Gray Back Broken Bear(12)

“I met Willa and the others in the bathroom,” Ana said softly, following his gaze. “They seem nice.”

“Then why are you so afraid of us?”

That part he couldn’t figure out. If she was a shifter groupie, she’d be more brazen. Instead, she was clutching her drink and sitting at the opposite edge of her barstool.

“Because you’re a bear shifter.”

“And you’re scared of shifters?”

She nodded.

He stared at her for a long time. She was beautiful, smart, and shy, and obviously terrified to be this close to him, so why was she talking to him in the first place?

“Is this some sort of dare or bet?” he asked, scanning the room. Kong lifted his beer in the corner from a table he sat at with his Lowlander Crew, but other than that, no one was watching them that he could tell. “Are your friends taking pictures or something? I don’t do social media, and I’m rarely on the Internet, so that shit won’t hurt me.”

“I’d never hurt you,” she said on a rushed breath.

He jerked his gaze back to her. Truth. Every word she’d just uttered had been laced with honesty. Who the fuck was this girl? And why wasn’t his bear a snarling mess inside of him like he was every other minute of his life? He set the beer bottle down and backed off the stool. “Why would you want to talk to me? And don’t give me the handsome line. I know what I am, and I know what I ain’t. Mixed up, bloodletting berserker at the mercy of my alpha’s patience. But you’re too good to be sitting next to some crazy lumberjack grizzly shifter.”

Ana was clutching her purse now, and as she slid off her chair, she looked like she was going to cry. Human women are like that. Soft and full of tears. She was little and helpless, like he used to be, and now his protective instincts were kicking in for a woman he couldn’t afford to get attached to.

She wasn’t a Gray Back. Would never be a Gray Back because all the boys were mated. Except you.

Easton took a step back. His bear had the right of it—afraid and quiet around this dangerous little creature.

Easton spun to escape Sammy’s Bar—to escape Ana—but Willa stood in his way, a pissed off little hellion. She blasted her fists on her hips. “Ask her to dance.”

“What? No.”

Willa’s usually happy brown eyes narrowed to dangerous little slits. “Yes, she’s soft, Easton, yet somehow, she found the courage to come over here and talk to your scary ass. I like her. If you hurt her feelings, I’ll break your fucking leg.”

He made an angry clicking sound behind his teeth. “You already broke my leg.” And he had the permanent limp to prove it.

Willa’s eyebrows wrenched upward. “You have two legs. I can play that game twice.”

He growled at her and turned around. “Do you want to dance?” he muttered to Ana, his words gravelly.

Ana’s pretty blue eyes had somehow gotten even bigger. They took stock of half her fucking adorable face now. “I think so?”

“Great.” Easton grabbed her hand and tried not to crush her fingers and break all her bones as he led her to the empty dancefloor.

This was the part where Creed, Matt, and Jason usually fought their mates. Empty dancefloors with one couple drew too much attention, but Easton gave exactly zero fucks who watched him. Beaston was his name and town crazy was his game, and he’d accepted the stares a long time ago.

Gia had picked a slow song, and with a frustrated snarl in his throat, he turned around and pulled Ana’s hand to his shoulder, then held her other one out to his side and swayed back and forth.

Ana was holding her breath and had gone pale as a sheet. And now he wanted to kill whatever was upsetting her, but unfortunately, the only danger to her was him. His head was so mixed up. He shook it hard and tried to focus on not touching her too hard. She would turn to ashes and blow away in a stiff wind if he did.

“Breathe,” he demanded.

She inhaled deeply as a tremble shook her shoulders.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t, so you don’t have to be scared.”

Her hands were miniature against his, and for the first time when he straightened to his full height, he got the chance to see how tiny she was next to him. It was almost laughable. He had a foot on her and a hundred pounds of muscle, at least. She squeezed his hand, and he drew up short. Wait, he was touching her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked low, her eyes so big and vulnerable. She gave away every emotion with them.

He’d stopped dancing, so he picked it up again. Side to side as he held Ana as gently as a dried sand dollar.

She cleared her throat and looked around. Everyone was staring, but he didn’t care. Ana, however, seemed to wither under the attention. “You dance very well,” she whispered.