Page 5 of Bear with Me

“What the hell?” he asked, gaze flying around.

He and Matheus were already shifted with paws on the ground when the first group of hunters surged through the trees. They were under attack, and Brock had no idea where Jemma was.

Chapter Three

Brock met the first wave emerging through the trees and tore into them with claws and teeth. He was taking no prisoners. As far as he was concerned, they’d sealed their fate by attacking. Jensen and Fletch were both somewhere nearby, as were a few others. Hell, he’d even seen Jasper pull himself into the doorway of the cabin where he was convalescing and use a rifle to pick off people. It didn’t surprise him. All of the cabins were fully stocked with weapons and ammo, and Jasper was far too weak to shift, if he even could after years in captivity. Still, his strength shown in the way he carried himself, the way he fought with all he had to protect the den.

Brock roared as he took a hit to his back leg. A knife. The blade was wicked sharp, and the prick wielding it made sure it did the maximum amount of damage as he ripped it out. Brock turned, swiping his massive paw and slicing the male’s throat wide. Blood sprayed, coating his fur, but he moved on to the next hunter then the next one.

At some point, his leg went out, and he realized there’d either been something on the blade or the hit had been deeper than he’d assumed. Still, he fought. He wasn’t letting anyone get into the cabins that held their wounded, most of them females who’d only recently been rescued from years of torture at the hands of the very enemy attacking them now.

All he knew was, the next enemy then the next and the next until Jensen was in his face, no longer in bear form, yelling at him.

“It’s over. You’re hurt. Let me take a look.”

Brock shook his head, his vision weaving in and out. He tried to look around, to assess for further risk, but he had nothing left to give. As if his tank was completely empty, his body collapsed. He hit the ground hard. His ears rang. Whatever Jensen was saying, Brock had no idea. All he knew was, he was exhausted. He shifted, groaning as fur morphed back to flesh. His thigh burned.

“What the hell is going on?” he growled as Jensen and Fletch helped him to his feet. “Why would they attack?”

“We’ll find out,” Fletch assured him as they entered the cabin Jensen used as an office. “There should be a few left breathing we can get answers from.”

“Go,” Jensen ordered. “Check in with the others. Make sure any wounded get sent here.”

“I’ll get Milo and a couple of Helen’s brothers, Thomas and Ryan, to help me search. Thad might if Sam stays with Hadley and Megan. Helen will stay with her sister, too, and her niece.”

Brock knew Fletch wouldn’t worry about his mate as long as she was with her family. Sam Carson, who’d once been a member of Em’s den in Washington state, had found his wife, Hadley, and her friend Megan when they’d escaped from the hunters who’d taken them captive. Sam had mated Helen’s sister immediately, and when Hadley had talked him into heading back to Washington to look for her family, Megan had met her mate, Helen and Hadley’s brother, Thad. The fact they’d all wound up in Wyoming with the Holloways shortly after Helen had been rescued and she’d mated Fletch had been unbelievable. Hadley had been heavily pregnant at the time and only recently given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Hell, the whole den doted on her. Especially the pregnant mates, Em, Sidia, and Jaeda.

Fletch clasped Brock on the shoulder. “I’ll see if I can find Jemma, though I doubt anything could bring down the little dynamo. Maybe, if I tell her you’re hurt, she’ll come check on you. Probably yell at you for being stupid, but it’ll get her here.”

Brock chuckled. She’d probably rub his face in getting injured. He knew Fletch was trying to make him feel better, and he appreciated it. Though the attack was over, there were still plenty of injured among their den. They’d been caught unaware once again, and he had no idea how badly they’d paid for it. Which meant he needed to get off his ass and get back out there to help. Finding Jemma might be his priority, but once he knew she was okay, the two of them could focus on everyone else.

“How bad is it?” Brock asked as Jensen assessed his leg.

Jensen probed Brock’s thigh.

“Shit,” Brock hissed. “That fucking hurts.”

“You took a knife to the thigh,” Jensen said as if Brock wasn’t aware.

“It burns.”

“My guess is, there was something on the blade. They’re good at that.” Jensen bent low and inhaled right over Brock’s wound. “You’ve bled quite a bit. That might be good, though. Whatever they used, the scent is faint. You either bled it out, or there wasn’t much left by the time you were stabbed. The muscle’s already knitting back together. I’ll stitch and wrap your leg, and you should be good by tomorrow. Let me know if anything feels off with that wound and try not to overdo it with search and rescue. Maybe, stay here and help me with the wounded. Jemma will find her way here eventually. She’s a fair hand with a needle and thread and has a good bedside manner.”

“What?” Brock asked.

“She spends a lot of time here, talking with some of the survivors we brought in. She’s good with them, good for them. She brings an energy they’ve been lacking. I’d love to see her train for the medical field. Doctor, nurse, EMT. Whatever she wants. She’d be fantastic.”

Brock shook his head. He’d known she was helping Jensen but hadn’t realized the extent.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Do I even know her?”

“You haven’t even tried. You’ve been too busy pushing her away. Why fight yourself so hard when we all know she’s who you want?” Jensen asked as he tossed Brock a pair of shorts.

Brock didn’t say anything as he pulled them on. Obviously, he wasn’t fooling anyone with rejecting Jemma as his mate. Plus, Jensen was right. It was Jemma Brock needed to see. He needed to know she was okay. He was fighting a losing battle. It was only a matter of time before he claimed her. If she allowed it. His behavior hadn’t endeared him to her in the least. A fact he could only blame himself for.

“Your mate is alive, brother. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” Jensen questioned.

“She’s young,” Brock said again. “Too young to be tied to a mate for the rest of her life.”

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