The following is a work of fan fiction based on the CBS television series, The
Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of
CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who
may have legal rights to the characters and settings. This story is strictly for
entertainment. Sentinelcopyright of
Paramount and Pet Fly Productions.
Warning for adult language and situations, very intense sexual Sentinel bonding
(C/V) (E/OMC). Main characters Chris, Vin, Buck and Ezra.
Part One
Sheriff Lom Travis was sitting outside of the Jail, sipping his first cup of
coffee of the day and watching the coming and goings of the town. Now, Lom in
his time had seen some fast gunmen; Kid Curry[1]
was fast, but the newcomer Chris Larabee was even faster. There was something
almost inhuman about the way Larabee could draw and fire. What wasn’t widely
known was that Kid Curry had only called out and killed one man, and that was
only after the man had left him and his partner out in the desert to die.
Usually Curry could wing his opponent or just outdraw him, stopping the other
man in his tracks, intimidating them with his speed. But Larabee was a
professional gunslinger, and every time he was called out he left a corpse
cooling in the street. The man, it was said, had the charm of a pissed off
rattlesnake, and that was when he wasn’t angry. His temper was a thing of
legend, and he was known to be a mean drunk. Now that man was in his town, and
from where he sat Lom could see Larabee striding down the opposite side of the
road, his black duster flapping round his ankles. In his all black clothing he
looked like an angel of death.
People crossed the road to avoid walking past him; it was as if Larabee’s
presence sucked all the light and warmth out of the space he occupied. As he
walked past, Larabee’s eyes had fixed on him, making Lom shiver. Sheriff Lom
Travis had faced down many killers but Larabee was the first one to actually
scare him and he was man enough to admit it. Already at least two of the local
cattlemen had come into his office to demand that he find out why Larabee was in
their town. Anytime a gunman like Larabee arrived, it got people worried.
His attention then settled on the next new arrival. The man was riding a big
black horse with a white blaze on its face; his gut instinct was to say buffalo
hunter, as he took in the filthy hide coat and the fringed rifle holster. The
man wore a slouched old confederate cavalry hat, the brim was pulled down,
throwing his face into shadow, and at his hip was a cut down Winchester; a
mare’s leg. It was no surprise when he dismounted in front of the saloon,
hitching the horse so it could drink its fill from the water trough as he
slacked the saddle girth, making the animal comfortable. Something about the man
made Lom sit up; going back into the jail he dropped the cup into a bucket of
water and began to leaf through the wanted posters. Finally, he halted his
search.
Tucking the poster into his pocket he checked his gun, and headed towards the
Saloon.
0-0-0-0-0
Buck Wilmington was a
big man. Jovial by nature, with a
ready smile, he was considered very easy going and he liked nothing more than to
spend time with the ladies, as more than one husband had found out to his cost.
Buck was happy, a beer on the table and Sally - one of the working girls
- on his knee. He was deeply engrossed in her many charms, when he suddenly
looked up, all thoughts of enjoyment forgotten. He whispered something into
Sally’s ear, and she got off his lap.
He patted her bottom affectionately as she walked back towards the bar,
only to be caught and pulled onto the lap of one of the cattle drovers as she
gave a squeal of fake delight.
Buck’s gaze fixed on the newcomer; Vin
Tanner, he recognised the man from the wanted poster.
He had been Deputy at Clarksville when they had brought the butchered men
in. Shit, there had been nothing left of them after Tanner had taken a bowie
knife to the men, he had been sickened by what he had seen. Tanner was nothing
more than a white renegade and he had vowed then and there that one day he would
see Tanner at the end of a rope. Now, close to him, Buck realised what he was
looking at was a Wild Sentinel, a Feral; something that most right minded people
thought of as nothing more than a rabid dog in human form. The man was only one
step above a wild animal himself. There was no way he was going to let Tanner
get away. Plastering one of his most welcoming smile on his face he went over to
the bar, propped himself against the counter and nodded to Tanner when he was
pinned by a pair of ice-cold, cobalt blue eyes.
Buck indicated his glass and pushed the money across to the bartender. “Another
one, Fred.” Then to Tanner he
added; “Sure is a hot one.”
Tanner just
nodded and went back to his own drink.
Buck sipped
his drink. He would bide his time
and then take the wanted man down hard and fast.
The man carried a mare’s leg, but Buck was sure that if things got down
and dirty, Tanner would go for the wicked-looking bowie knife first.
Buck saw the wanted man tense slightly and realised that the Texan had been
watching Lom in the mirror. So, it was no surprise when he heard Lom tell him he
was under arrest.
When Tanner spoke there was a rasp to the soft Texan accent. “Not going to
happen, Sheriff.”
Vin Tanner turned to look at the lawman; there was a certainty in those vivid
blue eyes that made the Sheriff almost take a step back. Instantly, he knew that
the man was as wild and as dangerous as a Comanche warrior.
“I don’t want to shoot you Tanner, but unless you put your gun hand on top of
the bar now, that’s the way it’s going to go down.”
There was a long minute and then Tanner did as he was told; Lom took a step
forward, reaching for the Mare’s leg that the younger man wore instead of a
Colt.
Tanner moved fast and Buck was nearly caught out, in one quick movement, Tanner
had twisted round, his hand knocking Lom’s gun to one side, his left hand
fisting a Bowie knife aimed straight for the Sheriff’s stomach.
Buck brought his gun round, cold-cocking the younger man; Tanner’s body slumped
to the floor of the Saloon, the Bowie knife falling from his hand.
Buck picked the knife up. “Nearly got
you with this pig-sticker, Lom.
That boy is a mean one alright. You okay?”
“Fine.” But even as he said it, Lom Travis knew that it had been a close one.
Suddenly, Buck felt it.
A dark, oppressive force - a Predator Sentinel.
Even as he heard the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back, Buck
turned to face it. Tanner was a
loner, a drifter, but he might have back up. It was then, out of the dark shadow
at the back of the saloon that he saw the black clad Chris Larabee appear.
Buck’s face split into a wide grin; this was one Predator he would welcome with
open arms. “Chris, you old dog, what the hell are you doing here?”
“You know him?” Lom put in, shocked by his Deputy’s reaction to the black clad
killer.
“Sure, we go back some, Chris and me. Chris, just let me get this murdering scum
out of here and-”
“He belongs to me.” Four words.
Said softly, but the tone of voice had the ice-cold bite of winter and for the
second time in just a few minutes, Lom felt fear as he tried to meet the glare
from the green eyes that bore into him.
But for Buck - a Gamma
Sentinel - those four words had more meaning.
