Bear Prince: Shifter Paranormal Romance (Royal Bears Book 1) Read Free

boot. She stifled a cringe.
    Harold stumbled back several feet, clutching his nose. “You fucker! You just busted my nose.”
    “I was hoping to deter you from threatening Hannah again,” Andrew said. “Good evening, sir.”
    It was surreal. Andrew took her by the arm to turn her around when he stopped, fingers rising to press his temples. She saw the flash of a grimace, heard a muffled curse under breath.
    “Are you okay?” she asked.
    He didn’t nod, just began to pull her along again. Hannah took a step, then went sprawling as the force of a shove knocked her into pavement. She twisted with the speed and litheness of a trained dancer in time to see Harold hit Andrew on the back of the head with a closed fist. Andrew dropped to his knees.
    A strangled cry tore from her throat. “You coward! ”
    She flipped to her feet, righteous anger eclipsing her sense of self-preservation. Rage clenched her jaw as she launched herself at Harold. He grabbed her with the reflexes of one used to street fighting, attention still on Andrew, lying on the ground. She screamed, more a growl, and he thrust her away from him right as her foot connected with the spot on his shin her Daddy had taught her about.
    “Shut that shit up!” he yelled, jumping away as he clutched his leg, swearing. “I didn’t- he’s not-”
    The commotion drew attention. A head poked out of a second floor window.
    “Hey, you want me to call the cops?”
    Harold ran, turning to go back the way he’d originally come. Hannah knew he’d have to return eventually. She dropped to Andrew’s side, frantically feeling for a pulse. Exhaling in relief when it beat, strong and steady, under her two fingers.
    “Andrew? Andrew, wake up.”
    The slam of a glass door closing and soon the tenant was at her side. She didn’t know him by name, an older man who worked with his hands for a living by the state of them. She knew he had a wife.
    “You okay, honey?”
    “Harold is an ass,” she said, leaning over Andrew. “Andrew?”
    Hannah helped him into a sitting position. His face was… well, whiter. She quailed at the thought of a strange man in her apartment, but her own sense of charity overwhelmed her. He was injured, and in her defense; he deserved her care.
    He slurred something in a thick voice.
    “I don’t understand you,” she said. “Just- try to stand. We’re taking you inside.”
    They struggled, even though her neighbor wasn’t exactly weak looking. Taller than her, Andrew’s lean frame must have been comprised of dense bone and muscle because it was like lifting a beached whale. Or so she imagined. Hannah grunted under the weight of him leaning against her as they climbed up the steps of the building and into the lobby. The rickety elevator was out of order, so they had to take the stairs. He stumbled twice, eyes tightly closed. Hannah’s heart raced, but she forced herself to be calm.
    “I’ll file a complaint with the management company,” the neighbor said. “That Harold needs to be fired already. Always messing with the young girls.”
    He helped her settle Andrew onto the thrift store couch- beautifully covered in a new yellow couch cover- inside her apartment then left. Hannah placed a blue and white throw pillow under his head. His legs didn’t quite fit and dangled over the side a few inches. As she worked, entering the kitchenette area for a clean towel and ice, her natural calm reasserted itself. They didn’t have modern medicine in the community; injuries were dealt with utilizing common sense first aid, and prayer. There was a couple trained in things like bone setting and stitches- but every member knew how to treat simple wounds.
    Hannah wrapped the towel around ice and knelt next to Andrew. The side of his face looked bruised- evidently he’d managed to turn fast enough to avoid a blow to the back of the head. His forehead was scraped where he’d collapsed onto the pavement. Hannah marveled Harold had enough strength in his