Chance Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire 6) Read Online Free PDF

hesitated, scared if she lost her mind too much to the liquor, she would expose herself completely.
    “Little bunny, hiding in your hole. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything get you,” Chance said low.
    She wasn’t the hunter. He was.
    Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked hard, trying desperately to regain her composure. He was staring, waiting for her to fall apart, so she tossed the shot back and pressed her hand against her mouth to contain the tiny sob that wrenched its way up her throat. Chance took the empty glass from her and set it on a table, then pulled her close and danced to the slow country crooner on the jukebox in the middle of four other couples on the make-shift dance floor.
    “When I was a kid, I was scared of everything,” he murmured against her ear. “It’s the way I was raised. I was different, and different scares people. Fear makes people do horrible things. Do you know what the best thing you can possibly do for yourself is?”
    “Are you threatening me?” she asked breathlessly.
    “No, little bunny. If I was threatening you, you would know.”
    “Then tell me. What can I do for myself?”
    “You can open up your mind to the possibility that not all people are the same, and it doesn’t make them better or worse. It just makes them different. Do you want to know the worst thing you can do for yourself?”
    The whiskey was hitting her hard, and she closed her eyes against the dizziness as they rocked back and forth, back and forth. “What?”
    “Listening to someone whose mind is completely closed. Listening to someone who feeds on hate. Be better. Make decisions based on your own experiences.”
    “You don’t understand.”
    Chance rested his cheek against hers and inhaled deeply. “Emily, this is me giving you a chance to get to know me and make your own decisions based on the type of man you think me to be.”
    “Man,” she gritted out.
    “Yes,” he snarled, more growl than word as he eased back and leveled her with a harsh glare. “Because despite what you think, that’s what I am. I’m good. I care. I feel. I’m pissed at what you are doing, but every tear you’re letting slip down your face right now is gutting me. I’ve caused them for some reason I don’t understand, and I fucking hate it. I don’t know why you’re hunting me, or why you were in my den, but this is me giving you the chance to make an educated decision about me before you go down a path you can’t come back from. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
    “I should go,” she choked out angrily.
    Chance reared back like he’d been slapped and let his hands drop from her waist. His eyes sparked with fury. “Fine. Maybe you should.”
    She backed off the dance floor, afraid to give him her back. Uncle Victor had warned her about exposing a weak side to a predator, but as she put distance between her and Chance, the expression on his face morphed from anger to disappointment.
    He left the floor and headed back to the table where Dalton and Kate sat, and just as Emily turned to leave, to call Uncle Victor and tell him she couldn’t do what he’d bid her to, she saw it.
    Dalton laughed at something Kate said, tossing his head back as he did. And in the light of the swinging fixture that hovered over their table, something shiny glinted around his neck.
    Dalton had a hanging scar.
    It was healed, but red and angry looking. The rope had to have dug deeply into his throat to cause scarring like that on a shifter.
    Dad had done it. He’d reached the pack and tried to end them with tradition—hanging the males and burning the females and pups in their houses. Suddenly, Emily felt sick. Talking about it with Uncle Victor and Dad was one thing, but seeing the gruesome aftermath was something different altogether.
    It was a tradition as old as time, Hell Hunters hanging the soulless. But she wasn’t convinced werewolves were soulless anymore. What if they were people just trying to survive, and