by Celia Kyle
A roar, filled with every emotion living inside his heart, pierced the bright sky, echoing and vibrating the air surrounding them.
“Isaac!” The female again. Intruding. Interrupting.
He didn’t want any distractions. He needed to end the threat to Kira and then hide her pale body from view. Another struggling squirm came from the she-bear and he raised his paw, claws ready to dig into flesh a final time. He had a plan now. Kill. Protect. Care.
Kill Vanessa.
Protect Kira from view.
Care for Kira.
“Isaac!” The bellow was deep and powerful and stronger than his own.
He brushed it aside. Despite the power, he was owed reparation and he would have his hundred pounds of flesh. The woman tried to hurt Kira. Why did no one understand that?
“Dammit, boy!” That strength he recognized. It rang through his mind, his bear immediately reacting to the words. They were ones he’d grown up with, ones that had both parts of him cringing the instant the tone met his ears.
Father Bear.
Males entered his vision. Large and intimidating. But not to him. No, the she-bear recoiled from the dominance that now enveloped them.
“Let her go.” Ty. Brother Bear.
“Now, Isaac Jericho.” Papa Bear. It was his turn to flinch.
Ty crouched beside him. “Let Vanessa go. I have her.”
Isaac growled, curling his lip. He didn’t want to release the bitch. No, he wanted to finish what he’d started.
“Dammit, boy. Kira needs you now. Ty and I have this one. You go care for her.”
He released a rumbling growl. No. They were taking his retribution from him.
“Your woman is naked and Keen is standing not ten feet from her.” Ty thumped him and he snapped at the retreating fist. “You want him to go after your girl?”
Narrowing his eyes, he sought out Kira with his gaze and found his brother spoke the truth. Keen was easing closer to his woman. His nude woman. The male was mated to Trista, but… Kira was beautiful. Definitely more so than Trista.
He snarled at his brother and father before pushing Vanessa aside, vengeance forgotten in the face of Kira being lured away from him. He closed the distance with rapid ease, nudging Kira back while putting his massive bulk between her and Keen.
No one should see her nude. No one. Hell, not even him until he had her permission to look, kiss, and touch.
The crack and snap of bone had him looking toward his father and brother, the two men keeping an eye on Vanessa as she shifted. By the time the final muscles settled into place, the woman was a dirt-covered, blood-strewn, sobbing mess. She babbled and cried, pointing at him as she accused him of attacking her and trying to kill her for no reason.
The trio all stared at him, his brother with speculation, his father with exasperation and annoyance from the female’s words.
A glance at Keen showed he didn’t believe Vanessa’s lies.
Maybe Brother Bear Keen wasn’t all bad. But his Kira was still nude.
“Isaac, shift back.” His father gave no room for argument.
Which was fine. Isaac wasn’t arguing, he simply wasn’t going to listen. Not when the only thing keeping them from seeing Kira’s nude form was his bulk.
Ty growled at him, but the human sounds were far from threatening. “Shift. Back.”
Screw their orders, and fuck the pain assaulting him from Vanessa’s poison-laced attack, he was not exposing his woman.
His father sighed and shook his head before reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “He’s not gonna do anything while she’s nude. You know better than that, Ty.”
In no time, Dad was bare chested and slowly padding forward, his steps quiet. Isaac fought back the urge to release a warning growl to the older man. Dad was mated to Mom and wasn’t one to stare at other women. They’d been together for years. He was a safe male. The thoughts spun through his head as the feet separating them lessened and he stopped with a handful of feet separating them.
“I’m going to lean over you and hand her my shirt.” Dad was smart, approaching with caution but without fear.
Isaac nodded and kept an eye on the male’s movements. Kira pressed into his side, gasping when she encountered one of his seeping wounds. He swallowed the snarl that filled his chest. More pain assaulted him, emanating from the wound and beating at all the others. No, he kept the sounds of pain at bay.
