Baddest Bear Dad: A Fated Mate Romance

by Amelia Jade

  “It’s a private matter, between us and the ambassador.”

  “And who are you?”

  “Us? We’re just the ones sent on behalf of others. We’re nobodies, really. We’re just here to follow orders. I’m sure you understand that.”

  The verbal dancing was admirable as the leader attempted to answer the question without actually answering the question.

  “Well I’m sorry, but only authorized personnel are allowed to see the ambassador. I have my orders too. They say that nobody’s to disturb the ambassador. So, seeing as you’re nobodies, I think that means you.”

  You want to play verbal games? Fine, I can play verbal games too, you egotistical prick.

  A slight flash of humor was quickly hidden in the eyes of the unknown spokesperson. He’s enjoying this! The revelation rushed through Braden, forcing him to reevaluate his opponent, upgrading the threat level significantly. Whoever they were, they weren’t here to just have a chat with Andrew, that much was now quite clear. They had been sent to deliver a message. The only question was, what sort?

  “I think you’ll find that the ambassador is quite interested in coming out here.”

  “What should I tell him then? That there are three terribly dressed folks out front messing up the lobby who say that you should come on down for a rip-roaring good time?”

  He was getting tired of the constant circle-talk.

  The leader smiled. “Or you could just tell him that he’s under arrest.”

  Braden couldn’t help it. It was probably quite undiplomatic, and it definitely didn’t help keep the lackey with angry issues any calmer, but just then he didn’t care.

  His snort of derision echoed throughout the lobby. “Hah.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said ‘hah.’ Generally known as a sarcastic laugh. Anyway, try again.”

  “Last time,” the leader said, his voice dull. “Get the ambassador. Now.”

  “Nope, no can do.” He started whistling. Had he mentioned diplomacy wasn’t one of his strong suits?

  “I’m sure we can settle this amicably,” the leader said, stepping up until he was right in front of Braden.

  This had the added comedic effect of forcing the Embassy Guard to look down his nose at the shorter shifter. Even among the massive bear shifters, Braden was a big one. And he knew it.

  “Of course we can. You and the other two stooges turn around, walk out the door, and go back to Cadia before I report you for being out of the territory without permission. Which, as I’m sure you know, is a major offense.” He grinned, showing just how happily he would carry out the sentence for that crime, which had a maximum penalty of death.

  “You know. I tried being nice. But I can see you lack manners. So, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” The leader lifted a hand and motioned to the other two. “You two, go find the ambassad—”

  He never finished his sentence. As it turns out, it’s tough to speak with a mouthful of fist. Braden stepped into the suckerpunch, hitting the other man as hard as he could, driving him back across the lobby. The blow started the shifter’s body spinning and he cracked a shin off one of the marble pillars, damaging the pillar and probably the shifter, judging by the cry of pain that burst from his mouth.

  The two associates had already been building up speed as they moved to go around Braden and then deeper into the lobby. But at the sight of their leader going down they shared a glance, and then as one altered their course until they were converging on him.

  “Uh-oh,” he said to himself. There was next to no time for him to think out a response, so he went on instinct.

  His knees bent slightly, then flexed, and just before either one of them could slam into him he flung himself high into the air. The goal was to catch them by surprise, and perhaps hope that they collided with each other. At worst, they would have to halt their forward momentum and turn back to attack him, giving Braden precious seconds to react.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. The attacker on his left was a half-step closer, and his hand closed around Braden’s ankle. Braden, still on the way up, had his motion abruptly halted. His left leg screamed in agony as it was jolted hard, the joints bursting into flaming pain.

  The attacker was also going forward. Which meant he took Braden’s foot with him. Leaving his upper body behind. With a yelp he fell headfirst to the ground. As the marble tiles approached he attempted to duck and roll, but he’d forgotten about the hand on his foot. So instead of rolling, he simply landed on his right shoulder. Something popped, but he didn’t have time to figure out what.

  By then the enemy shifter had started to slow, and now he pivoted, flinging the arm that had Braden’s ankle out wide and around in a circle. Braden shouted as he whipped around twice like a lasso.

  “Don’t let go!” he hollered.

  Of course the other shifter let go. Braden soared through the air, somehow managing not to hit any of the pillars in the lobby. He hit the ground with his back, but it was oddly a much softer landing than expected. As he regained his wits, it became clear that he’d actually ended up atop the leader, who had just begun to regain his feet before Braden came flying into him like a wrecking ball.

  “Nice aim,” he taunted, driving his elbow backward until it cracked into the face of the leader. Skin split, bone broke, and blood began to leak everywhere. Braden repeated the motion twice more.

  After that he leapt to his feet. One of the lackeys was advancing on him, the other had gone down the hallway toward Andrew’s office. Braden wasn’t entirely sure if he was there or in his room, but if he was, the attacker was in for a rude surprise.

  Braden met the remaining shifter in a headlong rush. The two collided hard, fighting more like animals now than humans. He started to overpower his foe, but a blind-side kick to his weakened left leg bent it under him, driving Braden toward the floor. Hammerfists rained down on him from above, but he blocked them with crossed arms, waiting for an opening.

