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Chapter Twenty-Four
In the heat of the moment, all Espie cared about was getting a deadly predator out of her home. This was the second time a cougar had the nerve to cross into bear territory, and she was determined to make it the last.
The cougar called their charging bluff, crouching low and pouncing, but Luther knocked it out of the air with one sweep of his giant paw. Crashing to the hardwood, the feline scrambled for footing and leapt through Espie’s open window—which was how it must have entered in the first place.
Unless the shifter had broken in while she was gone, and had been hiding under her bed or in her closet. The very thought made Espie shudder, but her grizzly had switched into protective-mama kill mode. Having pups and a cub so nearby had kicked her natural instincts into overdrive, and for once, her other human half saw pure red right along with her.
With a dangerous snarl, Espie tore off after the cougar, shoving past Luther to get out the window first. While her windows were large, they weren’t big enough to accommodate a full-grown bear, much less two, so as she jumped, Espie shifted back to a human, fit through the opening with ease, then she shifted again mid-air to land on all four paws outside. The cougar loitered by the trees, watching, waiting to see if they planned to pursue, and it took off with a fluffed tail when Espie zeroed in on it.
She charged, throwing all she had into her run. Behind her, a large body hit the ground running, and Luther’s bear scent overwhelmed her—but in the best way possible: a way she couldn’t quite articulate during the hunt—as he fell in line beside her. He snorted, hot breath fogging in front of him only momentarily, and they both charged into the forest. Trees split them apart as the chased the feline, yet each maintained a visual on the cougar.
Until it disappeared into the shadows.
Espie slowed and lifted her head, breathing deeply to see if she could pick up which direction the cat had ran. Luther, meanwhile, pressed his nose to the ground, kicking up dead leaves and twigs, inhaling deeply. It was nearby. Espie could feel its presence—but where?
A screeching howl answered her question seconds later when the cougar slammed into her from above; it must have been hiding in the trees. Espie lurched forward, trying to ram her body against the tree trunks to knock the cougar off. The cat sunk its claws into her sides, hard and deep enough for pain to shoot through her whole body.
Luther’s snarl sent the little woodland critters running. If only the cougar had possessed the same common sense. Out of the corner of her eye, Espie caught the flash of white charging toward her, and within seconds, Luther had dragged the cougar off her back and thrown it to the ground.
Slightly unsteady, but otherwise unharmed, Espie turned, her lips pulled back to show off her sizeable rows of teeth, only to find Luther stomping the cougar—to the death, it would seem. He pounded the cat with his front paws, over and over again, until suddenly the beast shifted back into a naked, bloodied, whimpering man. It was the drunk guy, of course.
Espie shifted too, knowing her grizzly might just ignore all common sense and tear the shifter to shreds. Kill mode was still engaged in her, the scent of that polar cub lingering in her mind’s eye. It spurred something in her Espie had never felt before—something that almost frightened her.
Taking her lead, Luther shifted back, too, though he pressed a foot down on the cougar shifter’s throat as he looked to Espie. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she said, waving him off dismissively. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“I’ll heal,” she snapped, fixing him with a brief, pointed look that said to just drop it. While blood trickled down her hips, she could already feel her skin melding together. The wounds were superficial at best.
The battered shifter seemed to laugh at that, but the noise turned to more of a gargled and choking sound when Luther pushed down harder on his throat. Blood spurted up and over his lips, and Espie grabbed Luther’s arm when she noticed the cougar’s eyes growing glassy and distant.
“The h-hand of Vesper,” the shifter gasped, “w-will f-force its…will.”
Those were the last words carried on the shifter’s dying breath, and Luther lifted his foot, letting the man’s head roll over to the side. Espie stared down at him, waiting for him to spring back to life, to lunge for her, to catch her off guard again. Nothing. His chest stopped its erratic rise and fall, leaving only stillness in its place. The drunken man was dead.
Tears blurred her vision. She wasn’t sure why she would cry. The man at her feet wanted to kill her, but with all the high intensity emotions of the day, she couldn’t stop herself.
Without a word, Luther pulled her to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Head resting under his chin, Espie let him comfort her until her tears dried and her trembling ceased.
Even though she was angry with him, and although she had a whole rant floating around her head that she’d wanted to unleash on him, Espie basked in Luther’s warmth, in the gentle touch of his hand caressing up and down her bare back. She closed her eyes for a few moments, drawing deep, even breaths to collect her emotions, and then detached herself from his embrace.
Luther gradually let go of Espie, after checking the claw marks on her waist. Just as she’d suspected, they were already almost healed.
“I know you hate when I fight your battles, but…” Their eyes met and Luther offered a half-hearted grin. “I would have torn that fucker limb from limb if he did any serious damage to you.”
Espie cast him a wry look. “I’m thinking the result would be pretty much the same, Luther. Now why don’t you tell me about that polar bear cub I just saw in my bedroom? She’s yours, isn’t she? Because when I saw her, I’ve never felt more protective in my life. Nothing else would make any sense, considering how I feel. My inner bear wanted to tear that cougar to shreds just to protect her. Sure, it could have been because he’d entered her domain, but that wasn’t the reason at all. It was all because of her.”
Luther sighed heavily, his hands tightening and loosening a few times before he finally nodded. “She is mine. Her name is Violet.”
Espie felt her knees give way, and Luther caught her, leading her back into her cabin and helping her to sit on the couch before either of them spoke again.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Espie finally asked, tempering her tone so she wouldn’t sound accusatory.
“Can you really blame me?” he said, settling down beside her. “Finding your fated mate is a lot to take in by itself. It’s so stressful and scary, with both of you worried about fucking it up, or that one will do something that will send the other person running. I didn’t want to throw a cub into the mix and frighten you away, Espie.”
“That makes perfect sense,” she replied.
