Bad Blood Bear (Bad Blood Shifters Book 1) Page 9

  “Dude,” Flynn said. “If this is your breakup speech, I’d rather you texted me.”

  Tank huffed a laugh. “Don’t be a douche,” he said. “You’re a good alpha, and everybody in this crew respects you. I just don’t think any of us are ready to admit that this is really what’s left of our lives. Including you. Without a commitment, none of us is willing to pledge.”

  “Great,” Flynn said. “So we’re going to sit here playing emotional chicken with each other until we all go up like Armageddon.”

  Tank shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably. I’m sorry.”

  Flynn looked sideways at him. “Would you be more willing to stay here if Lissa stayed?”

  A shock went through him. “Like, am I thinking of mating her?”

  Flynn shrugged.

  “I can’t—I can’t take another mate,” he said. “Angie and I were true mates. She was it for me.”

  “Sometimes people bond twice,” Flynn said.

  Tank shook his head. It was bad enough he’d let Angie die. Forgetting about her and mating with someone else would be an even worse betrayal.

  Flynn was silent again. Then he said, “What’s going to happen if we can’t fix her?”

  Tank didn’t want to think about that. “We will.”

  Flynn took another drink. “I can’t put another one down, Tank,” he said very quietly. “It’ll break me.”

  Tank gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Then we have to find a way to save her.”

  Chapter 15

  When Lissa woke up, late afternoon light was slanting in the window. She felt warm and safe and comfortable, and Tank was sitting in a huge leather chair in the corner of the room, writing on a pad of yellow paper.

  For a few minutes she stayed quiet, glad for the chance to observe him when he didn’t know she was watching.

  He was a grizzly bear. She was still wrapping her brain around that—inside that enormous, seriously ripped body was a deadly animal that could take her apart with one swipe of its giant paw.

  And yet here he was, sitting in a leather recliner with his hair all tousled and sexy, with that cute frown between his eyebrows.

  She spoke up. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

  He looked up. Those gorgeous green eyes looked startled, then relieved. This was a man who, no matter how tough he was, could never hide his feelings.

  “Hey,” he said softly, pen poised over his paper, his attention completely focused on her. “How’re you feeling? Are you okay?”

  She moved and stretched. She felt kind of sore and bruised, and her shoulder hurt a little, but other than that she felt fine. “Yeah,” she said. She sat up, trying to smooth back her tangled hair. “What are you doing?”

  He glanced down at the pad in his hand. “This?” he said. “I’m making a shopping list. Of things you need.”

  That shocked her. “Things I need?”

  After a second’s hesitation, she reached out her hand. He handed the pad over, and Lissa started scanning the list.

  It was a long one. Jeans, tops, socks, shoes, underwear. A winter jacket. Boots. Gloves. Brush, comb, smell-pretty shampoo. That made her smile. Makeup was near the bottom of the list, with a question mark. Then girl stuff, which made her smile again. Was that supposed to be tampons? Bikini wax? She’d love to know what he thought it meant.

  And then there were other things near the bottom, also with question marks. Books? Hobbies? Computer or tablet? Then, underlined, cell phone.

  Lissa put the list down, tears unexpectedly stinging her eyes. “You’re seriously thinking you’re going to buy me all this?”

  Tank looked confused. “Well, yeah. Flynn told you—you’re part of the crew now, so that means he’s responsible for making sure you have everything you need. But trust me, you don’t want to go shopping with Flynn—he hates stores. And civilization. And people. So I’m going to take you. Not tomorrow, probably—the weather’s changing and we have to finish insulating Jasmin’s shed. But the next day, maybe.”

  Lissa was still trying to blink back tears. She didn’t know why she was crying—she never cried. She never let anyone see how she was feeling inside.

  But no one had ever wanted to take care of her before, either.

  Tank was frowning again. “Is it okay? I mean, these were just ideas. If you need something else, just tell me.”

  “But…” Lissa swallowed hard. “There’s like, a thousand dollars’ worth of stuff on this list. And that’s not even including a computer, which is just crazy talk.”

  Not that she wouldn’t give anything to have a computer of her own. That would be beyond awesome. “Who’s going to pay for all that?”

  “The crew has money,” Tank said. “The Nashville wolf pack bought us this territory, on account of they attacked us with no provocation a couple of months ago.” He paused. “Well, half of them did. Jesse Travis, who was the alpha of the not-shitty half of the pack at the time, negotiated the territory buyout, plus startup money, as part of the treaty between us. That’s what we’re using to buy the trailers and upgrade the shelters and get everybody outfitted.”

  He tore the sheet off and laid the pad aside. “Everybody here came with nothing,” he said to Lissa. “You’re no different. And the crew is providing for everyone until we get on our feet and get everybody some kind of job, so we can be self-sustaining.”

  “Oh.” Lissa thought that over. She didn’t mind being a charity case, as long as there wasn’t some kind of debt incurred that somebody thought they could call out at a later date. But if this was what everyone was getting, then maybe there really were no strings. “Okay, I guess.”

  Even if there were hidden strings, she could deal with that. A lot of crap was easier to deal with when you had decent clothes and could keep yourself clean.