It was a Predator staking his claim on a Feral.
“You claiming the reward, Larabee?” Lom asked.
Buck just wished it was something as simple as that, but the way Chris looked at
the young Feral, the way the flame in his eyes ignited and flared, there was
more to it, and things had just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
The smile
Chris gave Lom was like a wolf that had just entered a chicken coop. “No,
Sheriff, just want what belongs to me.”
Tanner was starting to come round; he managed to get onto his hands and knees,
one hand pressed to his head. It
came way away smeared with blood.
“Can you get up, Tanner?”
“Sure, Cowboy.” But the younger man was struggling, clawing at the bar to pull
himself up.
Buck’s expression went from surprise to total disbelief; the quickest way to get
shot was to call Larabee a Cowboy, and here was Tanner calling him it to his
face.
“Help him up, Buck.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.
Buck
Wilmington caught Tanner’s arm and dragged him up, pushing him none too gently
against the bar. “Chris, there is no way you’re with this murdering bastard.
He’s a renegade, do you know what he did to those men he killed? I was
there; I saw the fucking bodies when he was finished with them. I-”
“Get on your horse and get out of town, Tanner.” Chris ignored Buck; what he
said was unimportant, Tanner was a Feral and, at the moment, running true to his
nature.
For a heartbeat, blue eyes met green, and whatever passed between them was
enough for the younger man to trust the man in black to watch his back as he
staggered out of the saloon.
A few minutes later there was the sound of horse hooves leaving town quickly.
Only then did the gun pinwheel on Larabee’s finger and return to his holster,
but his hand still rested there.
“You allowed a killer to escape,” Lom snarled at Larabee.
“Going to arrest me for that, Sheriff?” The mockery was clear in that cold
voice. Lom hesitated. “Just get out of town, Larabee.” The Sheriff turned on his
heel and walked out of Saloon. He was no fool; Larabee had been spoiling for a
fight, wanting him to push it.
Buck looked at his old friend, not sure what was going on but determined to find
out. Nodding towards the bar, he said, “Beer.”
“Beer,” Larabee confirmed and headed towards the bar.
0-0-0-0-0
Lom was fuming, and the moment that Buck came through the door, he let him have
it. “What the hell is Larabee up to, letting that killer go?
He tell you why?”
“No, but then Chris never has been a blabbermouth.
He’s due to leave tomorrow.”
“Well, thank God for small mercies,” Lom breathed, “I have already had Parker
and Edwards breathing down my back about what he’s doing here.” Before he could
finish, there was the sound of gunfire.
Buck was out of the door with Lom on his heels.
As Buck opened fire on the bank robbers, he threw himself behind one of
the horse troughs. The exchange of shots was short and sharp, until a voice
yelled out:
“Cease fire.”
The cry came from the bank, one of the robbers - a tall, willowy man - came out,
his gun to the head of an elderly woman customer.
“You’re going to let us ride out of here, otherwise we kill her and the others.”
He moved towards the horses, then over his shoulder he yelled, “Bring them out.”
Two young girls were dragged out of the bank.
Lom could hear their mother screaming for them, but he knew there was
nothing he could do, not with guns at their heads.
The man waited for his men to mount up, dragging their hostages with them, then
he gave the old woman a staggering push, watching her sprawl face first into the
street. He mounted his horse.
“We’ll drop them off at one of the farmsteads, but if you follow, they’re
dead, and it won’t be pretty.”
Lom exchanged a look with Buck.
Both men knew that the girls would be raped and killed, their only hope was to
get to the bank robbers first, and for that they needed a first class tracker.
And only one man was good enough to do it - Vin Tanner.
0-0-0-0-0
Vin Tanner was perched in one of the rocky outcrops.
He had double-crossed over his tracks and yet the three men were still
there. Carefully, he sighted along
the Winchester and then his lips twisted into a smile as he recognised the black
clad man on the right, Chris Larabee.
Vin had lived with the People and they understood about Guardians.
Larabee was a powerful Guardian, and that was why they had found him.
Larabee had caught his scent on the wind and followed it. Vin had met
other Guardians during the war. The
white men had called them Sentinels.
He had been a Confederate sharpshooter and when he
had tried to return back to Texas, he
had been tracked down and the Union soldiers had come for him.
They had killed the other wild ones and he had been left for dead,
because his kind could not be allowed to live.
He had only survived because Wind Walker
and the others had taken him in. In the sweat lodge he had seen the spirits;
they had told him that one day he would meet a powerful Guardian and that his
future would be woven tightly with this man. He had heard the man in black claim
him. Others had tried and he had
fought them. He would do it again.
Vin touched the medicine bag he wore around his neck for good luck. The way they
rode, they wanted him to see them.
It was then that he heard the voice from the Saloon, a voice slightly rough from
cigars and whiskey.
Larabee knew he was there, he told him about the girls, and how they needed his
help. And he had promised his gun, to make sure that the Sheriff kept to his
promise. Vin turned his attention
to the man in the middle as he thought over Larabee’s words.
The big man was the one that had hit him; he was talking softly to
Larabee, it sounded like they were old friends.
Vin ignored the Sheriff, he had no interest in him.
If he agreed, it was because of Larabee and no one else.
With a mischievous grin, Vin sighted along the Winchester, and then fired.
The Sheriff’s hat went spinning off his head and onto the ground.
The next two bullets ploughed in front of the horses, making them skip
sideways.
“Tanner, we need to talk to you,” Buck yelled. He glanced at Chris and saw his
mouth moving, but heard no sound.
All Buck could hear was a low rumbling.
Hell, he was talking to Tanner again.
Buck’s eyes tracked the rocky outcrops and then Tanner suddenly appeared, a
Winchester held in his hands, ready for use.
“You wanted to talk to me? Then get on
with it.” The Texan accent was more pronounced than it had been in the bar.
“My name’s Sheriff……” Lom didn’t get a chance to finish.
“You wanted me, I’m here, Larabee,” Tanner drawled, the Sheriff ignored.
“Heard you’re a good tracker, Tanner,” Chris said.
“You heard right. Man or beast, I
get what I go after, cowboy.”
“Did he just call me a cowboy?” Chris asked Buck.
The big man said, “Yeah he did,” but rather than being pissed off about
it, Chris’s lips quirked up into the nearest he got to a smile as he continued;
“The deal is, you track them, get the girls back, and you get to keep the bounty
on anyone of the gang you kill.”
“How I know that Johnny Law there isn’t going to try to stretch my neck
afterwards,” Vin drawled.
“Got my word on it, Tanner,” Chris said.
