Breakwater: Rick (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) (Star Bears Book 2) (105 page)

The four bodyguards at the cage were moving closer to the cage, guns out, trying to keep it safe.
 
The two at the far door were moving quick, shifting and sniffing out Franklin's location.
 
A dart exploded from the darkness, catching one in the side.
 
He went down quick, but the other shifter was on Franklin before Cheryl could blink.

Then Derrick was up on his feet, grabbing his bodyguard and squeezing with a sickening crunch that Cheryl could hear from her location high above.
 
Clive reached through the cage, grabbing one of the men too close to the bars, and he was dead, too.

But the surviving shifters moved away from the cage, hunting Franklin down.
 
And then Ramsey screamed, “Come out now or he's dead!” and Cheryl looked back at Derrick, seeing him on his knees, nose streaming blood, a gun held to his head.

Cheryl watched as Franklin lowered himself to the ground, giving himself up.
 
And Cheryl realized that she was the only one left.

“Brock!” Emma screamed, rushing at the bars.
 
Franklin was tossed inside of the cage roughly.
 
Emma gave him a hug, making sure he was okay.
 
Cheryl watched, trying to figure out her best plan.

“Shift, you damn idiots.
 
Make sure there's no one else.
 
I bet that bitch of his is around here somewhere!” Ramsey commanded, lowering his weapon, but still holding it dangerously close to Derrick's head.
 
The bears lifted their heads, sniffing, following Franklin's scent, trying to find if there was anyone else in the room.
 
Cheryl had only a few seconds before they picked up on her scent.

She lined up the gun again.
 
She was a farther away than before, but aiming the gun, she thought she could shoot at least two of the shifters, if not three.
 
It would be up to Derrick to do the rest.
 
She couldn't get a clear shot on Ramsey with Derrick in the way, so she settled for those closest to her.
 
She took a few deep breaths.
 
This was the time that would prove that they were important.
 
Or it wouldn't, Cheryl thought, and pulled the trigger.

The first bear dropped immediately.
 
Cheryl aimed at the second bear, but he was moving fast and was ready for her shot.
 
She fired and his lumbering form dodged out of the way, faster than she thought would have been possible.
 
She fired again, and missed a second time.
 
And he was shifting back to a human, climbing the ladder to her location, knowing exactly where she was.

She pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.
 
Shit! she thought, realizing she forgot to reload.
 
Behind the man climbing the ladder, she caught a glimpse of Derrick.
 
He had shifted, as had Ramsey, and the two were grappling on the floor.
 
The other two shifters were closing in on them.

The odds aren't in his favor, Cheryl thought, but realized she had to focus on her own problems.
 
Then she would help him.
 
The man was sprinting at her down the catwalk.
 
She took a couple of steps backwards, fumbling with extra darts, trying to reload the rifle.

And he was on her.
 
He lashed out, his hand striking her in the side of the head.
 
She dropped to her knees, ducking under his next swing.
 
There was no time for her to reload the rifle.
 
He came at her again, and she swung the rifle like a bat.
 
Unprepared, the shifter only had enough time for a look of surprise to cross his face before the stock crashed into his temple.
 
He tumbled over the railing, dazed.

Cheryl turned to look at Derrick, and was pulled from her feet as the man latched onto her ankle.
 
She lost her balance, sliding between the catwalk flooring and the railing, striking her chin on the catwalk as she fell.
 
She reached a hand out, blind with pain, her fingers managing to catch the edge of the metal as she screamed.

She felt her fingers slipping, so she kicked out, her foot colliding with the shifter's face.
 
With a scream of pain, he fell, screeching as he fell onto the hard concrete floor.
 
Cheryl looked away right before he hit the ground with a sickening noise.
 
She reached up, trying to get a grip, but it was pointless.
 
She was too weak, too tired, and too far down to pull herself back up.

She looked over at where Derrick had been fighting the other shifters.
 
She hoped to catch one last glance at him before she died.
 
Bodies were strewn across the ground, but she couldn't make it out what had happened.
 
At least we gave it a good shot, she thought, and slipped.

She didn't scream as she fell.
 
She didn't have time to.
 
She fell for a split second before a hand reached over the edge of the catwalk, gripping her wrist with surprising strength.
 
A face peered over the edge, bloody, yet smiling.

Derrick.

He pulled her up onto the catwalk, holding her close.
 
She kissed him, hugged him.

“I was sure I was going to die,” she said.

“You still are,” a voice growled from their side.
 
Ramsey stood next to them, striding forward.
 
He looked even worse than he had before.
 
“You should have finished me off when you had the chance.”

He grabbed Derrick by the throat, lifting him up over the railing.
 
Derrick reached out, grabbing Ramsey's arms, flailing and coughing.
 
And Cheryl reached into her pocket, grabbing the only dart that hadn't fallen out and picking up the rifle.
 
She reloaded and pulled the trigger.

The dart caught Ramsey in the chest.
 
He looked down, surprise in his face.
 
His grip weakened.
 
Derrick grabbed the railing, holding himself unsteadily, trying to catch his breath.
 
Cheryl had expected Ramsey to drop immediately, but for whatever reason, he didn't.

He stumbled forward, moving back towards Derrick, ready to push him off the ledge.
 
Cheryl took two steps forward, pushing his large form from behind, and watched as he tried to catch his balance.
 
