Bound to the Bear Page 4

  And then she realized the truth.

  It wasn’t a dog. It was a werewolf, and it had Mother in its jaws.

  Chapter 5

  Hank heard the werewolf coming a split second before the attack. If he hadn’t been so focused on congratulating Sammy for completing her first shift, he might have realized the problem earlier. But the girl had come through the most difficult moment of her young life with flying colors and that deserved a hug. Or at nuzzle, as it were. Which would have been fine if they’d been tucked away in Gladwin and protected by the safety of the largest Michigan pack.

  They weren’t. They were right in the middle of werewolf territory and these wolves didn’t like it when the bears came to play. They’d usually tolerate it because urban living meant close quarters, but this wasn’t normal times. The moment the window burst inward, Hank smelled the hybrid stench.

  He spun around, his gaze taking in all the details he could in a split second.

  A single werewolf had burst in through the large window. Everyone had cringed in the spray of shattered glass. Cecilia was tied to the bannister, dark red lines of blood appearing all over her face and arms. Painful, but not lethal. Sammy was tucked behind him, naked in her human form and completely vulnerable. Fresh from her first shift, she’d be exhausted once the adrenaline wore off. He needed to get some food into her, then she’d probably sleep for days.

  Which left the main problem. The werewolf dead center of the living room with his jaws around Mother’s shoulder. Worse, the thing was amped up, probably from drinking the tainted water. It certainly reeked of the hybrid stench though it appeared full wolf. Either way, Hank saw no intelligence in the thing’s eyes. Just vicious aggression.

  Mother was screaming in pain and fury. She was trying to struggle, but he had her held fast. If the thing did what was normal for a wolf, it would clamp down and start to shake its head, trying to snap Mother’s neck or at least tear her apart.

  Hank leapt before that could happen.

  He caught the wolf around the neck, chomping down as hard as he could. He never would have had the chance if the wolf hadn’t had Mother in his mouth. Wolves were a damned sight faster than a bear and ten times as flexible. But Hank had size and strength on his side. Which meant when he clamped on a wolf’s neck—even an amped-up werewolf—he broke or crushed a lot of vital parts.

  Blood burst in his mouth like vile hot copper. He tasted the taint and wanted to throw the thing back out of the window as fast as he could. But he didn’t know if Mother was free, so he throttled his natural response. The conflicting urges and the river of blood made him gag, which is a bad thing on a bear. He tossed his head and the wolf landed big and ugly on Mother’s favorite couch.

  Worse, she went with it. Stumbling sideways as she fell from the dead wolf’s mouth.

  But this time, Hank didn’t allow himself to be distracted. A quick scan of Mother showed she was alive and not spurting blood. That was all that was important right now as he spun to the shattered front window.

  The night air was pouring through and Hank smelled what was coming. Damn it. What was already here.

  Two hybrids climbed in the window, their eyes yellow with hatred and a stench that made Hank’s gagging reflex work overtime. In the background, he heard Sammy scream, “Mother!” as she surged forward. But more gratifying still was Cecilia’s bellow.

  “Hank! Look out!”

  She was warning him of the hybrids. He didn’t need her words, but they were satisfying nonetheless. And in a distant portion of his brain, he cataloged the ramifications of her words. She’d called him Hank, so she knew him even in his bear form. She called out a warning, so she’d kept her wits. And best of all, she was afraid for him. That warmed him, but he didn’t have time to think of it beyond noting the detail and even that was tucked way in the back of his mind.

  The hybrids didn’t spare a glance for their fallen wolf. Even if he hadn’t seen the madness in their eyes that alone told him they were too far gone to recover. Even the darkest of men noted a fallen comrade and wolves were pack creatures. They could no more ignore a fallen pack mate than they could stop their heart from beating.

  So he attacked.