For a long moment, blue and green eyes held each other, then with a nod, Tanner
turned on his heel and went back to get his horse.
He had work to do.
0-0-0-0-0
Two days later, Lom returned to Town.
He was on a wagon, the two girls were sitting in the back, huddled
together, wrapped in blankets. Buck was riding on the other side, behind them
Chris and Vin leading four horses, with blanket-covered bodies draped over them.
Every now and again, Buck would look back; finally he pulled his horse to a halt
and waited for them to catch up.
“Do you think I can trust him?” Vin
watched Buck’s reaction. He had
seen the way the Sheriff had been looking at him.
So far, he hadn’t said anything to indicate that he would turn on him,
but with $500 on his head, Vin couldn’t afford to take chances.
Buck looked from Vin to Chris and back again.
“Lom’s a man of his word. He says
you’re free to go then that’s what’s going to happen.”
But even so, Vin pulled back before they got into town.
Too many people had seen his rapid exit for him to feel totally safe.
0-0-0-0-0
Buck had decided to go with Chris when he left town.
Lom Travis had been reluctant to let him go, but had understood his need
to spend time with his old friend, and had also understood the other reason.
That he didn’t trust Vin Tanner.
Their third day on the trail and Buck was beginning to realise that he was
looking at the foundation of a pack. As a Gamma Sentinel, his job was to bring
balance to the pack, be the voice of reason. But as the days had gone by, he had
seen the interaction between Vin and Chris, and knew that it could only end one
way. In the Predator claiming and dominating the Feral.
That was the only way a Feral could be controlled.
Buck grinned as he heard Vin back-talking to a man that scared most people
shitless. Chris’s growled threat to
shoot him just washed straight over the younger man. Yeah, Vin was good for
Chris. Oh, Vin was pushing all right, Chris was going to lose it soon and Buck
could see the Predator in the man rising.
And that would spur him to bond and mate with Tanner.
Vin would always be wild and untamed, but Chris would be there, tempering
him. In the meantime, Buck knew
that he had to keep the two of them away from other people.
Once Chris entered into bonding, he would see anyone outside of his pack
as a threat to his young feral soulmate, and people would begin to die.
The next morning, Buck woke to a swearing Chris Larabee.
The notoriously volatile gunman was angrier than Buck could ever remember
seeing him. “Get your carcass up Buck, we’re riding.”
“Chris?” Buck broke off as he suddenly realised that Vin Tanner was missing.
“When I get my hands on that scrawny assed Texan...”
Chris’s voice dropped to a low mutter that didn’t bode well for Vin
Tanner when he was caught.
0-0-0-0-0
At 29, Ezra Standish had been a conman the whole of his life.
His mother had left him with different relatives when he was younger,
until he was needed as window dressing for a particular con. As he got older, he
had taken more of a lead and soon struck out on his own.
A talented card player, he had developed into a self-assured professional
gambler and card sharp. He didn’t hide what he was; the red jacket and black,
river-boat hat spoke volumes.
His luck has been running good for the last couple of nights, but since he had
broken his fast at noon, he had been getting a feeling, like an itch he couldn’t
scratch. Trying to dismiss it from his thoughts, he concentrated on his cards.
So far, it had been a busy night as, with a grin, he raked in the last pot of
the evening.
Only to freeze as he heard the click of a colt being cocked.
“Now, gentlemen, there is no need to do this.”
Joe Ford had his gun
pointed straight at Ezra’s head. “Now, you’ve got a lot of our money there, Mr
Fancy Pants, and it seems only right you let us win some of it back.”
Ezra looked at the empty space in front of the man.
“You seem to be lacking funds, Mr Ford.”
Ford’s smile got even wider. “Got
me something better than money.
$500 dollars on the hoof.”
“On the hoof, Mr Ford?” Ezra scoffed. “I
don’t take livestock.” He looked pointedly at the gun, waiting for Ford to lower
it. “So unless you’ve got something
better than the odd cow or two, I am calling it a night.”
“This is more than a cow. Go get
it, Marty,” Ford drawled. He
grinned even wider as he lowered his gun to the table.
A few
minutes later Marty came back. The
young man with him had been badly beaten; blood ran down his face, black
bruising coloured his jaw, his hands were tied behind his back and a noose hung
around his neck. He was pulled up
to the table, a kick to the back of the legs bringing him crashing down by the
side of Ford’s chair. Marty grabbed a fist full of the man’s long hair and
pulled his head back sharply so that Ezra could see his face clearly as Ford
pulled a wanted poster from his jacket and threw it into the centre of the
table.
“Vin Tanner, $500 dollars.”
“Mr Ford, I am not going to gamble for this man,” Ezra protested.
“Then the money stays here. Your
choice. One more hand.
You win, you get Tanner, you lose, I get him and the money, but you’re
not walking out without playing.”
Ezra settled back in the chair.
Noticing how Ford’s men had spread out behind their boss, he didn’t have a lot
of choice. “What guarantee do I have that if I win you’ll let me walk with him
and the money?”
Big Tom Hardy, the owner of the Saloon, brought the scattergun down hard on the
counter. “You win, Standish, you walk.
My word.” Big Tom gave the scattergun an affectionate pat.
“All right Mr Ford. I will put up
the money I have won, you will put up Mr Tanner, his horse and goods.
That agreed?”
Ford nodded. “Shit, that horse of
his is like a snapping turtle, you’re welcome to it.
Now, deal.”
The only sound that could be heard now was the slap of pasteboard on wood as the
cards were dealt. Tanner said something that the gambler didn’t hear and Ford
backhanded him across the face.
“Smart mouth. You win him, Fancy
Pants, I would gag him. He’s better
when his mouth’s full.” Ford’s men
laughed. Ezra looked for the first
time at the ‘pot’. The bounty was
possibly a few years younger than him.
His skin and clothes were filthy but he was good looking.
Ezra could see some of the working girls eyeing him up, muttering behind
their hands. For a heartbeat he locked eyes with him, and looked away quickly as
he saw the flame burn in the vivid blue eyes with a hatred that sent him cold.
He was looking at a wild animal.
Ford swore as he threw his hand in, then got to his feet and thrust the end of
the noose into Ezra’s hand. Then, surprised the gambler by laughing.
“Mr Ford, I fail to see the humour in this situation, since you are down $500
dollars.”
“Oh, you will Gambler, because where Tanner is the devil is following.
Come on boys.”
The noise in the Saloon slowly began to rise back to normal.
Big Tom came up to the table and said; “You’re finished for the night,
Standish, and tomorrow I want you gone.”
