Can't Bear To Run (Kendal Creek Bears, #1)

by Lynn Red

  As ridiculous as all this was, Daxon’s eyes were just about on fire. I swear if he was near any open flames, there would be an explosion that made Chernobyl look tame. “Get,” he snarled, “away from her.” Each syllable was punctuated. His voice was low and rumbling, but somehow carried over the din of noise from the stage.

  Zane, I think it was, started laughing with a sort of high pitched, squeaking kind of in-laugh.

  “This bitch thinks he’s hot!” the skinniest Muppet, Easy-Money, said. I can hardly think about that guy without laughing. “You think you’re hot? Huh?”

  Dax tensed. I knew right then that if the moron corps didn’t rethink their approach to life, they were going to end up splattered on the ground. Of course, when you take one part cocaine and four parts idiot, you don’t usually get a lot of coherent thinking.

  One of them sniffled. “Come on Blaise,” he said – I can’t remember which it was, because by that point I was looking for some way to diffuse the situation. “Let’s smack this boy upside the head.”

  As though to demonstrate what he meant, or possibly to show off his machismo, he took a jaunty step toward Dax and slapped the side of his head. A cascade of brown curls went up, and then fell across the giant’s face.

  He growled again.

  “Uh,” I cut in, “you boys really shouldn’t be messing with him. Think about it,” I said, laughing nervously. On the one hand, I didn’t want to be in the middle of any more violence. On the other, it would sure be funny to see what would happen. “He weighs at least what you all do combined. There’s a scar on the side of his face. Do you think that came from a bicycle accident?”

  Dax curled the left corner of his mouth into a deadly snarl. I shot him a glance, and noticed to my surprise that his eyes seemed more golden than before. I was sure it was just my imagination, or maybe a trick of the light or something. But the fact that his teeth had grown longer and his muscles seemed bigger? I dunno, but something was definitely up.

  “Dax?” I asked. “Why don’t we go and get something to eat?”

  “Nah, boy,” Blaise said. His gold chain jingled as he stepped closer. Daxon’s breathing was even. It honestly reminded me of Bruce Banner trying to keep himself from hulking out. He had that same calm, deadly determination. “Ya’ll ain’t goin’ nowheres until my boys say you can.”

  “Don’t. Keep. Talking.” When I looked back at Dax, I realized there was no way I was imagining the eye color thing. And there was also no possible way I was fooling myself into believing the hair on his forearms had always been there. They were smooth-ish before, but now he looked like a pro-wrestler from the 70s. “Just shut up,” he snarled.

  “Meathead’s gettin’ mad,” Blaise said, taking another step forward and prodding Dax in the chest.

  I started looking for a tarp to put the bodies in.

  For some reason, that’s where my thoughts automatically went. Call it a change of heart, I guess.

  “You ain’t takin’ my girl nowheres,” Blaise said.

  Easy Money was a moron, yes, because you can’t call yourself that without being either a professional boxer or a complete douche. In his defense though, he was the only one of the group who had the good sense to start backing away when the physical stuff started.

  “Raine,” Dax said with a low rumble in his voice. “If he does that again, I want you to take five steps back, because I’m going to pick him up and throw him into his friends. I don’t want to get your clothes dirty.”

  “That’s oddly specific,” I said. I caught a momentary flash of what I thought must be excitement on Daxon’s face.

  Those eyes, they’re getting yellow? What the hell’s going on? And his teeth? And... now his hands are like... meatier? This is certainly strange.

  “I been doin’ karate for six years, bro!” Blaise announced. “I got a brown belt!”

  “You’re gonna have brown shorts,” Dax growled.

  “Huh? Oh! Ha! This jock thinks he’s gonna make me shit my pants! What you think about that, boys?”

  The other two idiots began to get the same idea Easy Money had, and were slowly backing away.

  “Boys?” Blaise asked, as though calling for backup. The only thing that looks stupider than machismo is machismo that’s about to get someone knocked the hell out.