The soft rustling of cloth had him focusing on her, watching her slow and careful movements as she donned Dad’s shirt. He hated another male’s scent on her, but it couldn’t be helped.
The moment the final button was fastened, he let his shift wash over him, the bear readily sliding to the back while his human half pushed forward. They knew that healing couldn’t happen on four legs. No, he needed his hands to wash the wounds and thread the needles that would put him together again. The pain was reminiscent of the agony he’d experienced over a year ago, his blood on fire and killing him slowly. At least this time he only had to worry about healing himself. There was no concern for others while he was eaten alive by poison and pain.
The torturous sensations of his bear’s recession pulsed through his body, beating in time with the pounding of his heart.
The only thing that kept him sane was the feeling of Kira’s palm on his flesh, the warmth of her fingers stroking his skin until he knelt on the disturbed dirt of her lawn. He panted and heaved, fighting for breath, battling to move past the stench of blood and toxins until he found the sweetness of her. He focused on that aroma, on the calm it brought forward. He was not fully soothed, not in the least, but he was no longer craving Vanessa’s death with every ounce of blood in his veins.
He could wait an hour or two for that. First, he needed to care for his woman.
Isaac pushed to his knees and turned his attention to her, noting the dirt marring her nose and the scratches that decorated her face. New rage assaulted him, but he tamped it down. He had to take the time to count the number of injuries Vanessa still deserved. Arms covered by his father’s shirt, he continued his inspection at her knees, seeing past the mud and earth and on to the bruises and scratches that lingered.
She reached for him, hand trembling, and he noted the blood and the way her nails were ragged and torn.
She’d fought. Run. Tried to dig and hide.
A whimper from his left reminded him of Vanessa’s presence, of the woman who’d caused Kira pain. The she-bear was dead. She just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter Seven
Kira trembled, shaking from fear and anger in equal measure. If she were stronger, larger, and fiercer, she’d kill the were-bitch. But she wasn’t.
So instead, she followed a limping Isaac into her home, swallowing the sobs that threatened to burst free from her chest. Not in pain, the wounds Vanessa caused were nothing compared to what she’d endured through the years in her father’s pack. No, the desperate need to cry was on Isaac’s behalf. She wasn’t able to inspect the deep gouges in his skin and flesh, but the large swaths of red told her enough.
The tumble and roll of two brown-furred bodies shocked her, the ground shaking and trembling beneath the onslaught of Isaac and Vanessa’s battle. Then the scent of blood and… something deeper had filled her nose.
A scent she knew well.
Isaac slowly shuffled toward her back porch and she remained close in his wake, unwilling to let him out of her sight. When they passed by the first male who’d joined them, Isaac snarled. The stranger backed away, arms raised. The man reminded her of Isaac, the scent close, but not quite a perfect match for the man she followed.
A brother? A brother, yet Isaac voiced a warning.
He had three and she already recognized Ty, the Itan, nearby. George was there as well. So, Keen or Van.
The other aroma that clung to the mystery male was of one of the women she met at the barbeque. He was mated. Trista? Was that her name? So, Keen which meant that Van was dealing with the were-bitch.<
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He gripped the stair railing, the wood creaking beneath his hold, and she was quick to step around him and race for the door. She was thankful she’d spent the week acclimating herself to her new home. She knew her house now, knew where to find the things she’d need. She couldn’t stitch him up, not with her blurred sight, but she could end the pain that wracked his body.
The heavy tread of the other males followed their progress, but she didn’t have time to worry about strangers in her house moving things around and turning her space into a minefield of accidents and pain.
Isaac came first.
“George, are you in here?” she called back to Isaac’s father, knowing the man would help. More than anything, she knew of his tolerance and patience when it came to women. Meg was a formidable force.
A grunt was her answer.
“Take him to the top of the stairs, last door on the left. Get the water running. Cold. Not even a hint of heat.” She strode into her kitchen, confident in her movements.
