Ash Bear (Daughters of Beasts Book 3)

  ASH BEAR

  (DAUGHTERS OF BEASTS, BOOK 3)

  By T. S. JOYCE

  Other Books in this Series

  Novak Grizzly (Book 1)

  Beck Bear (Book 2)

  Ash Bear

  Copyright © 2018 by T. S. Joyce

  Copyright © 2018, T. S. Joyce

  First electronic publication: November 2018

  T. S. Joyce

  www.tsjoyce.com

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Cover Image: Wander Aguiar who is #stillnotmyboyfriend.

  Cover Model: Jonny Bunyan (Jonny James, don’t read this page, it was an accident again)

  Contents

  Other Books in this Series

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Up Next in this Series

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  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Love meant something different to everyone.

  For some, it was freedom.

  For some, it was pain.

  For some, it was a distraction.

  For some, happiness.

  For some, it was home.

  But for Ashlynn Kane, love had been utterly…unattainable.

  Love was for smart girls who read a lot, who could talk easy and flirt. It was for the outgoing girls who knew how to curl their hair into perfect beach waves, contour their cheekbones, and make everyone in a room laugh.

  Love was for girls who were everything she was not.

  Mousey, quiet, shy, slow to speak because the words in her mind didn’t come out right when she opened her lips… Who could be a match for that?

  Her father, Bash Kane, had always told her there was a mate for everyone, but she was twenty-eight years old and had never even had a serious boyfriend.

  One of her dear friends, Remington Novak, bumped her shoulder gently and said, “Look, she’s here.” Remi pointed to the front door of Sammy’s Bar, and the blaring country music faded away.

  Her other best friend, Juno Beck, walked through the crowd and froze, stared at her mate up on stage with her lips slightly parted. She looked so different than the last time Ash had seen her. She wore her hair down and was in ripped-up black jeans and a black tank top that hugged her curves instead of those stuffy pant suits she wore when she was schmoozing her music clients. But how she dressed wasn’t the only change. Juno didn’t look tired anymore, and her cheeks were rosy. She looked so pretty.

  A huge smile stretched Ash’s face as she arched her gaze to Rhett Copeland, Juno’s mate, playing a concert up on stage.

  Remi leaned back and rested her cheek against Ash’s, and Ash put her arms around her and hugged her neck. Remi sighed. She was a good friend, happy for Juno, just like Ash was happy for her.

  “Holy shit, y’all, she’s here,” Rhett said from the stage.

  The crowd erupted in cheering. Remi did one of those shrill whistles, but Ash was more of a clap softly and watch kinda girl.

  “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes, woman,” Rhett said into the microphone. “I fuckin’ missed you.”

  “Awwwwwwwww!” came the chorus of girls.

  “Booooo,” called a man with a mohawk a couple seats down the bar.

  “Yeah, boooo and barf,” Remi’s mate, Kamp, called out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  Remi was laughing really hard.

  “I have the worst friends in the world,” Rhett said with a chuckle.

  He was talking to the crowd, but Ash was already in her head again. He’d called Remi a friend, but Remi was her friend. And Juno’s. She didn’t know these people—these Rogue Pride shifters. And Remi and Juno were different now, so vibrant and alive while she was exactly the same as she’d always been. Same old Ash. Everything was confusing. Everybody had left her and changed and come back, but she didn’t fit anymore, did she?

  Brighton and Denison Beck were making their way to the stage to sing with Rhett. He was staring at Juno like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Someday, she wished all of her 1010 wishes would come true and a man would look at her the way Rhett looked at Juno.

  “Your hair is puffy,” growled the man a few seats down the bar.

  He probably wasn’t talking to her so she let herself get lost in the ooey, gooey, lovey eyes Juno and Rhett were making when he said into the microphone, “This one’s called ‘Goodish Intentions.’”

  “Awww,” Ash murmured low, snuggling her cheek against Remi’s. This was the song Juno’s dad had written for her mom. She’d always loved it, and now her mate was singing it to her.

  She’d also made lots of 1010 wishes that her friends would find their mates, and at least those had come true.

  “I said your hair is puffy.”

  Ash frowned at the man leaning on the bar top with both elbows, his hands clasped around a glass of beer. His black hair was styled into a mohawk, and his neck was covered in tattoos. He wore a gray thermal sweater with the sleeves pushed up, exposing tattooed forearms. His gold eyes were extra squinty as he glared at her.

  She had wished someone would look at her like Rhett looked at Juno, but all she got was an insult and a tattooed behemoth staring at her with his golden eyes all angry-looking.

  “Me?” Ash asked, patting her hair with one hand.

  Remi narrowed her eyes at the giant and said, “Suck a tit, Grim.”

  “And blue,” he said, his voice all snarly and low.