  An uncomfortable silence fell, as if Tank didn’t know what to say next. Neither did she.

  So much had happened to her in such a short time, and she was still trying to sort it out. People who turned into animals. Brother Damien really being a bear. Being told she was one of these… shifters.

  Finally she screwed up her courage. “What happened to me, before?” she said. “All I remember is that Flynn touched me, and my shoulder started burning, and then it’s all red and hazy and jumbled.”

  Tank sighed and sank further into his chair, looking upset.

  “We’re not sure exactly what happened,” he said in a low voice. “We’re thinking Brother Damien wasn’t just a shifter—that he had some kind of magical power.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Magic is real too? Couldn’t you have saved that revelation for another day?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I was going to, but…” He gestured to her shoulder. “We didn’t know you actually had some in you.”

  He ran his hands through his hair in the gesture she was learning meant he was frustrated or searching for words.

  “Magic, like spells or magical items, is a lot rarer than shifters, but there are witches and sorcerers who have powers, and some shifters…” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Can I have the Cliff Notes version?” she asked. “Because that’s been working for me so far.”

  Tank blew out another sigh. “I’ll try,” he said. “Alphas have a special kind of magic that allows them to lead and dominate other shifters. With some species, especially wolves, that magic is tied to the territory they claim. Flynn has that. It means he’s better equipped to protect people who belong in his territory, and fight people who don’t.”

  “And I don’t belong in his territory?” she asked.

  “We think that when Brother Damien Turned you, he imbued the claiming mark with some kind of magic—magic that binds your bear and keeps her from coming out. Since it’s similar to alpha magic, it reacted badly to Flynn’s alpha magic when he tried to take you under his protection.”

  “So his magic thinks I’m an enemy?” Lissa said. That sucked.

  Ta
nk bit his lip. “More like, it thinks you belong to someone else.”

  “Well, fuck that,” Lissa snapped. “I don’t belong to anybody but myself. Never have, never will. So how do I get rid of this shit magic from Brother Asshole?”

  Tank had to admire her spunk. “We’re working on that.”

  Well, that sounded less than promising. But right now she had to learn her way around this territory and this crew, and figure out how things worked. Meals. Micro-territories—whose space was whose, what were the communal areas, where she was welcome and where she wasn’t.

  She didn’t even have a place to sleep.

  “Is this your room?” she asked Tank. She thought it must be—it smelled like him.

  He nodded. She looked around for a stereo, and saw nothing. “I thought I heard guitar music, before,” she said. “I was kind of in and out of sleep.”

  “That was Sloan,” Tank said. “I had to go out for a little while, so he sat with you in case you needed anything. He thought the music might settle your bear.”

  “He plays the guitar?” she asked, interested.

  Tank gave a little snort. “Apparently.” He doodled with the pen, and then said, “While he was here, Xander and I went back to your squat to pick up your things. I hope you don’t mind. They’re over there.”

  He gestured with his head at two cardboard boxes on the floor near the end of the bed.

  Lissa crawled down to the edge of the mattress and flopped down on her stomach, reaching down for the first box. She wondered what they’d thought was worth bringing, and if they’d found the stuff that was important to her.

  They’d brought everything. The first box held all her kitchen stuff, her camp stove, and even the bags of Ramen and cans of tuna. She couldn’t believe he’d gone to the trouble to bring all that.

  She moved to the other one.

  Blanket at the bottom, clothes on top of it. Those needed to be washed. She wondered if it was too much to hope that they had a washer/dryer here. That would be beyond awesome.

  On top of the clothes were her paperback books. They’d found the knife, and even the pepper spray from under the couch. That was kind of impressive.

  Then she saw something tucked away at the side of the box.

  No way.

  It was her printouts from the internet café in Missouri—the web site home page, and her picture of Brother Matthias.

  The only one she had.

  When she opened them, money fell out. She picked up the scattered bills, automatically counting them as she went. Eighty-eight dollars.

  They’d found it all. Every hidey-hole, every stash. She was stunned.

  “How did you find all this?” she asked. And why had they bothered to look?

  “Don’t thank me, thank Xander,” Tank said. “He knew all the places to look.” he paused. “He said he used to live in squats, so he knew the drill.”

  Lissa nodded. It was weird, like having someone inside your head.

  Tank went on, his voice low. “He told me he was Turned against his will, too.” He shook his head. “I just thought he was an asshole. I didn’t know he was dealing with that on top of everything else.”

  He sounded ashamed, like he felt he should have known. Lissa studied him. “I guess you all don’t talk to each other much, do you?” she said. “I mean, about stuff like this.”

  Tank looked away. “My friend Tristan and I used to talk. But he’s in Idaho now, with his family, so… I guess not.” He looked sad about that. He and Tristan must have been good friends. “The rest of us never wanted to talk about our pasts. The bad stuff hurts too much to remember. And the good stuff—” He gave a huff of rueful laughter. “The good stuff hurts too much to remember.”

  Lissa nodded, looking down at the picture in her hands.

  She could feel Tank watching her.

  Finally he said, “Maybe we should all talk to each other more. Remember things.”