She bent over and snared her two largest pitchers from one of the lower cabinets. When she straightened, she noticed no one had moved. No one followed her directions.
Oh, screw that. She might not know a lot about a lot of things, but this… She knew more about this than she ever cared to.
“Is there a problem?” she snapped, uncaring that she spoke to the Itan and his father. Not to mention Keen, the clan’s Keeper. He didn’t make the laws, but he sure as hell knew each one.
The red-covered male swayed and she spouted orders again. “Get him upstairs. Start the shower. Cold. Don’t put him in it yet. I’m following you.”
“Kira?” Isaac’s voice was thread and hoarse.
“We don’t have time for this.” She glared in George’s general direction. She understood their worry for Isaac, and she accepted that he was the clan’s Healer. If anyone should give orders about medical care, it’d be him. Except she knew they were working on borrowed time. “Do you want him to live? Do you want him to thrive? Because right now, you’re killing him.”
She ignored the anger and worry assaulting her and simply returned to her task. If they wouldn’t help her, she’d drag Isaac’s ass to the shower herself. She was small, but she had pure rage and adrenaline on her side.
She flung open one of the upper cabinets and spied the orange-yellow boxes she needed. It wasn’t just tinkling bells that she stockpiled. It’d only taken one experience for her to learn that baking soda needed to be a well-stocked staple in the Kolanowski household.
Without missing a beat, she snared one of her kitchen chairs, placed it near the counter and crawled atop it. She grabbed two boxes and then glanced at Isaac before snaring a third.
Kira hopped down and tossed the boxes inside one of the empty pitchers. She strode forward, hand outstretched for Isaac.
“What are you doing?” Ty took a step toward her, his massive bulk overshadowing her. His concern and anger hit her hard, but she didn’t give a damn.
She took a deep breath and fought for calm. It didn’t work. Her mole was freaking the fuck out because Isaac was not only hurt, but was injured while defending them. He was theirs now and these males were keeping her from caring for him.
Fuck that noise.
“Do you wanna know what’s happening to him right now because you won’t help me? The woman had poison on her claws—”
“Wha—”
Kira spoke over him. “But it’s not poison. It’s an acid that attacks organic material. Cells. Half the drug slows you down, puts you to sleep so the acid can eat through your flesh. So right now,” her voice rose with every syllable, becoming shrill as she screamed at them. “Right now, your brother is being eaten alive because you won’t fucking help me!”
The words echoed off her aged wooden walls, bouncing off every hard surface, but Isaac’s voice rose from beneath the sounds. “Yes.”
A flurry of movement surrounded her, George’s mass brushing past her as he moved to Isaac while Ty came closer, hands outstretched.
“Oh, fuck that. This is my house. That’s my ma—I’m helping him. You go deal with the were-bitch outside. I don’t need your kind of help,” she sneered and then turned to follow the slowly shuffling men.
She didn’t give a damn what Keen and Ty did as long as it didn’t hinder her as she cared for Isaac.
Kira caught up to them on the stairs, George supporting Isaac and slowly bringing them toward the second floor. More of Isaac’s strength drained with each step and fear attacked her, pummeling as her heart threatened to freeze in place.
It seemed to take forever, but they finally entered her room and she raced past them, flinging her shower door open and quickly climbing into the tiled space. A yank on the knob had ice-cold water raining down on her and goose bumps covered her skin. George’s shirt retained the cold liquid, making her shudder, but it didn’t matter when faced with Isaac’s injuries.
She grabbed one of the pitchers and set it beneath the spray before reaching for a box of baking soda. She ripped at the cardboard packaging and dumped a handful into the slowly filling jug.
George dragged Isaac into the shower, soaking himself when he entered. “What do you need?”
Kira didn’t stop in her preparations. “Lower him to the ground in the corner. Lean him against the wall and then get out.”
“You don’t—”
“George, I’m on the clock here. Set him down. If you want to be helpful,” she snatched up the other pitcher and shoved it at him. “Fill this from the sink. Cold. You can also yell for another couple boxes of baking soda. I think I brought enough, but I’d rather be safe.”