  Despite appearances, he hadn’t done a lot of fighting as a bear. The military had trained him in human combat and medicine. But that was enough. He took the nearest hybrid first, slamming his massive bulk into it so fast the thing was barely able to snarl through the wolf mouth before it was thrown back out the window. The other hybrid was harder. At least the first had a full wolf face without any humanity in it. The other looked fully human—a man in his thirties—except for the body fur, sharp claws for hands, and curved bearlike ears, plus a hint of a muzzle. Hell, this guy was a bear hybrid, but his hands and mouth were already covered with blood. He’d been feasting on something and it hadn’t been kibble.

  Worse, he was going for Cecilia, and fuck, he was fast.

  Hank saw Cecilia coil tightly, her hands gripping the bannister as her knees tucked into her chest. She was going to kick that thing, but she didn’t realize what his claws would do to her legs. Or her face. And Hank was across the room, too far away to save her.

  He leapt as fast as he could, but he knew he wasn’t going to make it. Fortunately, it was all he needed. The hybrid was distracted by the sudden approach of a big black bear. He twisted his head and extended his claws. But he had already been moving toward Cecilia, which meant he was close enough for her to strike. She kicked him with both feet straight in the face.

  Great shot!

  The thing’s head snapped back, though it would take more than that single blow to keep him away. But now Hank was in position to help. First things first, he swiped at the zip ties that bound her, neatly slicing them in half.

  She was free. Hopefully, she’d stay around to help, but at the moment, he wouldn’t fault her for hightailing it out of here. Sadly, the precision required to free her had slowed him down. He hadn’t wanted to accidentally slit her wrists, so he’d had to concentrate. Which gave the bear hybrid an opening.

  He attacked with all the strength in his amped-up claws. Hank felt the bite of those razor-sharp things in his upper arm. The thick bear fur wasn’t enough to keep them from digging in and slicing. But it also brought the hybrid in close enough for Hank’s mouth.

  He swung his head around and bit down on the first thing he caught. His teeth scraped against skull and tore through…he didn’t want to know what. Tainted copper blood poured into his mouth again, but he didn’t stop. He had to end this because the first hybrid was coming back in the window. As well as another werewolf.

  Shit.

  The hybrid went limp in his mouth. Dead.

  He threw him away, sadly unable to slam him into the oncoming hybrid. The damned thing was too heavy, and he was trying to keep track of all the details. Specifics like where Cecilia was going as she slid behind him. And how badly was Mother hurt? She hadn’t moved when normally the woman would be racking her shotgun.

  But he didn’t have time to look further as he squared off with the wolf hybrid. The other werewolf was heading straight for Mother, but he’d have to go through Sammy first. The girl had just dived across the couch to grab the shotgun. Good for her.

  Hank engaged the wolf hybrid. A teeth-and-claw fight, but Hank had the size advantage. In close quarters like this, all Hank had to do was pin the thing against the bannister with his bulk. Not a problem assuming the thing didn’t slither away or get lucky and catch a vital organ with its claws.

  It didn’t, though Hank felt the pinch of a few good hits. And then the thing was flattened against the bannister. Enough for Hank to—

  A human arm slid through baring his army knife. Cecilia flicked her wrist across the thing’s throat, neatly slicing the carotid. Blood flowed freely, and she hopped back with a squeak. Good lord, the woman could slice open a monster’s neck but she squeaked at the blood?

  Didn’t matter. Hank was both too grateful and too busy
to fully appreciate her foibles. He spun around, this time heading for the wolf. What he saw made his blood run cold.

  Mother, still down on the floor. Sammy with the shotgun racked and aimed, her skinny body trembling with the effort it took to face down a werewolf crouching two feet away, teeth showing in a growl and eyes narrowed in fury. He was about to leap and who knew if Sammy could get the shot off in time.

  Hank roared. It was the only thing he could do to disrupt the coming disaster. He put his full voice into it as he sprang forward. Except his hurt arm wasn’t as powerful as it should be, so his push was uneven. And there was a damned coffee table in the way fouling his footing.

  The werewolf adjusted, his eyes and his mouth glaring at them both. But he didn’t move to attack and for a moment Hank wondered why.

  Then he saw.

