Barely Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Barely Bear

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  About Shifters in Love

  Thank You!

  BARELY BEAR

  A SHIFTERS IN LOVE: FUN & FLIRTY ROMANCE

  Elsa Jade

  WEBSITE | NEW RELEASE ALERT | FACEBOOK

  Summer in Angels Rest is hotter than ever…

  Destined to be rex ursi—king bear—of the Four Corners bears, Thorburn Montero always knew he would sacrifice everything to lead the clan: his independence, his chance for a mate, even his life if necessary.

  Instead, he lost his bear.

  Margarita Wick, the eldest of the Wick triplets, understands the bear-trap bite of responsibility better than most. For the sake of her little bear nephew, her sisters’ shapeshifter mates, and the circle of witches she’ll one day lead, she promises to help the massively imposing Thor recapture his beast.

  As the high summer sun burns across Mesa Diablo, two lonely souls hunt for a runaway bear spirit…and maybe find a power even greater and more dangerous: love.

  A new Fun & Flirty trilogy in the world of the “Wolves of Angels Rest”

  BEAR AND BABY

  BACHELOR BEAR

  BARELY BEAR

  Claim the very first Wolf of Angels Rest: HERO for free!

  And find all the Fun & Flirty books at ShiftersInLove.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Elsa Jade

  Cover design by Willsin Rowe

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Prologue

  The battle had gone on too long, and he was bleeding too badly. His bear—one of the most powerful beasts on Mesa Diablo—was faltering.

  More than its great strength, its great heart was failing.

  This should never have happened. Two rex ursi—king bears—in their prime should never be facing each other, blood on their claws and death between their jaws. For hundreds of years, power had passed peacefully in the Four Corners bear shifter clan from one king bear to the next, the elder ceding his position as the younger came into his own, the essence of the rex ursi flowing from one to the other like the river flowing from Mesa Diablo.

  But not this time.

  This time, both bears were at their physical peak, and both men were filled with righteous fury, the great bear’s unleashed energy thundering between them in heavy crashes of flesh and flashing fangs. Thor faced the other male, his rage eclipsed only by the baffled confusion of his grief.

  Why? he wanted to ask, even knowing that no words were possible, not from the man, certainly not from the beast. They circled each other warily. The rex ursi opposing him was the largest bear in generations, the massive hump of his shoulders barely counterbalancing the heavy weight of his skull and thick, curved arms. Maybe someday Thor would match him, pound for pound.

  But it wasn’t this day. He felt the strain in his neck, not just where the other bear had savaged him, but from the instinctive urge to yield to the more dominant animal.

  The king he always respected, and, more than that, loved.

  But he knew, if he and his bear gave in, the bigger beast would tear them apart. And tear apart the clan too, not to mention the rest of the shifter community in Angels Rest. And, great bear forbid, maybe the whole country, even the world. Couldn’t let that happen, even if the law of the wild proved he was the weaker one.

  Lift your head, he raged at his bear. Fight, dammit. Bite!

  The beast roused sluggishly, sullenly. The bear wasn’t just his closest companion from his earliest memories; it spread through his soul, like a poet’s muse, like thunder with lightning, not always obvious, but always nearby.

  Now it rumbled brokenly at him, a signal of surrender. Fight, he hissed, as if he wasn’t talking to himself. He was fighting himself as much as he was fighting two bears.

  He didn’t want to kill his father.

  But he had no choice. Clan above all, so his father had taught him. Even when it wasn’t easy, even when it hurt. Especially then.

  So Thor would do as he’d been taught, what he knew was right, even if it killed them.

  Lashing his beast with the power of hopeless last chances, he lunged. His claws ripped up long furrows in the dirt, each one like a shallow grave in the desert earth. He hit the larger bear dead-on, aiming his own massive shoulder at the beast’s snout. When the other male snorted in pain at the blow to its sensitive nose and shook its head, Thor used his lower position to dive for the exposed throat. His mouth filled with fur and blood and the sour musk of enraged boar bear. Fighting was a failure, his father had told him more than once. But sometimes every other option failed first.

  This was his failure and folly. But he hung on grimly as the larger beast flopped him about as if he were a particularly fluffy winter scarf caught in the storm.

  Desperate, he clamped his teeth down harder until he felt the click of his incisors connecting. Instead of throttling the bigger bear into submission, he’d merely bitten through the loose ruff around his sire’s throat.

  Cold despair flushed away the lightning zap of adrenaline, and he closed his eyes. His bear wasn’t big enough to hold a fatal bite. It was over.

  With a gurgling roar, more enraged than injured, his father flung him aside. Thor landed in a puff of dust and a spray of scarlet. The elder bear sneezed. For a heartbeat, Thor thought it would halt its attack.

  In the next heartbeat—very likely to be his last, he mused vaguely—the other bear pounced and wrapped its practically prehistoric jaws around his throat.

