Return to the Bear (Bear Valley Shifters Book 3)

by T. S. Joyce

  Riker’s eyes went empty. Brody knew that look. His alpha got it when he was preparing for something he didn’t want to do. Brody had seen this hollow expression on the eve of every battle he’d fought beside him. “What do their numbers look like?”

  “Comparable to ours. They had practice rings set up and young bears being trained for battle.”

  “The question is,” Riker’s second, Cameron, said, “do we engage them now, or wait until we have more soldiers? We’re coming into their territory with fewer numbers. There’s no advantage for us here. They’ll have us. We have to consider that Nathan holding Hannah could be a trap. She could be bait.”

  “What do you suggest then?” Riker asked in a steely voice.

  “We let Joanna try and bring Hannah to the edge of their territory,” Brody said. “War will come and when it does, we will be more prepared. We’ll control where the battle happens, just like we’ve done in the past.”

  “You trust her? This woman you just met, who could be a spy for them. You trust her with Hannah’s life?”

  Brody thought about the desperation in her eyes when she’d asked him to claim her. The way she’d lost her composure over talk of destroying clans and her fury when Nathan had suggested Brody bed a woman in front of her. “Yes. I trust her.” He didn’t even know her, but trusted her more than most people he’d known his entire life.

  Riker scrubbed his hand across the two day stubble on his jaw, then gripped the edge of the bed. “All right. If you trust her, then so do I.”

  ****

  Joanna’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking no matter how tightly she squeezed them into fists. By mid-afternoon, her teeth had started chattering too, though it wasn’t cold outside. On the contrary, it was rainy, but the humidity made every breath she dragged into her lungs warm her from the inside out. It held that muggy, sticky, hot ozone scented atmosphere. At least she and Hannah’s smell would be masked by the murky weather. Rain had a tendency to wash out even the most pungent trails.

  Dutifully, she had kept up the mask and brought Dunn and Hannah breakfast, then lunch. She didn’t visit with Hannah, feigning a busy schedule, but really she was just afraid of saying something to tip the guard off that all wasn’t what it seemed. At five o’clock, she stood in her unfamiliar, still tossed room and looked around for anything she could take with her. Carrying her things would definitely look suspicious.

  The old alpha of the Long Claws had ordered her community burned, and her house had gone down in a blaze, but she had saved a few things, including a photograph of her family. Tucking that into her pocket, she dug through a plastic hamper of belongings. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she shoved it to the side and looked through a pillow case stuffed full of her things. Whoever moved her stuff didn’t take consideration for her fragile things, and she mourned the broken snow globe she pulled from the damp fabric. At the bottom of the bag, with the jagged pieces of broken glass, was the knife her father had made for her when she was fourteen. Ten years and the knife still looked brand new. She’d never had a reason to use it, but it was so beautifully crafted, it had remained one of her prized possessions. The sheath was made of soft deer hide, and the handle was made of deer antler with the image of a bear carved into the hilt. The blade glinted in the artificial light as she pulled it free, and when she ran it against her arm at an angle, her fine hairs split and fell in a tiny shower. Still sharp. Why wouldn’t it be? It had never been used for anything other than arm shaving.

  With the blade safely back in its sheath, she tucked it into the back of her jeans and pulled the thin fabric of her shirt over it. With a last look at the pillow Mom had embroidered, she stomped down her sadness at leaving her things and escaped the house. She didn’t say goodbye to Anya or the others because she couldn’t trust them not to go straight to Nathan at the first hint of odd behavior.

  The community was abnormally quiet, though the practice rings were full of young men and boys, changed into their bear forms, fighting viciously. The sound of violence made her mouth feel so dry, it was hard to swallow. She picked up a meal from mess hall and behind the building, she mixed the sleeping pills she’d crushed into the blob of mashed potatoes. If she was lucky, Dunn would eat those first.

  The rain softened to a drizzle as she made her way to the old Kodiak cabins. The pattering drops bounced off the canopy above and landed on the food. She should’ve asked for some sort of cover for it.

  “About time,” Dunn, the ungrateful little sod, called. “I’m starving.”