  Ash stopped petting her blue hair and ducked her gaze. This man—this Grim—was very dominant. He filled the whole room with that icky feeling of being too big for his skin. He felt like the dragons did when they were here, which…one of them was. Damon Daye, the Blue Dragon himself and owner of the mountains she called home, was sitting at the very end of the bar, frowning at Grim.

  Monsters. Too many monsters.

  And when she glanced up to check, the monster with the mohawk was still staring at her.

  “I don’t hate puffy blue hair.” Grim ripped his eerie yellow gaze away from her and went back to staring at the television that was playing an infomercial for some gadget that
took the shells off of boiled eggs. The volume wasn’t even on, and everyone else in the room was watching Rhett Copeland sweeping Juno off her feet.

  He really didn’t seem to care at all, just sipping his beer every thirty seconds or so. Not that she was paying attention, but she was good at counting. She didn’t have smarts about other stuff, but she could count good and she was good at computers like her dad. So far those little party tricks had earned her zero attention from the less-fairer sex.

  This was usually the part where she clammed up and didn’t respond or look at a person for the rest of the night, but she was feeling brave because, look at Juno and her bright smile, and look at Remi leaning against Kamp as he whispered into her ear. This Grim would go home to his mountains soon, and she would never see him again. He wasn’t like all the other shifters here who lived in Damon’s Mountains and knew how she was. He was different, a stranger. Mom had always told her strangers were bad, but to Ash, they were good. Someteimes she could be braver with strangers.

  Layla was working the bar tonight, and right as Ash opened her mouth to say something to the gargantuan tattooed man, Layla interrupted with a, “Here you go, Ash.” And then she slid her a shot of tequila and a lime. It was her favorite drink because, for some reason, it reminded her of tacos, and she loved tacos. “Thank you,” Ash said as she pulled the shot glass closer.

  Layla gave her a knowing nod and then twitched her head at the giant. “Go on then.”

  Ash’s hands started shaking. This was a bad idea. The music was so good, but it was loud. The stuff that made sense in her head never came out right. That man had something bad inside of him. Something very very good, but also something very very bad. She’d seen men at war with each other, but never a man at war with himself, but she felt more stuff than other shifters felt, and Grim was a mess-up like her. A glitch. He was different from other shifters, and that almost made her brave enough to talk to him, but then maybe she should just take this shot and be quiet. Like always.

  So she did.

  She took the shot and sucked on the lime to calm the burn in her mouth, and then she pushed the shot glass toward Layla to convince herself to pay attention to Rhett and Juno. But then the Grim man, without even looking away from the television, said, “I’ll buy that one for her, and can you get her another?” He lowered his scary gaze to Layla and finished it with a low, rumbling, “Please.”

  Layla’s arms were resting on the counter, and when he looked at her, she froze. All the hairs on Layla’s arms lifted as if she’d touched an electric fence.

  But Grim had offered to buy Ash a drink. So that was nice. Something good and something bad in him. Something good and bad.

  “Sure,” Layla said softly, and then Kong was there. Her mate. Big-ass silverback gorilla shifter the size of a tank with a shaved head, staring at Grim from the other side of the bar. Monsters. Sooooo many monsters. Ash’s hands shook and shook.

  Grim blinked slowly and glanced at Kong, didn’t look impressed, and then went back to watching the infomercials.

  Ash craned her neck to look at him because Remi and Kamp were making out now and were in the way. “Um. Thanks. Thank you.”

  The man, Grim, didn’t answer.

  Ash couldn’t find it in herself to say anything more until Layla gave her the second shot. Awkwardly, ever awkwardly, Ash lifted the glass in a silent cheers to him, tapped the bottom of the bar top to ward off angry spirits like Beaston had taught her to do, and then she drank it fast. And when she opened her eyes from shooting that throat-searing booze, he was watching her again. Eerie yellow eyes taking in everything.

  “S-s-something…” She dropped her gaze and quit.

  “Something is wrong with you,” he said.

  Frowning, she forced herself to look at him when she said, “I was going to say that about you.”

  “I know.” He turned to the TV. “I was guessing what you were thinking. I figured that’s what you were going to say about me. It’s what everyone says.”

  “Oh.” She spun her shot glass slowly on the bar top. “You didn’t mean that about me?”

  “Nope. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  Ha! “Wrong.” You’re wrong. Say it like “you’re wrong.” But the words wouldn’t come out.

  Grim inhaled deeply, looking annoyed. Everyone did that around her—looked annoyed. Not Juno and Remi, though. Ever since they were cubs, they’d taken her under their wings and stuck up for her.

  “Move,” Grim snarled at Remi as he stood.

  Remi shoved him hard in the shoulder. “Fucking make me, prick.”

