Bear Prince: Shifter Paranormal Romance (Royal Bears Book 1) (2 page)

***

Hannah walked fast and kept her eyes open. This wasn’t the best part of the city, and it wasn’t the worst. No matter where a single woman went at night, it would be dangerous. If she were hurt, Hannah knew she wouldn’t be able to go home. Her parents would tell her any bad experience was a consequence of disobedience, a consequence of being a part of the ungodly world rather than staying safe in the community, away from technology and decadence. Hannah didn’t want technology or decadence, she just wanted to dance.

She drew her keys out of the duffel bag as she walked, preparing as she approached the building. She knew better than to stand there fumbling around in the dark advertising her presence as a potential victim.

“Hey, Hans, how’s it going?”

Her teeth clenched. Hannah kept walking as the voice called out to her. The sound of gym shoes across pavement let her know Harold was running to catch up. The manager of the building where she lived, he maintained a ground floor studio and made it his business to know the comings and goings of all the female tenants. He made her skin crawl.

She walked a little faster.

“Hey, wait up, I’m talking to you.”

Well, duh. That was why she was walking faster. She didn’t want him to talk to her. He seemed to think that she was just shy or something, and if he were obnoxious enough, she would take him up on the offer to spend some television time in his apartment.

“Didn’t hear you,” she lied when he drew alongside her. They were at the steps of the building by now. Hannah really didn’t know if she should wait for him to go ahead of her, or just dart up the stairs as quickly as possible. She didn’t want him behind her but she also didn’t want him to think her stillness was an invitation.

“Yeah, I think you did hear me,” he said.

He wore rumpled khakis and an oversized striped shirt. His age was indeterminate- somewhere between legal and old and horny.

“I don’t know what’s up with you, but I don’t like when a bitch thinks she can’t speak when I greet her.”

Hannah didn’t believe in smiling to diffuse a situation. Especially when an expletive rolled so casually off his tongue. As casually as her name. She stared at him, stony, then turned away. “Good night, Harold.”

He grabbed her upper arm.

“What are you doing?” Hannah didn’t like the high register of her voice- it screamed ‘victim’- but he’d startled her. First words, now actual touches.

“I just want to talk, Hans. Look, I know you don’t have any friends or family in the city-”

“I have friends. And a boyfriend. Who should be here any minute, so get your hand off me.”

His expression darkened with irritation. Hannah wondered if he just didn’t like rejection- or if he had a problem with women. She’d read about things like that. She’d gone to a public high school.

“You know, you could be more polite. I think maybe if I take you to my apartment, you’ll learn how to loosen up a bit.”

CHAPTER

2

The offer sounded as creepy as the man giving it. Sheltered though she was from her upbringing, she still wasn’t stupid.

“Hannah? Sorry I’m late, sweet.”

Hannah turned, eyes widening. The man from downtown- the aristocratic man with pale eyes and rakish dark hair. What was he doing here? Belatedly, she realized the bone he’d thrown her. Hoping she wasn’t jumping out of a hot pan into a roaring fire, Hannah tugged her arm away from Harold and smiled at the newcomer.

“It’s no problem, I just got home myself.”

The man slid an arm around her. Hannah stiffened then forced herself to relax. The arm was properly high on her waist, his hand resting in the curve right above her hip. None of the wandering fingers her mother warned her about. Well- mother had warned her about lots of things. Men, people who could turn into animals, credit cards... Hannah couldn’t decide which was supposed to be more dangerous. Debt or shifters or sex. But still, his arm pressed into her side with a shiver inducing strength. As if he really
was
her boyfriend.

“I’m Andrew,” the man said, looking at Harold. “Is there a problem?”

Harold’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

Andrew smiled, teeth... sharp. “Now you do.”

Hannah heard the bite in his tone, a subtle hint of danger like sharks churning beneath the surface of a lake. If sharks swam in lakes. In the middle of winter, under thin ice.

Andrew drew her past Harold. “Come Hannah, I’ll escort you to your door.”

“Don’t matter,” the manager said. “I’ve got keys.”

Andrew turned in response to the threat, expression mild. “Do you now?”

Harold’s thin smug smile sickened her. One moment Andrew’s hand was around her waist. The next, a fist flew through the air, connecting with Harold’s face with a sound Hannah hadn’t heard before. Well, there was that time Jessa’s husband fell while patching the roof and broke his leg. Like the crunch of a giant spider under a boot. She stifled a cringe.

Harold stumbled back several feet, clutching his nose. “You fucker! You just busted my nose.”

“I was hoping to deter you from threatening Hannah again,” Andrew said. “Good evening, sir.”

