The nearly full moon hid her bright, white face behind the rolling, shifting clouds. Below in the low arc of a narrow, dry creek bed a young Lupinii male limped painfully along, careful to keep as concealed as possible among the scrub brush and boulders that edged its banks. Panting harshly, he paused to sniff the wind, the breeze whipping his black hair around his face. If he could make it over the next ridge, he would be close enough to Larabee's home territory to howl for help, and as much as it galled him, he was desperate and afraid enough to do so.
He paused in the shadow of a boulder to catch his breath, and rewound the blood soaked bandanna around the wound in his thigh. He had to keep moving, the hunter behind him was remorseless. Paulo had already lost all the members of his budding bachelor pack to the unseen hunter's rifle, and had been wounded himself and forced to shift into human shape to tend to his leg before he bled out.
He knotted the rag again, whining with pain, still panting harshly, dark eyes white rimmed beneath his loose, tangled hair. He was losing strength rapidly. The hunter behind him gave no quarter and little chance for rest. He did not dare shift back to lupine form yet; he was losing too much blood, too fast. He needed to conserve his strength for that last push over the ridge that bordered Larabee's home range. As he shoved himself up, he froze as the wind shifted, mocking him with a strong blast of the rank, acrid scent of the hunter.
Alvarez snarled, white teeth flashing in a rictus of fear. How had the man gotten ahead of him? How was a human tracking him so easily? How had he gotten so damned close so fast? Outraged at being hunted like a cur, Paulo threw back his head and howled his pain and fear to the half-hidden moon, hoping beyond hope that one of Larabee's pack would be within hearing range. The abrupt crack of the rife from the ridge above cut it off short, and Paulo's body tumbled down the bank into the creek bed to sprawl face-up, unseeing eyes turned to the moon's cloud veiled face.
On the ridge above, the Hunter paused to light a cigarillo, a small reward for a job well done. It was one of the few pleasures that he allowed himself. It was his self-appointed mission to rid the earth of the ungodly and the Devil's spawn and although he had been very active lately, his job was far from finished. Leisurely he started down the slope to collect the corpse for disposal. It would have pleased him to leave it for scavengers and as an omen to those he hunted, but his sacred duty must remain secret. He had learned from one of the demons that he had kept alive for a few days to interrogate that there was an entire pack of the werewolves roaming the next town. It would not do to give them warning of his presence.
He took a deep drag from his cigarillo, and pushed the night vision goggles up off his eyes as he cautiously approached the corpse of the devil spawn. More than once these creatures had played dead when wounded. He had the scars to prove it, but this time the heart shot had been true. He kicked Paulo's corpse callously, then knelt to examine it more closely, dabbling his fingers in the sticky heart blood of the wound, then running a lazy, accessing hand down the dead man's naked belly.
He preferred it when his prey died in wolf shape, the trophies were better that way, but this form had benefits as well. His breath quickened as he slid a hand between the demon's legs fondling the soft, still warm genitals. Yes. To the skilled hunter went the spoils. He stood to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. High above, the moon hid her shadowed face in the dark, swirling clouds.
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Three nights later, the ripe moon hung over the Larabee ranch and the Solstice celebration below. The pack had already enjoyed their ritual elk hunt in honor of the Moon and now gathered for the yearly blessing ceremony, in this, the most important of Lupinii rituals. A beaming Josiah, draped in the venerable teeth and hide of a buffalo wolf, the symbols of his shamanic duties, blessed the pack, one big hand carefully balancing a large, carved oak bowl of sacred spring water while with the other, he sprinkled each pack member with a willow branch.
Cradled in a proud Buck's arms, a wide-awake JD squealed happily and bounced, reaching for the dangling branch as he was officially taken under the Medicine Bow pack's protection. Chris and Vin's union was recognized and acknowledged, a relaxed Chris' arm draped lovingly over a wide-eyed Vin's shoulders. Josiah chuckled at the bemused expression on the young man's face as he shook the wet branch gently over their heads.
After the solstice blessing, there was the usual announcement of pack news and achievements. Rain and Nathan's work at the clinic and their recent acquisition of an important funding grant acknowledged, as was their third anniversary. Rafe was announced as an official guest and then the final ritual chant of blessing for happiness and fertility was dispensed----the signal for amorous couples to slip away in the darkness and tall grass to complete the final ritual.
Nate and Rain, Rafe and Maria, Buck and Lydia all shifted and paired away in the darkness, lifting their voices in a chorus of joyful howls. A playfully growling Chris grabbed his mate, slung the startled young man over a shoulder and strode away into the darkness.
Chuckling, Josiah moved to join Miss Nettie on the porch where she was rocking JD in the hammock, a sleepy young Casey curled up in lupine shape against her hip. On the way he nearly tripped over Ezra.
The tall shaman grinned down at an uncharacteristically disheveled Standish who was sprawled on his back in the grass near the porch, blissfully wiggling his toes.
For a city- bred male forced to chase large mammals on his first hunt, splash through a muddy river, run through bushes and brambles, eat warm, raw meat, and in his own words be 'filthy, exhausted and exhilarated', he was looking surprisingly content. He looked even more pleased when a coy Inez sidled up, grabbed his hands and tugged him playfully away into the shadows.
Josiah settled cross-legged on the porch at Nettie's feet. He grinned at JD's toothless, burbling greeting. The baby was as determined to stay awake as Nettie was that he fall asleep. Sanchez had the feeling that the youngster had met his match. The elders sat and chatted for an hour or so, speaking idly on pack matters and reminiscing about past gatherings before their alpha emerged from the shadows trailed by his sleepy-eyed mate.
Chris shifted back to his lithe, slim-hipped, human form in mid-stride, lifting a hand to brush dried grass from his shoulders and grass seed out of his blond hair. He wore a satisfied smirk on a kiss-swollen mouth, and they both reeked of sex. Vin followed, still in wolf form. He was surprisingly shy around Nettie Wells, staying well out of reach, careful to keep his mate between her and himself, eyes watchful. So far, he had refused to speak to her at all. Chris was careful not to push him, sensing that his mate had issues from the past surfacing to haunt him, but he was determined that Vin learn to socialize with the pack and become comfortable in dealing with all its members.
