Illuminating His Bear by Charlie Richards

Chapter Four

Congo wanted to believe Zhaul so damn badly. Except, there were warlocks in the group. Had Zhaul been be-spelled to believe that he was free?

“I can scent that you don’t believe me.” Zhaul smiled at him as he teased the fingertips of one hand along Congo’s eyebrow, then down his face. “You will… in time.” Then a wry smile curved Zhaul’s lips. “So, uh, what’s your name?”

“Congo,” he replied, tipping his head into Zhaul’s touch. “And you’re Zhaul. I heard them call you that.”

“Yes,” Zhaul confirmed. “How long were you trapped by the witches?”

Shrugging, Congo admitted, “I have no idea. What year is it?”

After hearing Zhaul’s answer, Congo couldn’t help but blanch. “Uh, damn. They captured us a little over two-and-a-half years ago.” He sighed as he rested his forehead against his mate’s chest. “I was alpha of a small, reclusive sleuth in the Catskill Mountains,” Congo admitted. “There were only twelve of us, all gay bears that banded together to live off the grid, and now our number is half that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Zhaul murmured, massaging one shoulder as he threaded his fingers through Congo’s hair. “I can’t imagine how you must feel, thinking you’re responsible when it wasn’t really your fault.”

Congo lifted his head. “How can it not be?” he countered. “I’m the alpha.” With a heavy sigh, he admitted on a whisper, “And it makes me an even bigger bastard to feel so grateful that one of the remaining bears is my younger brother.” Then Congo grimaced as he shook his head. “Not that I’d wish this continued existence on anyone.”

“And now, it’s over,” Zhaul insisted. “Kontra’s mate and his mentor will figure out how to remove the effects of the spells the witches put on you.”

Instead of commenting on that, Congo asked, “How did they capture you?”

Congo watched a pink hue invade Zhaul’s cheeks as his attention cut to the left. “Uh, I went to a club, and somehow, someone there knew I was a shifter. The guy I was, um”—he cleared his throat before mumbling—”going to hook up with led me into a trap.”

Biting back his jealous growl, Congo did his best to shove the sensation deep, deep down. The fact that Zhaul sprawled under him naked, wearing his mark and covered in his cum, certainly helped. His mate’s hands on Zhaul definitely helped, too.

“Well, these military or mercenary guys tranqed me, and I woke up in some scientists’ facility.” Zhaul’s features twisted in obvious discomfort as he must have been thinking about that. “Anyway, I was transferred a couple of times. Then Kontra and his guys rescued me. I was only able to shift back to my human form for the first time yesterday.”

“Wait.” Confusion filled Congo. “What?”

“Uh…” Zhaul appeared just as confused as Congo felt. “What, what?”

“A scientists’ facility?” Congo finally unwound one arm from beneath Zhaul and reached toward his mate’s hair. He intended to thread his fingers between the man’s beautiful oddly streaked hair, but then he saw how dirty his fingers were, so he rested them on his mate’s shoulder instead. “Kontra and, and T-Tim… they rescued you?”

Zhaul nodded. “Yeah. They’re the good guys.”

“B-But… they’re warlocks,” Congo finished on a whisper.

“Tim and Draven are, yeah,” Zhaul confirmed. “But they don’t cast spells on shifters.” Then he rolled his eyes before smirking wryly. “I guess I have heard a couple of stories where Tim’s used a spell on a flying shifter to do reconnaissance… and then there were times when a shifter attacked him, and he had to defend himself, but that’s totally understandable.”

“O-Okay.” Congo didn’t know what to think of that.

Zhaul lightly tugged on Congo’s hair before threading it behind his ear. “So, anyway, they’ll help as best they can.” He sobered a little as he added, “And I’m sorry about the bears you lost.” With his expression earnest, Zhaul repeated, “But that wasn’t your fault. That was the fault of that evil circle of witches.”

Congo forced an absent nod as he felt a skitter of… something… travel across his nerve endings. Having felt that sensation enough times over the last couple of years, he sighed deeply.

The spell.

“I have to go,” Congo rumbled.

“Go?” Zhaul cocked his head. “Go where?”

“Back to the house,” Congo explained as he began easing away from Zhaul. “My two hours are almost up.”

“Two hours,” Zhaul repeated, confused for a second. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, the way Tim phrased the command.”

Congo nodded once. “Yes.” Unable to help himself, he dipped close and pressed a kiss to the corner of Zhaul’s mouth. “I wish… I wish things were different.”

Feeling the prickly sensations intensifying, Congo knew he’d run out of time. He began to shift, returning to his bear form. At least the change went swifter and didn’t hurt as much.

Soon, Congo shook out his fur and rose to his feet. He saw that Zhaul had returned to his giant panda form, too. After a nuzzle to his mate’s black and white head, Congo began hurrying through the trees.

With the way the sparks danced across his flesh, Congo picked up his pace. He hadn’t realized he’d traveled so far, and by the time the house came into view between the trees, the tingles had turned to tendrils of fire. When Congo attempted to descend the tree, he lost his balance and flopped gracelessly off the last branch.

Congo grunted in pain, but he forced himself back to his feet. In the next instant, Zhaul’s bear was at his side, offering support, nuzzling him encouragingly. Limping with the pain of being late, Congo made his way to his sleuth’s side, flopping to the ground when he reached them.

The hyena shifter Congo had seen through the window strolled across the deck. He was eating a blue ice pop while smirking at Congo. Then the male turned his gaze to Zhaul and grinned as he sniffed the air exaggeratedly.

“Damn, Zhaul,” the hyena shifter teased. “You must be one hell of a fuck to exhaust this guy so bad that he has to crawl back here.” Cackling, he added, “You’ll have to share your techniques, man.”

