Vivian Arend: Black Gold

“Excuse me, ladies.”

Shaun ducked in front of a table of laughing women and caught the flying beer mug in mid-air before it could slam into the center of their party. Unfortunately, there was no time to respond with more than a wink to their admiring feminine responses. He twirled to grab the nearest bear shifter by the scruff of the neck, hauled him away from the innocent bystanders and thumped him face-first into the rustic wood-paneled wall. Another glass shattered inches to Shaun’s right, and he sighed.

Bloody den buddies. Wolves might drive him crazy, but after a few too many drinks bears were even worse. Should have cut them off hours ago and sent them all packing.

“Let me know if you need a hand,” Evan called from behind the bar, amusement tingeing his voice.

“Fuck off,” Shaun tossed back easily. Just what he needed—an Alpha with an attitude. Not .

Evan laughed as he reached over the counter and nabbed the nearest two troublemakers by the hair. He knocked their heads together and grinned with satisfaction as the shifters tumbled to the floor.

Shaun pulled his current object of attention off the wall a foot or so, examined the man’s eyes carefully, then slammed him back harder than the time before. The bear shifter went limp and puddled downward without a sound. Shaun turned to the remaining crew of shaggy-headed rabble-rousers currently making Tuesday afternoon in Whitehorse a little too exciting for the locals.

Of course, at this time of day the only occupants of the Moonshine Pub were shifters, and for the most part, they weren’t as picky about how wild the party got.

“Hey, watch it, buddy. You’re shaking the dartboard.”

Shaun flipped the visiting wolves the finger. Figured they’d sit and observe the chaos instead of offering to help. This wasn’t their territory, so he couldn’t blame them for staying out of it. And with Whitehorse in the strange position of having two packs sharing territory—sometimes not getting mixed up in local werewolf politics was the safest way to keep your fur intact.

He took a swift survey of the bar, noting only four grizzly shifters remained standing. Well, three standing, one swaying violently as he attempted to chug the remaining half pint of beer in his mug and keep an eye on Shaun.

Talk about not taking matters seriously. For some reason the big brute’s lack of concentration pissed Shaun off. He shook his hands at the man like an irate Italian. “Hey, you. Put the glass down and let’s see some effort here. Sheesh , what kind of barroom brawl is this?”

His opponents exchanged glances, and Shaun cracked his knuckles in anticipation. Finally he’d get to inflict a little bodily damage. Not that he had anything against bears personally—it had simply been too long since he’d let off some steam.

One bear rushed him. Shaun sidestepped, turning with his elbow raised high and hard, connecting with a satisfying thunk to the idiot’s head. The second swung at him as the third lunged forward. Shaun seized the ham-sized fist on his right as it approached, pulled the man off balance and into the direct line of the dive-bombing attack of his buddy. The two connected with grunts of pain, tangling together to land in a twisted mess on the floor.

Too damn easy. Shaun shook his head in disgust and stepped over their prone bodies before they could scramble to their feet. A quick one-two kick to each of their stomachs ensured that the only thing they would be concentrating on for the next few minutes was their next breath.

“I don’t know, Evan. Maybe you should reconsider the whole public-bar idea. I mean…” The grizzly shifter sneaking up on Shaun was reflected in the mirror behind the counter. Shaun waited one more second then raised his clenched fist as if he were doing a strongman muscle pose. The back of his hand connected with the man’s face, and the bear teetered on shaky legs, the stars he must be seeing almost visible in the air.

Shit, that one hurt. Shaun shook out his fingers and concentrated. Where was he? Oh, right.

“What if you made the place private? This dealing with tourists is bullshit.”

Evan rinsed a glass. “It’s the tourists passing through who make life interesting. Winter season gets too quiet and cozy with only locals dropping in.”

That was true enough. Watching water freeze was right up there on the list of entertaining things to do during December in the Yukon, and didn’t keep the blood stirring. Still…

“I didn’t think returning to the Takhini pack would involve so much fighting.”

“Are you serious? Shaun, what the hell else do you know that is so universally acceptable amongst every wolf pack? Huh?”

Shaun shrugged. Yeah, pack hierarchy games came with the territory. “Not every pack spends all their time jostling for position.”

Evan paused in the middle of wiping the counter. “It’s not a bad source of entertainment.” He twirled, slamming a fist between the eyes of the grizzly standing behind him with a chair lifted in his hands. The huge man fell like a tree trunk, chair crashing to the floor. Shaun rolled his eyes as Evan did a celebratory dance behind the bar.

His Alpha completed his gyrating and tilted his head toward the unconscious shifter. “You want to clean that up, or should I call the cops?”

Shaun grabbed his beer from where he’d hidden it and snuck a swig. “Nah, don’t bother the RCMP. They’re busy enough with spring fever hitting everyone in town. I’ll pour the bears into a cab and get them dumped in the bush.”

“Shaun…”

“Fine, fine. I’ll send them to their hotel. Damn, you’re no fun at all.” Shaun winked at his Alpha. There was no doubt Evan was the strongest wolf in the area, but the dude was nuttier than a fruitcake at times. Newcomers didn’t seem to understand why the Takhini pack put up with such an oddball for a leader, but even in the short time Shaun had been back in Whitehorse, he’d come to appreciate Evan’s style. The man didn’t give a damn about being the most powerful. He simply was, no gesturing, no chest beating.

Evan’s sense of the ridiculous appealed to Shaun in a thumb-your-nose-at-authority kind of way.

Shaun levered one of the groaning bodies upright off the floor. “Okay, big guy. Time to pay the bills and take your little party elsewhere.”

The shifter made a pathetic attempt to bat away Shaun’s hands. “Piss off.”

“Tsk, tsk, that’s not how to talk to the guy who’s still deciding if you go in a cab or the river.”

By the time Shaun had poured the bears into cabs, he was ready for another drink. Just one last body to deal with. He grabbed the dead weight of the biggest guy by the ankles and tugged, attempting to slide him over the rough wooden boards of the bar toward the door. It was after five, and action around the place had increased in a slow trickle. More of the pack wandered in. Servers rushed in, carrying orders of wings and plates of appetizers. The live band tuned up, the drummer beating out a heavy pulse that throbbed below the murmuring voices. The evening was warm enough Evan had cracked open the windows, and an early June breeze fluttered in carrying the smell of spring and the promise of a great outdoor adventure season.