“I’m guessing you have a plan?” Rogue asked, sounding strong and confident despite what Jill knew was a heavy, pained, heart. He swept his head to the side, his gaze lingering on Jill for a second.
Draven nodded. “There’s a chopper waiting. GlasCorp thinks I’m patrolling for you, as you heard. My using it won’t seem strange. At least until we fly off their radar and I drop you off four hundred miles away and then try to get the hell out of here before I catch a load of silver buckshot in the face.”
Warmth crept from her chest to her belly, then eased around her sides. The look on Rogue’s face was different than it had been before. He wasn’t watching her with hungry lust, or a desperate need to feel her, inside and out. His one amber eye and his one deep blue were watching her and getting strength.
He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes for a moment. By the time he opened them, he had looked to the cubs, then to King. “Why are you helping us?” Rogue asked Draven, but not looking his way. “Why put yourself in danger?”
The old man laughed through his nose, the sort of laugh only a person who has seen the actual end of the world, and is listening to someone worry about something nowhere near it, can produce. It was dry, but not uncaring. It was just... tired. “I’ve done a lot of things that not many people understood. They were always for the clan, though. I just had a,” he paused, thinking over his words. “I had a peculiar way of going about them. I waited as long as I could. Waited until you had her.”
Draven’s icy eyes cooled the warmth in Jill’s chest, but again, they weren’t cruel or unfeeling. She could just feel his hard strength pulsing through her. What had they done to him? Hell, who was he? Why does he know who I am? She blinked away the questions. There would be another time for that, she knew, or at least hoped.
Just like before, his mention of Jill and waiting until the bears had her went without a mention. That syrupy feeling from earlier came back, except added to it was a fuzzy sort of detachment that settled over Jill’s mind.
The cubs began to move, Rogue and King dropped her hand. Rogue went in the front, King in the back. Jill found herself swallowed up into the midst of the cubs. One of them grabbed her hand while another couple of innocent-eyed bears grabbed a belt loop on her jeans, or stuck a finger in her pocket.
A few of the older ones still regarded her with cool looks, but even those older ones with the understandable skepticism, were standing closer to her. Whatever it was that Rogue and King felt, whatever safety or security or closeness they had to Jill obviously ran in the clan, because the further they went on their silent walk, the more tightly packed the cubs became.
The tighter they huddled the more hands that found their way into or onto some part of Jill’s anatomy. Some of the cubs just grabbed some part of her clothing and hung, some just watched her, and some needed to feel her skin, so they held a wrist or a finger or whatever they could find.
Once, when Rogue had looked back to see the growing clump of comforted bear cubs, he’d given her a brief smile – the first she’d seen since the firestorm. Probably the first time he’s smiled at all, forget ones that I’ve seen.
The moon was moving slowly across the sky, although in a few hours it would disappear into the pale blue of dawn. Every so often, Draven could be heard answering someone on his radio. Every time he made up some new story about a place he’d looked and found nothing. He said that maybe they had caught wind of the invasion and left. Bears, he’d said, tend to be a little more careful, and a little smarter, than people give them credit for. All that rage and anger has a use, he’d told whoever was on the other end of the transceiver. It’s never just because it feels good.
That part, maybe, she disagreed with. Just a little.
As she crunched over grass, twigs, dead things and even more live ones, she remembered being in Rogue’s arms, and then King’s and then both of them. When she was with one or the other of her alphas, it felt good – not good, she thought, unbelievable. Then again, when they were all together?
There wasn’t prose purple enough to describe that, although her brain tried to come up with some. What she finally settled on though, was a lot less fluttery and vague. Home, she thought. Safety, being where I belong. The place I’ve always tried to find... somehow, it found me.
Lulled into her gentle state of repose, she hardly heard the helicopter’s blades where it hovered like a massive, pregnant black and gunmetal gray hummingbird, before touching down. It was a military-style chopper with huge bay doors and plenty of room. It’d be a tight fit, but her mind was pulled in too many directions to make sense of it all.
