But at least he had the sense not to Turn anyone. Or maybe he’d tried, and it hadn’t worked.
Unlike this Brother Damien bastard, whoever he was.
“Anyway, this first guy gathered a group of nature-loving bear-worshipers and they built a big house and farmed and shit, and pretended he was the god. Then he died, and they didn’t have a Bear God anymore, but on his deathbed he told this one guy, Brother Matthias, that the Bear God would return, and Brother Matthias was the Prophet and he had to keep this whole bear cult thing going until that happened.”
Her voice got warm when she talked about Brother Matthias, and Tank could see her face soften. “By the time I joined, Brother Matthias was this sweet old man. The cult was a nice place, and they raised organic meat and crops and made artisan bread, and sold it all at farmers’ markets. Brother Matthias liked me because I understood computers, and I made them a website and set up a mail-order business to bring in more income.”
Tank grinned. “So you single-handedly brought the Bear God into the twenty-first century?”
“Well, technically he was the Prophet, but yeah.”
Tank was beginning to suspect she was the kind of person who always landed on her feet. And could wrap a sweet old guy like Brother Matthias around her fingers.
“So then what happened?”
“Then Brother Damien showed up,” she said. “And he told us he was the Bear God Incarnate, returned to his people.”
Tank shivered at the chill in her voice. “And they accepted that?”
“They did,” Lissa said. “I didn’t. I told you, creep radar. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on that asshole that he was bad news. I just didn’t get out fast enough.”
She added, “Plus, you know, I was not raised in a cult, so I was aware that people can’t actually turn into bears. But he did this ritual, with lights and fog and drumming, and then poof, he was gone and there was this bear. And then poof, and Brother Damien was back. Just like a Vegas magic trick.”
Tank nodded. “But they believed it,” he said. Ironically, they’d been right and she’d been wrong. Because judging by the bite on her shoulder, Brother Damien didn’t need illusions to turn into a bear.
Her voice got soft. “They’d never seen a Vegas magic trick. Most of them had never even seen TV.”
Poor suckers. “So then Brother Damien became the head of the People of Ursus?”
“Then Brother Matthias died,” she said, her voice hard. That sounded pretty fucking suspicious to Tank, and he had the feeling it did to her too, but he let it slide. That wasn’t what was important now. She went on, “And yeah. Brother Damien took over, and he said he was going to choose a consort and she would be the Vessel of the Bear. Which I’m pretty sure meant having his uber-creep babies. He chose me. And I told you what happened after that.”
He nodded again. That wasn’t the whole story—he could tell she was leaving something out. But it was enough for now. Hell, it was all he could stand hearing.
Some fucking rogue shifter had heard about the People of Ursus and decided to set up his own little kingdom. And he’d done something that was illegal throughout the shifter world—Turned Lissa without her consent, because he wanted a mate.
Or a sex slave.
That bite on her shoulder was a claiming mark. That bastard Damien had Claimed and Turned a completely innocent and unprepared human. The fact that she was alive at all was a testament to her will to survive.
Note to self: Find Brother Damien, and fucking kill him.
Chapter 10
Lissa watched as they left the main road for a winding side road, taking note of the turns in case she had to find her way back out. Nice-guy vibe or not, it was stupid to let anyone take you somewhere you didn’t know how to get back from.
After a few minutes Tank turned onto a rutted dirt track that led deep into the woods. Lissa hadn’t seen a house for the last ten minutes.
She really hoped her creep radar was working right, and Tank wasn’t a serial killer. Or running a meth lab, or part of a scary militia group.
She even hoped, with a small part of her, that this was maybe a place she could stay for a while. Like the People of Ursus, but with a better ending.
She stole a glance at the man next to her. He was lost in thought, his mouth set in a grim line. She could tell what Brother Damien had done made him furiously angry, but he was trying not to upset her by letting it show too much.
Bad guys usually didn’t care about stuff like that. So hopefully she wasn’t having radar dysfunction.
