as they placed her on a bench and the van doors were slammed shut. The van sped off and Blayne worked hard not to panic. She needed to remain calm, to handle this rationally. Not easy when she felt trapped, like the walls of the van were closing in, like they’d already locked her up in a cage.

  And if there was one thing Blayne hated, it was feeling trapped.

  She was gone. But unlike last time, she hadn’t run from him. She’d been taken. And he wanted her back. He wanted her back right now.

  Bo Novikov sat up straight in the driver’s side seat. He could smell the full-humans who’d taken her from him, and rage at the audacity of what they’d done moved through him, his lip curling back over fangs that were three times larger than any lion or bear bred after the prehistoric era. Shoving the driver’s side door open, he stepped out and immediately focused on the van taillights he could see ahead in the darkness. Blayne was in that van. He stepped forward, ready to take off after her when it hit him in the back. He felt it like little shocks he’d feel after sliding through a thick carpet and touching a metal door handle. The feeling annoyed but that was about it.