“Mr Hardy, we had an agreement-”
“Yeah, well, that was before you turned bounty hunter.”
“Bounty hunter? Mr Hardy, that is the
furthest thing from my mind. Now,
if you would like to perhaps pay me, I can-”
Hardy threw his hands up. “No way
Standish. His ass is yours, and you
want the $500, you have to take him to Tascosa, Texas. Just watch the bastard,
he’s wanted for taking a knife to some scalp hunters.
Word is, there wasn’t enough of them to bury once he was finished with
them. First chance he gets, he’ll kill you.”
“You seem to know a lot about him, Mr Hardy.”
“He came through here a while back, him and that Chris fucking Larabee.”
“What?” Ezra was now sat upright in his chair, and from the corner of his eye he
could see the grin that was on Vin Tanner’s bruised face.
“No one mentioned Chris Larabee.” Ezra’s mind was spinning.
He knew about Larabee. The
man was a notorious killer and a heavy drinker.
He was a mean drunk and had the temperament of a pissed off rattlesnake
on a good day.
And he backed it up with being one of
the fastest gunmen ever; he was feared for a good reason. Now he knew what Ford
had meant.
The Devil was coming, in the form of the black clad Larabee.
“Yeah, he
came through with him a couple of weeks ago, why do you think no one tried for
that reward? You have to go through
Larabee to get to Tanner and hell, life is too short for that.” Hardy then
seemed take pity on the stunned Gambler.
“I would suggest you give him to Sheriff Bunter overnight, because this’s
the last good night sleep you’re going to get between here and Tascosa.”
“Damn,” Ezra muttered under his breath.
He folded his winnings up and tucked them in his pocket, then pushed his
chair back and got up. He gave the rope a tug. “On
your feet, Mr Tanner.”
Vin Tanner
struggled and Big Tom reached down and pulled him to his feet, holding him
there, gripping the back of the filthy buckskin jacket
and giving him a shake when the man
tried to pull free. “All yours, Standish.”
Ezra pulled the Remington. “This
way, Mr Tanner.” He gestured towards the
door, and gave the rope a tug. When
Tanner seemed to hesitate, a hard shove from Big Tom sent him staggering
forward. He lost his footing and
crashed into the table, overturning it and landing heavily on the floor, to the
laughter of the other men in the bar.
Big Tom grabbed him again, hauling him up.
“Just get hell out of here Standish and take this scum with you.”
“This way, Mr Tanner.” Ezra caught his
arm and manhandled him over to the jail.
The Sheriff wasn’t happy - and was vocal about it - when Ezra suggested untying
his prisoner once he was in the cell. Bunter just laughed in his face. “No way
am I getting near him with a knife.”
“He will need to eat, and...” Ezra nodded to a stinking bucket in the far corner
of the cell.
“No need to waste food on him.
Makes him easier to transport. And
he can piss himself for all I care, Standish, he can’t stink any worse.” Bunter
paused. “Look, I’ll tell you the same thing
I told those other bounty hunters.
One night and you’re on your own,” the Sheriff said.
He looked as happy as if the gambler had just put a rattlesnake in his
lap.
Ezra tried one of his best smiles, oozing charm, as he said; “Surely, Sheriff,
you can pay me the bounty then transport Mr Tanner to Texas.
I am willing to split the price with you.”
“He’s yours. You take him,” Bunter
put in firmly.
“I am a gambler, not a bounty hunter nor a lawman, sir.”
“I am employed to protect this town.” He
leaned forward on his desk. “You’re
going to bring Larabee here, so you get the hell out of here tomorrow, because I
don’t want any reason for Larabee to stop here.” He paused thoughtfully. “No
reason you have to take him in alive, Standish.
He’s worth the same dead or alive.
You might bear that in mind.
He can’t stink any worse dead than he does now.”
0-0-0-0-0
Back at his hotel room, Ezra sat on the bed, smoking a cigar, and took a deep
drink from his flask. Suddenly,
mind made up, he got up and packed his saddlebags.
What was to say he had to take Tanner? Hell,
he hated walking away from $500 but he would like being dead a lot less. And if,
for once, he was honest, there was something about Tanner that was making his
skin crawl.
He was half way to the livery cutting across the back of the jail when he felt
it. A weight at the base of his
skull that pushed up over his head and across his eyes. Spinning round, he saw
Tanner looking out at him. Only two yards separated them.
The moonlight caught Tanner’s face and he saw the blue eyes light up,
flames burning in them. Ezra
stumbled back a step.
A Sentinel, a Wild one. Tanner tilted his head and inhaled his scent, a knowing
look on his face. Ezra knew he was
scenting him. The southerner shook
his head. “No way, not again.”
He stumbled into the Livery and began to
saddle up his horse, his hands shaking violently. It was then that he heard the
scream, and it sent him cold. It
had been dragged out of someone, that scream, and it cut off just as quickly.
“It’s got nothing to do with you, just
get out of here,” Ezra told himself, but the second scream stopped him in his
tracks. “Shit.”
When Ezra stormed in, Bunter was in the jail cell with two other men and Tanner
was stood on a stool. The noose
around his neck had been thrown over one of the roof beams and it was held
tight. He was swaying badly and the noose was pulling his head up.
He was struggling to draw breath, a knife was sticking out of his left
leg and there was a slash across his stomach.
His face was covered in fresh blood.
“Let him down, now,” the
gambler ordered, adding; “easy with him.”
Bunter shook his head. “Don’t know what
you’re bothered about Standish, it’s dead or alive.
We’re just having a little fun, payback for what he did to those
hunters.”
“Scalp hunters.”
“White men, Standish, I would have through a Reb like you would understand the
difference between them and a renegade like him.”
“Yes, I can see the difference, now let him go.”
“What?”
“You heard me, let him go.”
“Standish-”
“Do it,” Ezra snapped at him as he cocked the Remington.
Tanner was dragged down off the stool and out of the cell.
Bunter threw him up against the wall.
With his hands tied he couldn’t stop himself from hitting it face first.
Tanner’s legs buckled when he was caught by the scruff of the neck and
pushed back against the wall. Ezra had to use his body to pin the other man in
place.
“Now, you’re going to lock yourself in the cell and throw the keys out toward
me.”
“Like hell.”
“Sheriff, I am leaving
with my property. We can do it the
hard way or the easy way.” Ezra’s face hardened.
Bunter swallowed hard as he realised that he had made a mistake with
Standish - the man was as much a killer as Larabee. The keys landed in front of
Ezra with a bang. He kicked them
behind the desk and manhandled the barely conscious Tanner out of the jail.
