Baddest Bear Dad: A Fated Mate Romance Read online

  “I know,” she said, feeling trepidation about Braden for the first time.

  “You look unsure.” Rachel leaned in as she spoke, looking at her with serious eyes. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It is. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this. He’s never given me a reason to worry about it, you know?”

  The others nodded in understanding.

  “But…I just can’t get rid of this feeling. Maybe it’s because it feels like things are moving so fast? I know that if I were on the other side, I’d be feeling freaked out. So maybe that’s what it is? Maybe I’m scared that things feel so right, and I’m worried that this is where it all starts to explode in my face?”

  Angela smiled in patient understanding. “Just go with the flow, Elle. There’s quite literally nothing else you can, or should, do. If he’s the one, then he’s the one. You can’t force it, and trust me, if he’s decided that you’re the one, there is nothing you can do to dissuade him of that notion.”

  She frowned. “But what if I’m not sure I want to be his mate? I’ve watched the two of you go through it, and you both seem extremely happy.”

  “We are,” Rachel answered for both of them.

  “Very,” Angela echoed.

  “So that gives me hope. But I still can’t figure out if that’s what I want, you know? If I’m ready for that sort of commitment. We’ve only been on one date, and we’re already talking about, well, forever. That’s scary!”

  “Terrifying,” Rachel said.

  “But…” she faltered. “Really? You two were both scared?”

  “Petrified,” Angela said. “Heck, some days I’m still scared that I’ve made a huge mistake, jumping in to this thing headfirst.”

  Elle wasn’t reassured by that, or by the calming smiles that followed.

  “That’s just the way it is with shifters though, Elle. They see things differently than us. They look human, but remember, that’s only half of them. They are quite literally half-beasts, with the brain and thoughts of one as well.” Rachel frowned as she tried to convey her point. “They don’t think like us. The idea of partnering up for life after meeting someone a few times is completely natural and normal to them. Like deciding whether you like a certain food, or TV show. You just know whether it’s for you or not. Just like they know.”

  Angela chimed in next. “It makes it much easier for you to decide and decipher your own feelings about it all. You know that they aren’t going anywhere, unless you tell them to. That they will do whatever it takes to make you happy.” She paused before looking at Elle again. “I was horrified at the idea of locking myself down to someone so quickly. I doubt myself from time to time even now, simply because of how quickly we’ve moved. But humans do that too. We all know people who have met and are just like ‘Yep, we’re getting married, that’s the way it’s going to be, we’re perfect for each other.’ And that’s how it is here too.”

  Elle’s chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply. “I guess. I don’t know…”

  “It’s hard to believe it until you’ve been through it,” Rachel told her. “We could go on and on, but I think this is something you’ll just have to do on your own.”

  Angela nodded in agreement, leaving Elle to look back and forth between her two best friends, still completely unsure about it all.

  “Well, I have a few days before I see him again anyway. So I suppose there’s no sense in panicking right now, is there?” She tried to put on a brave smile, but judging from the way her friends reacted, it hadn’t worked. “Oh come on, I’m not that bad!”

  The two of them just laughed.

  Chapter Nine

  Braden

  The time until he could see Elle again was ticking down dreadfully slowly. It had been three days so far. They had exchanged the odd text message, but he’d been careful not to get too clingy.

  “How much longer should I wait?” He looked around the lounge. Noah, Charles, and Gray were all splayed out across the various chairs and sofas there, lounging while they could.

  “You said it’s been three days?” Gray asked from where he was reclining on a sectional, his large frame still filling it so that one leg was hanging over onto the floor.

  “Yeah. We’ve texted a few times, but I want to see her again.”

  “I think three days is long enough,” Gray told him.

  “She hasn’t said anything about another date to you?” Charles asked.

  “No,” Braden told him. “But she did when we were on our first date.”

  “Doesn’t count. She probably didn’t realize what you meant,” the other Guard said.

  “Oh no. It was explicitly stated about a second date and seeing each other again. The language was too direct and blunt for her to have misinterpreted,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, I still say you should wait until she brings it up,” Charles said.