As if he felt her gaze, Tank glanced over at her. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Don’t be scared. Nobody here will hurt you.”
Awesome.
“Nice try, Hulk,” she said. “You do get that when you tell somebody not to be scared of what they’re about to see, that’s an automatic tipoff that it’s scary, right?”
He rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the road. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it, then scream all you want. No one will hear you.”
Lissa smothered a grin. “Now there’s the serial killer I know and love.”
Tank just snorted, but she could see the glimmer of a smile. It made her feel warm inside, making him smile. Unless he was a drug lord or a domestic terrorist—then, not so much.
After a few more minutes of jolting along they pulled into a large clearing. In the center was a fancy two-story log cabin that looked like some rich person’s idea of roughing it. It had a wraparound porch with steps down to a built-in grill area with a mini-fridge and stainless steel counters, which in turn opened to a stone fire pit with comfy chairs circling it.
Definitely not roughing it. Maybe Tank really was a drug lord. That would suck.
Tank parked randomly in the first open space, near a couple of old beater trucks. Lissa opened her door and slid out, assessing the place, trying to get a vibe for how dangerous it was.
The rest of the place was a little less upscale than the cabin, a little more redneck. There was a row of rickety wooden sheds along the edges of the clearing, and a couple of well-used trailers back among the trees. Judging by the scattered tools and piles of lumber, construction seemed to be going on everywhere. It looked like people were squatting in the sheds, except for one that had a thick wooden door with an iron bar across it, held closed by a giant padlock.
Crap. That was probably the meth lab.
“Come on,” Tank said, heading for the cabin. Lissa followed, wishing she had her knife. She’d slipped her pepper spray into her pocket when Tank wasn’t looking, though—the cops had given it back to her in the envelope with the rest of her things.
There was no one around except a handsome man with sandy blond hair, buzzed on the sides and long on the top, sitting on one of the chairs by the empty fire pit reading a book. He halfway glanced up as they walked past, but didn’t meet their eyes or offer a greeting.
“That’s Sloan,” Tank said.
“Hi, Sloan,” Lissa said cheerfully. He looked up, startled, and then ducked his head down again.
Friendly sort, apparently.
As they approached the cabin, a huge man walked out the front door. He was as tall as Tank, and though he was not quite as broad-chested, his muscles were still impressive. Lissa could tell this because he wore nothing but a faded pair of jeans with holes in the knees, slung low on his hips. His hair was a tangled black mane of dreadlocks, and he didn’t look friendly.
“This her?” he said to Tank. Tank nodded.
“This is Flynn,” he said to Lissa. She nodded to the man. What was this, the land of the fucking giants? They were the two biggest men she’d ever seen in person. And this Flynn was one of the scariest, which was saying a lot.
But not bad-news-run-away-quick scary. Not someone who enjoyed violence, but who employed it without hesitation when necessary. Someone you’d want on your side, because he’d crush your enemies to powder without blinking.
Flynn looked d
own at Lissa. His gaze was impassive, his dark eyes flat and emotionless, and she felt like he was looking all the way inside her. His nostrils flared, as if he were scenting her.
She suddenly realized she still had blood on her hands.
After a minute, he gave a slight shake of his head, as if resigning himself to something he didn’t really want to do. “Bring her in,” he said.
Lissa knew it was probably really, really stupid to let herself be “brought in,” but she didn’t seem to have much choice at the moment. She needed to know what Tank knew about her condition. But she fingered her pepper spray inside her pocket and looked around for exit strategies, just in case.
As Lissa walked up the steps, Tank behind her, she suddenly heard a muffled yell from inside the meth lab. “Let me out!” Someone started pounding on the inside of the door.
Everybody stopped.
Sloan looked up casually from his book, gazed at the shed, and then at Flynn. “Should I let him out?” he said.
Holy hell, it wasn’t a meth lab, it was a prison. What was going on in this place? She glanced around for an escape route, but she was on the stairs, sandwiched between the giants with no way out.
