But she didn't protest, only said, "Okay, I'm ready for your test. Where do you want to start?"
"Brett here," Hal inclined his head in Brett's direction, "is one of the owners of the Grizzly Peak Ranch, where this clinic is located. He and his partners have set up a training ground for the bear shifters in a nearby pasture, complete with a target range. We will go there, and—" he smiled, and Brett felt a small twinge of apprehension "—I will observe as Brett puts you through your paces."
Brett had been expecting Hal to suggest something of the sort, so he wasn't surprised.
What did surprise him, however, was how much he was looking forward to seeing what Catrina could do.
Catrina eyed him, and Brett felt another one of those odd shocks as their gazes met, as if they had met somewhere before and he couldn't quite remember where.
"Hand-to-hand combat too?" she asked warily.
She was tall for a woman, but Brett still topped her by a head.
An unexpected and uncomfortably vivid image appeared in his mind's eye. If she was in his arms, her face would nestle comfortably against the side of his neck.
He imagined her warm breath against his skin, her breasts pressing against his chest, and a sudden surge of fierce desire took him by surprise.
"Of course," Hal said. "If you're telling the truth about being a Beast Warrior, Ms. Hunter, then you'll have no difficulty holding your own against one of my men…for a while, at least."
* * *
"Nice," said Catrina, as Brett led them out to the training grounds.
She looked appraisingly at the archery targets and shooting range set up at one end of the pasture. On the other end stood a locked metal shed that held the weapons used for practice, and the sparring grounds.
The rain had tapered off to a heavy mist and light drizzle by now.
At Hal's request, Brett fetched a selection of weapons from the shed and placed them on a long wooden table that stood under the protection of a wooden roof built against the side of the shed. He displayed a row of blunted swords of various lengths, bows, quarter staves, and an array of pistols, shotguns, and rifles.
Shannon had come with them to watch the testing. She sat on a battered folding chair that Brett brought her from the shed.
Hal stood behind her, holding a large umbrella to shelter them both from the residual moisture.
"Did you have any experience with swords or staves before joining WSS?" Hal asked Catrina.
"No, sir," she replied. "Nor bows either."
She moved down the length of the table, lifting and examining the items that Brett had laid out.
"And how would you rate your ability with those weapons?" asked Hal.
"Competent, sir. I've had a lot of practice over the past ten years." Brett saw her stop and linger over an M4 carbine rifle with something that looked like fondness on her face. "But to be honest, I'm better with guns. I started with them, and I have a lot more experience with them."
"Let's begin with firearms, then," Hal said. "I currently have a surfeit of old-style Beast Warriors skilled with sword and bow. What I need are modern warriors proficient with pistols and rifles."
In the hour that followed, Catrina proved herself more than proficient with each of the guns laid out on the table. She efficiently field-stripped each of them in turn and pointed out the ones in need of cleaning.
Brett watched her closely as she quickly and confidently proceeded to disassemble, inspect, and reassemble the M4 rifle using a pocketknife borrowed from Hal to push out the pins holding the upper and lower receivers together, then separate the two halves of the rifle with the smoothness of long familiarity.
She was the picture of quiet competence, her movements practiced and efficient. Brett the man liked that. Brett the bear found himself moving whenever the wind shifted, trying to catch her appealing scent.
Then Catrina put on shooting glasses and earplugs and took the weapons one by one to the makeshift shooting range. There, she neatly drilled holes through the head and chest areas of the makeshift man-shaped metal targets at varying distances.
Hal's expression did not change as he observed her. But Brett had known him for a very long time, and he could tell that his former commander was impressed.
When she had worked her way down to the last of the firearms, a Glock 41 pistol, Hal nodded curtly.
"Impressive," he told her, and she came to attention."We're losing daylight, so I think we can dispense with demonstration of your skills with sword and bow. But I do want to see how you fare against Brett in unarmed combat."
She gave Brett a slow appraisal that seemed equal parts warm feminine appreciation and a warrior's cool assessment of an opponent.