  From where he sat in a reclining chair, the footstool out and propping his legs up, Noah snorted loudly. “Says the only single one in the room. I vote you give it another day. Make her sweat a bit.”

  Gray shook his head. “You’ve waited long enough. You need to show some interest. Take charge of the situation. If she doesn’t want anything to do with you, then too bad, so sad. This way at least you aren’t wasting your time trying to figure it out.”

  Braden considered Gray’s words. The shifter was no older than the rest of them—in fact he was younger than Noah—but he had always been the one they looked up to, who dispensed advice that they valued. So in Braden’s mind, his opinion was weighted more heavily than the rest. If Gray was telling him that it was time to ask Elle on a second date, then Braden was inclined to go with him.

  “You don’t think she’ll interpret it as coming on too strong?” he asked, surprised at his own temerity. It wasn’t nervousness about whether he liked Elle or not. Braden was well aware of how he felt toward her. Instead, it was more of a desire to ensure that he didn’t screw things up with her. That she didn’t become scared of him. That was what he was afraid of. She was too important to him to do anything that might come across as scaring her off.

  “Nah, it’s fine,” Gray assured him with a languid wave of his hand. “Trust me.”

  “Okay.” He pulled out his phone and shot her a text message. It still irked him that she preferred if he texted her instead of called, but he could deal with that. Technology was changing everything, and he was determined not to be left too far behind when it came to interacting with his mate via it.

  Braden: Hey. I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to get together again soon? Had a really good time last time.

  He hit Send before he could think it through, wanting to be done with it.

  A loud, angry roar reached their ears. Almost as one the shifters shot to their feet.

  “What was that?” Noah asked.

  “It sounded like—”

  The noise came again. This time a more long-winded version that actually sounded like words.

  “Andrew,” he finished. “He sounds a little upset.”

  Gray snickered. “A little? Who wants to go see what’s up? As senior Guard, I’m asking for volunteers.”

  “Wuss,” Braden said, shaking his head. “I’ll go. It’ll help me with something to do until she answers.”

  The others were more than willing to let him take the brunt of whatever had gotten Andrew into such an irate mood. The ambassador was normally quite mild-mannered. Braden had seen him pissed once before, when a visiting shifter had caused a lot of damage to one of the human bars while trying to abscond with a waitress that worked there.

  It hadn’t been a pretty scene. Andrew had been well within his powers to simply kill the offending shifter. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d broken every bone in the man’s body that he could. Then, as they healed incorrectly, he’d broken them again, even worse. It was a terrible form of torture to inflict on a shifter, and one that they could do over, and over, and ove
r again. Gray had intervened after the second time, and the shifter had been sent back to Cadia in disgrace, forced to spend agonizing weeks having his bones rebroken and set back properly again. The whole ordeal had left a lasting impression in Braden.

  Now he strode out into the hallway, hoping they weren’t about to witness that again. He’d rather just have the offender killed outright this time. It was, oddly enough, easier to stomach that way.

  “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

  Braden glanced around as the voice echoed down the hallway. After assuring himself that Andrew wasn’t nearby, and that the question wasn’t directed at him, he continued toward the room that Andrew had claimed as his office, which is where the yelling seemed to be coming from.

  “THE RULES ARE CLEAR AS FUCKING DAYLIGHT, YOU IDIOTIC SHIT-FOR-BRAINS. A GODDAMNED PANDA HAS MORE SENSE THAN YOU TWO MORONS. DID YOUR MOTHERS FORGET TO TEACH YOU HOW TO READ, YOU ILLITERATE FUCKS? NO, DON’T ANSWER THAT. IT’S WHAT’S CALLED A RHEE-FUCKING-TORICAL QUESTION, YOU MORON. EVEN A SLOTH WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT ONE, AND SLOTHS ARE THE STUPIDEST THINGS ON EARTH. NO, CORRECT THAT, I THINK I HAVE NEW WINNERS OF THAT TITLE, AND IT’S YOU TWO FUCKING IDIOTS.”

