Free A Bear Victory by Anya Nowlan Page A

treacherous and surrounded by drops and thick forests. On his runs, Cannon had come to know the woods and he knew just the path to take to cut through them the shortest possible way and reach the point where the backwater road fed onto the highway.
    He ran like there were demons chasing him, massive muscles and the dizzying speed of a bear at peak physical condition taking him quickly through the snowy forest. He was like a tank, trudging through, almost flying across the mounds of snow despite his fantastic size. This time, he had something to run toward and he wasn’t going to fuck up again. He couldn’t afford it.
    The trek through the woods seemed to take forever, and when the road came into view, he almost feared it would be too late. He didn’t even know what car she was in, but he had to take a chance, to try.
    He reached the dirt road, iced over as it was, only a few moments before a big truck came barreling down the road. The driver slammed on the brakes hard, tossing the truck slightly, but staying in control easily enough. Living in a place like Shifter Grove made for damn good drivers, especially with shifters constantly running around.
    Slate, Cannon recognized with a start, rearing up on his back legs for a moment, to see Kimberley in the passenger seat.
    The frantic beating of his heart steadied for a moment as he allowed the shift to take him again, wrestling power out of the paws of the grouchy bear and into the hands of the man once more. The bear gave it up more than a little reluctantly. No wonder. The man had been losing the puck at every turn lately.
    Cannon stood, pushing his shoulders back and squaring his jaw as his blue gaze met Kimberley’s green eyes. She looked more than a little shocked, but Cannon figured her surprises were only beginning.
    He held up a hand in apology to Slate, recognizing the pilot from a few pick-ups he’d done for the team now, and walked to the passenger side of the truck. Cannon pulled the door open.
    “Cannon, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice shaky.
    “I need to talk to you. Now.”
    “Now? Fucking now?! ” Kimberley asked, and Cannon was damn sure he could see the shimmer of tears welling up in her pretty eyes.
    Guilt hit him like a ton of bricks.
    “Now,” he repeated sternly, reaching over her and undoing the belt.
    “Kimberley, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Slate said, giving Cannon a dubious look.
    Sizing the man up, Cannon figured he could take him in a fight if he needed to, tiger or no tiger—it was easy enough to smell it on the man—but even the fact that he came to this thought felt ridiculous to him. He’d never do something like that. Or would he?
    Guess I’m willing to go to any length for her, he thought glumly, once more disappointed in himself that it took so damn long to come to this understanding.
    “It’s okay,” Kimberley said, glancing at Slate before she slipped out of the seat, though Cannon got a good glare for his forwardness.
    He didn’t care. He deserved far worse than an angry look from her, after all. Walking in the opposite direction of the highway, they strolled in silence a few paces as Cannon tried to gather his thoughts. The whole run there, he’d been so sure that he knew exactly what to tell her, but now he found himself stuttering and stumbling over thoughts that wouldn’t even form words.
    Feeling that she was becoming antsy, he turned to face her, taking her hands in his and feeling the warmth of her skin, sending little flashes of bliss through him where they touched.
    “Kimberley, I’ve been a fucking douchebag,” he said, giving up on finding the perfect words and settling for the ones that came naturally. “I’ve been meaning to explain to you why I did what I did when we broke up. I’ve been trying to make sentences that would make sense this whole time and failing miserably. That’s why I brought you here, so I could apologize and set things straight. And I