0-0-0-0-0
Three days later
Buck Wilmington was
riding in silence. The big man was
usually jovial and easy going, but he knew that Chris Larabee was in no mood to
hear anything. The lean blond was leading the way, his all black clothing making
him look like an avenging angel of death as he rode into Red Ridge.
Chris was seriously pissed off, and God help the first person to cross
him.
Larabee dismounted and
Buck caught his arm as he started into the Saloon.
Larabee stilled then looked from his hand, slowly up to Buck’s face, his
green eyes flashing with an unholy light. “Easy stud, you kill them all and we
won’t get any answers.”
A small nod was the only
reply he got. Buck let his hand drop and then followed his oldest friend into
the Saloon.
Buck topped Larabee by a
couple of inches. Easy going by
nature, Buck loved the ladies and was a hard man to rile, but once he did he was
every bit as deadly as Larabee, even if he didn’t have the killing speed of the
man in black. He was still fast enough to earn his money with his gun, though.
Big Tom Hardy swore.
He didn’t have to look up to know that Larabee had come in.
The Saloon had gone quiet. “Get you gentlemen a drink?”
“Whiskey.”
Big Tom poured the
drinks out. “Vin Tanner. Have you
seen him?” Chris asked, his voice level and ice cold, his eyes fixed on Big Tom.
The big man looked from
Larabee to Wilmington. “He was here a
few days ago.”
Buck could see the man
sweating. “And...” he prompted.
“He was with a gang of
bounty hunters. When they brought
him in here-” He paused, trying to gauge how Larabee was going to take the next
part of the story.
“And?” Chris asked as he
tossed back his whiskey and reached out for the bottle.
In the next minute he had grabbed Tom’s shirt and pulled him down, head
first, onto the bar counter with a loud bang, his gun pressed against the side
of Tom’s head. His actions had been so fast that Tom hadn’t had a chance to
resist.
“And.” Larabee spat the
word out as he cocked the gun.
“Mr Ford, he was playing
cards with a southern gambler. Standish, Ezra Standish, and he bet Tanner.
Standish won. Next day,
Standish left town with Tanner. Going to collect his $500 dollars.
Tanner was in a bad way.
Standish had a noose around his neck, leading him like a dog, treating him like
one,” Tom put in quickly. If it
meant getting Larabee out of Red Ridge and out of his Saloon, he would have sold
anyone down the river, and he certainly had no loyalty to Standish.
“Which way did they head
out?”
“Didn’t see, but most
people are heading to Twin Falls.”
Larabee lowered the
hammer on the colt, holstered the gun and without a backward glance, left the
Saloon. He mounted his horse and
rode out of town with Buck falling in behind him.
Buck felt guilty.
It had been his idea to give the young Feral Sentinel some breathing
space, let him get use to the idea of bonding with Chris and taking his place in
the Hunting Pack. But Tanner had taken off as if all the devils in hell were
after him, leaving him with a pissed off Predator Alpha Sentinel snapping at his
heels. Since Tanner’s capture, Chris had been barely civil and it was only luck
that stopped him leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake.
God help Junior when
Larabee caught up with him, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get in
between them.
0-0-0-0-0
Ezra looked across at
the man riding with him. Once he
was out of town, he had cut Tanner free and given him his weapons back.
He had been planning on leaving him to fend for himself. But with his
injuries, this bounty wouldn’t have been able to look out for himself.
Hell, he could barely sit his horse. So, for the last five days Ezra had
looked after him; dressed his wounds and fed him water to try and battle the
fever that had been brewing in him, and all the time they had been chased by
Tanner’s former owners.
The fever had finally
broken and although weak, Ezra knew it was time.
Finally, Ezra pulled
them to a halt. “Mr Tanner, I fear
that we must part company at this point.
Your former associates have been rather more diligent in their pursuit of
us than I had anticipated. We need, therefore, to go our separate ways.” He
paused, looking at the hand that Vin offered him and then shook it. “Good luck,
Mr Tanner.” Ezra spurred his horse
into action.
Vin headed the opposite
way. He owed the gambler and hoped
that he could pay him back one day.
0-0-0-0-0
From high in the hills,
Vin watched the bounty hunters for a moment.
They stopped at the place he had said farewell with Ezra and then they
took off after his own tracks. Vin swore and spurred his horse forward, heading
deeper into the hills. Once in the
high woods, he would turn back on his hunters and it would be payback time.
0-0-0-0-0
Twin Falls
Buck and Chris arrived
in town. It had been a long, hard
ride, and they headed straight for the saloon. Buck saw the sign across the
entrance:
SALOON CLOSED
UNDER
TEMPERANCE ORDANCE 10
He looked to the
heavens. Chris was pissed off and
was thirsty; a Temperance Town could just be the final nail in the coffin of his
patience.
Buck put in quickly;
“Standish is a gambler, I can’t see him staying in a town with no Saloon, Chris.
What say I check the jail and make sure
he hasn’t stashed Vin and taken off.”
He paused. “Er, Chris?”
He gave the man in black a poke in the
ribs, because he was still staring at the sign with something akin to horror.
The blond shook his head as if clearing it, then with a shudder, said;
“What’d you say, Buck?”
“I’ll check the jail and
then I suggest we get the hell out of here.”
Chris tugged a bottle
from his saddlebags and took a deep pull and handed the drink to Buck. There was
a scandalised intake of breath and two women rushed past. The sooner they were
out of this town, the better.
0-0-0-0-0
Vin was exhausted and
when he came into the town, he was nearly dead in the saddle.
He needed to rest but couldn’t afford to.
“Vin!”
The young man’s hand
went for the mare’s leg, but stilled when he saw Chris striding towards him,
catching his horse by the bridle and pulling him to a halt. Vin swayed in the
saddle. He felt the hand on his
thigh, a reassuring weight.
“It’s alright, Vin, I’ve
got you.”
Eyes at half mast,
barely able to keep them open, Vin looked down into the green eyes of Chris
Larabee. The fire he saw in them
ignited in him, pulling on a reserve of energy he never knew he had.
He pulled himself up straighter in the saddle. Buck saw the Sheriff
starting towards them. “Chris, we
have to get him out of here.” He jerked his head towards the Sheriff.
Chris squeezed Vin’s
leg. “We’ll get you out of here, just
hang on.”
Buck swung himself into
his saddle, moving to block the Sheriff so that he couldn’t get a clear look at
Vin. Chris was the last to mount,
moving his horse forward to block the lawman while Buck grabbed Vin’s reins and
headed off in the opposite direction.