  The tirade finally died away. Braden was impressed. He’d never heard the ambassador truly chew someone out before. It wasn’t the best ass-chewing he’d ever heard…or received, for that matter, but it certainly was a good one. He was quite happy it wasn’t directed at him.

  Before he could reach the entryway he heard chairs scraping on the floor.

  “Where do you think you two are going?” Andrew’s icy voice slithered through the doorway. He was no longer yelling, but the tone was almost more imposing now than it had been at a higher volume.

  Braden paused as he approached the open door, taking as hard an angle as possible. He inched forward until he could just see Andrew and the other two shifters, who were now standing in front of the desk. He watched the ambassador slowly rise until he too was standing.

  “I asked you a question.” The words were hissed, filled with fury.

  “Fuck you,” the far one of them spat, turning toward the door.

  It all happened in slow motion. Andrew moved to cut them off. He was fast, but the nearer one, the one who had stayed still at first, now exploded into action. His hand reached up behind his back and pulled something out from under his shirt. The ambassador was going too fast to stop himself in time. He did fling his body to the side, which ensured that he wasn’t impaled on the knife. The tip of the blade sliced easily through his clothing and drew a line down his ribcage and side before bouncing off his hipbone.

  Braden roared in fury, his legs already flinging himself forward into the fray. In his peripheral vision he saw Andrew land unsteadily, his eyes already rolling up into his head.

  Shit, he thought with a detached part of his brain as he slammed bodily into the attacker holding the knife. It’s covered in tranquilizer.

  It was the one thing that shifters were susceptible to. Their hotter temperature and faster heartbeat meant that they circulated blood far faster than a human did. Although they needed something nearly on par with elephant-grade tranquilizer, once it got into their system, they went down fast. Almost as fast as the movies, which were far from accurate.

  Note to self: Be extra careful and don’t get cut by the knife, or it’s all over.

  His presence was a complete surprise. Neither of the two attackers had seen him coming. His direction of attack took all three of them down in a heap. Concentrating first on the hand that held the knife, he chopped down on it hard. Part of him wanted to try and pick up the knife to use it against them, but he knew that was a bad idea since he was outnumbered. So instead he kicked it away into the rubble that had been Andrew’s desk and then flung himself to his feet.

  Just in time to see the second attacker pull a knife from behind his back.

  “Oh, that’s just not fair,” he complained as the unknown shifter darted in, swiping the knife back and forth at his midsection.

  Braden jumped backward twice in quick succession, throwing his stomach backward to avoid the slicked blade. On the third attempt he felt the blade catch his shirt, though it missed his skin, thankfully. His back hit the wall of the room, leaving him nowhere else to retreat from the blows.

  His opponent knew this and an evil grin appeared as he stabbed the knife forward. Instead of waiting for it, or trying to block it, Braden did the only thing that came to mind. He let his legs go limp and fell to the floor, the knife slamming into the wall inches above his head as he ducked to the side.

  The instant he hit ground a foot lashed out at his attacker, connecting in the upper leg, just missing the vulnerable bits that he’d been aiming for. This was a fight to the death; there was no time to be squeamish or to have “honor” about how the fight was conducted. So Braden hit the shifter again. This time he didn’t miss. His foe went down screaming, both hands gripping between his legs as he fell.

  “Well, let’s get it on then,” he spat at the other shifter, stomping on the downed man’s face as he waited.

  Bone crunched and blood started flowing freely from the mangled skin. Braden didn’t even look down. Where was everyone else? They must have heard the fighting going on by now. Why had nobody come to investigate?

  Realizing it was up to him, he launched himself forward, going on the attack. He was ready now, prepared. The other shifter had no chance. Unfortunately for him, the shifter he’d already downed was more aware of his surroundings than he’d given him credit for. A hand with a grip of steel latched around his ankle as he went by. It wrenched his leg around and Braden fell.

  “Shit.”

  Red exploded across his vision as he took a kick to the side of the head.