Larabee lowered himself down to sit with his shoulder against a porch post with a satisfied sigh. Vin sidled in to sit pressed close against his back, on the edge of the porch, half-hidden from the others, wary eyes peeking shyly around Chris' broad shoulders. Nettie greeted him gently as she rocked a heavy-eyed JD, careful not to unnerve him with a stare, while she spoke amiably with her alpha.
The news of Chris Larabee's new mate had been a total surprise to her. That there was a bond involved even more so. The only soul bond Nettie had ever witnessed had been scores of years ago and between a male and female, so it was with great curiosity she watched this unlikely pair. Vin's sweet face and shy innocence had endeared him to her instantly, but the real surprise had been with the change in Chris Larabee's demeanor.
Gone was the indifferent, silent wraith of a man, living a half-life, lost in his grief over the deaths of his mate and pup. The man before her now practically glowed with renewed life and happiness. He was still the laconic rancher she had known, and from what she had learned about Mary Travis' shunning, still possessed a formidable temper, but the fear that she had secretly harbored that he was doomed to lose both his life and his alpha position had vanished with one look into his cool, hazel eyes. Larabee was on again, fully engaged in the everyday world.
She watched as he leaned back and slid an arm around Vin's shoulders, deftly easing his mate closer and into a more exposed position so casually that the younger man did not notice, seemingly happy to be embraced by his mate, pink tongue flashing as he licked Chris' ear and nuzzled and nipped at Larabee's jaw, tail wagging furiously. Larabee was smiling, white teeth flashing in his handsome face as he turned his head and murmured in his mate's ear, a deep coaxing purr that even at that distance rumbled in Nettie's inner ear and shivered up her spine.
Evidently it worked on Vin too, because the younger man immediately shifted as Chris had asked, to cuddle in his lover's arms, still nipping at his mate's jaw. Larabee rewarded him immediately, one lean hand cupping the square jaw as he tilted his face up and gathered him close for a deep, loving kiss. This obvious, public affection was something new, too. Nettie had never seen him kiss or embrace his late wife in full view of others.
They were beautiful together, very much in love and she was happy to witness it. When they broke the kiss, Larabee kept Vin close and gently pressed a series of soft kisses to his eyelids and cheeks before raising his head. Vin sighed and tucked his curly head in the curve of Chris' shoulder, apparently settling contentedly in his mate's arms, blue eyes half-closed with pleasure. Chris settled back against his post, alert gaze running lazily over his domain, watching over his pack and territory.
Nettie exchanged a small nod of satisfaction with Josiah, as she settled the now sleeping baby boy against her shoulder. All was well with the pack on this most blessed of Lupinii sacred nights. The elders of the Medicine Bow pack had much to be thankful for. A chorus of joyous howling rang out of the darkness to the southwest as the rest of the pack returned, and her heart swelled with joy when Larabee's low bass sang out welcoming them home, quickly joined by Vin's raspy song and Josiah's rumbling, deep bass roar.
***
A few miles to the north, camped high on a mesa. The Hunter tilted his head at the wild night music, listened long and hard and smiled. Time to begin his work.
***
Cletus Fowler pulled his van into the gas station across from Potter's Mercantile. As he emerged from the dark windowed vehicle he ran an alert eye over the young station attendant, then relaxed slightly. Not one of the ungodly. Since he was very young, Fowler had always had the ability to sense when he was in the presence of the children of the Damned. If at times he was wrong, it did not matter. The war against Evil would always suffer casualties. His God would forgive him any error.
He had set up his base camp well outside of town, off on a little used side road at a long abandoned Standard Oil station. He had left his ATV and dirt bike trailer there in the old garage, along with his tent and camping equipment as well as most of his weaponry, ammunition, trophies and more unsavory instruments. Today was a scouting day, to determine how many of the enemy he had to deal with as well as to familiarize himself with the basic layout of Four Corners, before formulating a plan for their destruction.
The demon he had held captive for four days had not been particularly forthcoming with details, unwilling to betray his own kind to a human hunter. The capacity for pain the creature had displayed had fascinated Fowler and he had taken his time with the interrogation, hoping to gain more insight on the things he hunted. The pack structure in itself was enlightening, and Fowler had studied the habits of wolves to compare to the similarities of the demon packs.
They were similar in many ways--- the females as fierce and deadly as the males, willing to die to protect their mates or offspring. He had used this to his advantage many times, using nubile young females or pups as bait in well planned traps to pick off other pack members. He had quickly learned the hard way that human strength was no match for demonic strength and cunning. Fowler had no compunction about using animal tranquilizers, heavy chains, tazers and cattle prods to even the odds and subdue his prey. He was a careful, methodical killer, roaming the country as he searched out his quarry.
One of his special delights was to keep a specimen alive as long as possible to torture, interrogate and ultimately dissect for anatomical study. It was a pleasure he accorded himself only after a long, or particularly successful hunt. One of his dreams was to found a special facility for the capture and long time study of these wily demons. One day he hoped to recruit like-minded individuals to assist him. In the meantime, he worked alone and took pleasure and pride in his sacred work. He was certain that God would reward him for his devoutness.
After the attendant finished filling his fuel tank, he pulled his van into the car wash area and set to work with the high-pressure hose and a jug of industrial cleaner. One of the hard facts he had learned early on was that his prey had an especially keen sense of smell. Cletus had nearly lost a hand to the cruel teeth of an outraged demoness after he had slaughtered her young pup, and she had tracked him back to his camp, via the blood spatter on his boots.
He wanted no cause for suspicion while he leisurely scouted Four Corners. After cleaning his vehicle, he checked into the local motor lodge under an assumed name, showered, scrubbed himself carefully, and changed into new clothing and clean shoes. He then strolled up the street to what appeared to be the local steakhouse for a meal. So far, he had seen none of the Ungodly. He hoped that his last victim had not lied before he died. He pushed open the heavy oak door of the Saloon and stepped inside.