When the empty jug was grabbed from her hands, she assumed he was following her instructions. That left her to deal with the male before her.
Never in her life had she hated her handicap. She kidded with herself and whined about not seeing his body or someone’s smile, but… But right now, when healing Isaac depended on being able to see his wounds, she wished she’d inherited her father’s strengths instead of her mother’s weaknesses.
Kira reached up and redirected the spray, grimacing at Isaac’s shout when the water struck his body. Yeah, it hurt. She, more than anyone, knew that.
She dipped her hand into the pitcher sitting on the floor, measuring the volume of water. Finding it held enough to do the job for the initial dousing, she hefted it and approached the moaning and whimpering male.
Wincing, she did what had to be done. It’d hurt, sometimes more than the burn of the acid, but it was necessary.
The first rush of liquid drew a snarl and the second had fur rippling over his cheeks, darkening it from tan to deep brown. Dammit. He needed to stay human. Shifting to a bear wouldn’t help him with this.
Hating herself, she reached out slapped his face, forcing him to focus on her and not the pain. She barely yanked her hand away in enough time to avoid being bitten, the clack of his teeth snapping together telling her just how near the edge he lingered.
“Isaac, you need to stay human.” She dumped more of the liquid on him, washing away the streaks of blood, and filling the open wounds. If any of them healed over, covering the damage beneath, they’d have to dig into them again.
It couldn’t linger—eating and eating and eating until there wasn’t much left to discover.
He snarled again, baring a nearly-bear fang and she bracketed his head with her hands. She let a hint of her shift wash through her fingers. As a mole, she was tiny, but the animal did let her have some of the perks of moledom when still human. Such as sharp nails and teeth. She only needed the nails.
Kira dug them into his skin, tips rested above the arteries in his neck. “Stay. Human.” She released her own version of a growl. “I will kill you before I let you continue suffering. Do you understand me? You promise to stay human or I’ll save us both the trouble.”
She was bluffing. She’d sooner kill herself than do more harm to Isaac, but with the pain riding him and the water and
baking soda filling the air, he couldn’t smell the lie.
He responded with a grunt that sounded very similar to his father’s, but she took it as agreement.
She got back to work. More of the baking soda filled water drenched him, sliding over his skin to be washed away by the shower. The rain would keep him cool as she fought to cease the poison’s progress. Time ticked past, everything outside her care for Isaac disappearing from her thoughts.
Slowly he regained his strength, the suppressant aspect of the poison working its way through his increased metabolism. The bear part of him burned it off, leaving behind the pain and debilitating wounds.
His skin sliding beneath her fingers was ragged, some injuries deeper than others, but slowly healing. She memorized each one, the heat of the cuts telling her of the healing while the coolness of others informed her the toxin still lingered.
While he lay injured before her, his movements sluggish when she urged him to twist and turn so she could reach all parts of him, she took advantage. She took advantage of an injured male and memorized the planes of his body, the strength of his muscles and the old wounds that had scarred and left permanent marks on him.
The one that laid open his chest stretched from shoulder to ribs on the opposite side. Another encased his shoulder. There were even more on his back that stretched to his legs.
Then… dear God, the one that destroyed his face. The pain he’d endured. The agony. It was astounding to her. A thick line of scar tissue went from hairline to chin, amazingly missing his eye. She had no idea if it was usable, but it remained in place. Shapeshifters couldn’t tolerate foreign material within their bodies. Especially during the change. So he definitely didn’t have a glass eye.
But the suffering.
“K’ra?” Isaac’s voice was a slur, but it was enough to snare her attention.
She placed the half-empty jug on the ground and crouched before him. She cupped his cheeks, helping him raise his head as she stared into his eyes. Claws weren’t involved this time. Now she needed to care for him, give him a reason to fight and lure him to the land of the living. “You with me?”