Son of the Cursed Bear

by T. S. Joyce

  Vyr sighed and gave his focus to Nox. “You need to make it right with her people, Nox. You need to keep her from being shunned.”

  “Why? They’re assholes. They don’t deserve her anyway. I can keep her protected.”

  “Because they mark the foxes they shun.”

  “Mark,” Nox repeated in a quiet, lethal tone.

  “They’re gonna mark up her face. Maybe her body, too. They’re gonna make it to where any fox who ever sees her knows to ignore her with one glance.”

  This was the part she’d dreaded telling him. This was the part she’d agreed to when she’d denied a pairing with Darren.

  Horror in his eyes, Nox arched his silver gaze to hers slowly. “I won’t let them.”

  “You can’t watch her every second. Foxes are clever, patient hunters. She will never be safe from them.”

  “Then I’ll take her into Damon’s Mountains.”

  “And bring more war? My father won’t allow her there. Not when the media is watching so closely. Everyone has to be perfect right now.”

  Nox shook his head back and forth slowly. He looked like he wanted to retch. “What do I do? She’s my mate. I claimed her. She claimed me back.” He gestured to his neck. “She’s mine to protect. I can’t put her back in that den. If you saw in her mind, you know how they treat her. Those are my choices? Let them scar her on the inside or let them scar her on the outside? Fuck that. No more scars. Those stop right now. Over my goddamn dead body will they hurt her anymore.”

  “You can’t go after a den, Nox. They’re a hundred strong, and the quiet kind of lethal. You’re in way hotter water than you even realize. You took one of their breeders.”

  “Breeders?” Nox spat in the snow and hooked his hands on his hips. His profile was terrifying. His face had morphed into a monstrous expression. “She ain’t no breeder. Not anymore.”

  “Then run. Run with her,” Torren said, crossing his arms over his tattooed chest. He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at Nox. “Take her away from here, take her somewhere there are no foxes, hide so deep in a hole somewhere they have no chance of ever finding you. It’ll be a miserable life, and you’ll always be on the run. Trust me on this. Looking over your shoulder all the time? It’s going to fuck with both of your animals. They’ll become paranoid and unmanageable over time.”

  “Is that what’s happening to you?” Nevada asked.

  Vyr and Torren both dipped their chins once in unison.

  “You won’t be just running from the foxes either,” Vyr said. “You’ll be running from my father too, because he will be pissed when you don’t follow through and bring me in.”

  “Who says I’m not bringing you in?” Nox asked coolly.

  Vyr gave him a venomous smile and tapped his temple twice.

  “Dick,” Nox muttered. “Stay out of my head.”

  “Wish I could. It’s pretty messed up in there.” The dragon gestured to Nevada. “You got lucky to find a girl who doesn’t mind damage. Too bad she’s a fox. Time to go, love-birds. I need less attention on me, and you two are a train wreck waiting to happen.”

  Nox huffed an empty laugh and looked at Vyr, then Torren, and then back to Vyr.

  “Just like always, right? Crew of two? Torren and Vyr versus the rest of the world.” Nox twitched his head and muttered, “Fuck. Everything’s fine.” He wrapped his big, strong hand around Nevada’s. “Come on. We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to worry,” he said gently, eyes trapping hers. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  She smiled sadly. “Truth.” Too bad keeping that promise would put him at great risk.

  “See you around,” she murmured to Vyr and Torren as Nox led her toward the car. She didn’t even try to conceal the lie. She knew what this was. It was goodbye to two men who should’ve let Nox in. He deserved friendship, and these were perhaps the only two shifters strong enough to be that for him.

  Sudden anger whipped through her, and she called out, “He would’ve been really good at a crew of three. You both should know that.”

  “We aren’t a crew,” Vyr called.

  But when she turned around to give him a dirty look, both Vyr and Torren stood in eerily similar stances—legs splayed in the snow, arms crossed, twin frowns tracking Nox.

