Chapter Twelve
George
George had one major peeve when it came to dealing with people—those who thought they were somehow special and entitled to insult and belittle those around them without consequence. Scott was being held, he could feel the magic in the air, and the thought that a man would do that to his own son, while his mother and brothers looked on as if they were watching a carnival act, brought back memories George had of dealing with his own father.
His father and Scott’s could’ve been cut from the same cloth—snooty, privileged, and determined that their belief systems were the only way life could and should be lived. George hadn’t fought his father—he’d escaped. But back then, the only thing he was trying to save was the right to use his spunk as he saw fit. Now someone who was a damn clone of his own father was threatening his mating.
He didn’t even think about the implications of shifting in the demon realm. Put bluntly, George didn’t give a shit. Scott’s beautiful demon’s face became frozen, as if he was a pale blue statue, his mouth open, his eyes caught mid-blink.
The panic running through their bond was like a match to George’s anger, and his bear burst through.
He didn’t hesitate, even as the scraps of the tuxedo Scott had given him fell like ribbons to the floor. He lunged straight for Randal, clearly catching the demon unawares. His bear’s teeth sunk into the demon’s leg, the taste of the leathery skin and cologne searing his tongue.
Resisting the urge to spit and longing for a tall glass of water, the bear released his teeth, spinning around and knocking the demon to the floor with his back end. He felt the change, as the man let go of his magical hold on Scott, but the bear wasn’t finished.
He wouldn’t bite a woman—he wasn’t sure his teeth would make it through the clearly fake crystal sheen on her skin in the first place—but he didn’t have an issue with knocking her off her six-inch heels, wincing at the sound of her scream.
“Randal. Help me.”
“Help yourself, woman. I’m wounded here,” Randal screeched like the whining asshole he was.
Meh. It’s just a nip. George focused on the brothers, curling his lip over his long teeth, and he stared them down.
“Hey, we were just laughing. We didn’t do nothing.” The tallest one backed up, his hands raised. “I never thought my little brother would ever be into bestiality, but whatever floats your boat, man.”
George lunged, his huge paws landing on the man’s chest and bringing him to the ground. The smell of urine wrinkled his nose, but George could feel magic in the air again and didn’t linger. The other two brothers were already running down a long and narrow hallway, and George gave chase. He wasn’t built for marathon running, but he could move fast over short distances.
The timing was perfect. It was a moment that would become emblazoned in George’s memory forever more. One screamed, one yelled, and then a satisfying thud, thud, thud, as the two demons fell headfirst down the stairs, tumbling head over ass, their limbs hitting the walls on the way down. Yeah, George’s bear felt he could afford to swagger a bit.
Except when he turned around, the bear heard Scott yell, “Look out, honey bear,” and he saw the flash of a fireball coming toward him.
That’s going to singe some fur, he thought as he ducked and dodged, feeling a flash of pain as his cells broke down. Seconds later, they were back in Scott’s apartment, and the bear was being smothered by an overly affectionate demon.
“Honey bear, oh, my poor, poor honey bear, you’ve been hit !” George’s furry face was being subjected to a thousand demon butterfly kisses. “What can I do? Tell me, honey bear, what can I do to make those ouches go away? They burned your fur, those horrid people. They burned my precious bear.”
Oh, no, Scott’s demon was crying. The bear tried to turn his head so he could see the extent of the damage. The smell of singed fur was never nice, but the demon had his cheeks gripped firmly.
“They held me with magic and my own father stopped me going to you. You were so brave, trying to protect me and they hurt you, burned your lovely fur.” The demon was sobbing harder. “Is it any wonder I try to keep things nice? Did you see what they did to my room? And they threatened to go to the king. I should be the one to go to the king. I should have them thrown into the hell pits for hurting my blissful one… I’m so sorry.”
Giving up on trying to see the state of his fur, the bear licked up the demon’s tears, and then George came through when that wasn’t working. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. It’s really not.” The poor demon was heartbroken. “They make fun of my coloring, they tease me because I’m smaller than they are. They’ve never once been proud of me for the work I do for Dakata and make fun of me for that, too. Even my room—did you see the state of my room? That’s where I grew up. I hated it there, but that room was always nice. We kept it lovely. And now it’s messy. A place for them to dump their shit. They attacked you, they hurt you, they called you a mix-up like you were one of those annoyances my father had to fix. I hate them. I hate what they did to you.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve met people like that.” Using his thumbs, George wiped away more tears. “You’ve had a rough time of it…”
“Me? What about you?” Scott came through, his hair a mess, his eyes red-rimmed. “I swear… please believe me, I promise if I’d have known they’d be so rude, or cruel, or hurt you… I can’t believe my father…” Scott trailed off and sniffed. “I would never have taken you there if I thought you’d be hurt. I’m so very sorry.”
“I’m fine. A shift will fix most things for a shifter. Did you want to get dressed and go out for a burger with me?”
“Really? That’s all you’re going to say? We should, I suppose.” Scott was looking around, clearly distracted. “You didn’t even get to eat before the insults started. Oh, no…”
George looked over in the direction Scott was looking and saw the neat pile of three cushions by the couch had fallen, so they lay sprawled over the floor.
“I’ll just…”
“The burgers can wait,” George said firmly, catching Scott before he ran off and pulling him close. His poor mate needed kisses. They both needed kisses, and if a bit of mess got made along the way… well, hopefully, Scott would be too tired to notice.