Brave Bear Mated(5)

Theron swallowed hard, glancing over to see Thames shrinking even lower. How much could they take? How low was their lowest?

“They attacked us unprovoked,” Theron repeated. “We only defended ourselves when our animals told us to.”

“Ah,” she nodded slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. “So your bears attacked my men?”

Theron looked at his brother for help. What was the right answer? But Thames had already mentally checked out, waiting for their punishment to begin.

“Y-Yes,” Theron said. “Yes, because they wouldn’t let us continue to be beaten. They protect us.”

But this only seemed to make her angrier. And a second too late, Theron realized why. She wanted them to have nothing and no one. No one to keep them safe, no one to love them. Except she couldn’t control their animals. The bears would be with them always. The bears would fight their battles. Take the heat when they couldn’t take another second of it.

“Bring me the belt,” she said low, but every ear in the audience heard. Her voice quivered with hate, vibrating with the nearness of her cruel and brutal animal.

One of the guards passed over the long strap of leather often used for public beatings. It was stained with the blood of past victims. Theron vaguely wondered how much of that brownish red belonged to him.

Achingly slow, she stepped down off the dais and made her way over to them.

“If your bears come out, mine will too,” she warned. “And I’m not the Mother Bear because I care whether you live or not. My bear likes blood. I’ll kill you dead if we go animal to animal. This is your only warning.”

With that, she drew the belt back over her shoulder and released it with a sharp forward motion. The leather whistled through the air and when it hit Theron, the pain was a blistering sting across the side of his face.

The first hit was always the worst. The shock hurt more than the actual pain, though that was bad. But the next hit, and the next, came quickly so the first was dust in the rearview mirror.

Theron stood as still as he could, absorbing the Mother Bear’s blows as she focused on his face and neck. Soon enough, she would move on to his body. The thin, ratty clothes he wore wouldn’t act as much of a cushion. And even though he was big because of the animal that lived in him, his bones ached from sleeping on the ground and never having enough food. He’d rather she keep hitting him in the head.

The belt snapped across his ear, the sound of the blow almost deafening. Somehow he held in his groan. He had to be strong. Had to make it through. For Thames.

For… himself. And any possible hope at a future.

Damn hope.

His bear stirred inside, growing angrier with each painful lash. Blood opened back up from his injured lip, streaming down his chin and splattering when Mother Bear landed another slap from the leather.

The humiliation burned him up inside. They were all watching him be beat, and he was unable to fight back. A man—as he was one now—should be allowed to fight back. Children were punished. Not men. Men were their own. Made their own decisions. But right now he was reduced to lower than a child. Because no child deserved to be beat. No matter what their crime.

Scum. He was reduced to scum. Only scum was beaten to bloody before an audience of their kind.

Or something even lower.

Theron vibrated with the effort to hold in his bear. A threatening growl lived in his chest even though he heard Thames saying, “Hold it, brother. Think of something else. Something good.”

And he tried. But there was nothing to think of. Their parents. His intended mate. His shamble of a home. Everything hurt his heart.

The echoing laughter of the two young males behind him was another lash to his soul, which hurt just as bad as the bloody welts on his body. It was just too much.

Enough, his bear roared inside. We fight.

There was a moment where Theron wanted to tell Thames sorry. Sorry for not being stronger. Sorry for trying to explain their offense. Just sorry. Because the Mother Bear would surely kill him for this. But the prospect of relief was enough to make him forget his apology.

Death. He was ready.

His body shook and contorted as he let his bear have control. With a powerful shift of the air, lean muscle became bulk, tattered skin became fur, fingers became razor sharp, six inch claws. And the growl in his chest became a ferocious, ear-splitting roar. He stood tall on his hind legs, towering over Mother Bear’s human form. He roared his fury, spittle flying in her face.

You’ll never beat me again.

She tossed the leather aside with a snarled twist of her aging lips. Her glaring eyes flickered with the nearness of her animal, a full grown grizzly who’d defeated many in order to claim the title of Mother of the Deadclaw Clan.