He returned the look but tried not to let his gaze linger too obviously on the generous curves of hip and waist and bosom.
She might be stiff and sore in the aftermath of her accident, but he had seen earlier that her arms and legs and torso were firmly muscled under smooth, light-brown skin.
"You ready to spar with me, Cowboy?" she asked, grinning.
He gave her a slow nod.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, in his best cowboy style, and was rewarded by a genuine laugh that made her brown eyes sparkle appealingly.
God, she's beautiful!
And probably a WSS spy, he reminded himself.
They moved to the fenced sparring area. The normally hard-packed earth was pocked with large puddles.
"Oh, this should be lots of fun," Catrina muttered under her breath as she saw the muddy expanse that awaited them.
She looked over at Hal. "If I pass your test, will you throw in a hot shower and a trip to a laundromat?"
Shannon answered before Hal could open his mouth. "Of course. With Hal's permission, you'll be my guest at the ranch for dinner tonight. We have a washing machine and dyer in the basement. I'll even loan you a robe."
"Thank you," Catrina said with what looked like genuine gratitude.
Brett felt torn between delight—most nights, he had dinner at the big house with Rafe, Shannon, and whoever else on the ranch felt like joining them—and alarm at how quickly Shannon had decided to invite the newcomer into her home.
Shannon might be Rafe's mate, but Brett owed her his life…and his protection when Rafe wasn't around. And she was his friend.
Well, the next few minutes should help verify at least part of Catrina's story.
Like most of the bear shifters who had been part of WSS's Bear Team, Brett was older—a lot older—than he looked.
He had been a warrior long before the dragon shifter who now called herself Kristine Amabilis had recruited him as part of her fledgling war-band of shifters, a war-band that had eventually evolved into Whitepine Security Services.
He suspected that Catrina was very young by shifter standards, born into an age of television and computers and swift global communications.
He looked at the muddy ground, remembering that he hated doing laundry. With a sigh, he took off his hat and placed it on the table next to the guns.
Catrina's eyes widened when he began to unbutton his flannel shirt.
"No use doing more laundry than I have to," he said, trying to sound grumpy.
He folded his shirt and put it on the table, then stripped off the T-shirt he had worn underneath.
Catrina's eyes grew even wider at the sight of his bare chest, and Brett felt a shock of pleasant warmth run through him at her reaction. He sternly quelled his bear's urge to show off for her.
"Please tell me you're not married or gay," she pleaded jokingly.
Despite his suspicions regarding her, Brett found himself immensely flattered by the question. He and his bear both wanted her to like them.
He sternly reminded himself that he'd only just met her…and that there were still a lot of unanswered questions about why she had come to Elysia.
Catrina hadn't lied to them, but some of her answers had been a tad too evasive for Brett's taste.
"I'm not mar
ried or gay," he told her solemnly. "And you can keep your shirt on, if you like."
"Thanks a lot," she intoned, rolling her eyes.
He found himself chuckling despite his reservations. A strong, attractive woman with a generous dose of good humor…what was there not to like?
I really hope she isn't lying about being a Beast Warrior…and that she's not one of Colonel Perry's spies.
Brett led the way to the center of the sparring ground, which was marginally less muddy than the perimeter, thanks to a generous amount of shredded bark that had been dumped here.
There, he and Catrina faced off an arm's length apart. She raised fisted hands, shielding her face with her forearms.
"Begin," ordered Hal.
Made overconfident by his greater height and reach, Brett rushed her.
And promptly found his own momentum used against him when she grabbed his left arm and flipped him over her hip. He landed hard on his right side, feeling bark fragments digging into his hip.
Then, still holding his arm, Catrina hammered in three rapid punches high on his ribcage, right under his arm, then finished off with a sharp kick to his kidneys that stopped short of doing more than inflicting a bruise.
Catrina released him and quickly stepped back, out of arm's reach.
"Take me seriously, damn it!" she snarled at him. "If I'd had a knife, you'd be dead right now."