It was surreal. Andrew took her by the arm to turn her around when he stopped, fingers rising to press his temples. She saw the flash of a grimace, heard a muffled curse under breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He didn’t nod, just began to pull her along again. Hannah took a step, then went sprawling as the force of a shove knocked her into pavement. She twisted with the speed and litheness of a trained dancer in time to see Harold hit Andrew on the back of the head with a closed fist. Andrew dropped to his knees.

A strangled cry tore from her throat. “You
coward!
”

She flipped to her feet, righteous anger eclipsing her sense of self-preservation. Rage clenched her jaw as she launched herself at Harold. He grabbed her with the reflexes of one used to street fighting, attention still on Andrew, lying on the ground. She screamed, more a growl, and he thrust her away from him right as her foot connected with the spot on his shin her Daddy had taught her about.

“Shut that shit up!” he yelled, jumping away as he clutched his leg, swearing. “I didn’t- he’s not-”

The commotion drew attention. A head poked out of a second floor window.

“Hey, you want me to call the cops?”

Harold ran, turning to go back the way he’d originally come. Hannah knew he’d have to return eventually. She dropped to Andrew’s side, frantically feeling for a pulse. Exhaling in relief when it beat, strong and steady, under her two fingers.

“Andrew? Andrew, wake up.”

The slam of a glass door closing and soon the tenant was at her side. She didn’t know him by name, an older man who worked with his hands for a living by the state of them. She knew he had a wife.

“You okay, honey?”

“Harold is an ass,” she said, leaning over Andrew. “Andrew?”

Hannah helped him into a sitting position. His face was… well, whiter. She quailed at the thought of a strange man in her apartment, but her own sense of charity overwhelmed her. He was injured, and in her defense; he deserved her care.

He slurred something in a thick voice.

“I don’t understand you,” she said. “Just- try to stand. We’re taking you inside.”

They struggled, even though her neighbor wasn’t exactly weak looking. Taller than her, Andrew’s lean frame must have been comprised of dense bone and muscle because it was like lifting a beached whale. Or so she imagined. Hannah grunted under the weight of him leaning against her as they climbed up the steps of the building and into the lobby. The rickety elevator was out of order, so they had to take the stairs. He stumbled twice, eyes tightly closed. Hannah’s heart raced, but she forced herself to be calm.

“I’ll file a complaint with the management company,” the neighbor said. “That Harold needs to be fired already. Always messing with the young girls.”

He helped her settle Andrew onto the thrift store couch- beautifully covered in a new yellow couch cover- inside her apartment then left. Hannah placed a blue and white throw pillow under his head. His legs didn’t quite fit and dangled over the side a few inches. As she worked, entering the kitchenette area for a clean towel and ice, her natural calm reasserted itself. They didn’t have modern medicine in the community; injuries were dealt with utilizing common sense first aid, and prayer. There was a couple trained in things like bone setting and stitches- but every member knew how to treat simple wounds.

Hannah wrapped the towel around ice and knelt next to Andrew. The side of his face looked bruised- evidently he’d managed to turn fast enough to avoid a blow to the back of the head. His forehead was scraped where he’d collapsed onto the pavement. Hannah marveled Harold had enough strength in his lazy arm to fell a man this size. She put the towel on Andrew’s forehead. His eyes opened, just a little.

“Pain pills?” he whispered, grimacing. “Migraines. Apologies.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t keep medication.” Not even Tylenol for her period cramps.

He closed his eyes. Hannah watched him for a while, but he didn’t move. The silence in the apartment seemed less oppressive with him present. She heard television through the thin walls- her nightly entertainment aside from the stack of paperback books next to her mattress. Hannah wondered if she should ask a neighbor for help, but reasoned that if he was breathing, talking, and not bleeding he was fine… she’d had a cousin who suffered from migraines, though. They were horrible.

Hannah rose after a while and readied for bed, knowing there was nothing she could do. She was exhausted, choosing to forgo dinner. Stress robbed her of an appetite anyway- not that noodles were so delicious it hurt to pass them up. A quick shower and pair of worn sweats later, she laid down. In the morning she’d deal with Andrew. But it was hard to sleep.

***

He wasn’t better. It disturbed Hannah to see an obviously strong man, one who’d defended her, laid low with pain that carved fine lines into his face. She knew from experience to keep the apartment dark. Quiet wasn’t a problem. She couldn’t go to classes- how could she leave him alone? After an hour of watching him lay there, Hannah slipped out of the apartment and walked down the hall to a neighbor.

Knocking on the door, she waited while multiple chains were unlocked.