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Inside the bar, a jovial group of the Medicine Bow pack lounged in the largest booth. Chris was celebrating the completion of Vin's first week of daily lessons with Miss Nettie. The younger lupinii was slowly warming to the elder pack member. Wise in the weaknesses of young men, Nettie wilily took advantage of Tanner's sweet tooth and kept a stash of special molasses cookies and gingerbread as bribes to use when Vin's attention faltered. If that failed, she brought out the big guns, a reward meal of her special chicken and dumplings followed by peach pie as dessert.
Buck had suddenly found himself in hot water with the pack elder after Vin had proudly recited the long list of swear words and more indelicate terms for various bits of female anatomy he had picked up from the big Beta. The look of horror on Buck's face, and the grim one on Miss Nettie's, had caused Chris to quickly step outside onto the porch and out of ear shot for a private snigger. There had been a wicked glint in Vin's eyes seconds before he turned a look of angelic innocence on his teacher. His young mate had a fiendish sense of humor and Buck was fast proving to be one of his favorite victims when it came to practical jokes.
Inez set a tray of steaming platters onto the table, then quickly passed them around---carne asada, enchiladas, refried beans, chile rellanos, mounds of tortillas and Mexican rice, all served family style with cold pitchers of beer and tea. She smiled at Vin's appreciative sniff at the aromatic selection. The young man enjoyed his meals and reveled in a variety of choices. She watched as he carefully placed his napkin on his lap, as Nettie had taught him, before picking up his fork and knife and waiting patiently as Chris served him, careful to fill his plate with a bit of everything.
She, like Nettie, had been amazed by the change in their Alpha's demeanor after Vin's arrival. Relatively new to Four Corners, she had been accustomed to a silent, reclusive Larabee who was as indifferent to his position as well as the members his pack. She had been surprised that Buck had never challenged him and taken control, or that another challenger had not appeared to do so, but Chris Larabee's pack members were loyal to their grieving alpha, and his formidable reputation as a ferocious fighter stood for itself. None of the short string of Lupinii males foolish enough to have challenged him in the past was alive to brag of it.
Buck was boisterously needling Ezra about his taste in expensive clothing, a favorite pastime, while Josiah and Nathan, bookended at the edge of the booth, were trying to have a serious discussion regarding some electrical work that the clinic needed. Forks clinked against plates and deep voices rumbled happily as they worked their way through the meal. Larabee's blond head was bent attentively over his mate, quietly giving him the names of the dishes and listing the ingredients, face fond as Vin carefully repeated the words in his low raspy voice with nary a stammer.
Smiling, assured that they had everything they needed at the moment, she turned to wait on the new customer who had slipped into a seat at a small corner table near the door. She took his order and headed for the kitchen, briefly noting to herself that he was new to the Saloon and town. Probably a cattleman, or brand inspector passing through on his way to Medicine Bow.
Seated in the corner, Fowler forced himself to stay calm. He took a deep breath and relaxed his clenched fists under the table and slouched at his table in the attitude of a travel weary man interested only in his forthcoming dinner. His heart was pounding. He was surrounded by the Ungodly. The restaurant was seemingly full of them, as they mingled with the innocent. Truly, he had stumbled into a veritable den of the creatures. The lovely waitress who had taken his order had even been one!
Cautiously, he sipped the cup of coffee she placed on the table and covertly eyed his surroundings. The largest group was a formidable pack of males who filled the big family style booth in the middle of the room. They were relaxed and totally at ease, laughing and talking among themselves. It grated on the Hunter within him, that these creatures should flaunt their very existence among mankind, daring to walk openly among them.
As he watched, two attractive females, one carrying a toddler, joined the group. The darker female placed a hand on the black male's shoulder and bent to whisper urgently in his ear. He nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before rising to quickly leave with her. Fowler felt his gorge rise as he caught some of the conversation after they left. These creatures actually masqueraded as physicians at the local clinic. God alone knew how many innocents they had preyed upon.
The auburn haired female handed the baby over to the big mustached male, bending low to whisper flirtatiously in his ear, flaunting the contents of her low cut blouse. Fowler watched as the man responded with a wide leer and slid out of the booth to join her. Before they left he casually deposited the child in the lap of a well-dressed, green-eyed demon who had been seated beside him. The creature looked startled, then peered doubtfully down at the baby and jiggled the child gingerly, holding it awkwardly at arm's length. The huge, graying male seated across from him was grinning toothily at the sight, as were the two remaining males seated in the center of the booth.
Sweet God! A human child cradled in a demon's hands! Had the female stolen it from its rightful parents and left it there as a food offering for the males? Cletus' hand stole under his jacket towards the revolver he carried concealed in a shoulder holster, then slowly removed it. There was nothing he could do at the moment, he was too badly outnumbered. He forced himself to relax again and watched as the two males stood and left, bidding their companions farewell and carrying the child away with them. He dared not follow to learn its fate.
Now the remaining two males were preparing to leave as well, the tall blond smiling at the waitress as he slid out of the booth, followed by the slighter, curly haired male. Fowler swallowed hard and felt a surge of carnal heat sizzle through his body as he watched them stand and stretch leisurely. The blond slid a possessive arm around the smaller man's shoulders and the younger man leaned into it. Ungodly indeed! An unnatural, unholy coupling that truly needed to be cleansed from the earth!
As they walked by his table on the way to the door, they eyed him casually for a moment and he felt himself freeze like a rabbit under the blond's cold, predatory stare before that imperious gaze passed over him. It was the second man's eyes that caused his breath to hitch momentarily. Clear blue eyes in the chiseled face of a fallen angel met his curiously, and the powerful surge of pure desire that he felt horrified him. How could a devil wear the face of an angel?
He could only stare after the couple, heart racing, breath quickening. The angel-faced one turned his head, still holding his stare for long moments as he was led away. Fowler licked his lips in unconscious desire. This one. He had to have this one. Such a sweet reward for his toil against the devilspawn.
