Beast Behaving Badly (21 page)

“Not a word, Blayne. Not from me. Not ever.”

She swallowed and took a breath. She realized that like Gwen, Bo understood what could happen if he did tell. Wolfdogs were considered unstable and dangerous. Add in well-trained abilities with weapons and that fear from other shifters doubled. Some pure-bred shifters wouldn't care. The ones who'd trained her never had. But there were others . . . others who'd make it their goal to wipe her from the planet.

That wasn't Bo. That would never be Bo. He'd keep her secret. She knew that.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, her speeding heart returning to its more normal rate.

Bo hugged her back, his hands rubbing against her back.

After she stopped shaking, Blayne moved off. Hot and kinky ideas about sex wiped clean, she took hold of his cast-covered arm. “How's the arm? Really?”

Bo felt around the cast with his free hand. After a moment, he ripped into it with his claw, easily destroying the plaster. He wiped off any clinging material and moved his arm around a bit. “It feels good. Won't really know, though, until I get back on the ice.”

“I'm up to heading back later today, if you are?”

“Good.” His hand cupped her chin. “We've got some unfinished business to get to.”

She felt a sharp thrill, knowing he wanted her. “Yeah. We do.”

“Besides, I don't want to spend any longer here than I have to.”

“Why?” He made a sound and Blayne asked, “Did you just grunt at me?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“The grunting or why you don't want to be here? Because I have more concerns over you grunting at me.”

“Blayne.”

“Is that your getting-tough-with-me tone?”

He shrugged. “Kinda.”

“It's pretty weak. You're tougher when we're training.” She poked at his wounded shoulder with her finger. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

Blayne went up on her knees, placed her hand over his mouth with one hand and yanked the bandage off with the other. Bo roared in agony, but she ignored all that to get a closer look at the damage. “They'll need to take these stitches out before we leave.”

“Thank you, Dr. Butcher!”

She laughed, leaning in closer to examine the nearly healed wound. “Any idea what caliber?”

“Looked like a forty-five.”

“A forty-five to stop a mighty bear-cat? Foolish full-humans.”

“Stop calling me that.” He moved his shoulder around. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted.

“At this hour, we have two choices in Ursus County. The hospital cafeteria or . . .” He motioned to the window, and Blayne focused her gaze outside at the snow-covered land—and the small family of deer walking past. She grinned, her stomach growling in approval.

“I'm for the ‘or,'” she said. “Definitely the ‘or.' Besides,” she clapped her hands together, “I want to see what you look like when you're shifted!” She was amazed what nature could come up with when species combined! She couldn't wait, but Bo looked a little freaked out about it. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. But you can't laugh.”

“Laugh? Why would I laugh?”

Instead of answering, Bo shifted. Right there on the bed. Blayne didn't laugh, although, she did squeal, forced to jump off the bed by the sheer size of Bo Novikov's animal form.

An animal form that was, basically, a sixteen-hundred-pound, twelve-foot-long . . . white lion male. His front paws were like all lion's but his hind paws were polar and the size of dinner plates. White fur covered those paws, each with nine-inch-long black claws. His ears were too small for what had grown into an absolute
giant
mane, and his face was clearly feline with the flat black muzzle rather than the longer polar snout.

Yet what fascinated Blayne the most were his fangs. Openly ogling them, she could only think of prehistoric saber-toothed cats. Easily two inches thick and seven and a half inches long, they were dangerously sharp, the front incisors stretched past his bottom lip to beneath his chin.

When human he may be more bear, but when he shifted he was just one giant cat, bigger and longer than a liger and, she bet, all the male-lion aggression one could fit into him.

He watched her closely, probably worried she'd try and run on him again. But she was too fascinated!

Blayne sprung back on the bed and bounced right on top of him. Laughing, she pulled her hands through his mane and down his body. Eager to see him move and hunt, she scrambled off him again and dashed to the window. She pulled it open, ignoring the blistering cold that tore in, and shifted. She dashed outside and quickly turned so she could watch him.

Bo dived off the bed and right through the window, not even touching the floor. For all his size, he moved as liquid as a feline. And she knew as she ran after him that she was in big trouble. Because she'd never seen anything more beautiful before in her life than a shifted Bo Novikov. The intensity of it was so powerful it reminded her of something her mother once told her when she was way too young to really get it. “I loathed your father until I saw him take down an elk. That combined with him on his Harley—I was lost, baby. Lost.”

Yep. She finally got it.

CHAPTER 17

B
layne sensed a presence in front of her. She knew it wasn't Bo. He was behind her and had been the entire night, holding her in his big arms, those razor-sharp claws near extremely vital organs, but she'd never once felt unsafe. Not with Bo. Not ever again. But someone else in their human form was coming at them from the front, leaning in close. Blayne didn't even open her eyes before she wrapped her mouth around the face close to her and bit down.

It was a male, and he went down screaming, trying to throw her off.

“Fabi found 'em,” someone said off in the distance.

“Get her off me! Get her off me!” She guessed the one called Fabi screamed.

