Claim the Bear by T. S. Joyce Read Free Book Online

his waist in an unexpected embrace. Her arms were shaking so badly, he gripped her forearm to him and promised, “It’ll be okay.”
    But it wouldn’t. This wasn’t some act the woman was putting on to get close to him. She was scared. He knew without the shadow of a doubt, because he could smell the acrid scent of her fear.
    “Thank you for everything you did for me today. I’ll never forget it,” she whispered. When she lifted those green eyes up to him, a tear tracked down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand and tried to smile.
    Shit.
    He swallowed the bile that threatened to claw its way up the back of his throat and pulled her hand gently behind him. Her car was a mess, but one look under the hood in the back and he figured all it needed was gas. These old cars were made to take a beating.
    Doing his best to ignore the sneering asshole by the SUV, he emptied the gas can into her tank and turned to say goodbye. Only, when he did, he caught a glimpse of the battered fender of the stranger’s ride. Slow fury burned him from the inside out. Dillon looked from the front end of the black SUV to the destroyed bumper of Breshia’s tiny car, then back again. This heartless bastard wasn’t here to escort her safely anywhere. He was part of the reason she’d been running like she had nothing in the world to lose.
    She’d said they wouldn’t kill her, but as she walked past him to approach the man with tiny, frightened footsteps, Dillon thought perhaps there were worse fates than death.
    “Breshia,” he said low, never taking his eyes from the empty expression on the man’s face. “The marks on your back…was he the one who marked you?”
    When she turned, she was trying so obviously to keep her sobbing quiet, and it ripped his guts up. Reaching forward, he yanked her back toward him at the same moment the other man stepped toward her.
    “Hey, now, friend,” the cagey shifter said in a predatory voice. “She’s mine. She belongs to the Portland pride. Your alpha said she would be returned to us safe and sound, and you’ve done your job. I’ll be sure your alpha knows how well you’ve done.”
    “Breshia,” Dillon said, leveling her with a look. “Was it him?”
    “Yes,” she squeaked out.
    “Why?”
    “Because she’s mine!” the man roared, face red and veins at his temples bulging. “She’s mine to breed, mine to claim, and mine to mark. She’s none of your goddamned business.”
    “Shut up,” Dillon growled, pulling Breshia behind him.
    “You want a worthless lion? One who can’t even do as she’s asked? She’s the least useful lioness in the entire pride, a female in a matriarchal society who is ranked beneath even the males. She’s a hopeless idiot, covered in spots and too ugly to keep on your arm. Give me my mate or so help me, I’ll bring war for her.”
    “I said shut the fuck up!” Dillon was backing away now, shaking his head at the inkling of an idea that was plaguing his racing thoughts.
    “He’ll do it,” Breshia whispered. “I didn’t think this through, and I didn’t think about the consequences my actions could bring to your people. Hey!” She yanked him to a stop as the shifter stalked closer. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
    And right now, that’s all he needed to know about Breshia to set his plans in motion. She cared enough to want to protect him. To want to go with this man—a man who’d hurt her—to protect Dillon and his people.
    “Is he your mate?” Dillon asked. Turning his gaze to the man stalking closer, he growled, “Advance another step, friend , and I’ll rip your jugular out.”
    The man halted, eyes blazing gold.
    “Is he?”
    “He was chosen for me,” Breshia murmured, “but I don’t want him.”
    “Do you want me instead?”
    Breshia shook her head and her delicate nostrils flared. “I don’t understand.”
    “Do you want my protection?”
    “Y-yes,” she stammered, her elegant eyebrows drawing down