Flynn took a deep, frustrated breath and blew it out. “I guess,” he said. “We can’t keep him in there forever.” He kind of sounded like he wished he could.
Sloan put a bookmark in his book, and then strolled over to the shed. He took down a big iron key from a hook on the outside wall, opened the padlock, stepped to the side, and waited.
Someone hurled themselves at the door. Without the lock for resistance, it burst open, and a man stumbled into the yard, landing on his face. “Fuck you, Sloan!” he yelled, spitting out dirt. He was completely naked, with bits of straw clinging to him, and he was clearly pissed off. Sloan just grinned.
The naked guy rose to his feet, glared at each and every one of them individually, gave Sloan the finger, and stalked off toward one of the other sheds.
Holy Moses, was everybody here scary as hell and hot as fuck? The pissed-off man had dark silky hair, and he moved like some kind of jungle cat. Lissa barely managed to close her mouth.
Sloan went back to his book, a little grin still hovering at the corner of his lips. Flynn sighed and shook his head.
“Trouble?” Tank asked.
“Just the usual,” Flynn said.
The usual what? What was usual about stripping people naked and locking them in a shed? Lissa glanced hesitantly over her shoulder at Tank, and he reached out and put his hand reassuringly on her back.
His touch made her feel calmer, but her senses were still on the alert for bad guy vibe. She wasn’t getting that, but she was getting…something. The demon was scratching at her insides, uncomfortable.
They went inside, Lissa’s nervousness growing. The inside of the cabin was beautiful, all warm wood, with an open floor plan, soaring ceilings and a loft. But most of Lissa’s attention was on this Flynn person. He was clearly in charge, and clearly the most dangerous in a sea of dangerous men.
Once they got inside, Flynn leaned his butt on the back of the couch, arms folded, biceps bulging. Tank stood by Lissa, his hand still just barely touching her back.
“So?” Flynn said to Tank. “What’s her story?”
Lissa knew one of the things scary guys respected was strength. “I’m standing right here,” she pointed out. “And my story is that Tank brought me here so he could supposedly tell me what’s wrong with me. Now would be good.”
Flynn was still speaking to Tank. “So you were right?”
Tank nodded.
Lissa snapped her fingers to get Flynn’s attention. “Still here, bud. Right about what?”
He ignored her. “Sheeyit. You gonna tell her now, or did you intend to wait for hell to freeze over?”
Tank snapped, “Well, I wasn’t going to tell her while we were standing in front of the Sherriff’s Department security cameras. Or inside my truck while I was driving. She was on the edge.”
Lissa put her hands on her hips. The demon was clawing at her, making her reckless. “You’re pissing me off, now. The edge of what?”
Tank turned to Lissa. She went cold inside at the look in his eyes, and she suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
He took a deep breath. “You’re not the Bear God’s consort, and you’re not a zombie.”
Flynn snorted. “For real? That’s what she thought?”
Tank went on, “You’re a shapeshifter. Brother Damien really could turn into a bear, and when he bit you, he put a bear into you. You’re a bear shifter. And so am I.”
Chapter 11
Lissa stared at him. This wasn’t possible. People didn’t turn into animals, except in the movies.
“No,” she said. “That’s—just, no.” Not real. Not true. Nope, nope, nopitty nope.
Tank gazed at Flynn. “Show her,” he said.
Flynn gave a martyred sigh and heaved himself off the back of the couch. He started undoing his jeans.
“Oh, no,” Lissa said, backing off and pulling out her pepper spray. “No kinky pseudo-bear sex. Been there, done that, got the bite mark to prove it.”
Quicker than humans should be able to move, Tank was behind her, wrapping one arm around her and plucking the pepper spray out of her hand before she even realized he was there.
“You seriously spent the money I gave you on pepper spray?” he said.
That’s what he was worried about?
“Well, you gave me the money, which therefore makes it my money. So I can spend it on whatever I want. However, if it makes you feel better, I stole this pepper spray from the convenience store by the highway.”