  All over except the choking agony of life slowly leaving him. In another few heartbeats he’d be unconscious. A few slowing thuds after that, his father would end him. The betrayal and ostracism of his clan would be complete.

  His bear let out the last of the precious air in their lungs on a broken sigh.

  And let go.

  The rex ursi’s teeth sank even deeper into Thor’s fragile, suddenly unfurred flesh. Long canines grated on his very human vertebrae.

  But at the shock of his abrupt shift, the larger bear released its grip. Thor dropped to the sand on all fours—not four legs, two arms and two legs now, although he could barely prop himself up on one battered elbow. Blood sheeted down his bare chest and soaked the dry earth.

  His body trembled, weaker than a newborn cub. His bear…

  The place where it always was… Empty. He tensed, his fingers spasming in the dirt as if a part of him were digging for the missing half.

  But it was gone.

  Maybe the other bear sensed it too, or maybe it was just the abrupt cessation of hostilities. It backed away a step, heavy head swinging side to side as it cast about f
or its worthy opponent.

  And found only Thor in his lesser size.

  He wanted to die. The humiliation of losing the fight wasn’t just ego; only the strongest should lead the clan. And that clearly wasn’t Thor. Killing his father or failing the clan had only ever been a bad option and a worse one.

  With an effort that opened the wounds in his neck, gushing fresh blood, he lifted his head to meet the bear’s rage-blanked yellow eyes. “I know you did what you thought you had to do against the threat of the Kingdom Guard. And against me.” His throat tightened again, from the inside this time. “I know only one of us can walk away from this. But when the bear lets you go, I want you to remember that I understood and I forgave you. Tell Mom I just ran away, so she doesn’t know…” The blood in his mouth was bitter. “Tell her I love her. And I love you too.”

  In the bloodlust of battle, he knew the other bear wouldn’t understand everything he said, but when his father took his upright shape again, he’d remember. Thor kept his gaze on the big bear, even knowing he was staring his death in the face. The shifter world was still dangerous and raw in ways the wider world told itself it wasn’t. But his whole life, he’d been raised to cherish the hard, wild truth of Mesa Diablo. In his death he could do no less. If this was the fated way for the clan, so be it.

  But his sire didn’t strike for the kill. Its head low to the ground, the bear took another shambling step backward, opening more space between them. The grunt of its breath raised twin rooster tails of dust as it took a third step in retreat.

  Thor watched him, his heartbeat stuttering in a confusion that sent more blood churning from his wounds. “Dad? Are you—?”

  The big bear stumbled, one leg buckling for a moment before it straightened with a huff. Had he hurt it more than he knew? Maybe there was still a chance…

  With the last of his strength, he pushed himself up to his knees, facing the bear. Hope choked him harder than bear jaws. “We can find another way to protect the clan. Together.”

  When the bear crouched back on its haunches, tensing, the fragile hope in Thor’s heart turned to ash. It was going to spring—

  It sprang. Not at him, but away, toward the empty high desert.

  What…? Shock left Thor wavering, and he fell forward onto his ragged palms, staring after the great bear.

  Though the Four Corners plain was mostly short scrub with only a few dotted junipers of any decent size, the bear—like any wily wild animal—managed to disappear in a blink. Maybe down into the hidden maze of arroyos carved into the landscape during flashfloods, maybe just swallowed by the mirage of sun on glassy sand. Gone.

  Leaving Thor to bleed and doubt.

  Was the clan his now?

  And how could he ever claim it when he’d lost?

  Chapter 1

  When the first beam of coming daylight shone through the old Victorian’s bedroom window, Rita rolled out of her fourposter bed. Literally rolled. She hit the hardwoods in perfect push-up form and did all her reps before her body even realized they were awake. Once it did, it started complaining—vociferously.

  Her hips and knees where the worst whiners, but her lower back got in a few grumbles too. She ignored them all and flipped over to do her crunches and leg lifts. Her spine grated on the floorboards. That would give her back something to complain about.

  Since she was already on the floor, she reached under the bed and rolled out her ten-pound free weights. While her lower body woke up to the realization that they were going to do the stupid workout again—just like they’d done every morning for as long as she could remember—and began screaming in earnest, she powered through her arm exercises.

  She needed her arms. And she needed them to be strong since someday they’d have to do double duty for her failing legs. Her physical therapist told her—repeatedly and with unholy glee—that every day for the rest of her life would be arm day, and getting it out of the way first thing would make the rest of the day less shitty. And since he’d had bilateral transfemoral amputations and competed in Paralympic powerlifting, she figured he knew what he was talking about.

  Plus, summer in Angels Rest was too hot to contemplate working out later in the day. If she had to be all sweaty and limp and whiny, she’d do it now, while the rest of the world was still asleep and couldn’t see her.

