Brother Damien laughed—a wild, maniacal sound that echoed off the cliff face. “Your pitiful attempts at defiance amuse me,” he said. “A broken mate who refuses to claim you. A rogue alpha whose power is no match for mine.”
Flynn said nothing, just looked him up and down with flat eyes. Only Lissa could hear the deep rumble in his chest—almost like a purr, but way, way scarier.
Finally Flynn said, “Want to bet? I’ll throw down. I haven’t had much exercise lately.”
Brother Damien’s face darkened. Apparently he liked it better when people were scared of him.
“You are insolent, Cat,” he said. “I think I’ll capture you both. Then I’ll kill this grizzly, slowly, and let you watch him die.”
Over my dead body, Lissa thought. Her bear whined.
Flynn put on his bored expression. “You’ve been watching too many supervillain movies,” he said to Damien. “And I’m getting the overwhelming urge to rip you limb from limb. Because I have a personal issue with evil torturers, and you’re starting to annoy me.”
“You’re far outnumbered,” Damien said. “And your sniper will do you no good. Do you take me for a fool?”
He drew a gun out of a holster at his side and aimed it straight at Edward. Lissa gasped.
Damien coolly pulled the trigger.
A crimson glow surrounded Edward, and there was a bright flare as the bullet disintegrated.
Lissa didn’t dare look at Flynn. They hadn’t planned on killing the other men, but it hadn’t occurred to them that they all might be protected. That meant the tranquilizer darts couldn’t get to them either.
Lissa felt Flynn’s reassuring touch on her back. She knew that meant “stick to the plan.” A grip on her arm would mean “stand down.”
An order which she might or might not obey.
Damien let out another one of those chilling laughs. He was full-on batshit crazy.
“Not so full of arrogance now, are you, Cat?” he said. “I believe I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to have my men take you down, and then I’ll make Lissa kill your friend while you watch. That would be even more fun that you watching me kill him.”
He turned his gaze on Lissa, and a crimson light outlined his body, his eyes glowing red.
“Come here, Lissa,” he said softly. “I unbind you. Become your bear. Come and kill for me.”
Lissa could feel the compulsion in her mind, pulling at her, dragging her forward. Flynn bore down on her with his own powerful alpha energy. Keep your head. Tank needs you. Don’t let this fucker take you over.
She was moving forward, her bear rising to the surface. She felt the bone-deep need to give in to the compulsion, to please Brother Damien, to do what he said. He had made her; she belonged to him.
She walked faster, then broke into a run. Go, go, go. She undid the clasp of the loose robe she wore and gave a great leap, letting her bear take her skin, bounding forward to where Brother Damien was standing by Tank.
The other men were running toward Flynn, preparing to take him down. From behind her in the trees, she saw trank darts flying through the air towards Brother Damien’s men. They disintegrated as soon as they hit the men’s magical layer of protection, just like the bullet had.
She heard a muffled “Fuck,” from the trees, and then twin feral snarls as Jasmin and Xander leaped to the ground and shifted. But Lissa was focused only on Tank, eyes on his bare neck, running as hard as she could.
She could hear Brother Damien’s manic laughter in her mind. That’s it, my love. Tear out his throat and watch him bleed. He dared to touch you, and he must die.
With a final bound, Lissa leaped on Tank. She opened her jaws and bit deep into the bulky muscle where his neck met his shoulder.
I claim you, her bear shouted. You are mine!
Tank’s head snapped up, eyes wide and shocked. In her mind, Lissa could hear his bear. Yes! Mate!
Behind her, she heard a roar, and then Flynn’s mental voice, strong and clear: Tank Morrison, as the mate of Lissa the Black Bear, I accept you into my crew.
The Bad Blood Crew was whole. The circle of power was complete.
Blue lightning shot out from Flynn’s body and arced through the clearing, stunning Brother Damien’s men. They stumbled back.
From high up in a tree came two rifle shots, one to each of the chains that bound Tank’s arms. Sloan. The chains broke, and Tank fell forward onto his hands and knees, gasping.
