by T. S. Joyce
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Muriel explained as they approached. “It’s that cooking doesn’t like me. I’m a chronic food burner.”
“She’s getting better though,” Logan said as he clapped Dillon on the back in a rough, mannish greeting. “Here, Breshia. Take my seat. I’ll go grab a few more.”
“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile.
Dillon held the chair steady while she sank into it, and Samantha took the chair between her and Muriel.
“Where’s Abigail?” she asked.
Muriel held up a wireless baby monitor. “I put her down a couple of hours ago. Kid sleeps like a rock, but I’ve already checked on her four times. It’s weird being all the way out here and away from her.”
“Samantha laughed and twitched her head toward the dark window closest to them. “She’s what…ten yards away from you?”
“Yeah, but it feels weird not being in the house with her. Gah, I can’t explain it. You’ll see, Sam. Laugh now, but when you have a cub of your own, those momma instincts are serious.”
A green bronco like the ones at the Seven Devils clan picked its way up the gravel drive and Samantha waved.
“No quick movements, okay?” Dillon murmured against Breshia’s ear. “Not until Ethan gets to know you.”
“Ethan? You mean the one who tried to kill me?” Her voice came out a scared sounding squeak.
“It wasn’t really Ethan as much as Bear. His animal is boss, but he’ll ease up when he figures out you aren’t a threat to our people. Don’t worry.”
But visions of Bear charging her with murder in his eyes made her shrink back into the lawn chair in terror.
“If you act scared, you’re going to set him off,” Bron said.
Great. She stood on shaky legs and tried her best to smile at the towering man who approached behind a blonde-haired woman at least two heads shorter than he was.
“Ethan, Reese,” Dillon said, gripping Breshia’s shoulders from behind. “This is my mate, Breshia.”
“I knew it,” Reese said. Stepping around the fire, she pulled Breshia in for a back cracking hug that left her utterly stunned.
Ethan stood a safe distance away as Reese moved to hug Samantha. The fire threw flickering shadows across his striking features as he said, “I’m going to go get you a beer, and then you’ll forgive me for trying to kill you.”
“Okay,” Breshia whispered, fighting the urge to hide behind Dillon.
Ethan disappeared inside, along with Muriel, who mumbled something about checking on Abigail, and Breshia’s legs gave. With an oomf, she sat hard onto the chair and stared at the firelight. When she’d recovered enough to control her breathing, she found that Logan and Bron were both staring at her with smirks on their faces.
“You all right over there?” Bron asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Afraid her voice would shake, Breshia nodded as Ethan stuck a cold beer bottle in her palm.
“Forgiven?” he asked. His eyes were churning silver, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in what looked like a smile.
“Forgiven. Let’s not mention it anymore.”
He chuckled and nodded. “Fair enough. So,” he said, crossing his arms. “You and Dillon, huh? You must be pretty special to turn this old bachelor’s head.”
“Hey, Dillon,” Logan asked, as he flipped a row of steaks that were laid over a grill on the fire. “Remember that time last week when you said…” he pitched his voice high, “I’ll never claim a mate as long as I live. None of the girls here interest me at all.”
Dillon popped the top of her beer and handed it back to her, then took a swig of his own he’d retrieved from a blue cooler near the porch. “And I meant it. Clan woman play too many mind games. I was waiting for Bre.”
“Awww,” Samantha said, clutching her hands to her chest like she was watching a romantic movie.
Unable to help herself, Breshia giggled. She liked this rag tag group of shifters. They were funny and easy to talk to, and from their acceptance of Logan, it was clear they had big hearts. She hadn’t ever admitted it out loud, but she’d always wished for friends like them.
As the night went on, the banter became easy. Breshia didn’t talk much, but she didn’t have to. She had more fun observing the relationships between her new clan. The couples, each affectionate in their own ways, and the groups of friends. The guys, joking and calling names, giving the girls a hard time, and the women holding their own. They ate steaks, and fire-roasted potatoes and whole cobs of corn. And as they settled around the fire with full bellies, Dillon pulled her onto his lap and relaxed into a plastic chaise lounge chair. He nuzzled her neck as she told Samantha and Reese about how she knew Abigail had a lion cub in her.
She felt so animated here with these new friends. Not dead, like she used to feel inside. Survival mode didn’t make up the bulk of her life anymore. Now, she could actually relax and enjoy herself for the first time in as long as she could remember. No one here expected her to be perfect, because as they shared stories about how they’d met their mates, it was clear that they weren’t perfect, and that was okay. No one stared at her freckles or said mean things, or even judged her clothes. They made sure to include her in the conversations and joked with her, as if she already belonged here.
“Are you happy?” Dillon asked, half of his face immersed in the yellow glow of the firelight.
She opened her mouth to tell him just what this all meant to her, but a soft rumbling sound halted her words.
She looked around, but no one else seemed to hear anything. She was just being paranoid and sighed in relief.
Logan jerked his head up and frowned at the empty, gravel driveway, and Ethan stood slowly from his chair and faced the dark woods where the sound was coming from.
“I hear it, too,” Dillon said low.
Logan looked back at his mate. “Muriel—”
“I know,” Muriel rushed. Turning, she bolted for the house.