Outside, Vin turned uncertainly to his mate. How could he explain to Chris the sense of unease the odd smelling human had given him? That the man stank of gun oil and of death, not in a physical sense, but in a way that raised Vin's hackles? He didn't have enough words yet. He turned a troubled face to his mate, only to have Larabee smile and playfully tug him close and kiss him affectionately, totally distracting him from his uneasy, half-formed thoughts. Unused to voicing an opinion aloud, he kept silent, trusting in Chris' obvious lack of concern about the stranger's presence.
One week later.
It was a brilliant summer morning, the sky a clear, perfect blue and sporting only a few fluffy, white clouds. Chris and Vin stood outside the barn, Larabee supervising as Vin carefully tacked up a tall, black gelding. Pony was one of Chris' favorite horses. Amiable, sweet natured and damned near bombproof, the horse had been raised on the ranch. He had been Chris' first choice when he began to teach Vin how to ride.
Tanner was rapidly proving to be a natural when it came to riding and working with the horses. He loved them as much as he did his kittens, and they responded to his soft voice and gentle hands. Chris was pleased and proud of his rapidly developing skills. Today was the first time he was allowing Vin to take a short ride on his own, combining pleasure and work. The younger man was charged with riding the fence line of the lower back pasture, checking for breaks. One of the spring colts was developing into a quite an escape artist, capable of squeezing through any narrow gap he found.
Vin swung up into the saddle and grinned down at Chris. Larabee smiled and gave Pony a gentle swat on the rump and waved them off. He watched for a moment as they trotted away, before turning back into the barn. He had a young mare that was past due to foal for the first time. Chris worried because she was a nervous creature to begin with and he suspected she would have a difficult labor, so he kept close tabs on her.
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Concealed in the tree line on the ridge overlooking the ranch, the hunter smiled as he watched his prey ride away from the safety of his home den. He stayed long enough to ascertain the direction the angel-faced demon was headed in, and then hurried to uncover his hidden ATV so he could circle around the ridge ahead of his quarry. He fought down a surge of elation. He knew from careful observation of the Larabee ranch that there were several excellent places to set an ambush in the lower pasture.
He loved it when a hunt worked out perfectly. Especially this hunt. He licked his lips in anticipation.
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Vin clucked softly and urged Pony to an easy lope along the fence line, keen blue eyes skimming along the wire. He was proud that his mate trusted him to complete this job without supervision. He was slowly beginning to realize just how much hard work was involved in running a working ranch and he was eager to do his share. His confidence was building with each new skill he learned---from his first, tentative attempts at building his vocabulary and learning his letters with Nettie, to the chores he now shared with Chris.
He loved his new life at the ranch with his mate. It was a world he had never dreamed that he would have. Sometimes the sheer scope of it dazzled him, made him sit back and take a deep, calming breath as he took it all in. He had gone from being a lonely outcast to the beloved mate of a powerful alpha male so quickly that he sometimes felt it was all a dream---that he would one day awake from it to find himself curled up alone in his tiny den, high in the mountains.
Chris meant the world to him, owned his mind, heart and soul. His presence was constant in their bond, muted now as they became accustomed to each other, but always there just beneath the surface of his consciousness, solid and reassuring. The blond alpha's love and strength cradled him against this new, often alarming world, and was his shield when things became overwhelming. He could now barely imagine living a life without Larabee to share it.
A shrill whinny caught his attention, and he reined Pony to a stop. One of the brood mares was thrashing around in the middle of a thicket of the young willows that bordered the narrow, spring fed creek that ran across the field. It looked like she had caught her halter somehow on a branch. Quickly, he dismounted and dropped Pony's reins to ground tie the well-trained horse. Pony snorted softly, ears pricked and stood patiently.
Vin approached the sorrel mare slowly, speaking softly to keep her calm. She did not appear especially alarmed, more annoyed at being snagged, snorting and switching her tail in frustration, and eyeing the rest of the herd as they grazed farther down the creek. He pushed a few branches aside and moved closer, running a palm along her neck to soothe her as he reached for her halter.
He frowned in confusion when he found her tethered by a short length of cord instead of snagged on a bramble. Someone had tied her to the tree, neatly knotting the short length of dark cord so that it was impossible to see from a distance. Carefully, he untied the cord and led her out of the thicket, examined her briefly for injury, then let her go. She trotted briskly off with a loud snort to rejoin the rest of the mares.
He lifted the cord to his nose and sniffed, an inaudible growl surfacing as he recognized the rank scent of the strange human he and Chris had seen in the Saloon. Lifting his head, he took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he scented the wind for further trace of the man. There...and signs of his recent passage through the willows as well, a bent branch and crushed grass.
As he paused, uncertain of whether to follow the clear trail or return to Chris for direction, the tiny rasp of cloth against wood behind him brought him whirling around to face the apparition that rose from a clump of willows. He had only a few seconds to stare, shocked at the man so artfully concealed with camouflage clothing and paint that he appeared inhuman, before he realized the man was aiming a rifle at him.
Pure instinct took over and he shifted immediately to his more familiar lupine shape, struggling to shake free of his boots and clothing, even as he snarled a savage warning to the hunter. He was fast, and the element of surprise of his sudden shift earned him a few extra seconds, but he wasn't quite fast enough to escape. As he turned to run for the safety of the ranch, there was a muffled hiss as the man pulled the trigger and the sharp dart caught him high in the shoulder.
He managed only a few feet before the powerful dose of animal tranquilizer took over and brought him staggering down. Still, he dragged himself along a few more feet, white teeth flashing a feral warning as he caught sight of the hunter approaching from his right flank. He gave it his best effort, but finally subsided into a panting heap, still snapping and snarling as his paws twitched in a futile attempt at escape. As he lost consciousness, his final agonized thought was simply, Chris! Still, he was so accustomed to fending for himself that it had never occurred to him to howl for help.
His last memory before he lost consciousness was of a frightening, garish face painted in greens and browns, bent over him and strange hands reaching out. Then his world faded away to darkness and he knew nothing more.