Chris touched the brim of the black, flat hat that he wore at the Sheriff
and then wheeled his horse round and followed the other two. As he rode, his
face became hard.
He had a Feral to claim.
0-0-0-0-0
Thunder
Point
Evening
Ezra
Standish looked at his cards and then threw another $10 into the centre of the
table; the pot was building, and his opponents were out of their depth. If they
had the sense God gave a gopher they would have thrown in their cards $40
dollars ago. With a grin that
showed his gold tooth, the young gambler laid his cards down.
Ignoring the comments of the other players, he raked in the pot. Long,
tapered fingers tapped the money into a neat pile, and then gathered the cards
for the next deal.
Looking up,
he saw Andy White standing next to the bar.
The colourful owner of the bar had come to his aid at Twin Ridge and got
him out of jail when the Sheriff had thrown him behind bars for being a
professional gambler, and morally corrupt. The Judge had fined him and cleared
him out; he had had to sell his horse to meet the fine, which had left him stuck
in the town. He was given 24 hours
to leave or he would be arrested again and fined even further. With no one to
turn to, Andy White had come to his aid, but people like White never did things
from the good of his heart. White looked at Ezra and then jerked a head towards
the stairs.
“I think
it’s time that I called it a night, gentlemen.
I hope I have the chance to renew our acquaintance tomorrow night, for
another game of chance.”
The older
of the players grinned. “If you
mean do we want another game, then you’re right Standish.
You’ve got our money and we aim to get it back.”
Ezra grinned, pocketing
the money as he got to his feet then reached down, picked his drink up off the
table and downed it in one gulp. Then, ignoring Andy, he went up the stairs, his
feet following a well-trod path. How the hell had he gone from being a conman,
gambler, to a part-time whore? The
answer was simple; since White held a $1,000 marker on him and he paid it off
with his winnings and with his body. He could have tried to run, but he knew
that Andy White would hunt him down.
The man had a reputation to protect. And instead of working the Orient,
he would be sent to the tented encampment run by Marcus Quinn and put to work in
what passed for a Saloon there.
Barred from gambling, he would be reduced to earning his living on his knees.
He paused outside the
bedroom door. He could get through
this, he told himself. Already his head was aching as he picked up the emotions
of the man waiting for him. The animal lust, and the burning need to inflict
pain, to allay his guilt. There was
nothing worse than a virtuous man committing sin because he had to blame someone
and tonight, that someone would be Ezra Standish.
0-0-0-0-0-0
On the trail
Buck was building up the
camp fire and every now and again he would look towards Vin Tanner, who was
seated, leaning back against his saddle.
He looked pale and was in pain from his leg wound. Any attempt to take a
look at it was brushed away with a snarl.
Buck switched his
attention to Chris Larabee; he could almost feel the tension and darkness in the
man building up. It was with a shock that Buck realised that the only other
person that could get Chris this angry had been his future wife and Guide Sarah.
When Chris had been courting her and her father Hank had tried to
interfere in their relationship, and Sarah had done something really stupid.
Chris suddenly got up,
throwing the dregs of his coffee cup onto the fire.
“For God’s sake Tanner, there’s a stream, use it.
You stink worse than a polecat in heat.”
Vin threw his tin cup
down and hauled himself to his feet.
“Fuck you, Larabee, I don’t need you.”
“Seemed like you needed
me back in the Saloon, otherwise your ass would be rotting in jail now, waiting
for the rope.”
“I could have taken him,
don’t owe you squat, Cowboy,” Vin snarled back.
“Don’t call me Cowboy.”
Larabee’s voice had dropped to a low, lethal tone, his hand dropping to his gun.
Vin saw it.
“Huh, that supposed to scare me, Cowboy?”
Turning, he began to limp towards his horse, turning his back on the
most dangerous gunman in the territory.
“You come back here,
Tanner.” The words were snapped at him.
Vin didn’t even
hesitate, he just kept walking.
Suddenly, a weight hit
him hard in the back and his bad leg dragged him down.
Vin’s elbow lashed out and he was rewarded with a curse, then Vin froze
as a gun was pressed to his head. The weight moved so that he was pinned down.
“Buck, strip him.”
Buck shook his head.
As Gamma his job was to keep the balance of the pack.
Although his senses were not as good as Chris’s or Vin’s, he could smell
the scent on the younger man; sweat, piss, blood and the scent of other men.
No wonder it was bringing the Predator out in Chris. Vin’s defiance had
ignited the Predator into claiming the young man as his; it was going to be one
hell of a ride.
“Chris, we-” Buck
trailed off in the middle of his protest as Larabee looked at him.
There was no white left in his eyes, they were burning green fire.
The man was gone, there was only the Predator left.
Buck knelt down.
He laid a hand on Vin and he felt the younger man flinch under his hand.
“Easy, don’t fight Vin, no one is going to hurt you.”
“You try and fuck me and
I’ll kill you both, cut your dicks off and stuff them up your-” The cuff to the
back of the head was short and sharp, an attention-getter rather than an attempt
to hurt the younger man.
“Don’t want your scrawny
ass, Tanner,” Chris growled at him, as he lent down and inhaled at the back of
Vin’s neck, savouring his scent. The Feral jerked his head back, trying to butt
Chris in the face as he felt the Alpha Sentinel nip at the back of his neck, but
the Alpha had pulled back quickly, avoiding the blow.
Buck saw the smile on
the Predator’s face. It was of pure
contentment; the Predator had started to claim this Feral as his mate.
Vin was fiery and wild, he would expect no less from him than to fight
Chris every step of the way. Vin had been running wild too long and now he
needed to feel the power of his new Alpha when he was claimed, but it was going
to be a rough ride.
Trying to strip Vin was
like trying to put breeches on a calf - near impossible.
As the younger man struggled and twisted, the gun was long forgotten.
If Larabee was going to use it he would have already. Chris swore a blue
streak and cuffed Vin across the back of the head as the younger man snapped at
his hand.
“Quit that you scrawny
bastard.”
“Pup’s worse than a
snapping turtle,” Buck gloated then gave a yelp as the teeth sank into his leg.
Now naked, Vin’s body
showed mottled, yellowing bruises.
The leg wound was healing well, but even so both men were careful not to put any
weight on the wound. They were not
out to inflict pain on the Feral. This was about the Feral submitting to his
Alpha. Between them they got Vin’s
hands tied behind his back and they manhandled him into the stream. Vin turned
the air blue as he was dunked under the cold water by Buck.
The wet, lithe body twisted and turned.
