Page 75 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 32

Tank called on all the rage he’d carried within him for so long. Rage at Angie’s death, at his failure to save her. Rage at the shifter hunters who’d killed her, who’d used his protective instincts against him and lured him into their trap. Rage at Alexander Grant, at the Professor, at all the guards and workers who’d tormented him and his crew.

His crew.

Through his new bond, he could feel them around him, supporting him, fighting for him, laying everything that had on the line to save him and his mate. The magic of the bond was a tangible thing, filling every cell in his body.

The rage rose up and slammed into the magic of the bond. The bond accepted it, absorbed it, and transformed it into something different. Something more.

Something else rose up in him, pulling all his connections to the crew into one swirling tornado of energy. It roared through him, drawing him to his feet, healing him and giving him new vitality.

With a thunderous roar, Tank’s bear burst out of his skin—and grew, and grew, and grew. Not the raging monster bear he’d been for the last year and a half, but the Protector—twice his normal size and coated with blue fire.

Then he charged.

The ground shook under his massive paws as he bore down on Brother Damien. Brother Damien dropped Lissa and raised his hands, red fire streaming toward Tank.

He paid it no attention. Blue fire streaked out from his body, clashing with the red fire and driving it back. Brother Damien turned to run, and Tank was on him.

In seconds, the man had shifted to black bear, and they rolled over on the ground. Damien fought with insane ferocity, but he was no match for the Protector, three times his size and imbued with the magic of his crew bonds.

In moments it was over, and Brother Damien lay dead on the ground.

Tank rubbed his shaggy head over Lissa’s body, trying to pour the magic of his love into her. Her skin was crisscrossed with thin red burns, and for a moment he was terrified she was dead.

Then she opened those gorgeous blue eyes and smiled at him. “My big, ginormous, protector bear,” she murmured. “You saved me.”

Tank shifted back to human and gathered her in his arms, tears stinging his eyes.

He carried her back to the compound wrapped in her robe, trying not to hurt her any more than necessary. Jasmin and Xander stayed behind to corral Brother Damien’s bears and call in the Shifter Council to figure out what to do with them.

Given a decent alpha, the People of Ursus could turn into a real bear shifter clan. That should make them happy.

By the time they got back to the compound, Lissa’s wounds looked a little better, but they still weren’t healing like they should.

“It will probably take time,” Flynn said. “That’s magical shit; it’s not like a regular cut.”

Tank put her in the big bathtub and washed her cuts and burns himself, then put salve and bandages on them, wincing at every wound.

His brave mate. She’d fought nearly to the death for him. Just when he’d thought he was wrecked for good, she burst into his life with a wild, unexpected kiss and brought him back to life.

He didn’t deserve her, but he’d sure as hell try.

As he was tucking her into the big, soft, bed, her eyelids fluttered open, and her huge blue eyes stared up at him. Then she smiled—that smile that always twisted his heart. “You’re really here,” she said. “You’re safe. It wasn’t a dream.”

He brushed back a stray curl from her cheek. “We’re all safe. The whole crew. Brother Damien’s gone. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Good,” she said. Then her eyes grew troubled. “I’m sorry I claimed you without asking,” she said. “I had to.”

He gathered her in his arms and held her to his chest. “I know you did,” he said. “I’m glad.”

“That’s good,” she murmured sleepily, the smile back in her voice. “I’ll try to be a good mate. So you’ll never be sorry I did it.” She drifted off to sleep, leaving Tank with his heart in pieces.

Tank sat up all night, dozing against the headboard, holding Lissa’s hand and listening to her breathe.

He kept reliving the moment where she’d charged right up through Brother Damien’s men, risking death at his hands, all on the hope and belief that a claiming bond would bring Tank and the crew strength enough to defeat a sorcerer’s magic.

He ran his fingers over the livid bite mark on his neck. It was healing more slowly than it should have, probably because of all the other wounds his body were trying to heal at the same time. He could feel the bond between them, like a sun in the middle of his chest. He could feel the pain in her wounds as if it were his own.