Where are we going, anyway? She wondered. Not for the first time, and not for the last.
She barely noticed the pilot when he looked her direction and nodded slightly.
And then she barely noticed the fact that the man – she assumed he was a man anyway – helping the cubs on board jumped out of the bay door.
King ran to his side, looking absolutely shocked. “Madix?” she heard the alpha say. “You’re... you’re alive?”
Draven clapped the younger, thicker man on the shoulder. “He escaped. There’ll be time for all that later. Let’s get going.”
Jill saw something flash in the younger man’s hand, and then saw the smile he flashed. Whatever was in his hand glinted in the overhead light streaming out of the chopper. “I didn’t escape,” the man said through clenched teeth. “I was,” Jill watched him make a quick, sudden movement. She lunged forward, but a second too late. “Hired,” the huge, shaved-headed man hissed.
The thing in his hand – a knife, three inches long – he drove into Draven’s neck. The old bear’s jaw clenched tight. “Silver,” he hissed, “I...”
Jill rushed to his side, catching his surprisingly heavy body as he slumped to the ground. He clutched at the knife, tugging weakly. She helped, then used the blade to cut through a big swatch of his uniform shirt, holding it against the wound.
King and Rogue both dove at the twisted giant at once, fangs flying, fur rushing out of pores. The bald man unleashed a roar that shook Jill to her very core. Draven’s eyes fluttered, he opened his mouth and closed it, over and over.
“In about thirty seconds,” Madix snarled, “I’m gonna use that radio to call base and tell them there’s a chopper full of cubs, and three big morons – all dead – on their way to GlasCorp headquarters.”
“Like hell you are,” Rogue snapped, grabbing a handful of Madix’s fur. The bear just laughed. “You’re dead, pig-shit, and then we’re taking your chopper out of here.”
“Oh yeah?” Madix held out a hand. “I think they’ll notice this.”
The button clicked.
Jill – and her two alphas – saw the fireball, white-hot and blinding – before they heard the explosion, or felt the blast.
-16-
“Ain’t no fight like a bear fight.”
-Rogue
There was enough growling to fill a 1980s power ballad album.
Back and forth, the bears struggled, one pushing the other, the other pushing back. So far, a couple of brutal moments into the brawl, Rogue and King had managed to flank the inked up monster that stabbed Draven. Of course, from how easily he was holding both of them back, maybe “flank” was the wrong term and “split up” was a better one.
Rogue snapped his jaws, which prompted Madix, who was half-shifted and very drooly, to bark a laugh that sounded like it hurt. Two quick slashes were turned with so much ease that twisted, monstrous bear with the metal caps on his teeth actually looked bored by fighting.
Draven had pushed himself to a sitting position, and Jill was still holding him, but by this time, he was more holding her and making sure she didn’t do anything crazy.
“Stay down, girl,” Draven hissed at her when she tried to make a move. “What the hell do you think you’re going to do against him?”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Long tendrils of drool hung from Madix’s fangs, his eyes were wild and yellow and bloodshot. He looked for all the world like a science experiment gone wrong. That’s when it hit Jill right in the stomach. “Oh my God, what did they do to him?”
Draven shook his head as King took a backhanded paw that twisted his head around and sent him crashing to the dirt. “His teeth fell out. They had to make new ones. That’s how it was for all the bears, only he’s the survivor. The rest, their bodies rejected the,” he paused, swallowing hard. “Rejected the improvements.”
That word – improvements – was punctuated by Rogue getting a claw full of face, and tearing into Madix. The drool turned red until the monster shook his head, flinging it all over the place. Behind him, the pilot was shouting something, barking what sounded like orders or demands. Jill couldn’t hear what he was saying, but every time he made a noise, the bear reacted. There must’ve been something to that, she thought, but not before she winced as Rogue caught a knee to the stomach and then a claw to the face that opened a wound on his chest.
The smaller alpha roared in pain and braced himself against a tree before charging right back in.