  “You should watch that video,” she called as Nox tugged her hand and urged her faster toward the car.

  “Of what?” Torren asked.

  “Of Vyr burning Covington. Watch right at the forty-five second mark. Watch who charged out of the woods right along with you two. Watch who risked himself to have your backs.”

  Whoo, she got bold when she was mad, but they should know Nox’s value. If she didn’t say it now, she wouldn’t ever get the chance to.

  “Nevada, it’s fine,” Nox murmured as he opened the passenger’s side of her car for her. “Everything’s fine.”

  But as they coasted silently through the clearing and past Nox’s burning truck, everything did not seem fine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A snarl rattled Nox’s throat just moments before he lurched up from sleep.

  After feeling around in the dark, Nevada slid her hand up his tensed back. His skin was cold. “What’s wrong?” she murmured.

  Nox sat on the edge of her bed, his back to her, skin blue with the moonlight that filtered through her bedroom window. He scrubbed his hands down his face a few times. In a sleep-soaked voice, he scratched out, “Bad dream, little fox. Nothing more.”

  “You’ve been shut down all day. Since we saw Vyr and Torren. Talk to me.”

  With a sigh, Nox rocked up off the bed and away from her touch. Another shut down. He walked into her bathroom and turned on the light. Another shut down. He went to close the door. Another shut down. He stopped and murmured a curse word then, “Nevada?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you shave my beard for me?”

  She sat up and locked one arm under her. “Okay, mister.” The covers were tangled around her legs, so she kicked out of them and made her way across the cold wood floors to the bathroom. She was wearing an old T-shirt he’d given her that smelled like him. Like his bear and his cologne. It was one of his black Bone Ripper shirts, and it hung halfway down to her knees.

  She leaned against the open doorway and watched him gather a trimmer, a shallow tub of warm water, and a razor and shaving cream. He’d been prepared for this.

  “You’re tired of your beard?”

  “For now. I’m tired of hiding, and I’m tired of scratching up your face when I kiss you. You don’t heal fast, and you turn red if I carry on too long with you.”

  He sat on the floor, leaned up against her bathtub. “Come here.”

  His eyes stayed locked on hers as she approached him slowly and straddled his legs. She sat in his lap and cupped his cheeks. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “I wanna know you. I wanna know what you’re giving up to be with me. I wanna know what you’re gaining. I wanna know what it was like when you were a kit, who your friends were in school, if you’re happy, what food you like, and what your favorite movie is. I want to know everything about you.”

  “That’s a long conversation for one night,” she said through a smile.

  Nox brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Good thing we have a lifetime.”

  Her smile deepened until her ears moved with it. Scary bear with everyone else. Gentle bear with her. “How did I get so lucky?”

  Nox chuckled and scratched his bottom lip with his thumbnail, right over the thin scar she’d caused with her nip earlier. “If I’ve tricked you into thinking you’re lucky with me? It’s me who’s the lucky one.”

  She giggled and picked up the trimmers, turned them on, and waggled her eyebrows at the buzzing sound. “You ready?”

  His smile dipped and disappeared, then came back slowly. “I’m ready for it all.” Nox arched his neck back and exposed his throat for her. Brave man, trusting her like this, when she knew w
ithout a doubt, he trusted very few people in his life.

  Nox rested his hands on her bare outer thighs as she ran the trimmer up his face and cut away the long beard that really had kept his face hidden. She took her time because this was their world. This was their moment, sitting here on the bathroom floor, touching, being affectionate, bonding, caring for each other.

  “Favorite childhood memory,” he said low.