He tried to kick out as he was dunked yet again under the water, but Buck
held him so that he was unable to gain his feet on the smooth stones. Buck kept
him pinned as Chris scrubbed him with a wet rag and some harsh lye-soap,
cleaning off the stench of blood, piss, sweat and the scent of other men. But
Chris catalogued each of the scents.
He would know the bounty hunters that had beaten his soul mate and would
exact his own revenge on them when the time came.
Working hard at the soap
to get a pathetic froth, he worked it into the matted, long hair.
His touch became ultra sensitive and he could feel every grain of dirt
embedded in amongst the strands.
“Chris.” Buck snapped
the name as he saw his Alpha begin to drift.
The man was losing himself in the scent and the texture of the Feral.
Chris jerked his head
back away from Vin’s neck where he had begun to nuzzle at his throat.
The connection between the two men was getting stronger and it arched
between them like lightening. There could only be one result; the Predator would
claim his soul mate.
“Chris.” Buck said the
name again, and this time the green eyes softened. Reaching out, Chris used one
of the blankets to dry off the slender body. Suddenly, Vin stopped struggling.
He rubbed his face against Chris’s hand, nipping at his palm at the same
time as his body pushed against the lean blond’s, causing the breath to catch in
the Alpha’s throat.
Buck undid the younger
man’s hands. Vin brought his knee up and
caught Chris in the groin.
The blond collapsed to
the ground clutching himself as he fought back the pain and the vomit. Buck was
sent staggering backwards by a hard push.
Vin went for the guns, only for Buck to bring him down in a
bone-crunching tackle. The big man
found his arms full of a struggling, fighting wild cat, using every dirty trick
he had ever learned to try and break his hold.
“Shit!” Buck ducked
another haymaker and then lashed out, and Vin went limp under him as he was
knocked out.
Only then did Buck
slowly ease himself up to check on Chris.
The Predator looked pale and was breathing hard, one hand pressed to his
groin as he fought back the pain. “Tie him to the tree.”
“Best get some clothes
on him.”
“Keep him naked.
He wants clothes, he earns ‘em.” With that, Chris limped over to get some
more rope.
Four hours later the sun
was setting and it was beginning to get cold.
Tanner had come round and Junior certainly had a mouth on him.
For someone that didn’t talk much, he could cuss with the best of them in
English, Spanish, and at least a couple of Indian languages.
In the end, Chris had gagged him none too gently, just to get a bit of
peace and quiet.
Now Buck was starting to
get concerned. This was going to
turn into a battle of wills between Predator and Feral and his job was to make
sure that they bonded. Looking across at Chris sitting near the fire, he said;
“You got a problem Stud.
You can’t leave him tied to the tree all night.
I-” Buck broke off as he saw the look in
his old friend’s face. His eyes had gone back to normal, but the flame still
flickered in them. It wouldn’t take
much for them to ignite again.
Buck looked up to the
heavens. Stubborn...
They deserved each other. “I’ll go and check on him.”
Vin flinched as the big
man reached out for him. Cobalt
blue eyes glared. Buck tugged the gag free. “You know Junior, you want to watch
where you kick a man. Kicking him
in the balls is the quickest way to get Chris to blow your brains out.”
Shrugging when he didn’t get a response Buck pulled the stopper from a water
canteen. He coaxed Vin to drink;
the younger man was shivering and his skin was icy cold.
Signing, Buck said; “You
know Vin, he’s not going to hurt you.
Just got carried away. That
happens with Alphas when they find their soul mate.”
He paused. “I am the Gamma
of this pack; I won’t let him hurt you. But, truth be told Junior, you two have
been dancing round each other too long.
Has to end tonight.”
“Pack.” Vin spat the
word back at the bigger man. “This ain’t
no pack. A cowboy and a law dawg
ain’t a pack, even I know that.”
Buck tried to keep calm
as he tried a different tack. “You lived with the Indians, right?”
He didn’t get an answer but he saw the slight flicker in the eyes.
Vin Tanner was considered by many to be a white renegade and barely one
step above a savage. “They tell you about someone like Chris?”
The blue eyes flared.
Buck hid his smile.
He had hit a nerve.
“There is a connection
between the two of you which is strong. I
know you don’t want it, but it’s there Vin. Now, you can stay here and freeze
your ass off, or come to the fire, it’s your choice.” The slight nod was all he
got in the way of acknowledgement.
Carefully, Buck sliced
through the ropes holding Vin and then half-dragged, half-carried him to the
fire and pushed him down onto the nest of blankets before tossing one at him.
The younger man pulled it around him and inched a little closer to the
fire.
Chris knelt by him and
pushed a cup of coffee into his hand.
The tension was radiating off the Alpha as he fought back the need to
claim his mate. Unable to stop himself, Chris reached out to touch the handsome
face. Vin jerked his head back and
growled at him, low and deep throated, the Wild Sentinel Pup facing off against
the Predator. Buck marvelled at the balls the Pup had in order to stand up to
Chris like this. Vin baited and
challenged him every step of the way, even when he had been tied up. One thing
the big man knew - he could feel the tension rising between the two men.
It was like a thunderstorm building, and like a thunderstorm,
it was going to explode in a violent
display of pure elemental power.
The ultimate Alpha, the
Predator was not used to people ignoring it and the way that Tanner had just
huddled down in the nest of blankets and turned his back on Chris was getting
the Predator’s blood boiling.
“Come on Chris, back
away from him.” Then, with more bite, “Chris.”
This time, the blond
Predator’s head snapped round, the green eyes igniting into flame and then dying
down.
When they settled in for
the night Buck made sure that Vin was secured.
The last thing he needed was for them to have to hunt him down again.
Chris was rapidly getting past the stage where he could hold back the Predator.
Already it had nearly slipped it’s leash a couple of times and if he had
to hunt Vin down, then all bets were off.
0-0-0-0-0
The Gamma woke with a
start. It was still dark, but he
could see the Feral and Predator, their naked bodies painted in the glow of the
fire. The Feral was on his back,
struggling under the Predator’s body fighting to free himself from the older
man’s grip. Buck swore. He had been
so sure that Chris wouldn’t hurt the younger Feral that he had allowed himself
to fall asleep. Now it seemed that Chris had lost control.
“Get the hell off
him!” Buck was furious as he powered to his feet, then he was frozen to the
spot as two heads snapped round to glare at him.
Through the dark the blue and green eyes burned into him; both Predator
and Feral were ready to attack him if he tried to interfere.
This was reaffirmed by
the growl from the throat of the Predator, a warning to stay away.