Above him, Fowler cursed softly under his breath as he hefted Vin's limp, furry body over his shoulder to carry it over to the brush where he had hidden his ATV. A wolf's carcass might be easy to explain as he transported it to his hidden camp, but he had wanted the young demon to remain in human form a while longer...the urge to touch that lithe body had been almost impossible to resist. Now he would be forced to wait until the demon regained consciousness for him to shift back to human form. It was very frustrating, but he had a hunter's patience.
He tied Vin over the back of the ATV, making sure he was securely muzzled, and jumped on the seat, hurrying to start the machine, anxious now to escape with his prize. It would not do for him to linger long enough for the other demons to realize that this one had gone missing. By the time they did, he would be too far away and well hidden for them to do anything but howl in frustration. That idea pleased him and he smiled with satisfaction at a job well done. He looked forward to the special entertainment he had planned for the upcoming evening.
Behind him he left a mystified Pony, still standing obediently, as Vin had left him. The big horse shifted uneasily, sensing that something was wrong. He pawed the ground indecisively for a moment; ears flattened then, abruptly making a choice, broke training and turned and loped for home and the safety of his stall.
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Chris swore softly under his breath as he worked to ease the foal out of the mare's contracting uterus. The long limbed baby was a breech birth and was trying to be born with one hind leg twisted up under its body. The nervously shifting new mother was not helping his efforts at all. He spoke gently to her, crooning softly, as he struggled to straighten the errant limb. Finally, he succeeded and the foal slid free of its mother's body and onto the straw.
Larabee quickly wiped its nose free of mucous, made sure it was free of the birth sac, and that the cord was free of knots. He checked the slender legs for defects, then stepped back and allowed the new mother to anxiously lick and nuzzle her offspring. It was a sturdy little bay stud colt. Grinning, he leaned against the stall door and watched as the mare licked her new baby clean, while the little one struggled to stand.
Only after the colt had gained his feet and started nursing strongly, did he turn away to leave them in peace for a while. He smiled at the thought of how much Vin was going to enjoy this new addition to the herd. His mate loved all the young creatures on the ranch. He grinned wryly as he washed his hands and arms clean at the pump, remembering Vin's stubborn insistence that they should keep all of Ripley's kittens. He had finally been reluctantly persuaded to give one to Rain, and two others to Nettie and Casey. Larabee had quickly made arrangements to have the others spayed and neutered before the ranch became inundated with cats.
As he walked out of the barn into the golden afternoon light, a soft whicker sounded from over by the side gate. Startled, he saw Pony standing there riderless, head over the rail, patiently waiting to be let in. Heart beginning to pound, he hurried over to examine the horse. Where was Vin? Had he been thrown and hurt? How long had Pony been here?
Closing his eyes for a moment, he concentrated hard, reaching anxiously for the sweet presence he just realized was absent. Nothing. He began to be afraid. He couldn't feel Vin, and their bond only muted during sleep. Something was very wrong, and he had been too distracted to notice.
A quick check of the saddlebags revealed the lunch and snack he had packed for Vin untouched, which meant the horse could have been here since before noon, unnoticed while he dealt with the long, difficult delivery. Pony was unhurt, the tack intact and undamaged, so at least there was no sign of a damaging fall. He hesitated only for a moment before swinging up into the saddle and turning the horse back towards the lower pasture. As he urged Pony to a canter, he dug his cell phone out of his vest pocket and hit the speed dial for Buck.
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Inside the old Standard station, Cletus carefully checked over his prisoner. The demon was still sprawled unconscious on the floor of the sturdy steel cage. Fowler had also taken the precaution of locking a heavy steel choke collar around the beast's throat and attaching a sturdy length of log chain, the end of which extended outside the bars. Satisfied that his prisoner was secure, he turned away to the table that held his implements, switching on several battery powered lanterns as he did so.
Whistling softly to himself, he ran his gloved hand lightly over the metal tray of scalpels, bone saws and skinning knives. Opening an aluminum tool case, he laid out a tire iron, a tazer, and his favorite--- a long handled, heavy-duty cattle prod. Reaching into the bottom of the case, he removed several specimen bottles containing clear, liquid formalon, a canister of pepper spray and a set of iron manacles. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, glanced over to check on his motionless captive, then walked over to open the back of his van.
Climbing in, he knelt to open a heavy cedar trunk. His face was ecstatic as he reverently withdrew a heavy armload of lupinii pelts. These he piled into a thick nest onto his narrow mattress, arranging them with ritualistic precision. Returning to the chest, he pressed a hidden catch and removed a handful of Polaroid photos, which he pinned carefully above his bed. They were a series of shots of live lupinii followed by photos of them bound, tortured, mutilated and obviously dead.
One of the photos was a graphic image of a beautiful, auburn haired lupinii female, her nude body curled protectively around the small bruised body of a little boy, as she glared at the camera. The next was a shot of their skinned lupinii bodies hung callously from a barbed wire fence.
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It was nearly sunset and Larabee's lower pasture was boiling with members of his angry and worried pack as they sought to determine what had befallen Vin. Buck, Nathan, Ezra and Josiah had arrived within an hour of Chris' anxious call. They had immediately shifted and followed their alpha's trail, finding him kneeling at the place where Vin had been ambushed, holding his discarded clothes and studying the trampled ground trying to determine exactly what had happened there. He raised a grim face to them.
“Ambush,” he said succinctly, and Buck snarled in response as he shifted to stand beside his alpha.
Larabee pointed to a spot in the nearby clump of willows and held up a length of cord.
“He tied one of the horses to the tree as bait. Took Vin by surprise when he dismounted to untie her.”
His voice was emotionless, but his eyes were bleak. He stared out across his land.
“I can't feel him, Buck.” There was the barest hint of a waver in that soft statement as he turned to his Beta.
Buck winced and clasped his friend's shoulder hard with one big hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. The shattered look on his alpha's face enraged him. He shouldn't have to suffer the loss a loved one, twice in his lifetime. As always, he sought to soothe and comfort his oldest friend.
“There's no blood sign here, Chris. He must still be alive.” Wilmington looked earnestly into Larabee's eyes. “We have to focus on that and finding him.”
“Indeed, Mr. Larabee, all signs point to the fact that he is still alive.” Ezra stepped up and held out the dart he had found nearby.