  Three more werewolves came through the window. And a fourth behind that. All creeping in stealthily, one silent paw at a time. Until Cecilia blew out a slow breath and spoke.

  “Werewolves in Detroit. We expecting sparkly vampires next?”

  He would have snorted if the situation weren’t so dangerous. But then something bizarre happened. One of the wolves at the window—the late arrival if he had to guess—snorted as if he were acknowledging the joke. And when he crawled over the windowsill, the others parted to let him pass.

  The alpha? An elder? It looked older than the others from the gray on the muzzle, but it was hard to tell, and Hank wasn’t familiar enough with the werewolf packs to know one from the other. Whomever it was approached Hank with narrowed eyes. The wolves to either side of Gray Muzzle sneered, curling their lips back to show their teeth. One gave a low growl of warning while the other looked like he wanted to raise a leg and piss on Hank.

  Let him try. With one swipe, Hank could disembowel him. Or at a minimum make sure the bastard never had children.

  But then Gray Muzzle snapped at the other two, silencing them with a single clamp of its jaws. Okay. Clearly, Gray Muzzle was in charge of the wolves here. So what exactly—

  “Yeah, you best shut up,” Mother said, her voice weak, but growing stronger as she pushed herself upright. She was bleeding heavily from the shoulder, but her eyes blazed with fury. “Look what you done to my living room. Just look!” She grimaced as she struggled to stand, but apparently got too dizzy. She wobbled on her feet and dropped down onto her couch.

  Hank surged forward to help her, but a growl—in unison—from all the wolves stopped his motion. He could do some real damage to those wolves, but it wouldn’t be pretty. And if they worked together, they could hamstring him in seconds and then take him out at their leisure. So he waited and prayed that Gray Muzzle was lucid. And restrained.

  Meanwhile, Sammy started to help Mother, but the older woman waved everyone back. “You stay right there, girl. Keep a firm grip on that shotgun just like I taught you.” Then she turned her dark gaze on the wolves.

  “I’m Mother to everyone on this block, and that includes you damned foolish wolves. Just look what you done to my home. Smashed my window. Bled all over my rug. And this here was my favorite couch. How many of you have sat right here and eaten my chocolate chip cookies? Crying about some bully or asking me how to talk to some girl? Huh? How many of you?”

  Not a one answered. They were in their wolf form, but at least two of them dipped their heads in shame. And still Mother kept going.

  “That’s right. I’m Mother, and you destroyed my living room. Now I ask you, what are you going to do about it?”

  Silence. Not a single one moved. Then she slapped her hands together in a loud clap.

  “I’m talking to you!”

  Everyone jolted, but no one wanted to answer. No one, that is, except for Gray Muzzle who walked forward slowly.

  Sammy adjusted, moving as if to stand between the wolf and Mother, but Hank puffed out a loud exhalation. The wolves lifted their heads, but the message was for Sammy. She was to stand back and away. She looked at him, met his eyes, and so he shook his head.

  With a grimace of distaste, she stepped back and allowed Gray Muzzle to come forward. The wolf walked slowly, respectfully even, until it came face to face with Mother. She stared at it from her seat on her couch. Human eye to wolf eye. Then Mother spoke.

  “You got to control your people, Miriam. I told you not to drink the water. I told you—”

  Gray Muzzle grumbled, which is when Hank realized that Gray Muzzle was female. And the sounds she was making now were like grumbles of acknowledgment. Like two old women complaining about the stupidity of men over coffee. It wasn’t done in words, but damn if Mother didn’t understand.

  “I know they don’t listen, but ain’t there someone in your pack got some sense? That you can talk to?”

  Gray Muzzle barked softly and then turned her head. It was a mournful look, especially as it was accompanied by a soft whine. Oh hell. The dead werewolf was—had been—a sane wolf. One who might have listened but probably got the news too late. He’d probably drunk way too much of the tainted water before Gray Muzzle got to him.

  And now he was dead.

  “Ah hell, Miriam. I’m sorry.”

