Page 121 of Choose the Bears

Right into Phil’s arms.

He was up and over the bar as the sound of a fox bark rang through the air, that meaty arm wrapping itself around a slim throat, that knife pressed against the skin.

“Don’t.”

Where had that voice come from? The depths of my soul, it appeared. It rumbled louder than the music coming from the speakers, silencing everyone in the pub.

Just not him.

“No, you don’t.” He jabbed the knife up, and I sucked in a breath so hard it felt like my whole chest would collapse, right as a little scream rose and then was choked off.

“No, no, no…”

His grin when Daisy clawed at his hands, her face growing redder and redder as he cut off her airway slowly, was like pure poison. I couldn’t walk out into the world knowing some men looked like that. When they heard her cries of pain, of fear, it just got wider, a horrible light flickering to life in his eyes.

“No,” I agreed, my palm burning, the blister bursting, blood and fluid running across my fingers. “No.”

My hand slammed down onto the bar as other men muttered warnings. What I didn’t expect to see was the wood creaking and splintering, the shape of my hand impressed in the lacquered surface. I stared at that and so did Phil, both of us frowning for a second before he recovered.

“Keep the fuck away.” The point of the knife left a pink mark in its wake as it scored Daisy’s skin. “I’ll fucking gut her like a fish.”

That wasn’t a threat, it was a promise. He was breathing too fast, filling the air with the stink of his arousal. This was the moment he’d prepared for over and over, jerking his pathetic little dick, because it never got as hard as it did when he thought about hurting someone like he was now.

Yeah, me too.

I jerked away from the bar, moving with a speed and power I’d never felt before. There was something bittersweet about this because I’d wanted to for so fucking long. To be more than a helpless little boy, more than a useless man.

To be the bear I’d felt like I was destined to be.

My hand burned so fucking much, the pain shifting into agony, but I couldn’t pay any attention to that right now. Everything was a blur. Daisy’s wild eyes, her cries for me to stay away transmuting, her blonde hair becoming reddish, her eyes green. Phil was shouting something loud and incoherent, but it was the yapping of a tiny dog, unable to conceptualise how fucking unimportant he was.

Right as my entire world was torn open.

He was there all along, that was my last thought as a motherfucking polar bear landed on all fours inside a pub in remote Australia.

“Fuck…”

Those slack lips, the way the knife fell from Phil’s limp fingers weren’t enough. Not even when a thin trickle of piss pooled at his feet. Daisy shrieked and sprinted away from the man, but our focus was entirely trained on him.

He thought himself a predator, but he was the prey.

Watching him snatch up the knife and hold it up was laughable, and we roared in his face, watching his nerve break. The moment he turned and ran was delicious. Wild yips and barks followed me out into the night as we gave chase.

Our paws were made for rolling over ice floes and tundra, not desert, the air too dry, still too hot, but off we went. Phil threw a frantic look over his shoulder, his little legs working so hard to get him away from me, but it would never work.

One paw slammed into his back, flattening and driving the air out of him in the same moment. His breath came in ragged whoops as he tried to fill his lungs again, but we knocked him sideways. Rolling like the broken body of a dead deer, he was on his back, staring into my eyes.

“No…” he gasped, trying to get back up and failing when we shoved him back down. “No, no, I’ve got money—” My roar silenced him, echoing through the entire town, making clear what I thought about that.

“So you did have money.”

Greg strolled up like this was any other customer negotiation, only the gleam of his eyes, the claws at the end of his hands, making clear how close the fox was.

“Yes, yes, I’ve got some…” Phil corrected himself quickly. “Lots, lots. Enough to make it worth your while?—”

Our paw slammed down beside his head, making clear what we thought of that idea.

“I’m not the one you need to plead with here,” Greg said. “Bear boy…” Our head whipped around and we chuffed at the fox shifter. “This bear shifter here, he’s the biggest fuckingpredator here right now, and that makes him judge, jury, and executioner.”

---