Bear
Grimbithislip,his tongue playing with the bruised skin as he hunched over the genetically altered vamp tied to the cement support beam of the club’s basement. Delilah’s ex-husband and step-brother, the leader of one of the largest crime syndicates in the eastern part of the country, was bleeding out for what seemed like the twentieth time this week.
Vamps were like cockroaches-they kept coming back to life no matter how many damn times you tried to kill them.
That didn’t stop Grim. He was patient. He enjoyed this part of his job. It was in his blood to torture, to destroy, to mutilate those who had done wrong. And somehow he was blessed with a second chance mate that supported it all—as long as those he killed deserved it.
Lucky fucking bastard.
While Grim tortured the shit head, Grim was sporting a hard-on. Some might think it was because of his love for inflicting pain, but really it was because his mate, Journey, was close by. He took her everywhere, never out of his sight.
Which is what a fit male should do. Never let your female be far from you. Protect what was yours, and if I had one, I would do the same. In fact, I would never let mine leave my side, but to each their own. Grim had a job, and so did his female. She was the goddess’ priestess now, the direct line of the goddess of the moon.
Journey was sitting in the corner, oblivious to the mayhem occurring in the basement. She read, drew, or whatever the hell she did behind the partition, so she wasn’t triggered because she’d been through her own pain as well. Grim protected her because he wasn’t just the enforcer and protector of this club, but hers as well. He sheltered her, fucked her, treated her like a goddamn princess, and even provided her with pink headphones so she couldn’t hear a fucking thing.
And we all cared for her. We cared for all the females we saved. They had been through as much as we had been.
Shane, the wretched prisoner, let out a piercing howl that echoed through the prison walls. His fangs, once menacing and sharp, now lay detached on the grimy floor, lost amidst the crimson pool and chunks of flesh. The stench of iron hung heavy in the air, and the sickening squelch of torn skin filled the room. It was a gruesome sight, a scene that would be etched into the memories of any witness. “Just end me!” he gargled.
“Not until you give us the codes to the security footage of your mansion.” Locke flicked a cigarette into the pool of blood like it was a sight he saw every day of his life.
Locke’s eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated. He wasn’t in a mood to be toyed with. He was licking his lips, balling up his fists repeatedly, and groaning at the sight of every drop of blood falling to the floor.
I tightened my brass knuckles that were molded to fit my large hand. They were created with claws to match the length of my grizzly’s. I held them up, picking the extra skin away from the point.
I missed my claws. I used to be powerful and didn’t have to rely on weapons or create them to give me the feeling of what I once was. Now I must sit back in the shadows and help when I could. I was still huge, still more muscular than most, but now that Grim was mated he was at full strength with his wolf. He was—more.
I was nothing and becoming weaker by the day. Soon my grizzly would wake and not for the reason I wanted—to find a mate. It would wake to take over my body and force me to go insane.
Shane spat and drooled the thick, congealed blood from his mouth. “Idris sealed it in my memory.”
Locke hummed disapprovingly, not believing him. He lit another cigarette and nodded his head at me. I tightened my fist, used my hand with my brass claws, and punched him right into the gut, twisting the sharp points inside him.
With a grunt, Shane passed out, and Grim shook his head, retreating to his table of instruments and pulling out a large machete from the pile of tools.
The prospects and brothers cheered from the side of the room, clinking beer cans together. Not one area of the basement was empty watching the show, except the corner where Switch set up his equipment.
Switch was tapping away at his computer, trying to break into Shane’s mansion’s security. Switch was sweating; I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so angry. He was the silent type, reclusive for a wolf, but smart, and being unable to break into a security system was doing him in.
Finally, someone else feeling frustration around here other than me.
A prospect took an ice bucket of cold water and threw it on Shane. We backed up, and Shane gasped for air, his body stark white from the lack of blood. “It’s bound in magic!” he cried. “It’s bound by Duke Idris’ magic,” he repeated with a dramatic sigh and hung his head.
And that was when everything fell apart. Locke barked orders to get Tajah and Bram—a witch and a warlock—to break down whatever spell was cast over the security system.
All while I stood there, watching Grim growling maliciously, ready for the kill. His wolf fangs descended below his mouth, hair sprouted on his arms, claws lengthened on his fingertips.
My heart thundered in my chest in jealousy. I wanted that. I wanted to feel my bear. I wanted to feel the animal inside me that slumbered, that hibernated for years now. I was left with only the obscene amount of hair for a human and my tall, wide stature that put off not only humans but also other supernaturals.
But what I wanted more than anything besides my animal, the power, the closeness of nature, was a female.
I glanced at the partition that concealed his mate, then to Shane, the prisoner we were destroying in honor of Delilah, Hawke’s mate and beloved friend to the club.
I. Wanted. That.
As I watched Grim, I lifted my lip in a snarl and waited for Locke’s call to finish off Shane. Grim smiled maliciously, licking his lips.
“I’m in,” Switch announced when he slammed his finger on the escape button of his computer.