Large, human arms wrapped around her and pulled her back. Since she knew those arms belonged to Bo, she released the male she had a good hold of.

More bears in human form showed up, surrounding them. Some on snowmobiles and some on foot. They all wore T-shirts that read
URSUS COUNTY POLICE.
The older polar Blayne had met the night before walked up to them. He was the only one not wearing any police department gear.

“We've been looking everywhere for you two. Get back to the hospital and get dressed. Her people are coming for her.”

Her people? Blayne didn't have any people but her father, and good God, she hoped that he didn't know anything about this. He still hadn't let her live down when she'd gotten lost in a department store when she was ten. So for her to get caught off guard and picked off by trackers? Christ, Mr. Cranky Wolf would make sure to have it put on his tombstone to ensure she'd never forget.

“She nearly bit my nose off!” Poor Fabi. But who sticks their face near the muzzle of a sleeping wolfdog? Why not just put your arm in their mouth or try and take their food? Either of these would make as much sense.

“You shouldn't have gotten so close, you idiot,” Bo said in that friendly way he had. But how he wasn't freezing to death, she'd never know. Then again, how could any of them not be freezing to death? The grizzlies and black bears had on long sleeve tees and jeans while some of the polars had on T-shirts and shorts.

Even with fur, Blayne was cold, and she knew she'd be colder if she weren't being held by Bo. Even human his body kept her warm.

“I see you haven't changed, Speck,” the polar she'd bitten shot back at Bo.

And without Bo saying a word, Blayne sensed his change. Felt his body become tense, his attitude darken. She immediately responded to that change, her own body tensing, a low growl rolling past her muzzle.

Fabi stepped back and the older polar watched her close.

“I don't know,” Fabi said. “Seems to me she has enough wolf in her that we should put her down now.”

Blayne didn't have a chance at a good bout of panic over that particular statement before Bo dropped her, shifted, and leaped at the polar. He took him down, Fabi shifting in the process, but his twelve hundred pounds and average, mundane fangs were nothing compared to Bo's bear-cat sexiness—and yes, that's how she thought of his shifted form.

Bo landed on top of Fabi, keeping the polar pinned to the ground with his weight alone, leaned in, and roared. The sound echoed and the rest of the bears began to move nervously, their jaws popping, their fangs coming out. All except for the older polar. He rolled his eyes and said, “Let him go, Bo. He ain't worth the trouble, and he's your cousin.” Yet Bo didn't move; he didn't back down. Finally the older polar added, “You've got my word, I won't let anything happen to the wolfdog. Promise.”

That seemed to be enough for Bo. He nodded and stepped off his cousin—
His cousin calls him Speck? Not okay
—moving back and back until he had Blayne pinned against the tree with his big bear butt. She swiped at him, yelped, and she felt his body shake. Laughing at her! He was laughing at her! What a bastard! She caught hold of his long cat tail with her teeth, tugging at it. With a snort, Bo walked off, dragging a tugging, growling, completely ineffectual Blayne behind him.

Oh, but she'd show him. She never gave up. Even when it made complete sense to give up and run away, she wouldn't.

 

 

They made it back to the hospital with Blayne attached to Bo's tail the entire way. It amazed him those were the same teeth that had torn into a deer the night before with such gusto. Maybe she was going easy on him, because he didn't feel a thing. He climbed back into the window he'd gone out of, Blayne right behind him since she still held on to his tail. He lifted his tail and placed her on the bed, whipping his tail around until she released him. She rolled off, shifting from wolfdog to naked hottie in seconds, laughing as she rolled across the bed.

Bo shifted and quickly shut the window, knowing how cold it was to everyone else not born and raised in Ursus County, Maine.

“I can't believe you bit his face,” he laughed.

“I can't believe that asshole is your cousin. And Speck?”

“The town nickname because I was so small.”

“Small? In whose world are you small? And your shifted form?” She rolled to her stomach and rested her chin on her fists. “Wow,” she said. “Just . . . wow.”

“You're making fun of me, aren't you?”

“No way.” Blayne scrambled to her knees. If she remembered she was naked, she didn't seem to care. “Bo, I think you're amazing.”

“I have tusks, Blayne.”

“Those aren't tusks. Those are fangs. Like the mighty saber-toothed cats of prehistoric times. If I had those, I'd never be human. I'd run around with my cool, über-long fangs, daring anyone to fuck with the mighty Blayne of the Thorpe Dynasty.”

“You have a dynasty?”

“I would if I had those cool fangs!”

Bo grinned, surprising himself. He'd never discussed his fangs before without getting in a fight or walking away hurt, swearing never to shift again. He grew out of that stage, though, and simply stopped shifting unless he was by himself. But he couldn't ignore Blayne's enthusiasm. She really should represent all hybrids. She loved each of them, with all their quirks and foibles and unholy-size body parts, individually. He had to admire that.

“We better get dressed,” he said, noticing the pile of clothes someone had put out for them.

“You don't think my father's coming to get me, do you?” And she winced when she asked, making him a little worried.

“I don't know. My uncle is the king of the unclear.”