The Feral took the opportunity to flip the older man off him and then he
was on top of the Predator, straddling him, pinning him down. The look on the
younger man’s face was mischievous and guaranteed to provoke the Predator.
When Buck moved, the
Feral snarled at him, sending the Gamma cold.
It was a sound older than time itself and it said only one thing - Chris
was his, and as much as the Predator was claiming the Feral, the Feral was
claiming the Predator. Then he leaned down, nuzzling at the Predator’s throat, a
nip to his ear and lower lip, the blue flame and the green flame of the Predator
and Feral eyes arching between them, inflaming their need to bond.
Suddenly, the Predator
seemed to explode upward, catching the Feral and pulling him down, rolling the
lithe body under him. The Predator
growled as the younger man caught a handful of dirty blond hair and pulled the
Predator’s head down, at the same time as he lifted his own head, showing the
Predator his throat, an act of submission by the Feral to his Alpha. But even as
the blond Predator leaned in he was thrown off balance and found himself rolling
across the dirt of the camp site, coming up into a kneeling position.
He saw the Feral facing him on all fours, a growl rolling from him, low
and guttural. Slowly, the Feral
eased up so he was kneeling on one knee, ready to explode into action if the
Predator attacked.
It was then that Vin
Tanner pushed through the Feral control.
His eyes never left that of Chris Larabee.
“What’s the matter Cowboy, old age?” The
Texas accent had thickened and rolled over Chris’s senses as smooth as honey as
he was taunted by the Feral.
Chris licked his lips.
“Make you pay for that, Tanner.”
The only reply he got
was a derisory snort from the younger man.
“Try it if you’ve got
the balls, old man.”
Chris lunged forward.
Vin twisted out of the way and made a dive for the horses. Only to be
tackled and brought down just short of them.
The two men rolled over and over, neither getting the upper hand until
Chris managed to duck under a blow from Vin, and get the younger man pinned as
he lay sprawled on his belly.
Kneeling between Vin’s
splayed legs, he caught hold of the Feral’s hair.
Pulling his head back, he got an arm round his throat and he pulled Vin
backward and up so that he was sitting on his thighs. Vin’s body arched as he
couldn’t get any purchase to be able to free himself from the grip of the older
man. The harder he struggled, the tighter the arm round his throat pressed,
until he stilled, his chest heaving and he leaned back into the hard, lean body
of his Alpha.
Suddenly, Vin exploded
into one last attempt to free himself, but Chris rode it out, keeping a firm
grip on the writhing, lithe body, then as suddenly as it had started, Vin’s body
went limp and his head dropped forward to rest on his chest.
The Predator threw back
his head and roared his challenge and possession of his young Feral soul mate,
and then bit down on Vin’s throat, marking him.
Vin’s body arched up as
he screamed, the energy of their connection burning through him.
His whole body shuddered as he felt the connection with his Alpha,
joining them, mind and soul. Leaning in,
the Predator began to nuzzle at the mark he had made, as he held his mate round
the waist, and with his free hand, stroking and soothing the younger, wild
Sentinel across his chest, flanks, stomach, and thighs.
The Feral leaned his
head back to rest on his Alpha’s shoulder.
As the younger man’s breathing began to calm, the Predator caressed him
slowly, riding the emotions that looped between them, turning them back on the
Feral so that along with his touch, he was increasing the connection between
them.
As he nipped at Vin’s
jaw he revelled in each whimper and moan of pleasure that he heard coming from
his soul mate’s mouth. Now they would strengthen the bond as they took it to the
final level, a bonding of mind, soul and body.
Quietly, Buck picked his
blanket up and moved away into the dark, leaving them to complete the joining in
peace. Anyone fool enough to try and interrupt the bond would face the combined
wrath of the Predator and the Feral and together, the two Sentinels would tear
that person apart with their bare hands.
Two was now one.
Settling down, Buck
tugged his hat down over his eyes and with a contented smile, allowed sleep to
claim him. He had a pack again.
0-0-0-0-0
Dawn was breaking when
Buck woke, and he quietly collected his blanket and made his way back to Chris
and Vin. A broad smile was plastered across his face as he approached them. Vin
was held in Chris’s arms, his head resting on his mate’s chest.
It was then that Buck
realised that Vin was awake. Slowly, Vin eased up from Chris’s arms.
His body was sore and as the blanket fell away, Buck could see the bite
marks on the younger man’s throat and on his body.
The bonding had been fierce, but that was to be expected with the
claiming between Predator and Feral.
Buck kept his hands out
in a non-threatening manner, as he saw the way that Vin was ready to attack.
Taking a deep breath, he could pick out the thick, musky scent of their
bonding. He was now facing a soul
mated, bonded pairing. “Easy, Junior.”
Chris opened his eyes
and stretched. The look on his face
was one that Buck hadn’t seen in a long time.
It was the face of a man who had found some measure of peace. Reaching
out, he stroked Vin’s thigh. He was
speaking so softly that all Buck could hear was a low rumbling, but whatever it
was, Vin seemed to settle. It was
then that Chris reached out a hand to his oldest and truest friend.
Buck approached slowly.
He understood the pack. No
other person would touch Vin as Chris did, and in turn Vin would submit only to
his soul mate. But as Gamma, he might have to balance the volatile Feral, so
that was what Chris was doing, drawing him in, getting Vin used to the touch of
his Gamma.
Firmly, Chris tugged his
soul mate down, pulling him close, using his hands and voice to soothe the
younger man as, carefully, Buck eased down to spoon up behind Vin. As soon as
Vin felt Buck’s muscular body press up against him, he flinched and tried to
pull free, only to be held by his Alpha.
Buck spoke softly.
“It’s alright Vin, I am not going to
hurt you, it’s just old Buck, remember that.” Carefully, he laid his arm around
Vin’s waist, his hand resting on Chris’s as he bent his head, and for the first
time, inhaled Vin’s scent, bookmarking it. No matter where Vin went, he would
always be able to find him by his unique scent, which was now blended with
Chris’s. Any other Sentinel would
know the two men were soul mated just by their scent.
Buck smiled happily as
he felt Vin finally begin to relax as he was held between his Alpha and Gamma.
The big man now had a pack, a family. Together, they watched the dawn break, the
bond a living force binding the three men together, the bond of a pack.
It was late morning
before Chris mounted his horse, his gaze taking in his soul mate and his Gamma.
In the bond he had seen Ezra Standish and had recognised the gambler for
what he was.
Standish was a guide.
Vin had been tracking him down, not knowing why he was drawn to the other
young man. As a Feral, he had no
experiences of Guides. But that was about to change. “Okay, let’s get us a
Guide.”
The End