Bought By The Military Bear: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (BBW Shifter Romance, BBW Paranormal Romance, Military Romance, Werebear Romance)

Bought By The Military Bear

Ashley Hunter

 Copyright 2015 by Ashley Hunter

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced

in any way whatsoever, without written permission

from the author, except in case of brief

quotations embodied in critical reviews

and articles.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

First edition, 2015

Chapter 1

Kathleen sobbed as her stepfather slammed his beer mug down so hard on the bar she was sure it should’ve shattered. The loud crack didn’t silence all of the loud drunken arguing, but it dulled it enough so her father’s voice could be heard.

“Right, Jed, what’d I just tell you? You can’t just buy her out. This here’s gonna be a right proper auction, like’n I seen on TV. Smile, dear.”

Kicking Kathleen in the hip as she lay on the floor, beaten, chained, and handcuffed to the bar.

He added in a growl, “Smile!”

Afraid of what he’d do if she didn’t, Kathleen tried holding her breath to stop the crying and pulled her lips back.

“Aw, now look at that. A finer angel never would you see,” her stepfather said.

“Buck, Steve, you sit two down right now a’fore I shoot ya. You wanted a part of this, so you gotta follow the rules.”

“How high can we go?” Henry asked from the back.

“Well boys, that’s the beauty. I gotta lot a debt, and this here useless fatty is gonna finally pull some weight around ‘ere. You go as high as you want, and to the highest bid goes this… thing. Smile!” he shouted and kicked her again.

Kathleen screamed, surprised by his sudden viciousness and tried to smile again.

A few of the older men in the front, fat and hideous as they were, ran wormy tongues over their chapped lips.

“An’ you’re not going to want her back?” Jed asked, his eyes hungrily roaming over her body from top to bottom.

“A’course not, Jed. Damnit boy don’t you listen? You buy her, you get to keep her. Once she’s yours, I don’t want anything t’do with her
or
you. You take her home, you do whatever you want. She cooks real fine, as you can tell, and she can mend a shoe or shirt or what have you. This’n here has the learnin’ y’all need, and she talks real good on the phone.”

“Yeah,” another man asked. This one she didn’t recognize, but he was just as revolting as all the rest, “but how good is she at other things?”

“What other things?” her stepfather asked.

“
Other
things.”

The men all laughed knowingly at that one, a few nudging one another with their elbows. Her stepfather laughed and waved his hands to calm them down.

“I’m sure she does those just fine. Don’t tell me about it, because I don’t care. I just want her good ‘n gone. Y’all ready t’start bidding?”

A raucous roar crashed through the bar as the men all stomped their feet and shouted.

“Right then, how ‘bout we start things nice ‘n easy. Say, ten bucks?”

“I got ten bucks!”

“Ten? Fer that, I got twenty!”

“Twenty-five.”

It was happening. As the men rattled off higher and higher numbers, it settled into Kathleen’s bones that this was really happening.

No amount of hoping and praying was going to stop this now. He was doing it. That bastard of a stepfather was really doing it.

The drunken lush was only too happy to sit and mooch off of her mother, and when she died, he refused to move out. Kathleen had been staying at home to take care of her mother as her health worsened.

At nights, she worked as a waitress at the local diner. After repeated – and refused—come-on attempts by her stepfather, he’d finally had enough.

Tonight, as she tried to leave for work, he clocked her across the face so hard she saw stars. In all her, life she’d never experienced the shift in perspective that made the ground seem like it came up, instead of her body falling down.

Punching, kicking, he beat her senseless, tied her up, and tossed her in the back of the truck.

The whole way his drunken mouth ranted about all of the medical bills he had to pay now due to her mother’s failed health, and how the only way this was going to be solved was through selling Kathleen off to the highest bidder.

Somehow, in some broken part of her brain, she’d convinced herself he was just drunk. This wasn’t going to happen.

How could it? In what part of the world could this take place?

But there she sat, too beaten and exhausted to even move, and men twice her age or more glared with bestial greed in their eyes as they all tried to outbid one another for her. For her body.

Kathleen, unable to lower her hands as they were chained and handcuffed to the bar, buried her face into her forearms and cried. She couldn’t even stand, much less fight. There was nothing she could do to defend herself, or protect herself from this.

“Five-hundred,” a greasy voice in the back cried, and Kathleen shuddered.

The other men guffawed in surprise or outright swore as none could afford to outbid such a price.

Kathleen glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw a middle-aged man with long stringy gray hair staring right at her face.

“Ya heard me,” he said. “I pay you five-hundred for this luscious tart.”

“Hoooo,” her stepfather said, impressed.

“Look at that, fatty, you’re worth something after all. I don’t think we can go higher ‘n that, eh boys? I do believe that means she’s sol—“

“A thousand.”

The words were a razor’s edge slicing across Kathleen’s face. Who could pay a thousand for her? This was insane!

The men in the bar shouted now, almost angry at this new bid.

“What’s that now,” her stepfather asked.

“I said,” a man sitting a dark table in the corner of the bar stood, “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars, cash, for her. Right now.”

“Now look here,” the middle-aged man said, standing and pointing a threatening finger, “I done already bid, and you—“

“Two-thousand,” the younger man said without even flinching.

“How far do you wish to take this?”

“I got a rifle in the truck,” the older man said, but her stepfather laughed it off and stepped forward, putting his hands on the old man’s chest to calm him down.

“Now, now, let’s not scare off this fine customer. Two-thousand, you say?”