The first set of headlights ghosted the hilly drive, and then another and another.
Bron dialed out on his phone and asked a woman he called Trinity to gather the clan. “The lions are here,” he said, right before he hung up.
Three black SUV’s came to a stop in front of the house. Winter stepped from behind the wheel of the lead vehicle and a cruel smile twisted her lips as her cold gaze landed on Dillon. “Shira sent us to carry out her promise. You,” she said, pointing to Dillon. “You’ll die tonight for what you’ve done.”
“Bre,” Samantha said low. “You can’t fight, can you?”
Breshia’s heart pounded against her breastbone, and everything in her wanted to flee as the Portland pride, then the Chicago pride filed out of their cars. They outnumbered the bears three to one. She reached deep inside of herself, but she couldn’t manage to conjure her cowardly animal, no matter how hard she tried.
“No. I can’t change,” she said, panicked and panting for breath.
“It’s okay,” Dillon murmured, pulling his shirt over his head. “Go inside with Muriel.”
“I can’t just leave you here.” Her words sounded forced as she pushed them past her closing throat.
Dillon turned and gripped her shoulders. In her peripheral, she could see a white faced bear burst from Samantha, and twin giant grizzlies from Ethan and Bron. “I can’t fight like I need to if I’m worrying about you,” he growled. “You don’t have a chance in your human form. Get inside.”
Something was niggling at the edges of her frantic thoughts though, and she opened her mouth to argue. Something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like the kind of attack she’d expected. It was too straight forward, too obvious. This wasn’t the way lions hunted.
Dillon gritted his teeth and backed away. A smattering of pops and cracks echoed off the silent woods as Dillon morphed into a towering grizzly. He gave her one last, hard look and turned.
Near the cars, the lions were changing too. She backed toward the house, hating herse
lf for her cowardice, hating her lion for hiding when she needed her.
Bron bellowed a roar and the bears charged. Body’s clashed, and slaps and snarls echoed through the woods.
“Come on, you goddamned lion!” She had to help them—help her friends. Help Dillon.
Movement shadowed the tree line alongside the house, and drew her attention. Squinting, Breshia stepped away from the window light enough to make out two figures in the dark. A woman and a lion slunk through the night and disappeared behind the house.
It was all so clear now.
This wasn’t about Dillon or her pairing with him at all. Her fall from the pride was a distraction.
Her eyes widened as the first wisps of fury snaked through her.
This was about Abigail.
The sound of a window shattering had Breshia bolting for the front door. Shira would kill Muriel if she stood in her way. She’d kill the cub’s own mother if it meant she could feel like she won.
Breshia ran down the hallway and skidded to a stop in front of Abigail’s nursery. Muriel stood in front of her crib, facing off with a massive lion with a mane as black as pitch. Thomas.
Fear chilled her blood as she stepped into the room. Shira stood in the corner, eyes riveted on the crib.
Breshia hissed as she maneuvered herself beside Muriel.
“Down girl,” Shira said as Thomas paced a circle around her legs. “I’ll accept you back into the pride after tonight is through. I’ll need help raising my daughter.”
“She’s not your daughter,” Breshia said low. “She’s Muriel’s.”
“No,” Shira drawled out. “Can’t you smell her? She’s a lion cub, and this bitch is a bear.”
A long, low rumble came from Muriel’s chest, and the churning silver in her eyes said she wasn’t far from changing. “I should’ve killed you the first time you trespassed on my land,” she ground out.
“Dillon!” Breshia cried out as Thomas lunged for Muriel.
Searing, ripping pain blinded Breshia as her lioness exploded from her skin. When she looked up, Muriel’s black bear was locked in a snarling clawing battle with Thomas. The massive lion drew Muriel farther away from Abigail until their battle tumbled into the adjacent bedroom. She needed to help Muriel, but her instinct told her to stay glued to the crib. Shira was using pride hunting tactics—distracting so she could finish the hunt.
Over her cold and lifeless body would Shira ever touch Abigail. Oh, she could see the child’s future all laid out with the pride. They’d hide her bear lineage, and she’d grow up only knowing half of where she came from. She’d be mated to Samuel after he was groomed and trained to be as heartless as the rest of them.
A roar left her as Shira approached, and three more short bellows wrenched from Breshia’s throat in warning of the death that was coming for her.
“You wouldn’t fight me,” Shira said in a bone-chillingly calm voice.
Breshia wanted to back away. She wanted to run under the cruel glare of her alpha, but Muriel was depending on her. Abigail’s future depended on her finding her bravery.
A slow, empty smile stretched Shira’s face as she dodged Breshia’s claw. Through the doorway, she could see Thomas leap onto the bear’s back. Muriel was fighting for her life now.
“I’m going to kill you, Breshia,” Shira hissed as she dropped to all fours. She changed into a huge, cream-colored lion.
Abigail was crying, filling her little lungs and wailing with all of her might. The sound of the child’s terror snapped the coward right out of Breshia. Shira was going to die for the pain she’d brought here tonight.