  “No,” Dax said flatly. “If that’s what I meant, I would have said it.”

  Unfortunately for Blaise, he had hit the point of no return. That moment when you can’t back out of the terrible idea you have because your buddies will think you’re a coward, and won’t let you live it down? Yeah, he was right up against it. He knew better, but he still couldn’t stop, or he’d be the butt of every joke for the next ten years.

  “Listen bro,” he said, “I’m gonna let you walk out of here. You can turn around and go on, and I’ll just take your old lady, and show her a good time and—oh shi—”

  So quickly I could hardly see him move, Dax’s hands shot out and he grabbed ahold of Blaise by the chain. He lifted him effortlessly off the ground, and the skinny guy started kicking his legs again, just like he’d done outside the porta-potty. “Hey man! What the fuck? Let me down! You’re payin’ for this if you break it, you’re—”

  “Shut up,” Dax said, lifting him a little higher in the air. “And stop kicking. You look like a toddler trying to swim.”

  Blaise’s legs hung limp.

  “Good,” Dax said. I’d never seen anything even remotely like this in my entire life. He could have torn that guy’s head off without even thinking about it, but he was just holding him there, motionless. “Thank you. Now, you’re going to apologize.”

  “What?” Blaise started kicking again. “I ain’t apologizin’ for nothin! Shit! You better apolo—”

  A quick shake shut him up again. “What?” Dax asked. “Were you saying something?”

  The poor idiot was beginning to tremble. I almost felt bad for him, but... I had a feeling Dax wasn’t going to kill him, he was just teaching him a few manners lessons. This was way better than an Emily Post article.

  “No,” Blaise whined.

  “No, what?”

  “No, I ain’t—”

  “Say ‘no sir’.”

  The little guy looked back and forth. His buddies had all retreated far enough to be out of throwing distance.

  “No sir,” he whispered.

  “Louder.”

  “No sir.” That time his voice was audible, but just barely. “That good enough? Let me down!”

  Dax looked over in my direction. “Could you hear him?”

  I shook my head.

  “Sorry bud,” he said. “Louder.”

  “No sir! No! Sir! NO SIR!”

  Blaise was not only shaking then, he was also starting to get a little red around the face, he was starting to wiggle again, and he sounded like he was going to cry.

  “Good,” Dax said, barely concealing a smile. His eyes were changing back to brown, and the hair on his arms seemed to be retreating, but... that was impossible. “Now apologize to the lady for being an asshole, and apologize to your friends for almost getting them planted in the dirt.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me.”

  Dax’s voice never went above a low rumble. It was honestly the coolest thing I’d ever seen in my life. You know how the biggest, baddest gorilla in a pack doesn’t need to do any posturing? He’s just the boss and everyone knows it. That’s exactly what this reminded me of: one super-badass gorilla teaching an upstart how to act.

  “I, uh, I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “For bein’ an asshole, ma’am.”

  Dax chuckled. “Good, and now to your friends?”

  “Come on, man! This shit hurts!”

  “Say it.”

  “Sorry for almost gettin’ you guys beat up. Can I go now?”

  Dax set him down on the ground gently, like I imagine a cartoon bear would if he had a rabbit friend in his hand. Almost immedi
ately, the bravado returned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Blaise said, obviously forgetting his manners lesson.

  Daxon shot his hand out again, this time forgoing the necklace and wrapping his fingers around nothing but throat. In one smooth motion, he lifted the little guy off the ground and hurled him about ten feet with just the one hand. He skidded across the ground just clear of his buddies.

  As soon as he came to his senses, he stood up, dusted off his shorts, which were quite brown, and motioned to his buddies. With a final, sour glance at Daxon, they all made tracks.

  “Shit,” I swore. “I thought you were just going to hit him.”

  “Nah. That wouldn’t have made anywhere near as much of an impression.”

  “I’ll say,” I laughed. “But... what are we going to do now?”

  “We’re gonna get the hell out of here. If you think a moron like that is going to take such a blow to the ego without trying to come back for another round, you’re nuts.”

