SHIFTER: Marine Bear (MMA Fighter Bears Series Book 1) (Werebear Bear Shapeshifter Fantasy Paranormal Romance) Read online

  Table of Contents

  MARINE BEAR

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

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  RANCHER BEAR SERIES

  Copyright © 2016 by Candace Ayers.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This book is intended for adult readers only.

  Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.

  MARINE BEAR

  Chapter 1

  Hunter stepped into the bar and immediately scanned the darkened room for any signs of danger. He wasn't expecting it, but old habits die hard. If the Marines had taught him anything, it was to always be alert, always be on the ready. But, the room was simply tired and dank, much like his soul.

  No danger.

  No salvation either.

  Hunter took a seat at the bar. "Whiskey. Neat." His gravelly voice sailed sharply through the air. A slender woman with long bleached-blonde hair turned and looked his way. He ignored her.

  The bartender nodded and placed a glass before him. The liquid burned his throat but he relished the burn. The only time he felt anything these days was when the liquor burned or the punches landed squarely against his jaw. He raised his hand to his chin, touching the tender spot where his brother, Ethan, had recently gotten in a good one. Business at their martial arts gym was booming and spots in the ring were filled on a daily basis. Hunter always made sure to fight in at least three of them.

  The blonde at the end of the bar sauntered over and set her drink down next to his.

  "Well, hello there," she purred, laying one hand suggestively over his. "I'm Trixie."

  Hunter snickered. If ever there was a name that screamed hooker, it was Trixie. "That your real name?" he asked her. He couldn’t help himself. "Or are you just working this joint?"

  She frowned and yanked her hand away. "I'm not sure I get your meaning," she said.

  He looked at her and saw a flash of anger in her eyes. Maybe he'd been wrong about her. "Sorry," he mumbled, focusing his attention back on his drink. The bartender came around and poured him a fresh one.

  Trixie smiled again and replaced her hand over his. Hers was so small and delicate it made his own look like a mutant giant’s hand in comparison. That was one thing about being a bear shifter that had bothered him when he'd first joined the military—his size. He was a big guy and his hands were so big that at first he'd sometimes fumbled when firing his weapon. Eventually, though, he'd learned to use his hands to his advantage and had become one of the top ranking marksmen in his unit. But, to this day, if given a choice, he'd always choose hand to hand combat over weaponry.

  At the opposite end of the room, a man with dark hair and a razor-sharp, high-pitched voice sat at a table with his buddies. Beside him was a beautiful red head, no older than maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. The man cackled loudly and called for a waitress.

  "Hey toots!" he yelled. "A fresh round for me and the guys." He slapped the red head's thigh and she flinched, turning her face away. Her eyes met Hunter's and for a second anger boiled inside him. A deep purple ring circled her right eye. A short, red slit sat atop her lip where it had been previously split open. She stared at Hunter a moment longer, her blue eyes swallowing his brown ones. He felt her plea. The man she was with yanked her hair and pulled her towards him, sloppily kissing her to the amusement of his friends, who hollered out adolescent catcalls.

  Hunter turned his head away.

  It was none of his business.

  "So what do you think?" Trixie asked. Walking her fingers up his forearm, working her way up towards his bicep.

  Hunter swallowed his second round and looked her over again. His original assessment had been correct. Yep. Trixie was a working girl. Her platinum hair glowed artificially under the lights of the bar. Like the rest of her, it was fake. He could see the dark roots, and her extensions were a little too worn to pass for natural anymore. Still, she was attractive enough in a cheap, trashy sort of way.

  "What happened to you?" Trixie asked, staring at the scar that started at his palm and ran all the way up the back of his arm ending in an explosion of scar tissue enveloping the rear of his shoulder and rear part of his neck. He ignored her question. No use explaining war to someone who's never been in one.

  "How much?" he asked her.

  "Two hundred," she said, batting her fake lashes.

  He hadn't been in a relationship since before Afghanistan, and that wasn’t about to change. He was in no condition to offer a woman anything, not with his broken bear and all. Besides, the last thing he needed in his life was the type of complication that involvement with a woman invariably brought. Trixie’s type was good for some much needed comfort with no hassle, and no strings.

  "Alright," he said. "I'm gonna take a leak and when I get back we can blow this place."

  "Cash up front," she told him.

  "I'd expect nothing less," he said, winking at her.

  Hunter stood up and walked past the table where the red head had been sitting. She and her boyfriend were gone, but the guy’s buddies still sat there, laughing and making snide comments.

  "I bet she's blowing him right now. If Mike ever lets me get a turn with her—"

  "You kidding? Mike would kill you if you so much as looked at Casey sideways."

  "Yeah, but that doesn't stop me from picturing her red hair flowing down around my thighs. That bitch is hot. If Mike didn't want us thinking like that, he wouldn't do the things he does in front of us. He wants us to be jealous."