Breshia pounced, pressing her claws and catching Shira across the neck. Iron filled the air, thickening it with the sweet scent as pain ripped down Breshia’s side. Pushing her legs, she clawed and bit, herding Shira from the room and into the hallway. Pictures shattered on the floor as she threw Shira’s body against the wall and sank her teeth into the scruff of her neck. A roar of pain left her alpha’s lips, and she hooked a powerful paw around Breshia’s middle. With a shrug of her muscular shoulders, Shira slammed her, back-first, into the edge of the living room couch. The wind knocked out of her, Breshia gasped for air and tried to get up.
Shira approached, giant paws silent against the plush carpet. A panther smile stretched her face as she pressed her claws against Breshia’s neck. If she moved, she’d slit her own throat. Wheezing, she tried to think of Dillon. Of how happy he’d made her. Of how much he’d changed her life. She was meant to meet him like this, so she could have those blindingly beautiful moments in her life before it ended. She no longer was scared of death. She hadn’t lived a gray life after all, but one vibrant in the end.
She was the lucky one.
If Shira was waiting for her to submit, she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She’d rather die than go back to the cowardly lioness she used to be. With a look of pure hatred, and with the knowledge that her doom was coming, Breshia lurched forward and clamped her teeth into Shira’s paw.
A deafening roar sounded from the lioness, and as Shira reared back her claws to finish her, Breshia closed her eyes and thought of Dillon’s smile.
Shira’s weight disappeared and a mass of weight hit the ground next to her. She opened her eyes in time to see Shira hit the wall and fall to the ground like she had no bones at all. The force of it rattled the house. Dillon stood over Breshia, fur matted with red and a snarl on his lips to expose impossibly long canines. They were dripping with crimson. If she didn’t know it was him—if she couldn’t feel how much he cared about her—she would’ve been terrified. That scared lioness was gone now though, and in her place was an animal bound and determined to protect her new clan.
Step after powerful step shook Dillon’s dark fur and rattled the floor. When he bunched his muscles to lunge at Shira, Breshia curled in on herself and squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
A victorious roar bellowed from her mate, and the call was answered by another bear’s roar in Abigail’s nursery. More sounded outside and even more from the surrounding woods and suddenly, the night was filled with the sound of the Hells Canyon shifters’ triumph.
Logan shook out his red mane from the doorway and stared at her, waiting for…something.
She stood as Dillon roared again, and inhaled a long breath. Tipping her chin up, she joined in, and Logan roared a deeper tone.
The battle was done. It wasn’t one she’d wanted, but the loss of the lions was on Shira. It was on their blindness and stubbornness. It was on the prides’ inability to adapt or compromise. It was on their audacity in trying to kidnap the child of their enemy. Their extinction wasn’t of Breshia’s doing, like Shira had said. It was on generations of abuse and arrogant alphas.
And as her voice faded with that of her new clan, she knew she’d chosen right. She’d chosen to defend people who deserved her fealty.
Panting, Breshia looked up to find Muriel in her human form, battle-weary and bloody, emerging from the nursery as she cradled her tiny lion cub. The excitement and stress of the battle must’ve triggered the little shifter’s change. Muriel set Abigail down gently and Logan padded slowly over to his daughter, pride in every facet of his feline face. Long claw marks decorated his ribs and belly, but none of that seemed to pain him when he looked at his cub.
A ferocious sounding little snarl escaped Abigail’s lips as Logan lowered his giant, block head to the tiny cub. She ran her body down the side of his face, then down his mane.
Dillon approached Breshia slowly, as if he didn’t want to frighten her, and rubbed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes. It seemed like he just wanted to touch her to reassure himself she was really here—really okay.
With a sigh, he wrapped his paw around her side and drew her in close. Together they watched as Logan cleaned his daughter with long strokes of his sandpaper tongue.
If lion shifters had any chance at all, it started with Abigail being raised to appreciate diversity and to be kind to other
s. To be strong and loyal like the bears who would help raise her.
Breshia rubbed her face against Dillon’s thick neck and inhaled. The intoxicating scent of fur and the man she loved settled the adrenaline pumping through her blood.
She’d kept everyone out of her heart until he came along and broke her wide open. She would share her life like he wanted her to, because he deserved all of her. Her future stretched on and on now, and without a doubt, she would heal under her mate’s tender and patient affection. And someday, when she and Dillon were ready, they would raise their cubs around the people they cared about. And lion or bear, her children’s animals wouldn’t matter. These people who had already touched her life so completely didn’t care either way.
Her heart filled with warmth and adoration for the gift Dillon had offered her.
He’d given her a place in his clan and a purpose, but it was so much more than that.
He’d given her a family.
More in this Series
Final installment in the Hells Canyon Shifters series
Heart of the Bear
Coming January 2015
Other Books by T. S. Joyce
KDP All-Star Series – Bestselling Series
Bear Valley Shifters - Complete Series - Available Now
The Witness and the Bear (Book 1)
Devoted to the Bear (Book 2)
Return to the Bear (Book 3)
Betray the Bear (Book 4)
Redeem the Bear (Book 5)
New Wolf Shifter Series
Wolf Brides
Wolf Bride (Book 1)
Red Snow Bride (Book 2)
Dawson Brides (Book 3)
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