Chris snatched it out of his hand and examined it minutely, growling softly as he sniffed the sharp-needled tip and caught the faint scent of his mate's blood. He wordlessly passed the dart to Nathan, who also sniffed it with interest.
“Atropine. It's an animal tranquilizer,” the lupinii healer pronounced as he, too, sought to soothe his alpha's fears. “It'll knock him out fast and he'll be drunk as a skunk when he wakes up, but it won't kill him.” He did not add any comments about overdoses or his fear of Vin's sensitivity to narcotics. He didn't want to make things worse than they already were.
Chris lifted his head and his lips drew back from his teeth in a shark's smile.
“Let's find him,” he ordered briskly.
“This way!” Josiah called from across the field, having located the ATV's path across the pasture. Turning, he shifted back into his massive, silver pelted form and nose to the ground, took off on the trail of the hunter who had dared take their own. The rest of the pack, except for Larabee, immediately shifted and followed, breathing deeply to imprint on the hated scent of their prey.
Chris jammed Vin's clothing and boots into Pony's saddlebags and followed in human form, long legs eating up the ground as he loped easily in the pack's wake. He needed to move, to work off the tension and adrenaline. He kept his human form in order to keep his temper; it was too tempting at the moment to sink into a black, bestial rage.
They followed the trail through two cut fences and to the edge of Larabee's property where it ended abruptly at an old side road. The hunter had had a vehicle waiting to transport his quarry away. Growling in frustration, the pack sniffed and circled, trying to find anything that would give them a clue as to direction. The cunning kidnapper had scattered a large canister of pepper near where he parked his vehicle, and both Josiah and Ezra reeled back, sneezing and pawing at their sensitive noses.
Larabee stood, hands on hips, hard gaze sweeping the horizon, trying to think of where Vin might have been taken and by whom, and most of all trying to feel that familiar, sweet presence.
Suddenly, Buck gave a yelp of recognition from his position farther down the road and shifted to stand up and stride rapidly back to his alpha, his teeth gleamed beneath his moustache. He met his alpha's questioning gaze squarely.
“Got him! I know who it is Chris. I marked his tires last week, and yesterday outside the Saloon.”
“Who?” It was a low, feral snarl. Chris was close to losing it.
Buck held out his hands in a placating gesture.
“I don't know his name. He's a stranger to town. He eats at the bar sometimes. Makes Inez nervous to wait on him. Doesn't say much, just stares. He was at the dinner last week, when we were celebrating Vin's lessons. Has a room at the Motor Lodge.”
Larabee's slow smile made the hair stand up on the back of Buck's nape.
“Let's go.”
Chris turned and sprinted for the ranch house and his truck. He had never been so grateful for Buck's compulsive habit of pissing on the tires of any strange vehicle that lingered in their territory.
Wilmington took his position as Larabee's second seriously, and although often rowdy and overly garrulous, he always took careful note of any strangers who entered into the pack territory he guarded so carefully. Now, he shifted back into his lupine shape, ebony fur gleaming in the golden light of the setting sun and kept close on his alpha's heels. The others followed, deep voices baying out a savage promise of retribution to their prey.
Anyone passing would have marveled at the sight--- a tall, lithe, black clad blond man running easily, flanked by four formidably sized wolves. They vaulted effortlessly over the five-foot tall fence that bordered the road and disappeared into the evening shadows.
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Vin awoke ill and disorientated; he rolled groggily to one side and retched violently, spewing up liquid bile. He opened his eyes, only to quickly close them again. Everything around him was moving in direct opposition to the pounding in his head, and the bright lantern light hurt his eyes. Where was he? Where was his mate?
Memory of the man with the rifle flooded back and he lurched to all four feet, only to collapse drunkenly when he couldn't maintain his balance. Movement at the side of the cage brought his wobbling head up, and he snarled a feeble warning. He shook his head, trying to shake away the curtain of spots that danced in front of his eyes.
Fowler chuckled in satisfaction, pleased that his captive was finally awake. The demon had been unconscious all afternoon and he had begun to wonder if he had miscalculated the dose and killed him. Now to persuade him to shift back to his beguiling human form...
He hefted the cattle prod and slammed it hard against the side of the cage, rattling the bars and causing Vin to jerk reflexively in response. Angry blue eyes met his above glistening fangs, and he smiled cruelly in response. This one had courage. He would last a long time.
“Change back, hellspawn. In God's name, I command you to show me your human face!”
He thrust the prod through the bars and pressed it against the creature's shoulder, pressing the button. It gave a half yelp, half shriek of surprise and pain at the powerful shock and cringed away from him, pressing back against the far side of the cage. He smiled, reached for the end of the chain, and gave it a savage jerk, tightening the spiked choke collar around the demon's throat, dragging it, snarling, back to the center of the cage. First he would teach it to fear him, and then he would break it to his will. God would be pleased.
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Millie Davis blinked uncertainly outside the office of the Motor Lodge as Buck Wilmington and a group of grim faced men strode down the side of the building to Cabin 3. Buck had wheedled the key from her easily enough, she could never refuse him a favor, and when he explained that they were looking for a dangerous kidnapper...nervously, she ran her hands along her slender arms and stepped back inside the office.
The look on Mr. Larabee's face had frightened her. Still, he was the former sheriff and she, like the majority of citizens in the small town, trusted him implicitly. She had told them all she knew about the quiet man who had stayed there for a week, registering under the name of Joe Smith. It was precious little, but she hoped it would help.
Larabee impatiently unlocked the door of the simple cabin and shoved it open, resisting the urge to knock it off its hinges. He stepped inside and they spread out in the small space, searching for clues. Millie had told them the man had checked out the previous day, and the cabin had already been thoroughly cleaned. Still, he hoped they would find something to aid them in their hunt. His young mate's life depended on it.
They knew so damned little about this unseen hunter who had taken Vin from them so easily. He had quickly had Inez contact Rafe and see if the lupinii courier had heard of any others who were missing in the neighboring packs, and the news had been grim. The decomposing corpses of Paulo's bachelor pack had been discovered dumped near the Sonora pack's border. Larabee had no doubt that the same man now had Vin.
