Bearly Christmas

by Becca Fanning

  She'd held back the information she had hoped was the worst of it: that the bodies of the hated shifters were easily dealt with once the murders had happened because there was a market for stuffed heads, for pelts, for teeth and tongues, for paws and claws, for internal organs.

  Some of it was to rich bastards too lazy or scared to even go on a canned hunt, the travesty where cages were opened and frightened animals ran a few steps before being taken down as trophies.

  A lot more of it was to the still robust traditional medicine market – for sexual stamina and health, for male problems. For things that pharmacology could take care of, or nothing could fix.

  In order to document it, she'd have to look at it.

  Dani swallowed over and over as she aimed her camera at the pit, watching the carnage.

  Holden sat up. He didn't bother playing to the myth of the straps. Let them know he could have broken them at any time. But he kept up the fallacy that he was woozy.

  They dragged him to his feet where he swayed, under the watchful guns of Sam and Stuart. Apparently if he got this far and then rampaged, they'd just kill him.

  Good to know. Because he stood a much better chance in the ring. Whatever the leaders of the atrocity thought, they were stupid. There was a way out of the ring: Working together.

  Shifters didn't have any sort of telepathy. What they did have was the ability to sense each other's hormones, to smell intent.

  He had no intention of fighting anyone in that ring. He wasn't going into it with the idea that this was his last hour on earth. He didn't even know why they fought. Other than terror. Of course. Faced with their own deaths, every shifter dropped into that pit had to know if they won every single bout there'd only be another. And another, and another, until they dropped from exhaustion.

  Even if that didn't happen? They'd just be shot.

  There was no way out.

  Except together.

  The walls of the pit were high. They weren't two shifters high though. One bear standing on the shoulders of another –

  --would be shot.

  But. How many shifters were above the pit? In pens, and nowhere near as hardcore of pens as the one he'd been in halfway here. Maybe because they were drugged when they were put in? Or because the others quailed and didn't fight before the pit?

  Whatever. It was to his advantage, so he wasn't going to question it.

  He was going to take advantage of it.

  Holden was faking it.

  Dani didn't know how, but he'd resisted the drug this time. She'd have to ask him about it later.

  There had to be a later. This couldn't be the end. Not at 24. Not with Lisa and her mother still under Sjoberg's control. Not when he was bound to switch Lisa into her place if something happened to Dani.

  She sent text after text, demanding in caps with exclamation points that her friends tell her the texts were received. Half of them texted back instantly.

  Good. She'd gotten the word out. Now she just had to stay alive.

  Dani let herself out of the private box.

  To Holden, the shift in the feeling inside the facility was so distinct he couldn't believe the gamblers and jailors didn't feel it.

  The shifters were coming aware. Hiding it, but each could see it in the other. They were waiting for some defining incident. For something to happen that signaled it was time to fight back.

  Short of standing and roaring, Holden wasn't sure how to do that.

  That was when the shifters in the pit stopped fighting and turned their attention on the audience.

  That was when the shifters in the pens, in human and in shifted forms, suddenly attacked their cages, rattling bars and snapping locks and those who couldn't free themselves were freed by the first out.

  That was when the men with the rifles were hit, first and hardest.

  Six guards with guns. Three of them didn't even get off shots. Two of them missed in their sudden terror. One hit the bear lunging at him and killed it. A silken haired boy in his late teens dropped to the floor, dead.

  The screaming started then. The guards dying, blood splattering.

  Holden went for the bears in the pit. No telling how many of the gamblers were armed. The doors were locked, though – as long as the guards were taken down and their keys seized, no one was going anywhere until this was over.

  A fast glance up at the private box where he'd seen Dani go proved she was on the move. He saw just the edge of movement as she headed out of the box and farther up into the stands.

  Good. Safe. Maybe documenting.

  Holden turned, growling, and launched himself at Walter Sjoberg.

  The thin, patrician man saw the bear charging him. He fumbled for his open carry Dirty Harry gun. The thing that probably made the thin, older man feel like a strong modern day cowboy slipped out of his hands like he was a child playing with a toy too heavy.

  He tried to turn for the gun at the same time he tried to defend himself against Holden, one hand up, warding him off.

  Holden lunged. His paws caught the man's shoulders and drove him down. Pinning Sjoberg, Holden growled into his face, fangs exposed directly above the man's neck.