  “That one’s easy. Every Monday night, the ice cream truck would come near my house. There was this really nice girl who lived down the road. She was in my class in third grade. She was human. Maria. I would beg my mom to let me have a slumber party, but humans weren’t allowed in our house. Too many foxes under one roof, and we would’ve been busted. But on Monday nights, I would run down our long driveway, and Maria would meet me at the ice cream truck, our moms would talk for a while, and we would run around edge of the woods playing. She was so nice. A sweet soul. She never put me down. She told me I was her best friend, and I would just…glow. We would get the same ice cream each week because we liked to match. And sometimes we would plan on what we would wear the next week when Monday rolled around again. I made us these matching hair bows one week, and she was so happy with it. Maria never minded that I was quiet, or soft spoken, or that I couldn’t meet her eyes when we played. She was fine with me just the way I was, and at the time, that was a really big deal.”

  “Mmm,” he rumbled, turning his cheek so she could trim at a better angle. “What happened to Maria?”

  “She moved away when we were in fifth grade. Her dad got a job in Oklahoma.”

  “Did you find more friends after that?”

  “I think it’s hard for people to be friends with someone who has social anxiety if they don’t understand it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I tried in high school to find someone like Maria. It would be good for a while, but they would get tired of me wanting to stay in. Movie nights got boring, and when they wanted to be in crowds, or talk with other friends, I clammed up. People probably thought I was rude, but it wasn’t that. I cared very much. I was just…extremely shy, and didn’t know how to talk to people. I never got over it. The anxiety stayed exactly the same. One panic attack, and they would bail, and eventually I got scared of that rejection, so I didn’t try anymore. I just tried to make a place in the den.”

  “But you didn’t. You stayed on the outside.”

  “Not my choice. I used to wish I was normal. That I would just wake up and be more outgoing, not have that heavy, fluttering, awful feeling in my chest when I would be in crowds. That I would be able to stick up for myself with my brothers and sisters and parents and cousins and the rest of the den. Never happened, though.”

  “Do you want to know a bright side to that?” he asked as she finished trimming his beard short.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t realize how strong they made you. It was a slow build, and I bet you feel weak for not being more assertive, but you’re wrong. I see steel in you, little fox.”

  “Oh, no, not me,” she said, her cheeks heating as she scooped warm water and massaged it onto his short whiskers. “There’s no steel in me. Everyone walks on me, and I let them.”

  “Do you? Because today I watched a fox stop the Red Dragon mid-Change. I watched you. Couldn’t keep my attention on the fight with Torren because you were charging a mother-fucking dragon, and you didn’t slow down at all. Little bat out of hell—”

  “Who took a piss on his hand—”

  “Who was smart about keeping him steady. Don’t sell yourself short with me, Nevada. I see you, and I don’t buy it. Be self-deprecating with everyone else. Ain’t no room for that between us though unless you’re joking. You’re a little red-furred, gold-eyed hellion. I’m damn proud of you. And oh, my gah! Your animal is so fuckin’ cute. I wanted to cuddle you longer but stupid Vyr punched me. Maybe I deserved it, but still…I was having a moment, and he’s not forgiven. Your fur is really soft. Not like mine. Mine’s rough. And your eyes are so pretty.”

  Her cheeks were on fire now with his compliments. He liked the way she looked as a human and in her animal form, and that was pretty special to a girl like her. “Your turn. Favorite childhood memory.”

  “Okay…once a month, my dad would plan this big father-son prank. One time we broke into this silverback shifter’s trailer and nailed all the furniture to the ceiling. Kirk was so pissed he and his mate took a week-long vacation away from us. His mate, Alison, thanked us later though, in secret, because she got to go to Cabo. And another time, there was this shifter who slept like the dead. So on his day off, when he was mid-nap, me and my dad hooked up his trailer and dragged it to a different trailer park and left it. Bash woke up totally confused. I mean, he and my dad went to blows over it, but Dad was always down for a good fight.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Nevada deadpanned.

  “But my favorite memories weren’t the pranks themselves. It was the tradition we had after.”

  “What was it?” she asked, as she massaged shaving cream onto his jaw.