Beside him, Buck dropped his clothing and shifted, sniffing deeply as he canvassed the room while Nate searched the dresser and Ezra the bathroom and closet. Outside, Josiah circled the cabin, pale blue eyes intent as they searched the ground. They dared not overlook the smallest clue. When a large crow cawed sleepily from a nearby telephone pole, he lifted his lip and snarled explosively, grinning toothily when the bird flapped hastily away. Bad omens could just fuck off.
It was Ezra's keen eyes that finally found the minuscule clue. It was a small clump of moist, yellow clay stuck to the baseboard of the closet door. A close search found another, slightly larger lump in the vacant parking space in front of the cabin. Larabee fought down his frustration and took the bit of moist earth from Josiah. Raising it to his face, he sniffed deeply, and then smeared it between his fingertips, examining the color and texture. Oil. It stank of petroleum and rubber.
Silently, he held out his smeared hand to the others and they each bent over his hand and sniffed, frowning as they sought to categorize the different odors. Chris closed his eyes and concentrated hard. There was something familiar...he snarled as the answer came to him. Eyes gleaming now with triumph, he grinned at his hopeful pack.
“Buck, you remember that old Standard Oil station where you used to take Emily Watson Saturday nights and park when we were in high school? The one out on the old grange road...”
Buck shifted back and stepped forward, hastily pulling on his clothes, and took up the end of the sentence.
“The one where I got yellow clay and old oil all over my new boots running away the night her daddy caught us? Yesiree!”
Larabee nodded, already moving for the door and his truck.
“It's the only place within fifty miles where that color clay is, and the only one I know of where the ground is contaminated with old petroleum products.”
Millie peered out of the office window into the dark as they flowed past, moving so silently and intently, white smiles gleaming under the streetlights. They looked...pleased. She hoped they would find the man they were looking for, but she couldn't help feeling more than a bit sorry for him when they did.
When they reached the street they found Lydia, Rain, Inez and Maria grimly waiting to join them. The pack hunted together. Nettie would guard Casey and JD. Chris gave the females a nod, and in unison, the pack moved out towards the Saloon and their parked vehicles.
They were almost to the truck when Chris cried out sharply and slumped to his knees, clutching his head in pain. His pack gathered worriedly around him, reaching out protectively to touch and comfort. He raised a snarling, tear streaked face to theirs, and ground out through gritted teeth, “Vin! He's hurting Vin!”
His tone was a combination of pain and joy. His mate was alive, he could feel him through the reawakened bond, but a serial killer was also sadistically torturing him.
Vin was nearly mindless with pain and fear. Why was this man hurting him? Where was Chris? He wanted Chris! He raised his head and again tried to howl for help, only to have it cruelly choked off by the chain drawn taut around his throat. For the past three hours, his tormenter had alternated between using the cattle prod to administer painful shocks to the sensitive parts of his body, to choking him nearly to unconsciousness.
When he did lose his senses, he was cruelly brought awake by being doused with a cooler of icy water, combined with the deliberate application of the prod. All the while, the madman either commanded or cajoled him to assume human shape, growing progressively angrier when he refused to obey. Vin could smell the man's pungent arousal as well as his mingled excitement and fear. That desire frightened him more than the pole that seared him with its painful jolts, and he held stubbornly to his lupine form.
Still horribly sick from the drug, exhausted and hurting, he huddled, eyes closed, against the back of his cage, panting harshly, having to fight for every unrestricted breath. Withdrawing into himself, he thought hard. Deep in his heart, he knew Chris would come, was searching for him, but in the meantime he had to survive. He sensed his captor was losing patience and he needed to buy himself as much time as possible.
Maybe if he gave the man what he wanted it would buy him time. With every fiber of his being, he loathed the idea of exposing his vulnerable human body to his captor, feared the man's touch, but perhaps by yielding a little, he could gain an advantage. If he could get the man within range of his teeth...slowly, he opened his eyes, turned to face his hated captor and... shifted.
Fowler hissed out a soft breath as his captive finally yielded to his will and changed. Slowly, hungrily, he ran his eyes along the nude, beautifully muscled, compact body, up to the handsome face with its strong bones, wide eyes and lush mouth. Those teary blue eyes were fixed on his face now, mute and pleading. The sense of power it gave him to have this demon under his control was an incredible rush. If he could tame this creature...have it around to service him...perhaps even use it to hunt others...
Involuntarily, he took a step closer to the cage and the being within whimpered softly and cringed, eyes wide through wet, tangled hair. Fowler felt a surge of triumph at the sight of the demon's obvious fear of him. Before the night was over, he would own this beautiful
creature, make it his in ways he was only yet beginning to conceive. Confident now, he swaggered forward to begin claiming his prize.
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The trucks pulled to a stop at the top of the hill overlooking the old gas station, and silently disgorged the Medicine Bow pack. In unison, they stripped and shifted and looked silently to their alpha for direction. Chris lingered for a moment in human form, sniffing the air eagerly and hungrily eyeing the seemingly deserted station. To the naked eye, it appeared abandoned, but keen lupinii senses had already picked up the prey's scent and caught the faint glimmer of light beneath the bay door. Flashing one last feral smile, he dropped and shifted, ghosting down the hill with his pack at his flanks.
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Inside the station, Cletus moved confidently to the side of the cage, smiling as his beaten captive fearfully lowered his eyes and flinched at his approach. He gave the chain a sharp tug.
“Come here, boy,” he ordered, certain that he would be obeyed.
Eyes on his prize, hands shaking with eagerness, he fumbled with his crippled hand at his belt for the heavy, steel manacles. He would chain the demon, dose him with enough sedative to keep him docile, and then force him into his bed for his first 'lesson' in pleasing his new master. His mouth filled with saliva in anticipation. For the first time, he would have a warm, living body in his bed.
Vin kept his head lowered, tangled hair veiling his face to hide the feral gleam in his eyes, as well as his bared teeth. Close, so very close! He allowed his tormenter to pull him closer to the cage bars even as he kept his head bowed and body language submissive and fearful. He couldn't wait until he could get his teeth in this man's throat. He could almost taste the hot, iron tang of his blood.