Flynn swept his hands in a wide circle, and a wall of blue light rose out of the ground, just past the edge of the rock cliff.
The territorial boundaries, Lissa realized. With the full power of the crew’s bond behind him, Flynn was invoking the territorial magic gifted to him by Israel Jonas, with the power of the Dragon Stone.
But Brother Damien was not defeated yet.
Ropes of crimson magic seized her from behind, like vines of fire strangling her. Lissa shrank down to human form, trying to get away from it, but the coils shrank with her, red as flame against her skin, burning everywhere they touched. She screamed.
Jasmin, Xander and Sloan were fighting the men from the People of Ursus, all of them Changed into their animal forms. Several bears lay on the ground, bleeding and roaring, hamstrung and crippled by the claws of the three cats.
They were still trying not to kill.
Flynn’s voice thundered through the clearing. “By my power as alpha, I command that all outsiders leave this territory!” He dropped to one knee and slammed his fist into the earth.
His words shook Lissa to her very soul. A shock wave blasted through the clearing, knocking Damien’s remaining bears off their feet. The Bad Blood Crew seemed unaffected, except for Lissa, still containing some of Brother Damien’s magic. She stumbled and lost her footing.
She felt a jerk on her bindings, and she was pulled against Brother Damien’s hard body. “Half his, half mine,” he said. “Who will win? Or shall we pull you to pieces between us?”
“Leave this territory!” Flynn shouted again.
The bears started to slide along the ground, toward the wall of blue fire that marked the territory boundary. Brother Damien was trying to go too, but Lissa was fighting him, fighting to stay with her crew, inside the territory where she would be safe.
Tank was crawling toward her, but he was so weak, and he couldn’t move fast enough. He desperately tried to get to his feet, but his limbs wouldn’t obey him.
Sloan, Xander and Jasmin ran to circle her, trying to get between her and the border. Xander leaped at Brother Damien, and he surrounded himself and Lissa in crimson magic that burned. Xander fell back, yowling, and the smell of singed fur filled the air.
Lissa could see a network of faint blue lights connecting the crew, all leading back to Flynn. The lights pulsed as her crew tried to fight Brother Damien’s magic with the strength of their bond.
The bears were starting to stir once more. Flynn looked from them to Lissa, and his face went grim.
“Leave this land!” he called a third time, slamming his hand into the ground once more.
Lissa dug in her heels. The other bears flew outside of the boundary, landed, and didn’t get up. Lissa felt herself and Brother Damien sliding toward the border, and her guts felt ripped in two as Flynn and the others pulled her back.
They were almost at the border, and if Damien broke her bond with Flynn and the Bad Bloods and took her out under his control, Lissa knew she would be his for good.
She saw the same realization in Tank’s eyes. He was still trying to struggle to his feet, but he couldn’t. She could see the defeat in his eyes, his soul breaking apart, knowing that once again, he couldn’t save his mate.
The cats were leaping at them, burning themselves, but they couldn’t get through Brother Damien’s magic. Flynn was putting everything he had into fighting Brother Damien’s bond with Lissa. She tried to fight too, but her head was splitting apart, and blackness was coming on.
Tank! She yelled through he
r bond. Hulk Bear! SAVE ME!
Slowly, slowly, Tank lifted his head. Lissa could see the blue wall of magic, inches behind Brother Damien. With the last of her strength, Lissa braced her legs, pulling Brother Damien to a halt.
With a mighty roar, Tank rose to his hands and knees, and called out his bear.
Chapter 32
Tank called on all the rage he’d carried within him for so long. Rage at Angie’s death, at his failure to save her. Rage at the shifter hunters who’d killed her, who’d used his protective instincts against him and lured him into their trap. Rage at Alexander Grant, at the Professor, at all the guards and workers who’d tormented him and his crew.
His crew.
Through his new bond, he could feel them around him, supporting him, fighting for him, laying everything that had on the line to save him and his mate. The magic of the bond was a tangible thing, filling every cell in his body.
