Blake, Her Bad Bear: A Paranormal Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free PDF

tried to lay down first blood, and the sound of the heavy arm over his head was enough to charge the Beta up. He recomposed himself and raised both hands, balancing on the balls of his feet as he waited for another attack. Ogre was drunk, and his aim off, but if even one of his punches landed home, that would be the end of the fight. Another swinging blow and an uppercut and Blake blocked it with the side of his arm and grunted.
    “Get him, fight back!” someone in the crowd sang out, and it was joined by more cheers as the two men found themselves enclosed by eager spectators. Blake held up his fists again and looked for the woman but she was nowhere to be seen.
    Ogre came again. This time, Blake stepped forward with his right food and ducked sideways under another looming punch. He twisted his body as he dodged and brought up his elbow in a back arc, feeling the satisfying impact of cartilage crunching. Ogre bubbled a whoof and staggered back, his nose fountaining blood.
    “Muffucker,” he breathed, his face a red mess, and tried to grab his enemy.
    Blake slapped both hands down, and lunged forward, wrapping his own arms around the behemoth and locking them around his neck. It gave him enough leverage to pull Ogre down, and at the same time he leapt up and sunk his knee deep into the man’s abdomen. Another gasping sound, like air escaping a punctured tire, and Ogre keeled over, breathing heavily on the floor and clutching at his face. It was over, fast, efficient. Even the crowd seemed surprised and bewildered at how quickly Blake had lain him out—as the Beta, he had always had to hold himself to a higher standard of behavior, according to Damian. That meant not getting in random fights among the brothers.
    As a result, no one had seen Blake in one-on-one combat in a long time. And now the silent and humble reasons for why were apparent. Ogre groaned again at his feet, and even the jukebox had cut out—the pub was eerily silent for a moment. Then, all at once, it erupted back into a squalor of voices and he felt hands pushing and prodding and cheers going up. Blood sport, he thought , I didn’t mean to, but I fed them. A few of Ogre’s buddies lifted him up and dragged him back to the bar where he huddled dazed over another pint of beer, blood from his busted nose dripping steadily like a faucet into his drink.
    “I told you, I told you,” Gavin was crying out in enthusiasm, “the son of a bitch is a machine. Did you see that? Hot damn, one, two and the motherfucker was out!” His excitement was infectious and seemed to carry into the rest of the crowd.
    Blake tried to duck away from the attention and found it easier than anticipated. The crowd was enamored with him so much as the fight itself, and now it was over. He headed towards the door of Jack’s—it had become claustrophobic and he felt like his lungs were in a vice. As he looked back, he saw that Connor was staring at him again, and this time the two men made eye contact and held it. Connor lifted his glass in a sort of solemn salute, but his face was still the chiseled emotionless mask of a sociopath. Blake couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and merely gave a curt nod.
    Outside, he took a deep breath. The rain had started to diminish, and was just a ghost of its former self. Brown puddles rippled, and the smell of the earth was pungent. Christ, he thought.
    “Thank you,” a small voice beckoned, and he turned quickly and saw the woman from before leaning against the wall of the pub, her arms crossed. “I mean, for that. I’m used to dealing with assholes, but that guy… are you okay?”
    Blake took a step toward her and up close saw how stunning she actually was. Her body was small and lithe, almost elfin, but all the right proportions seemed to inhabit her with a fluid grace. She rubbed her arm again through the sweater.
    “Nothing to worry about,” he said, “and you’re not the first person to be intimidated by Ogre. He’s generally