  "Yeah, Mike's a real shithead like that, ain't he?" The three men laughed and Hunter reigned in his temper once more. An old memory poked through his consciousness—his mother's sad, tired eyes and his father screaming profanities at her as he slammed her head through a wall. Hunter's hands balled into fists, but he continued heading for the bathroom.

  The hallway was darker than the rest of the bar and as he was pushing the door to the men's room open, he heard a whimper. His head snapped around, and his body coiled to strike, ready to defend himself against whatever danger lay hidden in the blackness at the end of the corridor. Gradually, as his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he could make out two figures. The woman’s back dug against the wall as a man pinned her by the neck. It was the read head, Casey, and her boyfriend.

  "Now you listen to me you fucking cunt, the next time I tell you to do something, you fucking do it."

  "Mike, please, I'm sorry..." she choked out.

  Mike's fist flew out and struck her face with a loud cra
cking sound. The back of her head slammed against the wall and she let out a soft cry. It was the practiced cry of a woman who's been beaten a thousand times over— controlled enough not to draw attention from other patrons, loud enough to let her assailant know he'd hit his mark.

  Hunter didn't think. Instincts took over and he was across the hall in one great, long stride. His left arm swung out and clocked Mike with a satisfying thud and the guy fell to the ground without protest. Casey stared wide eyed in shock and wonder. Hunter grinned, standing over Mike's limp body.

  "The next time you hit a lady," Hunter growled, "make sure it's not in front of a Marine."

  Chapter 2

  Casey stared at the chiseled outline of a huge golden-skinned man in his late twenties with short, bronze hair and deep brown eyes. She'd noticed him when he'd entered the bar—of course she had, a man of his size and stature would stand out anywhere. But was it his looks or something deeper that had drawn her eyes to him? Whatever it was, her attraction was magnetic.

  Her heart thumped hard in her chest as the man hovered over Mike. Casey noticed the scar on the back of his arm. The injury that left a scar like that must have been excruciatingly painful. The back of his shirt had a familiar logo. It was that of a nearby martial arts gym. She'd passed the place at least a dozen times on her way to classes. The man had referred to himself as a Marine which explained his tough guy demeanor, but to her, it didn't explain why he would suddenly choose to help her- a total stranger. Most people looked the other way.

  "Why did you do that?" Casey’s words came out broken and raspy through her raw throat. The man looked like a chiseled statue, a golden god of some sort. Golden Guy she thought to herself.

  "Your boyfriend's a cocksucker," he said.

  The frankness of his words startled her. Even Casey's parents, who she hadn't seen in almost two years—both because Mike hated them and because she didn’t want them seeing the bruises— never called Mike names. Strangely, it felt good to Casey to hear someone say it, and so bluntly.

  "Look," Golden Guy said. "I don't know you or your boyfriend, but I know a woman in trouble when I see one. Get yourself a new boyfriend. One who's gonna respect you. A real man would never treat a woman that way."

  Casey rolled her eyes. Everyone’s got a damned opinion. Everyone thinks they know what she should do as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Casey couldn't argue that Mike didn’t deserve that punch. God knows she'd longed to do that to him herself for years.

  If she'd known early on that Mike would control every aspect of her life, and treat her as his personal punching bag, she never would have stuck around. Looking back, there might have been some signs of possessiveness, extreme jealousy, and there was that time he'd grabbed her wrist when she'd tried to get out of his car during an argument. But at eighteen and pregnant, she hadn’t felt as though she’d had many options.

  "And you have the official word on what constitutes a real man, do you?" she demanded. The guy may have been the only man who had ever defended her, but she didn't like the way his words were heavily laden with judgement. He knew nothing about her life. Mike moaned from the floor and she glanced down at him.

  "You deserve better is all," the Marine said holding up his hands in front of himself in a gesture of surrender. "But, it's none of my business if you want to let someone turn your beautiful face into a bloody mess."

  Casey blushed. It was an insult rolled into a compliment, and she didn't know how to respond. "If it's none of your business, then why did you hit him?" she blurted out. She wasn’t sure why she said that. She knew she was being unfair, and she should just drop it. Thank the guy and let him go. But as much as she wanted him to leave before Mike came to, she also didn’t want to see him go. As her eyes scanned his powerful physique, she could feel her blood pulsing through her veins and collecting at the apex between her thighs. Damn, the man’s size, power, and sheer raw strength combined was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Yep, magnetic alright.

  He stared back at her, his eyes uncertain. "I couldn’t just watch him… I thought you needed help. Should've minded my own business. Your boyfriend's an asshat." He repeated, shaking his head.

  They stared at one another for several seconds. "He's not my boyfriend," Casey finally mumbled.

  He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  "He's my husband."

  Golden Guy's eyes widened slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a slow breath. Casey hated seeing that look in his eyes— disappointment, as though she'd somehow failed him.

  "Like I said,” he spoke quietly, “None of my business." He moved away from her.

  "Wait," she called after him down the hallway, "What's your name?" she asked softly. She couldn't let him leave without at least knowing.