The rage rose up and slammed into the magic of the bond. The bond accepted it, absorbed it, and transformed it into something different. Something more.
Something else rose up in him, pulling all his connections to the crew into one swirling tornado of energy. It roared through him, drawing him to his feet, healing him and giving him new vitality.
With a thunderous roar, Tank’s bear burst out of his skin—and grew, and grew, and grew. Not the raging monster bear he’d been for the last year and a half, but the Protector—twice his normal size and coated with blue fire.
Then he charged.
The ground shook under his massive paws as he bore down on Brother Damien. Brother Damien dropped Lissa and raised his hands, red fire streaming toward Tank.
He paid it no attention. Blue fire streaked out from his body, clashing with the red fire and driving it back. Brother Damien turned to run, and Tank was on him.
In seconds, the man had shifted to black bear, and they rolled over on the ground. Damien fought with insane ferocity, but he was no match for the Protector, three times his size and imbued with the magic of his crew bonds.
In moments it was over, and Brother Damien lay dead on the ground.
Tank rubbed his shaggy head over Lissa’s body, trying to pour the magic of his love into her. Her skin was crisscrossed with thin red burns, and for a moment he was terrified she was dead.
Then she opened those gorgeous blue eyes and smiled at him. “My big, ginormous, protector bear,” she murmured. “You saved me.”
Tank shifted back to human and gathered her in his arms, tears stinging his eyes.
He carried her back to the compound wrapped in her robe, trying not to hurt her any more than necessary. Jasmin and Xander stayed behind to corral Brother Damien’s bears and call in the Shifter Council to figure out what to do with them.
Given a decent alpha, the People of Ursus could turn into a real bear shifter clan. That should make them happy.
By the time they got back to the compound, Lissa’s wounds looked a little better, but they still weren’t healing like they should.
“It will probably take time,” Flynn said. “That’s magical shit; it’s not like a regular cut.”
Tank put her in the big bathtub and washed her cuts and burns himself, then put salve and bandages on them, wincing at every wound.
His brave mate. She’d fought nearly to the death for him. Just when he’d thought he was wrecked for good, she burst into his life with a wild, unexpected kiss and brought him back to life.
He didn’t deserve her, but he’d sure as hell try.
As he was tucking her into the big, soft, bed, her eyelids fluttered open, and her huge blue eyes stared up at him. Then she smiled—that smile that always twisted his heart. “You’re really here,” she said. “You’re safe. It wasn’t a dream.”
He brushed back a stray curl from her cheek. “We’re all safe. The whole crew. Brother Damien’s gone. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Good,” she said. Then her eyes grew troubled. “I’m sorry I claimed you without asking,” she said. “I had to.”
He gathered her in his arms and held her to his chest. “I know you did,” he said. “I’m glad.”
“That’s good,” she murmured sleepily, the smile back in her voice. “I’ll try to be a good mate. So you’ll never be sorry I did it.” She drifted off to sleep, leaving Tank with his heart in pieces.
Tank sat up all night, dozing against the headboard, holding Lissa’s hand and listening to her breathe.
He kept reliving the moment where she’d charged right up through Brother Damien’s men, risking death at his hands, all on the hope and belief that a claiming bond would bring Tank and the crew strength enough to defeat a sorcerer’s magic.
He ran his fingers over the livid bite mark on his neck. It was healing more slowly than it should have, probably because of all the other wounds his body were trying to heal at the same time. He could feel the bond between them, like a sun in the middle of his chest. He could feel the pain in her wounds as if it were his own.
He tried to send her healing energy through the bond. He knew her body would be covered in battle scars now, like the rest of them. He wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that, but he hoped she’d be proud. He’d treasure every one of them.
Her trust and belief had put his broken bear back together, turned him from a killer into what he was supposed to be—a protector. Not only that, but because of her, the Bad Blood Crew really was a crew.
She was everything to him.