  Sjoberg begged. Holden felt his grip on humanity slipping farther. He didn't usually hold on like this. The drugs and the headache acted on him.

  He'd worry about healing up later. When Dani was safe.

  When had she become so important?

  He felt a savage ursine grin overtake his face. He liked that she mattered.

  He sank his teeth toward Sjoberg's throat. And paused. No. He wouldn't kill Dani's father. Let him take the rap for what he'd done. There were courts that weren't crooked. Public opinion, for one thing. Deal with the haters long enough, it felt like everyone was one of them, and that just wasn't true.

  Let the public have their day. Expose the rings.

  He pulled back. He'd smash Sjoberg's head, knock him out, let him have the post-unconsciousness headache.

  When he pulled back, Sjoberg squirmed hard and made a move that shouldn't have worked. In an instant he had the gun in this hands, both hands, and pointed at Holden.

  Holden roared and Sjoberg, aiming it at his face with a sadistic smile, saw something beyond Holden and grinned ferociously, aiming it past Holden's shoulder.

  He heard her voice at the same time. "Holden!"

  Dani!

  He smashed his paw down, crushing Sjoberg's wrist against the concrete. Even then the man still scrabbled for the gun, actually got his fingers on it, screaming the entire time, threats about what he would do to Dani. To Holden.

  To Dani's mother.

  To Lisa.

  Holden snarled and let the bear take him. The last thing he knew as a man was the feeling of the fangs sinking deep into Sjoberg's throat.

  Sinking, and ripping.

  When he was human again, it was over. Sam and Stuart were dead. Dave was wounded and the other guard, Jeff, trussed up in one of the cells which was more than hearty enough to hold a human.

  The more than 100 spectators, gamblers and audience members, were sitting under threat of death in the bleachers, waiting for the police.

  Dani was in his arms.

  Suddenly waiting seemed like a very bad idea. He'd wanted her more every minute since he'd wakened in the cage with her. Then every minute had led to more confusion, more panic, more bloodlust. More death.

  And now more of the proof she needed and more of the justice he'd sought.

  Her father was dead. Holden's human hands were figuratively covered in blood. She'd seen all of it happen.

  She was in his arms.

  When he met her eyes, he asked the question silently, with the yearning he felt naked on his face.

  She answered.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Holden Tyrell had killed her father.

  Dani didn't know if she should be ashamed for feeling nothing, or grateful, or just accept the fact that she actually felt nothing.
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  No. That wasn't true. She felt relief. Her father had been evil, actually evil, the way anyone was who wanted to wipe out an entire race because it didn't conform to his stereotypical expectations of what was right.

  Her mother was safe. Her sister was safe. And they knew she was safe, because she'd called and said she'd be home as soon as she could, that things had happened they'd need to know about.

  Her mother had flat out asked: "Is Walter dead?"

  And Dani, not hearing any emotion other than hope had answered simply. "Yes."

  "Thank God."

  There were police to contend with and statements to give and the attendees of the horror show to see arrested. But the police had an ETA of at least 15 minutes. They were really rural here.

  They had at least 15 minutes.

  She squeezed his hand.

  There was a private office near one of the loading docks. Dani didn't want to question too hard what had been loaded there. She just wanted the privacy.

  The window that looked into the warehouse area even had a shade. The door had a lock.

  The room had a desk that looked like a flat surface.

  They tumbled into the room together and Holden spun her and used her back to slam the door, locked it even as his mouth found hers, his other hand found her breast. He squeezed, molding her breasts to his hands, her nipples already hard as rocks and shoving at the lace of her bra.

  His mouth tasted sweet, like honey, and his eyes were honey, golden and dark rimmed, still as much beast as human. She licked his lips, looked up into his eyes, and trusted him in a way that was fast and stupid and risky and utterly true.

  She'd had the civilized men in her life, so called, and most of them were higher up in an organization that killed for sport and profit.

  Now it was time to have some wild in her life where wild meant caring and chivalry and – need. So much need. She felt it like he was already stroking between her legs, bringing the want and need and making her hot and liquid. She could feel her juices spreading, touching the tops of her thighs.

  She wanted him to rip her jeans from her, to touch her, to sink his fingers deep inside her. She moaned as his tongue filled her mouth. There was no finesse between them, no time for delicacy.