  “Oh, back to this. You’re taking me somewhere and you’re not going to ask?”

  He grabbed my hand and shook his head. “Raine, would you like to take a little road trip?”

  “Road trip?” I stammered. “I, uh...”

  “I’ve got some people I want you to meet. And I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

  “That’s sort of forward.”

  “No, but this is – you’re driving. My truck died on the way here.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re serious?”

  “As a bear attack.”

  “That’s a weird choice of words,” I said. “Say, what was going on back there with your eyes and your teeth and all that? I wasn’t imagining that, was I?”

  He smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Like I said, I’ve got something to show you.”

  -10-

  From Colorado, With Love

  “You still haven’t told me where we’re going, and I still don’t know what the hell’s going on.” I was starting to get irritated, because every single time I almost got an answer out of this hulking creature, he just started smiling and said something cryptic.

  I was even more irritated because every single goddamn time he did it, I couldn’t think about anything except how it was adorable. And I am not the sort to think obnoxious games are adorable.

  “Turn here,” he said.

  We’d been on the road for about four hours, and had stopped twice to get him hamburgers. The whole thing was almost surreal, but I figured, what the hell, he’s probably some kind of bodybuilder with obscene caloric needs. Still, eight Whoppers is a lot for anyone.

  “Which way?”

  “Left.”

  “That’s the woods, there’s no road.”

  “Turn.”

  More out of spite than anything else, I yanked the wheel hard to the left. Booger’s tires skidded a little, and for a moment I thought we were going to become yet another pair of names on the overturned SUV list. But to my surprise, my Jeep righted itself and sure enough, we were on a road. Well, not really a road – it wasn’t paved or anything, but once we got through a cover of overgrown plant life, we were on a dirt road as smooth as any I’d seen.

  With a red face, I puffed out my cheeks and looked over at Dax. He was grinning, and watching my face.

  “Surprised?” he asked, starting to laugh again. “You shoulda seen yourself! I thought you were gonna pee your pants.”

  I punched him, hard, in the ribs.

  It was right then, as my fist made contact with his side, and he first laughed, and then said, “Damn! That hurt a lot more than I thought it would!” that I realized I was in the process of doing something really, really stupid. Not just stupid, but crazy besides.

  I was falling for a guy I met fourteen hours before outside a toilet at a music festival. Not the worst decision I’ve ever made, if I’m being honest with myself, but still not entirely normal.

  I looked at his face, and watched him for just a second. His eyes were warm, so warm, and so welcoming and safe. He reached over and put his hand on top of mine, on top of the stick shift. “Almost home,” he said softly.

  Those words echoed in my stupid, confused, brain. Almost home.

  “Sounds... good,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything else, he just smiled for a second, and then looked back out the front of the car. The little squeeze he gave my hand said everything I needed him to. I can’t explain it, which I know sounds like a cop-out, but I really can’t.

  Somehow, I knew that everything was going to be all right. Like he said, we were almost home.

  *

  “Welcome to Kendal Creek,” Daxon said as we pulled into an empty town square. There was a statue of an old guy in the middle of a small, fenced-off park area, and across the way stood a white stone building in desperate need of power washing.

  “It’s, uh, a little dingy, isn’t it?” I asked, not really aware that I was speaking out loud.

  “Hey, it’s the woods,” Dax said. “And yeah I might have been a little negligent in getting a pressure washer for the last five years or so. Anyway, it’s home. And after our little adventure in the city, I am feeling like I never want to leave again.”

  I laughed. The drive had been mostly uneventful, except that Dax wasn’t anywhere near as good at towing as he said he was. Every now and then he’d hit a bump, and his nasty old truck got a jolt and felt like it was about to come undone. We had to stop and make sure everything was fine, and after the first four such experiences, I told him to move over and let me drive. Kind of the story of my life, I guess. He was sweet, though. Instead of getting pissy and whining, he just smiled, and spent the next few hours fiddling with my hand when I should have been holding onto the stick shift.