  “Good,” she muttered with a painted upon smile. Handing him the plate, she sat beside him and dangled her leg over the broken railing of the porch.

  “Can you ask your mate to find me a different job assignment? This sucks,” he said between bites.

  “Nathan’s not my mate, but I can ask him.”

  Dunn’s dark eyebrows furrowed and a half smile curved his lips as if he thought she were joking. “I don’t get you. You’ve been here for two years and you still don’t want a mate. Why?”

  He wouldn’t understand her sentiments about love, so she shrugged and stared at the dirt path between here and the trees. The clouds moved swiftly across the sky, dark and ominous and she tried to calm her breathing. She was really going to do this. In a few minutes, there would be no turning back.

  “Damn, that was good,” Dunn said, laying back against the warped wood of the porch.

  “Glad you approve. I’m going to feed the human. Be right back.”

  She toted a plate inside and Hannah gave her a wide-eyed look. She shook from head to toe, the ends of her matted hair trembling with the movement. Joanna pulled her finger to her lips and made a calming gesture. She couldn’t stand to waste that adrenaline now. Hannah would need that extra bolt of energy very soon.

  The click of the door closing sounded loud in the quiet. In the daytime, it was easy to see just how ratty the little cabin was. Dingy light filtered through the holes in the walls where the sealant had failed, and rain dripped from a hundred leaks. Hannah was soaking wet, and Joanna wanted to beat the tar out of Dunn for not taking better care of her.

  Pulling the knife, she sawed through the bindings at Hannah’s ankles, careful not to knick the swollen skin there, then she moved to her wrists. Hannah exhaled a relieved sound and rubbed life back into her hands.

  Can you walk, Joanna mouthed, slow enough for her to read her lips.

  “I have to,” Hannah whispered.

  Slam! The door opened so fast, it crashed against the wall. “You conspiring little bitch,” Dunn slurred, lumbering heavily through the door. “You drugged me.”

  Joanna grabbed Hannah around the waist and hoisted her up. He lunged, but she was faster and pushed the human out the door. Her hair wrenched painfully as Dunn yanked her back into the cabin, and she stifled a scream as his meaty hand wrapped around her throat, crushing her wind pipe until she couldn’t breathe. He was clumsy though, and his eyes rolled around, unfocused, so she kicked him viciously in the knee, then fled his grasp as he staggered backward.

  “Jo,” Hannah said, and the terror in her voice froze her blood.

  Nathan stood leaned against a tree across the path, a wholly unsurprised look on his face. “Joanna, Joanna, Joanna,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You’ve been a naughty bear.”

  Chapter Six

  Nathan’s gray fitted shirt had darker spots where the rain had found his shoulders, and his blond hair was damp. She’d never seen a colder expression on another living person’s face. He uncrossed his arms and approached slowly.

  The porch stairs creaked under her steps, and she pressed a hand to the small of Hannah’s back, guiding her to the left and out of his path. “Nathan, we’re leaving.”

  His gold eyebrows winged up. “Oh, you are? You just decided this? You’re going to leave with my prisoner and I should just let you go, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re mine!” he roared, lunging for her.
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  She shoved Hannah toward the trees as his stony hand wrapped around the back of her neck.

  “What am I supposed to do with you?” he gritted out, his gaze on her lips. “I’ve waited, been patient, and still you undermine me and deny all that I offer you.” His fingers dug into her neck and she whimpered.

  “You offer me nothing but an empty life. If you care about me, you’ll let me go. You’ll let me be happy.”

  His grip tightened and his eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Never.” He pushed her back and slapped her across her face with the back of his hand.

  Pain rippled through her cheek and she crashed backward. He was on her before she even hit the ground. His grip was so hard it would snap her wrist bones, and when she looked into his eyes, nothing was there. The hollowness of his gaze scared her more than anything. “You’re hurting me,” she cried out, struggling against him.

  “Can’t you see?” he bellowed. “I never wanted that. I made a place for you in my life so I could take care of you, and this is how you repay me? You betrayed me.” He lifted her by the arms and slammed her back down.