  A snarl ripped from him, and he leaned within inches of her face. Remi laughed and said, “Just kidding. I just like to make you mad.” And then she smiled sweetly as she switched to the next bar stool. “But if you hurt her feelings, I’ll kill you, then Change into a bear and piss on your body and set it on fire and let the ravens pick your bones clean.”

  Ash leaned forward and enlightened her with, “Ravens wouldn’t want to eat a body that tastes like bear piddle and kerosene.”

  Grim snorted and took the seat beside Ash. He dipped his attention to her hands, which she was wringing. She pulled them into her lap and dropped her gaze. Sometimes she hated being submissive.

  “Blue hair, black at the roots, but your eyes are blue like your hair. They look bright. Little nose and curves that could give a man something to hold onto when he fucks her. Quiet. Which is surprising since you’ve done your make-up and hair with confidence, but you keep looking at the bar top. That’s not something wrong, though. It tells me your submissive. Right or wrong?”

  “Right,” she breathed.

  “You wore a tank top in the dead of winter. You don’t get cold.”

  “Bear.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, nodding. Approval? He hadn’t asked her animal. That part had just slipped out.

  “You’re fine. Me?” he said, arching one dark eyebrow. “I’m not, but I would never say something is wrong with you. That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  She didn’t understand. “Kettles are black.”

  “So are souls.”

  “Not yours. Not all of it,” she rushed out on a breath. “You have good and bad.”

  Now Grim was frowning. She couldn’t hold his gaze. Couldn’t. He felt too big. Too scary, too exciting, but too scary. But so exciting.

  Her heart was pounding like a drum.

  Grim glanced at the neck of her tank top and back up. A slow, crooked smile took his lips. “I hear that racing heart. Don’t be prey, pretty blue-haired lady. The bad in me likes it too much.”

  “Should…should I go?”

  “Nope. Just relax. Enjoy the music and sit by a strange stranger for an evening. No one will hurt you here.”

  From down the bar top, Kamp griped loudly, “I can’t even fuckin’ believe you’ve had an entire conversation with her, and you haven’t said a word to me in three days.”

  “Well, you’re a fuckface, and she isn’t,” Grim muttered, staring at the television once more.

  Well…that was sort of a nice compliment. Kamp was a fuckface, but she wasn’t. Huh. She liked that.

  The tequila shots were kicking in, and everything felt hazy. “Hair school.”

  Grim took a long drink of his beer and then turned to her. “That’s where they did the blue?”

  She nodded. “I got it done at the hair school because it’s only fifteen dollars for a cut and color and blowout on Tuesdays.”

  “Do you want to be a cosmetologist?”

  Wow, he knew what that was. But she was messing this up. Take your time to say it right. “I do hair and make-up just for myself. I serve barbecue. For money. For work.” She cleared her throat and took a deep, steadying breath. “I mean barbecue is my job. Not hair.”

  Grim’s eyebrows shot up like he was impressed. She giggled with relief. That was her move. When she did something good, she laughed. “Last Tuesday, the students at the hair
school were working on bright colors. So I figured, why not? It’s not my favorite, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Blue is my least favorite color. It’s like skies on a hot day, but I like it when it’s stormy. Not because I’m sad. I mean, I like cloudy days.”

  “Your hands are shaking.”

  “Talking is…” She looked at her phone but it was 11:11, not 10:10. She made wishes on 10:10 not 11:11, but she still poked her finger on her phone screen and made a wish that he could understand her. “I’m no good at talking.”

  “But you work in barbecue. There must be talking involved.”

  She shrugged up one shoulder. “I’m strange. Too. Also.”

  Grim lifted his chin higher and looked down his nose at her. He was much taller and was very thick with lots of muscle. His eyes had softened to a light brown, and he had a big beard. He was young, maybe her age, but his eyes looked like they had seen a hundred years. His skin was pale white, but covered in black tattoos. He was the most striking and handsome and terrifying man she’d ever seen.

  There was this loaded moment when he looked at her lips, and she thought he might kiss her, but instead, he dropped his attention to her empty shot glass. “Do you want something else?”

  Oh. He was one of those boys. The ones Juno and Remi warned her about. The ones who wanted to get girls drunk and take them home. Disappointment swirled in her chest.

  Grim turned to Layla who was walking by behind the bar and slid a five-dollar bill and a credit card across the counter. “Can I get her an ice water, close out my tab, and get some quarters?”

  “You got it,” Layla said, taking his cash and card.

  Okay. He wasn’t trying to be one of those boys. He was getting her water. Okay.

  Grim asked, “Do you like games?”

  “Head games? No, I’m no good.”

  Grim chuckled. “I’m not good at head games either. I mean pool.” He angled his head and got a thoughtful look on his face. Or maybe a confused one. She wasn’t good at reading faces. He thanked Layla when she brought him a receipt to sign and a stack of quarters. To Ash, he asked, “Do you want to play pool?”