That got a crooked grin out of Flynn. “It makes me feel better,” he said. “You’re my kind of girl—you got balls, and no respect for the law. But don’t use it in here, babe. You can’t get that smell out of the fucking furniture.”
And he knew that how? “Do women pepper spray you a lot?” she asked sweetly.
The grin deepened. “No, though I’m sure they want to,” he said. “But don’t worry, babe. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
“Rapists all say that,” Lissa said. “And I already know you lock naked people in sheds.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Xander has issues,” he said. “He got too upset, and shifted into his animal, and he couldn’t shift back. We had to put him in the shed so he wouldn’t hurt himself, or run off and get shot by some hunter.”
Right. They all turned into animals. They were nuttier than the People of Ursus. But Flynn wasn’t leering at her or invading her space. He was just peeling off his jeans like it was no big deal that his giant dong was hanging out. Before Lissa could adjust to that, he stepped away from her and Tank, yanked his head to the side to crack his neck, and then crouched over.
His body rippled and shimmered, and Lissa heard more ‘pops’ that sounded like his bones were breaking. She covered her mouth with her hand, biting the skin on the back of it to keep from freaking out.
Tawny gold fur sprouted from him, and in seconds there was a lion standing before her. A huge. Freaking. Lion. With a black mane and a black tuft on his tail, and giant-ass paws with two-inch claws.
The lion gazed at her with the exact same expression Flynn had, and then yawned. His mouth was big enough to stick her head in, and his teeth were sharp enough to bite it off.
Lissa shrank back against Tank. The demon was screaming inside her, and she was trembling.
“He just turned into a lion,” she whispered. Nope, nope, nope. Traumatic delusion. Tank tightened his arm around her.
The lion rippled and shimmered, and huge naked Flynn was crouched in its place. He got up nonchalantly, stretched, and put his jeans back on.
“Holy fuck,” Lissa said, still staring. Flynn raised his eyebrows at her.
They all waited.
Lissa shook her head. “That’s all I got.”
Flynn gave a half-snort, half-laugh.
People can
turn into animals. People can turn into animals. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.
“You’re trying to tell me that Brother Damien really turned into a bear,” she said finally.
“Don’t know him,” Flynn said, “But if he’s the one who bit you, then yep. He really did. He also put a bear inside of you, and if you don’t manage to come to terms with her pretty soon, she’ll kill you.”
“You’re a fucking asshole, Flynn.” That was Tank’s angry voice. Lissa had managed to walk around the couch before her legs buckled, and now she had her head between her knees and was listening to Tank and Flynn argue and feeling floaty.
“Can’t you see what she’s been through? That fucker didn’t tell her anything, Flynn. Or get consent. He left her on her own, scared and confused and halfway to rogue. And then you go and tell her she’s going to die.”
“What the hell do you want me to say?” Flynn said. He sounded a little sorry, though. “This isn’t Disneyland. Being a shifter can be brutal as hell, and being part of this crew is worse. Any sugar-coating you try and put on this is going to wash off about two minutes after she sees what we’re really like.”
Lissa sat up. She still felt a little lightheaded, but the lion-man was right.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ve been living on the streets since I was sixteen—except for a couple of years with the bear people. I’m not expecting tea and cookies and prom dates—I’m perfectly aware that life sucks and it’s not pretty. You make the best of it. You fight. Or you crawl into a bottle or a syringe and die.”
Flynn said, “Well, we’ve got the bottles, but we try not to die.” He came around the couch with a bottle of whiskey, and plunked three chunky glasses on the coffee table. He poured a dollop of whiskey into each one, and shoved one toward Lissa. He took the second and handed the last one to Tank. “I don’t like losing my people. It offends me.”
He sat down opposite Lissa and propped his feet on the coffee table. Tank hovered until Flynn said, “For God’s sake, sit somewhere. I hate it when you loom.”
Bad Blood Bear (Bad Blood Shifters Book 1) Page 6