  He turned and stood facing her in a relaxed stance, legs shoulder width, arms folded across his chest, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up. "Hunter. Major Hunter Maddox, USMC."

  Casey watched his expression fall as if in slow motion as she simultaneously felt a hand grab her shoulder spinning her around. Mike was standing behind her, his face a contorted mask of anger. He slapped her hard across her cheek. She thought she felt a tooth crack.

  Hunter was back down the hallway in a shot.

  "No!" Casey cried, standing between Hunter and Mike, who she knew was ready for a fight. Although smaller and scrawnier, Mike was a lot tougher than Hunter probably realized. Casey was certain that the only reason that Hunter had laid him out so easily was because he'd been taken by surprise. That wouldn't be the case this time.

  Besides, even if Hunter flattened Mike like a pancake, it would be her and Tommy who had to deal with Mike’s ire later. She pictured her son's small, innocent face. His blue eyes filled with terror. Mike had never hit Tommy, but there was a first time for everything. She was already worried about what the little boy’s three-year-old mind suffered every time he saw his daddy beat on his mommy. She didn't want to make things worse. Better Mike got out all of his aggression on her, here in the bar, rather than later at home when Tommy was around.

  "Just leave us alone," she shouted at Hunter. "You already said it—this is none of your business."

  She saw the conflict in his eyes, and what looked like pain mixed with anger. It was obvious to her that it was against this man’s nature to leave a woman in trouble. Casey was certain he was a natural protector. His lips curved into a snarl and his eyes shone with a bright, unnatural orange glow. Casey thought it must be an optical illusion causing his eyes to glow.

  Hunter released what sounded like a low growl, turned on his heel and took long purposeful strides towards the door. Trixie was still waiting for him at the bar, but he passed her without a second glance.

  Casey's heart hurt as Hunter walked away. For a brief moment she’d glimpsed what it might be like to feel protected and cared for by a man.

  She hung her head and turned back to her husband, bracing herself for impact.

  Chapter 3

  Hunter spat on the floor as his younger brother, Scott, backed away from him in the ring. It was an error on Scott's part. Retreat was never the answer. Scott had just opened himself up for the roundhouse kick Hunter was preparing to execute.

  "No," their older brother, Ethan, shouted. "Scott, move towards him, not away. What the hell are you doing?"

  Scott was twenty-four and although their three-year age difference wasn't much, it was enough to give Hunter the upper hand. Scott turned towards Ethan, realization in his eyes, as Hunter spun into his kick.

  It was just as Hunter's head swiveled around that he spotted Casey. Her red hair and curvaceous body stood out against the backdrop of their no-frills gym like a bright rainbow on a dark, stormy night. Hunter's heart skipped a beat. For a second, he forgot where he was and what he was doing. What is she doing here? She looked up at him and smiled just as Scott's foot collided with Hunter's face.

  "Oh!" Casey gasped as Hunter fell to the ground. Scott st
ood over him, grinning.

  "Yessss!" Scott shouted triumphantly.

  Ethan stepped into the ring and looked at Hunter with a mixture of irritation and amusement. "What the hell was that?" he asked Hunter, helping him up. "I thought you had him." Scott was dancing around the ring, laying it on thick. He'd never knocked Hunter to the ground before.

  Hunter stood up, eyes glued to Casey who lingered in the back of the gym away from the ring. Ethan's eyebrows lifted.

  "Hmmm," the corner of Ethan’s mouth curled into a slight smirk. "Interesting."

  Hunter ignored him and made his way towards Casey. He'd dreamt of her last night. It was the first dream he'd had since Afghanistan that didn't involve bullets or the gory memory of his buddies blown to bits.

  He sometimes wondered if it was his nightmares that prevented his bear from emerging—they were so vivid. It was as though he was reliving that day over and over again. The fire, the cries for help. Hunter had shifted, even though it had exposed his identity as a shifter. That hadn’t been a concern at the time. All he'd cared about at that moment was getting his friends out. Then, he'd been struck by a bullet and the fire had consumed him too. Now, his bear was broken, hidden away somewhere deep. The war did that, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to coax his bear out again.

  Hunter’s smile was genuine. "Hi there," he greeted Casey when he'd gotten close enough for her to hear. Damn, he’d thought she was attractive at the bar, but in the light of day, it was clear that attractive was a gross understatement. He took in her soft, lush curves, big blue eyes and thick, shoulder length red hair. The woman was stunning. No wonder he hadn’t been able to get his mind off of her. He also noticed the fresh bruise on her cheek that even makeup couldn’t completely cover. She shuffled her feet and looked around.

  "Hi," she replied. Her eyes darted to the ground and back up to him. "I didn’t introduce myself last night. Casey Winston."

  She held out her hand and when Hunter took it his, an overwhelming surge of energy seemed to sizzle and crackle along his nerve endings, shooting up his arm and through his body like a lightning bolt. He was momentarily stunned speechless. When she pulled her hand away, it was gone, but his curiosity lingered.