“Who’s at my door?” a dry, quavering voice asked.

“It’s Hannah, Mrs. Carter.”

“Girl, don’t you have school?”

Hannah grimaced. The elderly woman knew everyone’s business- and was just as ready to tell everyone hers. Especially when it came to the many ailments she suffered.

“I had to take the day off. My friend has a migraine and I don’t have anything for… him.” Hannah blushed, faltering, but made herself plough forward. “Do you have pills or something he can take?”

Mrs. Carter opened the door fully, a once tall woman now stooped with age, wearing neatly pressed sweats and fluffy house shoes.

“You got a man in your place? I thought you was better than that, girl. You need to focus on your education.”

“It’s not like that. He’s just a friend.”

“Huh. Well, come in. I’ve been known to have a headache or two. I can give you some stuff- or some
stuff
, if you know what I mean.” The old woman winked.

“Umm… I’ll just take the regular... stuff. Thanks.”

Mrs. Carter came back with a clear orange bottle of pills. “If he has migraines, he’ll know what this is. And you don’t miss another day of classes, you hear me? Won’t be dancing nowhere but a pole if you don’t get your education.”

Hannah fled, glad the hue of her skin hid the heat in her cheeks. She knew what poles were. She entered the apartment quietly, glancing over at the couch, and stopped.

“Andrew?”

A noise came from the bathroom. Crossing the living area, she pushed open the door. The light wasn’t on; Andrew knelt on the floor over the toilet.

“I’ve got some medication for you,” Hannah whispered, crouching next to him. She pressed the bottle in his hands and went to get him a glass of water. He took it when she returned, first rinsing his mouth and then downing a pill. After a minute he began to stand again, waving her off when she would have helped him.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning on the counter. “Do you mind if I stay here for a few more hours?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. I took off from school so if you need anything… can you eat?”

He began to walk back to the couch. “No, thank you. I just need rest and quiet. The migraine will leave in a few hours.”

Hannah spent the day focusing on her homework. Andrew slept, mostly, shifting restlessly every once in a while. He took another pill, drank more water, still refusing food. Not that she had much besides bread and noodles anyway. A few apples. If she missed work tonight, she really wouldn’t eat for the next few days. The money in the duffle bag was earmarked for rent.

It was early evening when she touched his shoulder, rousing him. He opened his eyes. The lines of strain on his face had smoothed somewhat, and his pale eyes - a summer sky blue- were able to focus on her face without looking glazed.

“I have to busk,” she said. “But I’ll bring food when I come back- you should really eat something.” She hesitated. “Is there anything you need?”

She hoped he said no, because she was broke. But he’d defended her and she felt obligated to see him back to health. The blow to his head must have triggered the migraine.

Andrew sat up, wrapping a hand around her wrist. “No, it isn’t safe. That… man… may feel inclined to retaliate against you.”

“I’ll be alright. I have to go or I won’t eat.”

His mouth tightened. “I’ll escort you.”

Hannah frowned, then tugged her wrist away from him. “That‘s not necessary,” she snapped. “I already owe you- wait.” She stared at him. “What were you doing here anyway?”

Duh. She felt a little stupid that it had only now occurred to her. Pink tinged his Slavic cheekbones.

“I wanted to invite you to meet my mother.”

Of all the reasons she’d expected to hear, had dreaded hearing because she liked him so far and didn’t want him to ruin it by saying something untoward, this wasn’t it.

“Your mother?”

He sighed, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes. “Yes, my mother. She… is on the board of a charity that supports talented young dancers. I sent her a video of you dancing and she wanted to meet you.”

“You recorded me?”

Andrew opened his eyes, watching her face.

“Shouldn’t I charge you for that?” Though her somber expression didn’t change, her eyes glowed with humor.

Andrew smiled. “As far as not eating… allow me to provide us with a meal tonight.” He saw her expression and shook his head. “I understand you think you owe me. You don’t. The initial debt was paid when you allowed me to sleep on your couch. You are now in the territory of above and beyond the call of duty. So-” his voice and eyes firmed “-you’ll forgo busking tonight and I’ll reimburse you for your care, and we will go together to pick out something for a meal. I’m afraid I’m not up to a restaurant.”

Hannah shook her head. “You don’t look like you’re up to clomping around a grocery store, and we’d have to take the bus to get somewhere decent. There are only corner stores and gas stations in this area.”

He stood slowly. “We’ll take a cab. I won’t take no for an answer…” he paused. “... Hannah.”

She lowered her eyes.

Andrew watched her, a small smile on his lips. Pained, but genuine. “A sweet, classic name. It suits you. Shall we?”