“I-I can give you twenty-one-hundred by Tuesday if you’d just—“

“Three-thousand.”

“Now look here!” the old man shouted and threw his chair.

“You can pay me three-thousand, cash, right now?”

Kathleen shook her head, abhorred by the idea of being sold off to anyone.

The young man, handsome in his way, looked at her. There was an odd look of sadness in his eyes. “Yes sir.”

“Sold.”

Kathleen shook and buried her face in her arms again, unable to stop the sobs. Her life had just been ripped away from her and handed to this complete stranger. All of her dreams, the plans she had for her life, gone.

Who knew what horrors this sicko would visit on her defenseless body?

She knew he was a sicko too, because who else would come into this bar at this time of day and bid on a beaten and bruised girl?

There was no excuse for it.

In her fuzzy state, she missed when everyone cleared out. One moment she was sobbing into her arms, the next she was almost too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

When the chains unlocked above her, she hadn’t the strength to hold herself up. Before she could fall, however, a single strong arm caught her and lowered her to the floor.

“Once you take her, I don’t wanna hear from you again. You got me? This piece a property is sold as is. I ain’t responsible if you break her.”

Her stepfather chuckled above her.

When she opened an eye, she saw the young man knelt beside her, an expression of barely contained rage on his face.

“Yes. You’re excused.”

“That’s my chain, son.”

The young man threw the heavy chain at the old man. “Take it!”

Her stepfather cried out as the chain smacked him in the face, wrapping partially around his neck and chest.

In his drunken imbalance, he stumbled back a step, tripped over a stool, and fell.

“No,” Kathleen whimpered as the man scooped her up into his arms.

Mustering all the strength she had, she lifted her arms and pushed against his chest, one hand pressing against his face. In seconds her muscles gave out, her arms falling limply.

“Shh,” the man said to her and walked through the bar.

“I’ve got you now.”

A weak sob shook her chest, knowing it was true and there was nothing she could do to fight it. How could she be so helpless?

Chapter 2

Consciousness faded in and out, the world going black for whole episodes. She saw the bar, and then the street. When she opened her eyes again, she was buckled into the passenger seat of a car, the scenery passing quickly.

For a creep that had bought her at an auction, she was expecting to be dumped in the trunk or something. Instead, a blanket had been wrapped around her.

The leather seats had a warmer touch, and she felt toasty on her rear and the back of her thighs. The windows were clear, with none of the hard water stains she was used to seeing. No dirt, or gunk buildup. The dash was black, smooth, with none of the sun fading.

Wait, leather seats? Kathleen reached down and ran her fingers over the plush material she sat on.

Oh no, a rich psycho? She’d heard about those. This was even worse than she thought!

Her heart raced, and the telltale signs of adrenaline coursed through her system as her arms and legs tensed, preparing for fight or flight. The rush suddenly made her dizzy and she had to rest her head against the glass.

“You’re awake,” he said. “We’ll be home soon. Just relax. I’ve got you now.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” The words wheezed out of her throat.

“No need to be afraid. You’re safe.”

“No I’m not,” she said, the tears coming quickly. Desperate to escape, or at least to kill herself before he could do something unspeakable to her, she felt along the door for the lock.

“Hey, hey,” he said as though he was calming a puppy, “stop that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Creep,” she said as the edges of her vision went dark. “You’re… a creep.”

The road went black. Moments later, she wondered if he could drive with it so dark outside. She couldn’t see a thing. There was no light, no shapes. They were going to crash!

Kathleen’s eyes flew open, her heart beating in her chest, and she threw the covers off of her. Blinking, she looked down at the thick comforter in her hand.

Where did this come from? Then she looked around at the large, lavish room she rested in.

The room alone was larger than half her house, at least. Next to the bed was a table, a silver tray atop it with fruit and water.

She tried to get out of bed, but her leg screamed pain at her.

“Son of a!” she shouted and gripped the blankets.

Slowly this time, she leaned over and picked up the glass of water. As she sipped from it, the cool water sliding down her dry throat, she noticed a couple of pills on the tray.

He was drugging her? Fat chance. Kathleen drank some more of the water, and grabbed a banana.

In the quiet darkness of the room, she sat and ate her fruit. A knock on the door near made her choke on the food and she coughed. The door opened, and in strolled the man.

She’d been in such rough shape last night, she hadn’t noticed how well-built he was, his hair cleanly cropped and cut. Military?

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent. How do you feel?”

Afraid anything she said would provoke him to violence or to take advantage of her still weakened state, Kathleen decided to avoid the question and instead bite into an apple.

“All right,” he said, and dragged a chair from the wall to sit by her bedside.

“You don’t want to talk. I understand. You were in quite a state the other night, and I“

“The other night?” She looked around the darkness of the room.

“Wasn’t it still the same night?”

“Yes, my dear. The other night. It’s 10:15am.”

Then, clearing his throat, he added in an almost regretful tone, “Wednesday.”

“Wednesday! That’s, that’s three days!”

The young man crossed a leg, rested his interlocked fingers on his knee, and nodded.

“I’ve had a doctor up here half a dozen times, checking on you. We’ve fed you when you were awake. Do you not remember?”

Kathleen shook her head, starting to feel sheepish for all of her assumptions about him.

“Just as well,” he said, “you were fairly out of it. You seem far more coherent now, though. That’s a good sign. Are you in much pain?”

Three days, she’d been unconscious and he took care of her?

“Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?”