  And with that, Mother wrapped her good arm around the werewolf and pulled in tight for a hug. Gray Muzzle went willingly and even licked Mother’s neck. And when Mother drew back, the wolf nuzzled deeper into the shoulder wound, licking at the blood and tears. Mother hissed, but allowed it. And then she dropped her head on Gray Wolf’s haunch.

  “You’re patrolling, ain’t ya? Trying to catch them hybrids?”

  A single bark in the affirmative.

  “Well go on then. We’re good here. Got Hank over there to keep us safe.”

  Everyone looked at him, and he bared his teeth to show he was ready.

  “Sorry about this one,” Mother continued. “We’ll keep his body safe until you can come back in the morning. But what do you want us to do with the others?”

  A low growl. And in case anyone had trouble understanding what that meant, Gray Muzzle went over to the wolf-faced hybrid and lifted her leg. She pissed a long, angry stream on the hybrid before acknowledging Mother with another a nod and leaping out the window. The other three did the same. They first acknowledged Mother with a press of their nose to her hand, gave another lick to the fallen werewolf on the couch, then one by one, they pissed on the dead hybrids. Like they needed the extra stench in here. Mother must have felt the same because as the last one finished, she called loudly to them.

  “You’ll be cleaning that up in the morning, too!”

  The response came first from Gray Muzzle, then the other three. She lifted her head and howled, loud and long, and the others chimed in. It wasn’t a frightening sound. More mournful than angry. And it seemed to fill the night with a wild kind of awareness. Mother Nature was in charge tonight. Violent, angry, or even tender. The humans held no sway.

  Which was completely thrilling to Hank’s bear side. The human mind looked for Cecilia’s reaction. Was she terrified? Repulsed?

  He found her still gripping the bloody Swiss army knife but watching the werewolves with clear interest, maybe even excitement. And when she noticed he was looking at her, she shrugged.

  “How could I have been so blind?”

  Because everyone took pains to keep the normals from seeing. But he couldn’t say that in his bear form and until they got help, he couldn’t risk shifting back to human. He was stronger and a better defender as a bear. So instead of answering, he tried to smile at her.

  Bears can smile, though it takes a special person to understand that. It took an ability to see past the baring teeth to the curve at the back of the muzzle. Few people ever got there, which was why bears rarely bothered. But he tried. For her. And she smiled back.

  It was a connection, he realized. A moment when bear and woman understood each other, and he exhaled in relief. She wasn’t terrified anymore. And she wasn’t blind. She was looking at him as if…well, he didn’t know how. He just felt
it as—

  Her head snapped to the side as Sammy cried out, “Mother!”

  Hank’s gaze shot to the couch, where the woman who had saved them all this night wobbled and collapsed.

  Chapter 6

  So shifters were real, werewolves were scary, and Hank was both terrifying and kind. None of that really computed in Cecilia’s brain, but Mother collapsing? That made total sense.

  She crossed quickly to the woman’s side, going to press her fingers to Mother’s neck except she was still gripping the Swiss army knife and…God. She shuddered as she realized she was covered in blood. And not only that, she’d killed. She hadn’t tried to restrain or contain, she hadn’t done it as a science experiment. She’d done it because they were being attacked and she knew how to kill the monster attacking them.

  And that made her sick to her stomach.

  With a gasp, she dropped the knife on the coffee table. Or more like threw it. And then she tried to get control of her shaking hands and the suddenly too rapid beat of her heart.

  Sammy, however, had no such problems. She shoved Cecilia back with a glare.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Pride came to her rescue. When every other part of her body and mind were scrambling to absorb what had just happened, certain patterns remained solid. Like the one where she defended her credentials to every doubter that she came across. And there had been many.

  “I’m a doctor,” she snapped. “And I’m trying to help.”

  Then she forced herself to put action to words as she quickly wiped her bloody hand on the last clean part of her lab coat, then went again for Mother’s carotid.

  Weak and uneven. Worse, her eyes were panicked, and her breath was gasping, as if she couldn’t get enough air.