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Authors: Mina Carter
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to fuck a screen legend, is it? Have a nice life, Krystal. ”
Hurling her screen name at her like a curse, he stalked to the door, busting the lock as he yanked it open and barrelled through into the workshop. She got a brief glimpse of Marty’s face, his expression worried and then hardening as Kyle brushed past him. Turning to Xander, she swept him with a disgusted expression. Not normally a violent woman, at that moment she wanted nothing more than to spread his pretty, straight nose all over his face.
“You…fucking idiot,” her voice emerged as a snarl, hiding the tears and the thickness in the back of her throat. “You think this is all a freaking game? You’re sacked.”
Xander’s eyes widened, his eyelashes fluttering for a second before he got his expression under control. Her lip curled as she clocked the managed response. For fuck’s sake, the guy was a better actor than she was, and twice as manipulative. She had no doubt he’d orchestrated the little group outside currently being threatened by the were-bear owner of the garage. Why had she never seen that about him before?
“Sorry doll, you can’t sack me.” He shrugged, and the desire to knock a few teeth down his throat as well rose up. “My contract is for the full publicity run for Star-Priests Revenge.”
“Right, fine.” Her voice was so rough now, anyone could be forgiven for thinking she was the werewolf, not Kyle. “But don’t get comfortable, because as soon as it’s done, you are so gone. Understand me?”
She didn’t wait for his answer, barrelling through the door and into the workshop after Kyle. He was already gone, but the sound of an engine roaring to life clued her into his whereabouts. Heart in her throat, she rushed forward, ignoring the gaggle of reporters in the heat outside. As soon as they saw activity inside they perked up, half of them lifting camera’s to cover their faces like some sort of parasitic Cyclops. Normally that would be a dead stop to any activity, as she considered her public persona and how she appeared, but right now all she cared about was Kyle as he wheel-spun out of the parking lot at the side of the garage.
“Kyle, wait! ” she called out as he spun the car, their gaze clashing through the windscreen. For a moment the mask dropped, letting her see the anger, pain and frustration under the surface before it slammed into place again and he gunned the engine. A hard arm snaked around her waist, hauling her out of the way as Kyle’s tyres chewed dirt, spitting up small stones that stung her legs as he roared by.
Gasping, she looked up into Marty’s face. His expression was tight and angry as he put her down.
“Leave it, doll. You’ve hurt him enough with your games. If I was you, I’d pack up and leave. Take your damn circus with you as well.”
* * *
"You gonna drink that or glare at it all evening, son?"
Kyle looked up sharply at the question, grunting as his uncle slid onto the bar stool next to him. The wood creaked under the bear's weight but held. He hadn't expected anything else. After all, Honey was used to the peculiar nature of her patrons, so he had no doubt that all the furniture was strengthened, and bears were weird. Even in human form, they held some of the weight of their bear, even if they were whip-cord thin. Which Marty wasn't.
Instead he was tall and broad-shouldered, with a shock of dark hair and a beard covering most of his face. Kyle had been convinced as a kid that his uncle was always part shifted between man and bear. And as a kid he'd worried that he'd end up like Marty. Always alone, too bear for the humans, and too…grouchy for any of the bear females to take on as a mate.
But then Kyle had manifested as a wolf instead, part of the Stratton pack like his father, so his worries on that score had faded. Some of his bear heritage did show occasionally in a howl that could be more of a roar and, now he was older, a heavyset build to rival even the pack
Hurling her screen name at her like a curse, he stalked to the door, busting the lock as he yanked it open and barrelled through into the workshop. She got a brief glimpse of Marty’s face, his expression worried and then hardening as Kyle brushed past him. Turning to Xander, she swept him with a disgusted expression. Not normally a violent woman, at that moment she wanted nothing more than to spread his pretty, straight nose all over his face.
“You…fucking idiot,” her voice emerged as a snarl, hiding the tears and the thickness in the back of her throat. “You think this is all a freaking game? You’re sacked.”
Xander’s eyes widened, his eyelashes fluttering for a second before he got his expression under control. Her lip curled as she clocked the managed response. For fuck’s sake, the guy was a better actor than she was, and twice as manipulative. She had no doubt he’d orchestrated the little group outside currently being threatened by the were-bear owner of the garage. Why had she never seen that about him before?
“Sorry doll, you can’t sack me.” He shrugged, and the desire to knock a few teeth down his throat as well rose up. “My contract is for the full publicity run for Star-Priests Revenge.”
“Right, fine.” Her voice was so rough now, anyone could be forgiven for thinking she was the werewolf, not Kyle. “But don’t get comfortable, because as soon as it’s done, you are so gone. Understand me?”
She didn’t wait for his answer, barrelling through the door and into the workshop after Kyle. He was already gone, but the sound of an engine roaring to life clued her into his whereabouts. Heart in her throat, she rushed forward, ignoring the gaggle of reporters in the heat outside. As soon as they saw activity inside they perked up, half of them lifting camera’s to cover their faces like some sort of parasitic Cyclops. Normally that would be a dead stop to any activity, as she considered her public persona and how she appeared, but right now all she cared about was Kyle as he wheel-spun out of the parking lot at the side of the garage.
“Kyle, wait! ” she called out as he spun the car, their gaze clashing through the windscreen. For a moment the mask dropped, letting her see the anger, pain and frustration under the surface before it slammed into place again and he gunned the engine. A hard arm snaked around her waist, hauling her out of the way as Kyle’s tyres chewed dirt, spitting up small stones that stung her legs as he roared by.
Gasping, she looked up into Marty’s face. His expression was tight and angry as he put her down.
“Leave it, doll. You’ve hurt him enough with your games. If I was you, I’d pack up and leave. Take your damn circus with you as well.”
* * *
"You gonna drink that or glare at it all evening, son?"
Kyle looked up sharply at the question, grunting as his uncle slid onto the bar stool next to him. The wood creaked under the bear's weight but held. He hadn't expected anything else. After all, Honey was used to the peculiar nature of her patrons, so he had no doubt that all the furniture was strengthened, and bears were weird. Even in human form, they held some of the weight of their bear, even if they were whip-cord thin. Which Marty wasn't.
Instead he was tall and broad-shouldered, with a shock of dark hair and a beard covering most of his face. Kyle had been convinced as a kid that his uncle was always part shifted between man and bear. And as a kid he'd worried that he'd end up like Marty. Always alone, too bear for the humans, and too…grouchy for any of the bear females to take on as a mate.
But then Kyle had manifested as a wolf instead, part of the Stratton pack like his father, so his worries on that score had faded. Some of his bear heritage did show occasionally in a howl that could be more of a roar and, now he was older, a heavyset build to rival even the pack
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