  “He would always take me out afterward to this gas station restaurant fifteen minutes from Damon’s Mountains. They had the best fried burritos, and we would order enough to make us sick…just piles of them, and we would sit there and eat them all and talk and laugh over what we’d just done. Then plan our next one. We did that for as long as I can remember. We do it still.”

  “Clinton sounds like a really good dad.”

  Nox smiled. “You researched the Cursed Bear.”

  “I already knew about the Cursed Bear. I used to wonder what it would be like being raised in Damon’s Mountains where everyone is so open about being a shifter. I used to fantasize about how it would be if I didn’t have to be so secretive.”

  “It has cons too, Nevada. We were always at war with someone and had to keep that from human eyes. Our secrets were different from yours, but they were secrets just the same.”

  “You fought in wars?”

  “Too many to count. The shifters in Damon’s Mountains were part of the first wave who had to register with the government. It created enemies. There was always some crew, family group, or pride after us for some reason or another. Who knows what the right answer is. Registering like we had to do or staying secret like you had to do. Maybe there is no right answer.”

  “Will I have to register since I’m your mate?”

  “You’re supposed to, but rules are for suckers, and I’m not gonna out you as a fox shifter. If it came down to it and we got pushed into registration? I’d claim you as human on the paperwork and dick-punch anyone who questioned it.”

  She sighed in relief as she swirled the razor in the tub of water. She’d been worried about that actually. “What if I cut you?” she asked, poising the razor against his cheek.

  “You bit me earlier, and I gave you zero shit for that. It’s not the end of the world if you nick me. Take that pressure off yourself.” Nox wiped a finger against his jaw and booped shaving cream onto her nose. “It’s just you and me.”

  Well, that did make her feel better. She giggled as she wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt, and then she ran the razor down his jaw. She was slow and steady about it, but couldn’t stop smiling because Nox kept his gaze glued to her face. He looked so lovey dovey, like a school boy with a crush, and she wondered if she’d ever been this happy a single day in her life. How had she gone this long without Nox to make her feel like she belonged?

  For a while, the only sound was the scrape, scrape, scrape of the razor gliding down his face. And as he tilted his head farther back for her to drag the razor down his throat, she asked, “Will you still like me if my face is scarred?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. He gestured to his torso to the long, raised claw marks that had healed long ago into crisscrossing scars that showed even through his tattoo ink. “You never even noticed mine. You don’t have to worry about your face though, Nevada
. You’re safe.”

  But she knew better. She knew what was really coming, and at some point, whether it was now or ten years from now, she would be marked by her people. It was the greatest shame for a fox to be shunned, but she would learn to be proud of it, because it would mean she cut herself from a place she didn’t belong and found something better. Nox didn’t know it, and she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but though she was submissive and scared of talking to people, she wasn’t a runner. Never had been. And she couldn’t live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with a steady gaze, looking right at Nox.

  She had plans. And now that he’d told her, with truth ringing clear as a bell in his voice, that he would still care for her anyway, she was going to get the marking over with and get on with her life—with Nox.

  Nox grabbed the hand towel beside him suddenly and wiped the leftover shaving cream from his smooth face. His jaw was chiseled and masculine, his smile lines visible now. He looked so different. Softer. He was beautiful, if that term could be coined for a brawler like Nox Fuller. It was the question in his eyes that held her, though. With a slight frown tugging at his blond eyebrows, he pulled her against his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. And they just sat there like that for minutes or hours or days. She didn’t know how long, and she didn’t care. All she cared about was Nox’s steady heartbeat drumming against her cheek, the way his hands felt as he rubbed gentle circles up and down her spine, his scent. All she cared about was feeling utterly complete right here, all wrapped up in Nox.

  “You were the best surprise,” he said low. “Now you tell me, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

  But she couldn’t because he wouldn’t allow her to do what she was going to do. He would take her away, and they would be on the lam from her destiny for always. She didn’t want him to live like that. So instead of explaining why the marks needed to happen, she cuddled closer and gave him a content sigh. “Nothing, Nox. Everything’s fine.”