Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(12)

Was that what he was doing? Ryan shook his head. He didn't know anymore. He didn't think he was threatening anyone. He thought he was just scared, pinned against a wall, with no way to back up any further. Through his golden fur, the wall texture scratched his hindquarters. He looked back and forth. Then shook his head again.

"I don't want this to go any further." West's voice had gone from flat to consciously soothing, but maintaining a quiet strength that was undeniable. "Don't test me. You're hurt and hungry and been unconscious for two days. I'm fresh as a damn daisy. Don't," he punctuated his words with a crack of his knuckles, "test me."

Slowly, Ryan backed away, using the wall as his guide. He bumped against a night stand and navigated around it, back and back and back some more. West stayed exactly where he was, tensely crouched, but not moving an inch, not taking his eyes off the would-be cattle rustler, not for a second.

"That's it," he coaxed. "There you go. The door is six feet further, on your right hand side." There wasn't a shred of fear in his voice. He was so calm, so cool and collected. Ryan envied him, envied the way he was able to keep his nerves and feelings in check.

The rage in Ryan's heart was coming in waves. It rose, then subsided. Cool then hot, cool then hot. He felt like he had when he was in that courthouse, staring down that * wolf. He felt like he did when he was protecting someone who didn't deserve to be hurt or forgotten.

Scared.

Nervous.

Anxious.

Run. Run. Get away.

The words echoed through his mind with every pounding thump of his heart. He wanted to go, needed to more than anything. A vision of the woman danced in front of his eyes. Her lithe body, as she struck him from behind and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He started to remember the way her teeth felt as they pushed in, and how helpless he'd been.

Helpless.

Trapped.

He didn't understand why, but he lunged forward. Panic-stricken and wild. West batted away a paw with a human hand, and then crouched, transforming. His jeans tore and his button-down plaid shirt tore at the seams. Seconds later, two golden bears faced each other, and one really irritated looking fox woman was standing behind them.

"I told you!" she shouted, before slamming the door. She grumbled something about having to clean her mate's wounds afterward, but West, after all his patience and calm, made the first post-shift move.

He feinted with his head, and when Ryan took the bait and tried to strike, lashed out one of his paws, backhanding the smaller bear across the face, leaving bruises but no blood. Ryan stood on his back legs, head six inches from the ceiling, and let out a roar. West held his ground, tattered plaid hanging off his shoulders.

"Go," he snarled. "Don't make another mistake."

A look of realization came over West, and he backed away slightly. "You're scared," he said, as he shifted back to human form, clothes barely covering him. "I know that look." He was nodding. "I'd know it anywhere. I've had it before. I had it when I..." he trailed off. "Doesn't matter. Take the clothes, take the food. It ain't my way to hold someone's fear against them."

His zen-like calm was more disconcerting to the panicked bear than was aggression. West turned, but froze when he grabbed the door handle. "Just don't do anything to that figure," he said with a grin. "Take the clothes, take the food, and there's even some money in the jeans. Take it. But if you hurt Han, I'm coming for you."

"Aw, hell, Elena," Ryan heard as he collected the jeans, and stuffed another hamburger into his mouth to calm his starving stomach. "He's just scared. He's probably a good kid, just..."

Confusion overwhelmed him again, but this time, somehow, Ryan Drake managed to control himself long enough to escape into the woods.

And the thought to hurt the Han Solo figure never crossed his mind.





-5-


“There are three kinds of people in the world. There’s me, there’s you, and... wait no, there are a whole lot more than three.”


-Erik


"He did what?" Jamie asked louder than she meant to be, loud enough that the guy in the next office banged on the wall for the fifth time that day. It had been a long morning of misfiled reports and one supremely whiny alpha.

"I told you three times already," Elena said. "West won't say anything because he doesn't want anything to happen. He just keeps saying that the guy was scared, and he used to be like that and blah, blah, blah."

"You're not too happy about this, huh?"

"You're goddamn right, I’m not! He was trying to steal a cow, and then after keeping him in my guest room for three days, he shifts and tries to fight my mate?"

"Well, I can't blame you. He didn't break anything, did he?"

A moment's pause.

"Well, no." She coughed. "I guess not."

"Shut up! Some people actually have to work in here!" The voice from the next office, that belonged to the senior administrative assistant - a new wolf, young one from Erik's pack - who was very busy trying to prove his value to Erik. Norman Jeffress, the baby wolf. She laughed every time she saw him, but he was a hardworking kid, even if he was majoring in history under Professor Duggan.