  With her morning self-torture session complete, she washed up and got ready for her day. By the time she went downstairs, her sister and her nephew were already finishing up breakfast. Aster hugged her with enthusiasm out of proportion to the fact that she’d helped him brush his teeth barely twelve hours ago. “Outside school,” he crowed. “Gonna learna’ fight ghost bears.”

  Rita blinked down at him. “Ghost bears?”

  Brandy looked over from where she was packing a little lunch pail. “I think outdoor school this week will be more foraging than fighting, sweetie.”

  He grumbled something about monsters then trundled over to take the pail from her. “Yums. If’n I can’t find bear berries with Daddy.” He slanted a glance up at his mother. “With Mac.”

  Brandy turned to washing the breakfast dishes. “He is your daddy,” she said with studied carefulness. “And you can call him that. Or Mac. Whichever feels right to you.”

  Rita exchanged meaningful glances with her sister. Brandy and Mac had reunited only a couple of months ago; things were moving fast even for an active little boy who was a part-time bear cub. She went to hug him once more, breathing the scent of peanut butter and jelly and honey. “Whatever feels right,” she mused. “Like Goldilocks and the three bears.”

  “I’m baby bear.” Aster grinned up at her, his teeth maybe a little whiter than most babies’. “Are you Goldilocks?”

  She laughed. “Kind of, I guess, except my hair is the wrong color.” She fluffed the auburn bob that she’d smoothed into control with an iron will and some extra gel. “But yep, everything here is juuust right.”

  That had always been her role as the eldest of the three Wick sisters. And she’d always excelled at it. Even with her degenerative disability, she always made it a point to show her sisters that she was strong and reliable, ready to care for them, even though they’d never known their father and their mother had left them as soon as she possibly could.

  Once again, Brandy gave her a grateful nod. “Sometimes I call him big bad daddy bear.”

  Rita rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to know that.”

  Brandy laughed, the wicked little laugh that the sisters shared when they were being silly. Ever since Brandy and Mac had set a date for the wedding, Rita had been hearing that sound more and more.

  She smiled back, happy to the tips of her still tingling toes that her younger sister had found her mate. And Gin too, although her youngest sister was probably still sleeping at the moment. Her studies as a shadow witch kept her up late sometimes. But even though she’d lost the magical potion that was supposed to earn her ordination, she still hummed softly to herself when she was concentrating on rebuilding her grimoire.

  Everyone was happy.

  So damn happy.

  While Brandy took Aster to brush his slightly-too-white teeth before they left and Rita gathered leftovers for her own lunch, Gin waltzed into the kitchen. Her crimson hair was laced into stubby pigtails, and her normally goth black attire was…well, still goth, but enlivened with a matched set of jewelry. Sunstone and silver sparkled in a chunky necklace, bracelet, and earrings.

  Rita blinked, a little dazzled by the bling. “Well, aren’t you up early and bright.” She mimed shading her eyes.

  “I borrowed it from the shop.” Gin struck a vogue pose.

  “Looks good. Are you going somewhere?”

  “The shop,” Gin repeated. “I’m working for you today, remember?”

  “Oh.” Rita looked at her lunch bag. “I thought…”

  Gin snorted. “You thought I wasn’t going to be responsible and stick to my schedule at the shop just because I’m the rebel little sister
who failed her ordination and is sleeping around with a buff bachelor bear.” Despite the acerbic words, Gin’s tone was cheerful.

  Rita tried not to frown. “I thought you were up late studying.”

  “And up even later with Ben.” Gin leered.

  Sooo damn happy.

  Not holding back her frown this time, Rita gave her sister a serious look. “I don’t want you to get distracted from your shadow work. You know the circle will give you another chance at ordination, but you need to be ready.”

  Gin settled back on the heels of her heavy combat boots—she hadn’t changed all her goth ways. “You know I’m as impatient as they come, but… Really, Ree, I’m okay with this taking however long it takes. Not just joining the circle, but things with Ben too, and figuring out what I want.” She brushed her fingertips over the necklace. The sunstone with its coppery-golden streaks was a strange but lovely juxtaposition to the softer glow of the antique silver. Since the jewelry was designed by one of the local shapeshifters, the unexpected harmony of stone and metal, of sun and moon symbology, made perfect sense. “Balance in all things, isn’t that what you always taught us?”

  That was because she’d been trying to make up for the chaos in their little circle of three. Though Aunt Tilda had done her best to be there for them when their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t be, Rita had always been keenly aware that she was responsible for holding the three sisters together. But now… Brandy had Mac to help her with little Aster. And Gin was so happy too—a happy goth girl!—with Ben.

  Which was exactly what Rita had always hoped for her younger sisters. Oh, not for bear shifters, specifically—who would ever wish that much hair and muddy footprints and running around naked for her sisters? But a life brimming with happiness, satisfaction, and love. She should be thrilled her sisters had found so much out here in the middle of nowhere.