  He got up and came over to sit on the bed by her. “Is that Brother Matthais?” he asked.

  She looked down at the photo in her hand. It was pale and faded, since it wasn’t printed on photo paper. But in her mind, she could see Brother Matthias clear as anything.

  “He loved bread and honey,” she said. “He was like a little kid. The cult raised bees and baked artisan bread, and every time there was a new batch of honey, Brother Matthias would wait until the loaves of bread came out of the oven and he could pour honey on the hot bread.”

  She smiled, remembering.

  “When I built the web site, I put this picture on it because he looks so happy, and I thought it would make people want to buy our stuff.”

  She touched the picture with one finger. “Brother Matthias taught me to live in the now. To appreciate all the little things in life, because all you have is that moment, you know? And even if your life isn’t great, hot bread and honey or a flush toilet or fancy shampoo can make it feel great, if you let yourself enjoy them.”

  Tank reached over and put his hand on her back, tentatively at first. It felt nice, and she leaned into him, resting her cheek on his leg for a moment.

  Then she sat up.

  “Your turn,” she said. “Tell me something about your past.”

  She looked around the room. On the dresser was a framed drawing of a woman’s face. She was laughing at something, and her face was lit up with such joy, it made her look beautiful.

  She said, “Who’s that in the picture?”

  Tank stiffened, and for a minute she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said in a low voice, “That’s Angie. She was my mate.”

  His mate. “Is that—is that like a wife, for shifters?”

  Tank nodded.

  “You said ‘was.’ Did she die?”

  He nodded again, his lips pressed together. She could see the misery on his face, and her heart felt squeezed and painful.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  She folded up her picture of Brother Matthias. “Do you want this money back?” she said, holding it out. “It’s yours.”

  He closed her hand around it and held it in his big one. “I gave it to you, and I have it on good authority that that makes it your money. You can spend it on pepper spray if you want.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “Maybe I’ll buy you a steak.”

  He was silent for a long minute, still holding her hand. “She was such a joyful person,” he said. “So kind to everyone. We weren’t part of a crew or a clan—we lived by ourselves in a cabin I built her in Georgia, up in the mountains.” A small smile came across his face. “We were so happy.”

  He trailed off. Lissa wanted to ask what happened, but she didn’t want to scare him off. She just waited.

  “You know how Flynn told you not to tell anyone we’re shifters?” he said. “That’s because when humans find out about us, they try to hunt us down. Someone—some shifter hunters—found out we were living out there alone. They came after us, and Angie was killed.”

  Lissa sucked in her breath. “That’s horrible,” she whispered.

  Tank nodded.

  Lissa put her other hand over his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “No wonder you don’t want to get involved with people. They suck. And the ones who don’t—it hurts so much when you lose them.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  They sat there together, leaning on each other. Gradually, Lissa felt her muscles relax in the warmth of Tank’s presence.

  “I’m glad you have that picture to remember her by,” Lissa said.

  Tank nodded. “After she died, I kind of went crazy for a while,” he said. “I left our house—just walked away. No photos, nothing. I couldn’t stand to be reminded of her.”

  Lissa nodded.

  “But then it hurt too much not to have anything,” he said. “Like she was not only gone, but she never existed.” He gazed at the drawing. “So I drew that picture,” he said. “There was
a photo in our house—my favorite one of her. I tried to re-create it as best I could.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Lissa said sincerely. “It makes me feel like I know what she was like, just by looking at it.”

  She’d been happy and beautiful and loving—just what someone like Tank needed. Not broken and messed up, with a baggage train a mile long.

  But then, Lissa had never thought she was Tank’s perfect woman. She’d never been anyone’s perfect woman, and now with this bear inside her, and Brother Damien’s evil magic—she wouldn’t ever be.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy bread and honey.

  “Thank you for telling me about Angie,” Lissa said. “And thank you for saving my picture of Brother Matthias.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tank said. “Thank Xander too, would you? I think he needs people to say nice things to him sometimes, even if he won’t admit it.”

  “Okay,” Lissa said. “So what now? Where should I put my things? Can I take a shower?”

  Tank grinned at her. “One thing at a time,” he said. “You feel up to going outside? I have something to show you.”

  Chapter 16

  Tank took her out the back door and across the weedy ground to a place where some trees had been cut to form a little clearing. Inside the clearing was a tiny fairy-tale cottage.

  It was smaller than the single-wides she’d seen on the other side of the clearing. Made all of wood, it sat on a wheeled platform, but it had steps up to a tiny deck big enough for two chairs, though it was empty now.

  The roof gave the impression of a sharp peak, but it was built out on either side. The whole thing was covered in gingerbread trim, like Victorian houses, and it had a cottage door with a rounded top, which looked like it was cut across the middle like a dutch door.

  It was painted fanciful colors, and the door was bright blue.

  Lissa was utterly enchanted. “It’s adorable,” she said. “Who lives here?”

  “Nobody yet,” Tank said. “I’m just finishing it.”

  She rounded on him, stunned. “You built this?” she said. She walked up and touched the wall, running her fingers over the intricate trim. “That’s amazing,” she said. “It’s like a cross between a work of art and a rich kid’s playhouse.”