  It all felt good though. More than that, it felt right.

  Then again, there was the whole mess of life that had to come before it was possible for me to meet him. Thinking about that, of course, put me in a decidedly negative frame of mind that I knew I needed to escape from if I wasn’t going to fall straight down that awful rabbit hole again.

  “What’s on your mind?” Dax squeezed my hand, jolting me out of my bittersweet reminiscence. “Something wrong?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. I was just thinking about things.”

  “Don’t do that. Thinking too much gets in the way of listening to your heart.”

  Something about his off-handed advice struck me in just the right way. I was able to, for just a minute, forget about the past and live in the present.

  And then a bear strolled up to the door of the courthouse, and turned into a giant, naked man. Dax must have noticed my eyes opening so wide I almost popped them out of my head.

  “Er,” he grunted, “yeah that’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about... When I got in my fight, and that hair came out of my arms and I started—“

  And that was that. I hit the ground as the light in my eyes went out.

  *

  I woke up in a big bed – a really big one, almost comically large – and blinked away the remaining dizziness that clouded my addled brain.

  “Hold still,” I heard a distant voice. “Don’t move, honey.”

  I reached out, hoping to find Dax, but instead, closed my fingers around a much thinner wrist. I still wasn’t seeing straight, and through my fuzzy vision, I thought I could see a woman. Oh great, I thought. I came all this way just to faint and wake up in Dax’s house being nursed by the wife he said he didn’t have.

  “Oh lord,” the woman chortled, “wife? Don’t be ridiculous. Daxon wouldn’t want an oldie like me. Good as I may be.”

  I rolled over onto my back, despite her protesting, and pushed up onto my elbows. The long, soft-looking white hair was the first thing I saw. “But...?”

  “You were talking out loud, honey.” The woman laughed again, a soft, kindly sort of chuckle. “You were pretty rattled, so I imagine you thought you were thinking?”

  I mana
ged a smile. “Yeah, I guess so,” I finally said. “Where am I?”

  “Daxon’s house. He’s our alpha,” she immediately fell silent, like she’d used a word she wasn’t supposed to use.

  “Your... what?” I sat up and scooted myself back to the headboard, where I flopped backward, thankful for the support. “I thought he was the mayor? Or... something. I don’t quite remember what he said.”

  “That’s more or less true,” she answered. “Things are a little different around here.”

  “I noticed. I saw the weirdest thing. When we got into town, Dax was showing me the courthouse, and I swear I saw a bear walk up to the door and turn into a guy.” I laughed, nervously. “I let my imagination get away with me sometimes, I guess. It’s kind of a defense mechanism. You know, how some people talk too much, and others laugh a lot and—“

  “You do both of those things,” the older woman said. “I’m Fletcher, by the way. Daxon’s... well I guess I do just about everything for him. You weren’t imagining anything.”

  Before I could register exactly what she’d just said – confirming that I’d seen what I guessed was a hallucination to be real – there was a loud banging sound from the front of the house. I heard Dax curse, I heard something hit the floor, and then the telltale creak of a couch accepting a very heavy body.

  “She awake yet?” he called.

  Fletcher got the first Y in her affirmative response out of her mouth and about a half-second later, heavy footsteps stomped down the hall and Dax appeared in the doorway. “Oh my God!” he cried out. “You’re okay!”

  Quickly, he gathered me up in his huge arms, holding me tight against his chest.

  “Dax, she just fainted,” Fletch said. “I don’t think she was in any mortal danger. But you need to explain the whole bear thing to her, or I doubt that’s gonna be the last time.”

  I looked up at him to see this huge specimen shaking his head. The tips of his curls brushed against the side of my face. “Not now,” he said. “She needs to recover, she’s fragile, and I have to protect her.”

  Those words worked their way into my consciousness quickly. It occurred to me that he wasn’t saying any of them out of thinking I was some kind of broken china doll, but that he actually meant what he was saying. It warmed me to the core, but at the same time, yeah, not fragile.