  Stars dotted the edges of her vision, shooting this way and that, and dizziness made her want to wretch. Warmth trickled down her chin from a burning cut across her cheek, and suddenly, Nathan rocketed off her. The crack of Nathan’s skull against the branch in Hannah’s hands sounded like thunder.

  As she struggled to her feet, Nathan’s laughter conjured gooseflesh from her forearms. “I’ll play your games, Joanna.” He stood, swaying, but stayed upright. “You run, and if I catch you…I’ll kill you.”

  Hannah tugged on her arm as Joanna froze under his serpentine gaze.

  “Run!” he yelled.

  Joanna spun and shoved Hannah forward. “We have to go,” she said through a sob. Her face felt like she’d been hit with a baseball bat, but there wasn’t time to worry about busted lips and egos. There was a rough mile between here and the pond and Nathan was fast. Much faster than her, and Hannah was limping badly. To give Hannah a chance, she’d have to fight when he got too close. “Whatever happens, don’t look back. Just run along this trail until you reach the green pond. Brody will be there.” God, please let him be there!

  Hannah panted as they ran and her voice sounded strained. “We’ll go together, just like you promised.” She drove her legs faster and Joanna sped up too, right behind her.

  The fear of death did amazing things to one’s body. Adrenaline flooded her system and she ran so fast, she felt as if she were flying. Hannah grunted with every step and Joanna couldn’t even imagine the pain she was in. Still, she was running for their lives. If they’d met in another life, one that wasn’t about to be cut down so soon, she would’ve liked Hannah. She was a survivor, just like her. Limbs, brush, and leaves whipped by, clawing at her face and legs but she didn’t care.

  “Joanna,” Nathan taunted from behind them and a scared sound wrenched from her throat.

  He would kill her this time. He wasn’t bluffing or playing anymore. Her time was up and he wouldn’t let her go easily. Death at his hand would hurt, and her tortured ghost would be left with the shades of the Kodiaks to walk these woods unavenged forever.

  Hannah slowed, gasping for breath but they were close.

  “Find it in you,” Joanna pleaded. “We’re almost there.”

  Hannah slowed more.

  “Brody!” Joanna screamed.

  She could hear Nathan now, crashing through the woods behind her. He’d be able to see them now, the quarry he hunted. The playful taunts had left him and he panted louder and louder as he drew near. This was it. She needed to turn and fight but they were so damned close. The scent of the algae pond filled her sensitive nose, and she could hear the rain drops hitting the surface of the water.

  Hannah tripped and fell forward on her hands and knees with a scream. That was it. Joanna turned, pulled her father’s knife and crouched in front of Hannah. This was her last stand. “Get up,” she said. “The pond is through there.” She could see it—had made it so close to lose just at the end.

  A flash of gray showed through the trees and a battle cry screeched from her throat. Something hit her sideways, hard, and she scrambled to make sense of the blue fabric that brushed her face. She was encircled in a strong embrace, then thrust upward. Brody’s powerful strides pounded the earth beneath them, and as they reached the pond, he slid against the damp ground on his knees. He wrenched the knife from her hand and ripped open her shirt, exposing her breasts. Before she could struggle or jerk away, he ran her blade in three swift cuts from sternum to arm. Then he flipped the knife and pressed the hilt against her hand.

  Pain seared through her arm as warmth ran rivers down her bare chest. “Why?” she breathed, hurt that he’d let her spend the last moments of her life in such pain. His eyes, more brown than green today, were so intense she couldn’t look away if she tried. His dark hair was wet, and tiny droplets of moisture dripped from the ends. His mouth was parted slightly, and he panted as if he’d run a long way.

  Ripping his shirt open, he said, “You want me, cut me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do it now!”

  Unthinking, unfeeling, terrified, she checked her wound and mirrored his cuts across his chest. Blood poured from him and his lips crashed against hers. He gripped her hair, held her to him and she melted against him. His tongue stroked hers once, then he pulled away.

  “No!” Nathan bellowed from across the pond, shocking her back to reality. He stood, heaving breath that fogged in front of him like a raving beast. His eyes were soulless and kindled with rage.