Still kneeling on the bed, Blayne sat back on her haunches. “Wait . . . that was your uncle? The big polar?”

“Yep.” The clothes put out for Bo were also his uncle's. He recognized the scent. He nearly smiled again. For the first time, he'd be able to wear his uncle's clothes and not swim in them.

A pillow hit him in the back of the head, and, startled, Bo faced Blayne. “What was that for?”

“Your uncle? Who you haven't seen in ten years? And you don't hug him or kiss him or show him any affection? Because unlike
Flabby
”—and that totally made Bo laugh—“he was nice to you. And seemed concerned.”

“The Novikovs don't hug, Blayne.”

“Neither do the Thorpes, but that never stopped me before, much to my father's annoyance. No wonder your uncle looked so hurt,” she said.

“Hurt? About what?”

“An ungrateful nephew!”

“I didn't see him trying to kiss me or hug me or anything else.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

“Sometimes, you idiot, you have to show affection to get it. Sometimes, you have to suck it up, be a man, and show the people you care about that you actually do care!”

Marci lingered outside the hospital door, listening with avid interest to the argument going on inside. Normally, she'd never be this nosey, but that wolfdog was saying all the things she'd never been able to say before to either idiot, er, Novikov. For years she'd watched them play the “Novikovs don't show emotion” game and for years she'd watched them never get as close as she knew they not only could but should.

And she knew what it was, too. Bold had convinced himself that his uncle was only doing what he morally felt he should do, not that he loved the boy more than he could ever put into words. And Grigori had convinced himself that Bold was so standoffish because he didn't like him, let alone love him, and that he'd been biding his time waiting to get away from him rather than the entire town who still called him Speck. They were both foolish and incredibly stubborn males who never listened to anyone, and although Marci still tried when she could to get both past all this, she'd given up hope.

Until this very moment. Until this very wolfdog.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Bo asked, and as usual, he didn't sound hurt or angry, merely confused. Male bears . . . the most confused of any carnivore on the planet!

“Because family is all, Bo. You should stay,” she suddenly said.

“I am
not
staying.”

“I'll go back with whoever is coming to pick me up and you can stay a couple of extra days.”

“I'm not staying, Blayne. So forget it.”

“Do we really need to have the ‘when was the last time you went on vacation' discussion again?”

“The Cup Finals begin in two weeks. Do you really think that I'd miss one day of training before Finals?”

“You know what I just heard? ‘Blah blah blah blah blah . . . finals.'”

Marci quickly covered her mouth with her hand and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“You need to stay and see your family.”

“No.”

“You're being unreasonable.”

“And you need to get dressed unless you want me to drag you on that transport naked. And don't you dare cry!”

Marci heard the wolfdog sniff loudly and dramatically three times before saying, “Fine. Be that way. Alone, bitter, friendless.”

“Don't alone and friendless kind of go together?” Marci heard something crash, then Bo growl, “And stop throwing things at my head!”

Straightening her clothes and trying to wipe the smile off her face, Marci stepped in front of the doorway and knocked.

 

 

Blayne was still seething when the doctor from yesterday knocked and stepped into the room.

“Morning,” she said, looking kind of serious.

“Morning,” both Blayne and Bo mumbled.

Blayne knew Bo was pissed at her, but she didn't really care. Family was family, in her mind, and unless they were stealing from you or abusing you, a body just had to put up with them. That's what being blood meant. Most hybrids didn't even know their families; shunned from birth, their birth parents forced out, they often ended up living a hard life if anything happened to the ones who raised them. Blayne knew she was lucky that her father had decided to keep her and raise her. Others, unable to survive without their pride, pack, or clan, often deserted their young pups and cubs who then ended up roughing it in the system. It was hard enough being a shifter in a world of nonshifters, but to be a hybrid . . . Blayne couldn't imagine it and didn't really want to. And like her, whether he realized it or not, Bo was one of the lucky ones. He may have lost his parents, but to find a family member willing to take him in was no small feat. So the fact that he didn't slather that polar with love and adoration stuck in her sensitive paw like little else could.

“How are you both feeling?” the doctor asked, stepping farther into the room until she stood between the bed and the side table where someone had put out clothes.

“Fine,” Bo mumbled.

“Much better,” Blayne said.

“Good.” She clapped her hands together, startling Blayne and Bo, causing both of them to snarl a little, but if she noticed, she didn't show it. “So I guess Grigori told you that Blayne's people are coming for her. In fact, they may already be here.”

Blayne couldn't help but wince. “My father?”

“Your father is a Van Holtz?”

Blayne not only laughed out of relief, but the thought that some “born with that stick up his ass”—as her dad put it—Van Holtz would deign to claim any wolfdog as their child made her fall back on the bed.

Bo threw clothes at her, his anger already gone as he watched her. “Put some clothes on, Giggles.”

“Hey! I could be a Van—”

“Don't even,” he cut in, already smiling, which was good because she was laughing again. “Just get dressed.”

“I guess the answer to your question then, Blayne, is it's not your father.”