In his severely sedated form, however, it wasn't enough.
 
His hand gripped her arm but slipped.
 
He let out an ear shattering roar, tumbling over the railing.
 
He made a weak attempt to grab Derrick next, who simply shrugged him off, and he was gone.

Cheryl pulled Derrick over the railing, dropping to the catwalk.
 
Tears were rolling down her face.
 
She ran her hands through Derrick's hair.

“Don't cry,” he whispered.
 
“We did great.”

“I know,” she whispered back.
 
“I'm just so happy.”

The next day, Cheryl found herself a different woman.
 
She couldn't quite pin what it was that made her feel different, but she was certain she was.
 
Was it that she'd been forced into a life or death situation, and had proved herself, saving everyone else?
 
Or was it finally that things were finally going her way?
 
Was it Derrick himself?

After the ordeal late last night, everyone in attendance had agreed that the wedding should not be postponed.
 
Sergeant Franklin had called in backup immediately after Derrick had undone the cage.
 
The few surviving members of Ramsey's Clan had swiftly been taken into custody.
 
Cheryl didn't think they would be causing any problems anytime soon.

Marcus had run off after he made sure her and Derrick were okay.
 
As the Clan Leader, he'd had to assess the damage to the Clan and handle the burnt down headquarters.
 
Emma helped her fellow officers with the arrests and paperwork.
 
Most of the others had moved off to get a few hours of much needed sleep, with the exception of Russ and Zoe, who fussed over Derrick.

Once they had agreed he was fine, Derrick lead Cheryl out to his truck.
 
They climbed inside, driving to Derrick's house, the closest place they could crash for a few hours.
 
Neither had bothered to change out of their dirty clothes before collapsing on his bed.
 
Cheryl had managed to wrap her fingers through Derrick's, but then exhaustion took over, and she was out.

She found herself standing in Derrick's bathroom, steam fogging the mirror after a much needed shower.
 
She felt a little guilty: she had a bad feeling she'd used up all of the hot water and she felt bad for Derrick, who was downstairs in his basement bathroom.

Cheryl wiped the mirror, getting a good look at herself.
 
She had a few bruises on an arm from where she'd been grabbed by Ramsey, and her ankle was sore, but other than that, she looked and felt fine.
 
She was surprised to find that despite being exhausted, she didn't look it.
 
Today is going to be a good day, after all, she thought.

The door to the bathroom opened and Derrick stepped in.
 
He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his toned body still wet.
 
Cheryl took a few seconds to admire his form, watching as his muscles rippled across his body.

“Don't you knock?” she teased.
 
His golden eyes moved over every curve of her and she could see him imagining what she would look like if she dropped the towel,
right now
.

“Don't you lock the door?” was his response.
 
He came to her, his huge body pushing against hers, and she could feel his warmth radiating off of him.
 
She leaned against the counter, leaning back as he leaned forward, keeping his lips an inch from hers.
 
When she could lean back no further, she smiled and he smiled, and she
knew
it was something she could grow used to.

He placed his lips against hers, softly and perfectly.
 
She remembered their kiss last night, but it had been full of uncertainty, danger, and worry.
 
With this kiss, every worry had been lifted and Cheryl let herself be drawn completely into it.

She trailed a finger along his spine and he shuddered in pleasure, goosebumps breaking out across his perfect body.
 
Placing her lips against his neck, she kissed and sucked, listening to his moans echo in the small bathroom.
 
Her lips kissed up his chin, his cheek, finishing on his ear lobe.
 
When she bit gently, he reached his hands up, undoing her towel.
 
It fell to the floor with barely a sound.

Derrick pulled his head back, admiring her form.
 
Cheryl wasted no time in undoing the towel wrapped around his waist, and soon, they were both naked, skin pressing on skin.
 
Cheryl could feel the stiffness between his legs pressing against her stomach, growing hard and thick.
 
She wanted to reach a hand down and grab it, doing whatever she wanted, but she managed to resist – for a few seconds at least.

Derrick's hands gently grabbed her by each side of her head, running his fingers through her hair, just above her ears.
 
She looked into his golden eyes and when he whispered, “You are perfect,” she knew he meant it.
 
She couldn't help but smile, warmth bubbling up through her body.
 
He kissed her gently on the lips, then down to her neck, then her chest.
 
His hands grasped her breasts, finger gently dancing over an areola.
 
She felt it hardening underneath his deft touch.
 
Then his mouth was on her other breast, kissing, licking, sucking every inch of exposed flesh.

He was down on his knees, kissing and sucking, moving down to the special place between her legs.
 
Cheryl ran her hands through his hair, closing her eyes and leaning back against the sink as his lips left a wet trail down her stomach, stopping for a split second at her navel, before moving on.

Derrick's mouth kissed just above her wetness, his tongue dipping into her, and Cheryl bucked forward in pleasure.
 
His lips moved off, kissing down her left thigh, down to her knee, and then jumping to her other one before moving back up.
 
His lips would get inches from her slit before dancing away, leaving her begging for more.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Derrick's lips closed around her, his tongue sliding against her clit.
 
Moans rushed out of Cheryl's mouth, her hands grabbing Derrick's hair and holding him in place.
 
His lips were hitting all of the perfect places, his tongue moving exactly where she wanted, dipping deep into her and tasting her before sliding against her place of pleasure.