  There! It was a brief hesitation, a simple readjustment of position, but it was all Braden needed. He flung himself backward, bringing his legs up and kicking them out as hard as he could. Size sixteen boots hit the attacker square in the chest, launching him up into the air and onto the second level of the balcony.

  Where is everyone else? Why is nobody responding to the noise yet?

  Braden wasn’t sure, but while he was waiting he ducked a wild swing from the leader, who, despite being unable to see out of one eye, had risen to his feet and closed the distance.

  It wasn’t even difficult. Braden darted to the side, and drove a fist into his face. He only had time for the one, but as the leader tried to square him up again Braden feinted for the blind side, then came around and hit him in his good side, catching the leader completely off guard. This time his fist sent the shifter to the ground. He reached down and casually snapped the man’s shin before he could gather himself.

  “Stay down,” he growled, turning back just as the shifter he’d kicked launched himself off the balcony, feet pointed right at Braden. “That was dumb.”

  He wasn’t sure why the subordinate shifter thought a dropkick was the best move to use in that situation, but he wasn’t going to argue the easy opening. It wouldn’t have worked with a human; their reflexes were too slow. But it was child’s play for the trained bear shifter.

  Braden waited, standing square to the incoming body until the last second. Then he ducked under it, his arms coming up around his sides. He rose with his back in a slightly hunched position, his arms above his head.

  Once the body of his foe had passed by him Braden clamped his hands tight together, and once he had a grip he drove himself forward.

  The shifter’s neck broke easily over his shoulder as his vise-like hands refused to release his head. Hanging limply now, his feet still dangling off the ground while they ‘stood’ back to back, the corpse shook once or twice. Then Braden sighed and dropped his grip. The dead shifter slid down his back into a pi
le on the floor.

  From down the hallway where the third shifter had disappeared there was an angry roar, and something that had once been a body came flying back up it, bouncing off the wall and landing in the lobby. Braden winced as he realized the head was rotated a full 180 degrees.

  “They didn’t tell you that the ambassador is a gryphon shifter, did they?” he asked, gripping the hair of the leader and jerking his mangled face up until Braden could look at him in the eye.

  Or where the eyes would be if the skin around them wasn’t all swollen shut.

  The leader didn’t answer.

  Footsteps came storming up the hallway.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Andrew bellowed.

  “They were here to arrest you for some reason. They wouldn’t tell me who they are, or who sent them.”

  “Oh, I can tell you who sent them,” the angry ambassador snarled. “Cadian Intelligence, that’s who. I recognize that bastard there,” he said, stabbing a finger at the leader. “His name is Drackon, he’s the third or fourth in the chain of command. Slimy little fucker, but not so good in a standup fight.”

  “Shit.” It wasn’t much of a response, but it was all Braden had at the moment. “Why would they be here to arrest you?”

  Andrew just snorted. Braden shook his head. Duh, he knew the answer to that one. The shifters living on the north side of town. Certain parties within Cadia, ones that the king, the ruler of the territory, couldn’t control just yet. They used Cadian Intelligence to do their dirty deeds. Including, it would seem, arresting and then likely disposing of one Andrew Raskell, Cadian ambassador to Cloud Lake.

  He rose. “You can’t let him live,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We need to kill them all. No survivors. Get rid of the bodies. Repair the lobby ASAP. Then pretend like they never got here. We’ve never seen them.”

  “Why?” Andrew regarded him intensely.

  “It’ll buy you time to prepare, sir,” he said quietly.

  “Prepare for what?”

  “Whatever their next move is.”

  Andrew thought about it, then nodded once. “Agreed. You deal with the bodies, I’ll start organizing a cleanup and repair crew.”

  Braden returned the nod, slammed a fist over his chest in a Cadian-style salute, and without hesitation reached down and snapped the neck of the leader.

  He felt mildly uncomfortable at the cold-bloodedness of the murder, but he knew it had to be done.

  Now to dispose of the bodies somewhere they won’t be found.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Braden

  He looked up from the little dolls that he and Gwenevere were playing with, eyes narrowed. Something had changed. His senses were screaming at him, telling him to pay attention, to figure out what it was. Finally his gaze landed on Elle.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked up, startled. “Pardon?”

  “Something’s bothering you. Your shoulders are hunched forward, you’re wringing your hands ever so slightly, and your breathing is heavier.”

  “Well that’s mighty observant of you. And a little creepy, to be blunt.”

  She was deflecting, trying to dodge his question. Unfortunately for her, Braden wasn’t one that was easily pushed aside once he set himself to something.

  “Elle,” he rumbled, ensuring that Gwen was occupied all on her own before rising and joining her on the couch. The wooden frame creaked as he settled his three-hundred-odd pounds of muscle onto it. “You don’t need to hide from me. Please. Trust me. What’s going on?”

  His mate looked away, but when he found her hand with his, she didn’t pull back. She wanted to talk, that was clear. So Braden simply waited, giving her time to arrange her thoughts, organize her ideas, and formulate the words that would best convey her point. He was in no rush. The only thing that was on his agenda right then was ensuring that his mate was the happiest woman in the world. If she needed someone to listen, he had her back.