It was late morning when he finally left Lissa sleeping and walked out to the living area to make some coffee. He found the others all asleep on the chairs and sofas, Xander snoring under the dining room table.
Flynn was the only one awake, standing at the loft railing, staring out the windows. He already had coffee brewing.
Tank poured two mugs, then walked up the stairs and joined him, leaning his shoulder against Flynn’s. Flynn took his coffee, then wrapped his hand around the back of Tank’s neck and touched foreheads with him, in the way bears did at especially emotional moments.
Tank closed his eyes, feeling the alpha bond. He’d never had an alpha before. He wouldn’t have thought his bear would like it, being dominant himself, but he did. Flynn was a good leader and a strong alpha, and Tank’s bear wasn’t a leader. He was a Protector.
Flynn released him, and they leaned on the railing, shoulders still touching, drinking coffee.
Tank said, “You sleep at all?”
Flynn shook his head. “Not so you’d notice. A couple catnaps.”
“Me neither,” Tank said. “Except a couple of bear naps.”
Flynn gave him one of his crooked grins. Then he nodded down towards the sleeping crew. “They wouldn’t go back to their dens last night,” he said. “They all just hung out until they knew Lissa was okay. And then they hung out some more.”
Tank went quiet, looking down on them. “They really came through for me,” he said. “You all did. Thanks.”
Flynn nudged his shoulder. “We’re a crew.” He grinned again. “Even Xander, God help us.”
Tank laughed. He said, “We’re not seriously going to be called the Bad Blood Crew, are we?”
“Fraid so,” Flynn said. “They outvoted me. Lissa told me that’s what happens when I won’t take charge.”
Tank laughed. “Watch out for her,” he said. “She has a temper.”
“Yeah,” Flynn said. “I like that about her.”
He paused a minute, sipping on his coffee. Then he reached over and touched the claiming mark on Tank’s shoulder. “How do you feel about this?” he said. “It wasn’t exactly the most orthodox mating proposal. And I know you weren’t looking for another bond.”
“Yeah, about that,” Tank said, flexing his shoulder. “There’s something personal I need to take care of. I’ll probably be gone a couple of days.”
Flynn said, “You going to talk to Lissa before you go?”
Tank chewed in his lip, worrying it, and then shook
his head. “I don’t want to put this on her. Tell her I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Flynn looked troubled, but he said, “Sure. We’ll take care of her.”
Half an hour later, Tank was behind the wheel of his truck, headed for Georgia.
Chapter 33
By the time Tank got to the Georgia mountains it was dark, and he had an excuse to put off his errand until the next day. He’d called ahead and arranged to spend the night at his neighbor Ben’s house, and pick up the keys to the cabin he’d shared with Angie, that Ben had been taking care of on his behalf.
The next morning, Tank left Ben’s house and drove the familiar road to the place he’d once called home. Emotions assaulted him as he drove—it all was so familiar, and yet seemed completely alien. It was only a year and a half since he’d been here, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed.
A lifetime he wanted to forget.
He’d always known, deep inside, that he’d have to come back here, face his feelings about Angie and what had happened to her, and decide what to do with the place.
It was the only way he would ever move on. Before this, he hadn’t wanted to move on. He’d been like a ghost haunting this place—unable to live in it anymore, but unable to let it go.
Now it was time.
As he drove over a curving hillside, he could see the cabin in the distance. Angie had loved the view from their home, and he’d loved the way he could see the house long before he arrived, anticipating his homecoming every day as he drove home after work.
It was odd, seeing the cabin sitting snug on its hillside, as if he’d never left it. When he let himself think about it at all, he always pictured the house as a complete wreck, burned or destroyed. That was the way he felt about his life, so it seemed as though the house had to reflect that.
The road curved down another hillside and he lost his view of the cabin. After another quarter-mile he turned into the graveled driveway and drove up the last hill, the yellow autumn grass glistening with frost.
Bad Blood Bear (Bad Blood Shifters Book 1) Page 18