He climbed to his feet and rubbed his bruised ribs. What a woman! In the old days, she would have been a magnificent shield-maiden.
"You're right," he agreed. Then added, "Sorry."
They faced off again.
This time, Brett began with a feint disguised as the same lunge he had tried in the first round. When she moved in to try to trip him, he bent swiftly, grabbed her front leg, and sent her sprawling on her back with a thump.
Then he held on to her leg, raising it high off the ground, preventing her from scrambling to her feet.
"If I was in warrior shape," he told her smugly, hands firmly around her booted ankle as he easily lifted her, raising her hips and lower back until only her shoulders were on the ground. "I'd just rip your leg off."
"Gah," she said in self-reprimand, then grinned up at him. "Good one, Cowboy. Point to you."
He released her and stepped back while she nimbly regained her feet.
Each of them liberally smeared with mud and bits of bark now, they circled each other warily, looking for an opening.
She was lightning fast and evaded his attempts to grab and pin her. She managed to flip him one more time when he rushed at her, miscalculating how quickly she could dodge him. Once more, he felt her punch his side right where a blade would have stabbed to crippling effect.
"Point to me!" she panted, grinning as she backed away.
The next time he rushed her, she responded with a knee to his midsection, which would have dropped an ordinary man.
But Brett managed to avoid the worst of the blow, grabbed her waist, and threw her up and over his head.
He regretted it immediately, not wanting to really hurt her.
She automatically tucked and rolled when she hit the ground and rose smoothly back to her feet before he could spin around to pin her.
A sharp kick to his lower back sent him stumbling forward a pace.
"Enough!" called Hal.
Both of them stopped and turned to face Hal, who was leaning forward over Shannon's chair, still holding the umbrella.
Brett glanced over at Catrina and noticed that she had assumed parade rest stance, her feet shoulder-width apart, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.
"Brett, your assessment?" asked Hal.
"I'd be happy to have her guarding my back in battle," Brett answered without hesitation. "She's good. Better than some of the wolf shifters I've sparred with."
"Why, Cowboy, you say the sweetest things," murmured Catrina, giving him a sideways glance and a smile that reminded him that he was shirtless…and coated with mud.
"All right, you've convinced me that you may be telling the truth about having been a Beast Warrior," Hal told her. "And from what I've just seen, it appears that you were trained by a modern military organization."
"US Navy," Catrina said cautiously. She looked like she wanted to add something else, but thought better of it.
"Which means that I was right about WSS currently actively recruiting shifters from the armed forces," Brett said.
"I agree," Hal said, slowly, never taking his eyes from Catrina. "I had wondered how Perry might be replacing his losses."
"So you believe me now?" asked Catrina. "Does that mean you'll give me sanctuary?"
Hal frowned. "I believe you have a military background, yes," he said, slowly. "But—"
"Come now, Hal," Shannon interrupted. She looked up at the big bear shifter, apparently unintimidated by the fact that he towered over her. "She's passed your test, and she has cause enough to hate Colonel Perry."
Hal frowned. "I'm still not completely convinced that she isn't a spy."
Shannon huffed in annoyance. "Then assign her a sponsor," she suggested."The same way you assigned Rafe as my sponsor when I first came here."
"Yes, and we can all see how well that turned out," Hal said dryly. He folded the umbrella.
Shannon smiled brilliantly. "Yes, well, I have no objections." She shot a sly sideways look at Brett. "But I wonder who might offer to serve as Catrina's sponsor."
"I might be persuaded," Brett heard himself say.
He hadn't intended to volunteer, but as soon as he spoke, he found that his bear liked the idea an awful lot.
And if he was Catrina's sponsor, he could keep an eye on her.
"I see." Hal pursed his lips.
He looked like he was on the verge of agreeing to Shannon's suggestion.
"Hold on a sec," said Catrina, pushing wet, dirty strands of hair out of her face. "What exactly does sponsor mean?"
Hal raised his white-blond brows. "You grew up in a shifter community and never heard of sponsors?"