  “Don’t. You. Know. It’s rude. To. Interfere!” The attacker still standing puffed out the words as he rained blow after blow down on Braden.

  But the ambassador’s Guards hadn’t been chosen simply for their good looks. Braden was a trained and war-scarred veteran of the Green Bearets. These were the elite of the elite, the best bear shifter warriors that Cadia could turn out. He’d fought in some of the worst battles his homeland had seen in centuries, and come out the other side.

  He wasn’t about to let this little miscreant get the better of him. As the booted foot that had been hitting him pulled back for another blow, he spun, looking for a moment like a breakdancer as he planted his hands on the ground and swung his legs around.

  The blow wasn’t overly substantial, but it was enough to drive his opponent back several steps, giving Braden a second to recover. He spent that precious moment sliding across the floor, and with a grunt of effort snapped the neck of the first shifter he’d bested. Then he turned to face the other attacker.

  “Your turn,” he said, rising slowly as blood dripped from his face onto him and the ground. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

  And Braden went on the attack once more. Slow. Methodical and unrelenting. A juggernaut, he descended on the hapless shifter, blocking punches with contemptuous ease, sliding out of range of kicks and casually easing his way through the shifter’s guard.

  “My turn,” he said, the effort of speaking spraying his foe with blood, he was that close.

  Braden slammed his forehead into the bridge of the attacker’s nose, breaking it. Then he followed that up with a forearm to the neck. As his momentum carried him in close for that, he lifted his knee into the shifter’s stomach, doing his best to hit the wall that was on the other side. Stepping back, he slammed fist after fist into the already-beaten face in front of him. When the attacker started to falter, Braden picked him up and effortlessly tossed him across the room, collapsing the rest of Andrew’s former desk in the process.

  He went over to the shifter to pick him up and continue whaling on him, but something about the slack-jawed, empty-eyed look told him he didn’t need to. With a frown he nudged the shifter with his foot until he turned over.

  “Well shit. Maybe I shouldn’
t complain about things being unfair,” he remarked upon seeing the knife he’d tossed into the wreckage protruding from the shifter’s neck.

  Turning, he looked at the other attacker. Who was also dead.

  “Oh come on!” he complained. “That’s not fair!”

  “What’s not…” Gray’s voice died away as he appeared in the doorway. “What the fuck happened here?” His voice had instantly slipped into a command role.

  Braden told him what had happened, how the two had suddenly turned on Andrew, how he had jumped into the fray.

  “Is he dead?” Gray asked, moving to crouch down next to Andrew’s limp body.

  “Nah, just tranq’d I believe.”

  His legs suddenly gave out from under him and Braden slid bonelessly to the floor, his entire body feeling like rubber as exhaustion and pain hit him all at once. “Ow,” he said tiredly, reaching up with his thumbs and setting his nose. White lights exploded across his vision, but they quickly faded.

  By this point in his life Braden had broken his nose and set it himself more times than he cared to count. It was almost routine by now.

  “He still has a pulse,” Gray said after a moment. “He’ll be okay, though it might take a while.”

  “Not a dart,” Baden said tiredly.

  “What?”

  “It was a knife. Just the tip of it,” he said. “Can’t have gotten much tranq into him. Maybe an hour.”

  Gray nodded and shouted for the others. Braden struggled to his feet as they waited.

  “Whoa, easy there,” his boss said, reaching out a hand to try and keep him down.

  “No. I’m fine. I’ll be all right. Just bruises and cuts mainly,” he said, though part of him suspected his orbital bone had been fractured, judging by the way it was pulsating.

  “Okay, so what?” Gray asked. “What do you need to stand up for? Just relax.”

  “Gotta…gotta clean up,” he said wearily, pushing himself to his feet at last.

  “Pardon?”

  He gave Gray a weak smile. “You know how much Andrew hates a mess.”

  The other shifter began laughing uproariously. “You’ve got me there. But I have a sneaking suspicion that this time he might be willing to forgive you for it. Besides, he’ll probably be able to get a nice wooden desk out of this, instead of that cheap-ass plastic folding table he’s been using.”