  “Hannah?” she called.

  “I’m here,” the woman said from behind.

  Confused, Joanna turned to find her held behind a tall man with eyes as bright as blue morning snow. They were wide, and surprised, and he was staring at her breasts. No. He was staring at the bleeding cuts Brody had made into her flesh.

  The shifter ghosted a glance to Brody, then slowly back to Nathan. “This woman is mine now, a part of my clan. She’s been claimed by one of my people.”

  “She’s my mate.” Nathan’s dominance cracked against the clearing and the air filled with the smell of a lightning storm. The hair on her arms electrified, and she was horrified to realize the same power was coming from behind and beside her. From Brody and Riker.

  Brody stood, pulling her with him. “I don’t know how it’s done in the Long Claw Clan, but she has the right to choose.” He pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, exposing the bleeding wounds. “She’s made her choice. It’s not you. She’s mine now, a member of Bear Valley under Riker, my alpha.”

  Nathan shook with fury, his body vibrating under the weight of his infinite rage. “You’ve just brought war upon yourselves.”

  “No,” Riker said. “You brought war when you broke your peace treaties and murdered your allies.”

  A ripping sound rattled the space behind her and she turned to see Riker stand on his hind legs, at least a dozen feet tall. A fully muscled, scarred, infuriated grizzly, whose murderous glowing gaze was honed on Nathan. He roared long and loud, followed by three short bursts.

  Brody gripped the back of her neck and forced her to look at him. “I need you to run now. Go west until you find the truck. Take Hannah. If the Long Claws get through us, you change and fight them. Keep her safe, do you understand?”

  She gripped his hands, wishing she could keep them against her skin forever. “I understand.” Her voice came out very small, and shook like a grass fire.

  “You’re strong,” he breathed, his gaze dipping to her lips. “You can do this.”

  “I won’t let you down.”

  His smile was slow and disappeared as fast as it came. “I knew you wouldn’t.” He kissed her once more, and a growl trickled from his throat, which turned into a roar as he grew upward and thick fur sprouted from his skin. He was a heavily muscled grizzly, lighter in color than Riker but just as scarred,
as if he’d been in many battles. His hard gaze left her and focused on Nathan.

  “Holy. Shit snacks,” Hannah breathed, her horror-filled gaze glued across the pond.

  A flash of snow white fur said it was past time to go. Joanna had to trust that Brody and Riker were strong enough to take on Nathan and the Long Claw guards who were no doubt storming the woods. She grabbed Hannah’s hand, but the woman pulled back.

  “He’s a…that’s a…”

  “We have to go now,” Joanna said, pulling her arm harder.

  “You didn’t tell me he was a freaking polar bear!”

  “Move your feet, Hannah, or we’ll be caught in the middle of a battle we don’t want to be. Move!”

  Brody and Riker charged past them, their thick bodies lithe and powerful, flexing great girths of muscle with every step.

  Hannah’s eyes were wide as she watched her mate, but they were out of time. Gripping her shoulders, Joanna spun the woman and shoved her toward a trail. “Run and don’t slow down.”

  Roaring filled the air, and clawed slaps echoed through the woods. There would be more bears joining Nathan soon. Joanna could hear them and her heart sank with the realization that it was Brody and Riker against a Long Claw army. They would die in these woods and it was her fault.

  It was in the middle of her epic bout of self-loathing when she heard the crashing of the trees up ahead. She skidded to a stop, pulling Hannah back with her just as thirty bears charged through the woods around them. She ducked as a charging, red-furred bear leapt over them, shielding Hannah, but the woman only pulled her forward.

  “They’re ours,” she said simply, and began running again.

  Ours? It hit her then. Even if she died here today, she wouldn’t pass into the next realm as a Long Claw. She was a Bear Valley shifter now. Even if it was only for the last few minutes of her life, it counted—it mattered. Brody had gifted her a new clan as his last deed before he went to battle.

  A row of trucks and vans were parked along the main road just outside of Long Claw territory and Hannah led her to a jacked up black one with mud all over the tires and doors. Just as she opened the creaking door a voice rang out.