  Dani's tongue forced its way deeper into his mouth, tasting musk as well as sweetness, tasting the tang of animal. He smelled like oils from fur, like the hay and musk smell of bear and animal. He smelled of open places and passion.

  She could feel him through his jeans and hers. He was hard, so hard it must hurt him, pressing against her belly. He was so much taller than her, she'd need to climb him like a tree.

  She wrapped one leg around him, pulled his groin to hers, jeans or not. Felt his hands tighten on her breasts, tweaking nipples through her tank top. He groaned, made a sound like a growl, and tore the straps of her tank free, the one already torn and the one that hadn't been. Her nails clawed at his neck, leaving scratches there.

  Holden lifted her easily, pressing her back into the door, and she wrapped her legs around him, like they were already connected and he was already inside her, and pressed herself to him.

  He left off kissing her mouth. Holding her with his body and one hand, he used the other to tangle in her hair, dragging her head to his and then up so he could kiss and lick and bite her throat and she writhed, thinking of the fangs that had filled his mouth only minutes ago. He was a combination of protector and danger.

  "I want you," he growled, and lowered her to the floor, tearing her bra off as if it were nothing. Even as human he had fantastic strength. She sucked in a breath, feeling his hot breath on her skin, his tongue laving her breasts, leaving trails of shining saliva.

  Clawing at his back, she dragged her hands down to his waist, fumbling with the belt buckle there. His clothes were tattered but mostly intact. When he'd changed, they'd torn and stretched but not come off. Bears generally just shredded whatever they were wearing. Holden had kept hold of his humanity.

  For her.

  For all of the captives in the arena. For all of the shifters out there.

  With her proof and his actions, the league of anti shifters should fall. They'd be able to track down surviving shifters who had been taken and stop the kidnappings and murders.

  Her thoughts splintered again. His belt lay on the floor. He'd torn the leather in half.

  She ripped at his already tattered jeans, until he took over, and then she tore the shirt off his back, and set about her own boots and jeans until she was naked, in a kill zone arena, the scent of blood and cordite still heavy in the air.

  But now is smelled like they'd won.

  He dropped his jeans at his feet.

  She was beautiful. Honey colored all over, like the glorious mass of her hair, now freed from the braid. Large breasts, rosy tipped, nipples pointed upward. Tiny waist, tapering inward from her breasts, and rounded hips, leading down to a shaved mound. He could see her glistening from where he stood, both of them having finished undressing at the same time and turned to look at each other.

  She held her arms out to him, blushing, but he saw her eyes travel over the whole of his body and he grinned.

  He was huge. From the height to the width, the shoulders and arms that looked lanky in snap front shirts and t-shirts to the long, long legs that in jeans looked lean and out of them were muscled like a bodybuilder's.

  In between he had an eight-pack, showing even through the fur that dusted his chest and his abs and created a glory road down from his navel to his thick, hard, wet-beaded cock that strained toward her.

  She caught her breath and almost went to her knees, wanting to feel it in her mouth, to taste him there the way she'd tasted his mouth.

  But he caught her, maybe without knowing what she'd intended, and held her, like she was fragile and might break.

  And then as if he knew she wouldn't.

  His hands scooped under her ass, pulling her up. Dani wrapped her legs around his waist again, and as she did so, this time his hard, thick cock found her entrance and pushed, even as he pressed her against the door again.

  "Oh, god, Holden," she gasped, and he sank the entire length into her.

  He filled her completely. She could feel him rubbing against her clit, against her insides, it felt like he was filling her all the way to her spine, all the way into her chest. She felt wild, and clawed at his back, and the movement jostled him inside her and she came, hard, exploding, her honey covering them both, soaking them.

  He began to move inside her, thrusting hard, nearly pulling out completely with every stroke before slamming home hard again. Dani sank her nails into his back, holding on, bit his shoulder to stifle a cry as she came a second time, the rings of pleasure moving outward from her core so intense she ground herself against him, the pleasure racing through her body.

  Holden staggered from the door, turning into the office, aiming her at the desk. He sat her there, nearly kneeling to match height, and she simply lay back, pulling her with him, Holden pushing off the office floor to lay on top of her, both of them on the desk that groaned under their weight. Pushing himself into a missionary position with his arms stretched out, his back arched, his cock pushed as far forward into her as he could, he stroked hard into her, his head back until she dug her nails into his mid back, forced his head down to hers, his back now rounding as he lowered his face to hers.