  “I’m going crazy.”

  Braden’s eyes slowly closed and then opened again. “Try that again?”

  “Not that kind of crazy.”

  He sighed in relief.

  “Stir crazy. I need to do something. To be doing something.”

  “Okay.” He popped up from the couch, attempting to pull her up after him in a much more restrained fashion. But she just stayed sitting, tugging his hand back toward her. “What? Let’s go. I’ll get Gwen dressed. We’ll go for a walk.”

  She sighed, lowering her gaze to the floor. Braden frowned. Obviously whatever he’d said, his intentions were misplaced. Elle was looking for something else.

  “That’s not what I meant, B,” she said, shortening his name to only a single letter.

  If he’d ever heard a plea for understanding before, this was it. Still confused, but wanting to do whatever she needed of him, he sat back down, clasping her hand within his and doing that thing he’d learned was so necessary with women.

  He waited.

  “I’m not talking about today. Or yesterday, or tomorrow. I mean overall.” Her eyes lifted now, imploring him to understand.

  Braden considered his words very carefully. “You need something else besides being a mother,” he stated at last, confident that he’d finally understood her dilemma.

  “Yes.” The word came out like the air from a balloon, deflating Elle as it left. She sagged into him, her ponytail draping itself over his arm as she rubbed her head back and forth against his skin, dragging the dirty-blonde hair with it. “I need outttttt.” The last word was dragged out over several syllables.

  “Now you’re overexaggerating it,” he said firmly.

  “I know,” she admitted, sitting up straight. “I know. It’s just, I’ve been dealing with this for quite some time on my own, trying to figure out what to do, where to do it, anything that I can come up with that is feasible for me to do with my situation the way it is.”

  Braden’s lips flattened into a line. “I take it, judging by our conversation, that you haven’t been able to come up with anything?”

  “Nothing. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a job you can bring an infant to?”

  “A job?” He frowned again, a deeply unsettled look. “Have you tried a hobby? Something fun, or at least in a group setting?”

  “I get together with all the other moms. We have a single glass of wine—well, some of us do—and we all fawn over how amazing our kids are.” She held up a hand to forestall his comment. “Don’t get me wrong. That’s fun, and all the kids are amazing. But dammit, I need something more!”

  It took some doing, but Braden kept his mouth shut. Jobs were something she didn’t need to worry about. He was now in the picture, and had every intention of funding their lives together. Elle would never want for money again. Couldn’t she see that? A hobby would be a much more worthwhile use of her time. She could find friends, new friends, learn new skills, and all of that time be doing something she wanted to do. Not working a stupid job where she was forced to do all kinds of inane things.

  “What are all the others doing? Anything?”

  Elle shook her head. “Nothing that has been shared. I mean, Angela runs the Mommy and Me fitness classes. The others have tried things here or there, but nothing has stuck. Nothing that they really want to keep doing. Besides, they all have men in their lives, and so they’re busy being a family.”

  He winced as her jaw slammed shut, embarrassed realization spreading across her features as her words registered.

  “Oh my goodness, that’s not what I mean,” she sputtered, but he shook his head, using his hands to quiet her.

  “I know what you meant. Trust me.” Braden held one of her hands tightly, kissing the back of it. “I’m serious. They’ve been together for a lot longer than we have. So they have an established routine as partners, and they know that they’re going to be together forever.”

  The last part hurt him to say out lo
ud, but until Elle was ready to acknowledge that they too were destined for eternity with one another, he wasn’t going to say anything. Forcing a decision upon her was not how he wanted their forever and a day to start—or heaven forbid, end. So, he once more played the patience card, though he was quickly running out of it. It was hard to keep it contained within himself just how much she meant to him, and how happy he was to have found his mate.

  One day you can tell her. Just not today.

  “Thank you,” she said gratefully, giving his hand a squeeze.

  Braden squeezed back. That was just another thing he loved about her—how intimate and touchy she was. Humans of all types, even half-ones like himself, loved to be touched. To feel the press of another, especially one who cared deeply. It warmed his soul.

  “You’re frustrated with the situation. I get that. I don’t blame you for speaking in generalities, not being specific or making a one-time exemption for us. I hate people that do that,” he growled, genuine ire spilling out into his words. “You know what I mean? When someone makes a generality like ‘Most people get irritated by those people who walk on the left, not the right.’ And then someone has to chime in and mention how they know somebody who just doesn’t care about that. Well duh, that’s why I said most people in the first place you—”

  Braden cut himself off as his anger started to build. This wasn’t about him, and his pet peeves. This was about Elle, and what she was struggling with. He needed to return the focus to her.

  “My point is, I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  Elle was smiling. “Thank you. I’ll be sure I always walk on the right-hand side now when I’m around you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’d better! Otherwise I’m going to make last night seem like a love tap.”

  She readjusted the way she was sitting on her rear and gave him a look that was mixed parts suggestive “Oh yeah?” and flat-eyed “No you won’t.”

  Braden just grinned, more than willing to call her bluff on that one.