“I don’t think his movements are caused by exhaustion, Payson,” Kontra rumbled from where he sat on the top step. His legs were spread, and Tim was seated before him on the stair below. “That looked like pain.”

“Oh, does rutting in bear form hurt?” Payson asked, his brows furrowing. “Never fucked as an animal myself. I wonder if Land would be up for that.”

“Land most certainly would not,” a slender, geeky-looking human countered, exiting the front door. “I love your hyena and all, but just… no.”

Payson grabbed the human and tugged him close, allowing him to slide the hand not holding his freezie pop up under the guy’s shirt. “Okay, baby,” he purred into the man’s ear. “We’ll leave the bestiality to these guys.”

“Uh, we were in human form, and I don’t think two shifters mating in their animal form would even be considered bestiality.” Zhaul’s voice drew Congo’s attention. Frowning, he continued, “And we didn’t do anything to cause pain.” His brows furrowed as he added, “Although, somehow, he knew when his two hours were about up.”

“They all did.” Tim indicated the others who were once again spread before the warlock. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grumbled, “But how?”

Draven rested on the top step on the other side of the stairs. A dark-haired wolf shifter stood behind him, leaning against the support post. The shifter rested a hand on Draven’s shoulder and was rubbing.

“I’m going with the spells woven around these guys causes pain,” Draven guessed—astutely. “If they don’t obey, pain. If they do something they’re not ordered to do, pain.” Grimacing, he added, “He was told to be back here in two hours, and he was a minute or two late, so the spells caused pain.”

“Well, that fucking sucks,” Payson muttered with a scowl. “Fucking witches.”

“Shit,” Tim mumbled, a distressed expression creasing his features. “I’m sorry. When I said what I did, I didn’t mean—” Sighing deeply, Tim peered over his shoulder at Kontra. “You did say we’d have to be careful how we worded things.”

“I did,” Kontra confirmed as he threaded his fingers through Tim’s sandy-blond hair in what looked to be a soothing manner. “But we don’t know what those witches did so we’re bound to fuck up here and there.” Turning his attention to Zhaul, Kontra asked, “You said you shifted? Both of you? To human form?”

Zhaul nodded. “They can shift, although from how Congo did it, my guess is they were trapped longer than my own six months.” Kneeling beside Congo, he rubbed at the fur behind his ear. “You doing okay now?”

Congo blinked once, wishing he could reassure his mate. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been ordered to answer or to move.

Turning back to those on the porch, Zhaul revealed, “His sleuth was kidnapped from somewhere in the Catskills. They were a small group. A dozen of them.” He furrowed his brows as he softly added, “Now their numbers are halved, and he feels responsible.”

As the few things that Congo had told Zhaul poured out of his mate’s mouth, unease slithered up his spine. He knew his mate trusted these people, but he didn’t. Congo had never met any paranormal group that coexisted with magick and shifters equally.

One had always controlled the other.

Unable to help himself, Congo grumbled as worry flooded him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Zhaul soothed. He rubbed over Congo’s head, having obviously scented his distress. “I told you. These are the good guys.” Turning a pleading focus on Kontra and the warlocks, Zhaul added, “You can fix it, right?”

Draven sighed deeply as he and Tim exchanged a look. When he refocused on Zhaul and Congo, he quietly stated, “Those witches used demon blood in their magick to weave these spells.” Shrugging, he added, “Spells I don’t even know.”

Frowning at Tim, Zhaul countered hotly, “But you said you had a vision. A vision of us together.”

Tim nodded, not denying that claim. “I did.” A thoughtful expression caused his brows to furrow. “But… we need more information.”

“Hey,” the wolf shifter piped up, tugging at Draven’s short, white-blond hair. “Remember when I told you the spell that witch used on me so you could try to figure out the counter-spell?”

Draven smiled up at him. “Of course, my beloved.”

Congo started. Between the word beloved and the fangs on clear display in Draven’s mouth, he realized something. Draven wasn’t just a warlock. He was also a vampire.

Taking a chance, Congo attempted to shift. Pain ignited in his blood. Fiery agony coursed through his limbs.

Still, he continued to try.

“I order you to shift.”

Congo barely heard Draven’s shouted order over the sounds of roaring. Immediately, the agony subsided. Panting hard, Congo snapped his mouth shut, and the sound ceased.

Once back in human form, Congo breathed deeply, doing his best to gain control of himself… and find his voice. The feel of Zhaul’s hands rubbing his back soothed him. Turning his head a little, Congo did his best to peer up at him, offering him an appreciative smile.

Draven crouched before him, his blue eyes holding a wealth of concern. “You have something to say.”

That wasn’t an order, so Congo continued to stare. There was only so much pain he could endure at a time.

Grimacing, Draven shook his head. “Let me see if I can get this right,” he muttered, obviously thinking. After a glance over his shoulder at the others, Draven peered around at the group. “I order you all to speak freely whenever you feel the need.” After another heartbeat, the vampire added, “And I order you to use whichever form you feel necessary, whenever you wish.”

Draven hesitated again before saying, “And I order you to only follow orders if they come from Kontra. Otherwise, the choice to follow orders is yours.”

Congo felt something loosen in his chest. He cut his gaze from Draven to Tim and finally to Kontra. The grizzly shifter didn’t exactly appear pleased, but he didn’t seem upset, either.

Obviously reading Kontra’s expression, Draven shrugged. “Freeing them to make choices should be a start until we can get those damn spells under control.” He pointed. “And you’re the alpha.”

Kontra sighed deeply even as he nodded once. “I just hate the responsibility of their free will being reliant on my words.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Whipping his attention to the left upon hearing Madagascar’s voice for the first time in years, Congo grinned. “Right you are, brother,” he muttered. “Right you are.”

Now, gods willing, Zhaul’s faith in these men is not misplaced.