Catrina shrugged. "I grew up in East Los Angeles, and my family were closeted shifters. There weren't any other jaguar families in the area."
Brett sighed. "Sponsorship is an old—and I mean really old--custom among shifters. It started when a shifter moved from one territory to another and switched allegiances from one alpha to another. Hal's recently revived the custom here, since we need to ensure that WSS doesn't learn that Elysia is a shifter community."
"As your sponsor, Brett Thorfinnson will take responsibility for you and guarantee the keeping of your promises," Hal said. "He'll provide for you until you can provide for yourself. He'll protect you and keep your secrets, and you shall do the same for him. You'll obey his orders and let him guide you in your new life here."
Hal's leaving out the important part, thought Brett.
"And if it turns out that you've somehow managed to lie to us about who you are and why you're here, I'll be responsible for executing you," Brett added grimly.
His bear growled silently in protest at the threat.
Brett didn't like it either, but keeping Elysia and its shifters safe from WSS was more important than his revulsion at threatening a woman.
"So basically, Cowboy here becomes my new commanding officer?" Catrina asked quietly.
Brett liked the way she said "cowboy," as if she found him sexy, but he also wanted to hear her say his name.
Hal nodded, his expression grim. "Last chance, Ms. Hunter. If you don't want to swear the oaths, give me your sworn word not to reveal the presences of shifters in Elysia, and we'll let you leave. You could get in your car and keep going to another shifter community. Or return to WSS."
Brett held his breath. Another test.
He didn't know whether he wanted her to stay or go—or whether Hal would really let her go if she chose to leave. There was too much at stake, and the old bear could be utterly ruthless at times.
Brett saw Catrina shudder. "Go back to WSS? No than
ks," she said hastily. "I'll be happy to have the cowboy as my sponsor."
Unexpected relief rushed through him, and he didn't know why. Because he sure as hell didn't trust her, not yet.
"And you, Brett Thorfinnson?" Hal asked, dropping into old-fashioned, formal phrasing. "Will you accept Catrina Hunter of Jaguar Team as your vassal, to sponsor, shield, and protect?"
"I will," said Brett, simultaneously overjoyed and terrified by the weight of this responsibility. "I agree to serve as your sponsor in return for your oath of vassalage, Catrina."
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So sponsor amounts to pretty much the same thing as the oath I took when I joined the Beast Warriors?"
"Yes," confirmed Hal. He glanced at the puddles and patches of wet dirt surrounding them. "I think we can dispense with the kneeling part of the ceremony."
"Not that it would really make much difference at this point," Catrina said, looking wryly down at her soaked, muddy pants and mud-caked boots.
Brett's boots and jeans were in pretty much the same shape, cold and clammy. And he had enough mud smeared on his bare skin that he really didn't want to put on his comparatively clean shirt until he'd had a chance to wash.
Wearing a serious expression, Catrina turned to face Brett. She put her hands together, as if in Christian prayer, and extended them to him.
Brett took her hands, enclosing them firmly within his own. He felt a shock run through him at the contact. It felt somehow electric, and it woke his bear.
She felt it too. He saw her eyes widen slightly, and her hands jumped in his, as if she wanted to pull away. Then, with a visible effort, she stilled them.
"Catrina Hunter, do you willingly tender me your oath of fealty?" he asked.
Catrina took a deep breath, and Brett saw momentary uncertainty flicker in her brown eyes. He noticed that one of her dark brows was marred by a small scar, and he felt the sudden, disconcerting impulse to bend and kiss it.
"I do, Brett Thorfinnson."
She paused and pursed her lips, clearly trying to remember the words of the fealty oath.
"I—I'll be your vassal from this day forth, for life, for member, and for worldly honor. I'll give you my loyalty in return for your protection and maintenance and perform any honorable duties you ask of me,except for what I owe unto, uh, God, the president, and the constitution of the United States of America," Catrina recited.
Hunter: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Beast Warriors Book 2) Page 5