Fowler pulled his captive hard against the side of the cage and leaned forward to lock the first cuff around a wiry wrist. The next moment, he gave a cry of shock as sharp teeth closed on his extended hand and yanked it inside. Horrified, he found himself pulled hard against the bars while savage blue eyes blazed triumphantly into his as sharp teeth ground the fragile bones of his hand to bloody splinters. His frightened captive had shifted into a savage beast in seconds.
His carnal desire had been his downfall. He had forgotten a vital rule when dealing with demons in his need to touch. Quickly, he dropped the chain he held, groped for the metal canister on his belt, and squirted the demon full in the eyes with pepper spray. It shrieked loudly in pain and released him, falling back to writhe and paw at its eyes. Swearing, with tears of pain in his own, he fell back from the cage, cradling his damaged hand. Cursing savagely, he stumbled over towards the table where he had left his guns. God had been merciful in sparing his foolish life, he would repent by ending this beast's foul existence now. He never reached the table.
There was a low bass roar like distant thunder, and the heavy wooden bay door abruptly exploded inward, shattered, as the pack found its prey and poured into the garage, howling their triumph. Cletus was bowled over like a squirrel under an avalanche and he screamed shrilly as he was pinned to the stained concrete floor by a heavy, furry body. He found himself staring into a set of green eyes that were incandescent with rage, set in a feral, snarling face.
For a moment he thought his throat would be ripped out, but in the next second, the golden demon above him shifted, and suddenly the lean blond man who was the blue-eyed one's companion, knelt astride him, knee in his groin, one iron hand pinning his throat to the floor. He gave a choked cry that was ignored as the blond stared beyond him into the cage.
“Vin!”
With a low bass snarl, Larabee stood, hauling the human up by the throat, holding him easily off the floor, as he gagged and kicked. He thrust his face in his prey's and hissed out a command.
“Keys!”
“Poc-ket...” Fowler gurgled out the word.
Larabee slapped his pockets until he located the one he wanted, and then callously tossed Fowler over in Josiah and Buck's direction.
“Watch him.”
He stalked over to the cage, growling as he took in the table with the foul tools laid out on it --- the discarded prod, as well as the choke collar and chain around his mate's neck. This son of a bitch was going to die a hard death. He opened the heavy padlock on the cage and crawled in, reaching for his lover, wincing when Vin cringed away in the corner, whimpering pitifully, tears streaming from his swollen eyes.
“Rain! Go back to the truck and get your medical bag! He's been maced,” he ordered, not bothering to watch as the slim, black lupa obeyed and darted out the door. His focus was on his frightened, wounded mate. Again he reached out, this time gently grasping one slender paw and speaking softly.
“Its alright sweetheart, it's me, I'm here, I'm here. He'll never hurt you again.”
Vin raised his head and turned his blinded, weeping eyes towards his mate, then shifted.
“C-h-hris?”
His voice was a hoarse croak and he groped blindly for his mate and whimpered as the blond pulled him close, loving hands running gently over his wet, shivering body, searching out the damage. He buried his burning face in Chris' shoulder, and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, shaking now more with relief than fear. Larabee hugged him back hard and held him close, crooning a wordless litany of comfort. Vin sniffed deeply, calming himself, filling his senses with the familiar, musky, male scent and warm, strong presence of his mate.
Larabee backed out of the hated cage, still holding him, and stood, lifting the younger man easily in his arms, reluctant to lose contact. Nathan had shifted and was attempting to examine what bits of Vin he could reach, speaking in gentle tones to reassure him, when he flinched away. Larabee cradled Vin close, and turned to face their captive.
Josiah had shifted and held Fowler by the scuff of the neck, dangling the human a foot off the floor, murderous, pale blue eyes never leaving the unfortunate man's face. Fowler felt like a mouse in the jaws of a lion. Buck crouched next to him, still in lupine form with bared fangs, salivating, dark blue eyes gleaming with anticipation. The rest of the pack had moved to flank Larabee and circled around to surround their prey. They prowled silently, restlessly, in both human and lupine shape, waiting for their alpha's word. There was no doubt that they would hunt tonight.
Nathan fussed over Vin, working efficiently to unlock and remove the cruel collar and chain from his bruised, swollen throat. Vin kept his face buried in his mate's neck, mouth against the strong, steady pulse, reassuring himself of his lover's presence. Chris had come. The bad man could no longer hurt him. Above his head, Larabee stared across at the man who had dared lay hands on his mate. He was rigid with rage. He wanted very badly to rip the fool's entrails out and drag him across country, but he also wanted answers.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded harshly.
He gave an imperious nod and Josiah obligingly dropped the trembling, shocked human at his feet. Fowler glared, and licked his lips. He was terrified. His life and soul was in hands of the Evil One's spawn. Trembling with shock, he lifted his head to reply defiantly, voice shrill;
“I'm the Chosen, God's Anointed! My mission is to remove the ungodly from the face of the earth!”
Larabee's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he unconsciously held his mate closer as he felt his temper shoot up towards the ozone layer. A cruel smile revealed white teeth.
“So. I take it we're the Ungodly?' Grinning, he raised a brow and looked around at his pack. They grinned back, eyes gleaming with reflected light, teeth flashing in anticipation.
Fowler glared back weakly, cradling his bloody, maimed hand close to his chest, heart pounding in fear. Directly across from him, a slim, dark furred, green-eyed demon licked its lips and grinned. Suddenly, a hot stream of pungent urine hit the back of his head. The huge, ebony haired male behind him had shifted back to human form and was pissing on him! He whirled, sputtering in outrage, warm urine dripping down his face, and the demon's teeth flashed under his moustache.
“Well, God's Anointed, we ain't impressed,” Buck drawled sarcastically, big hands on his hips.
Beside him, Josiah chuckled throatily, and yelps and rumbles of laughter echoed through the dilapidated building as the pack joined in. Beyond caution now, Fowler lost complete control. Saliva dripped down his chin as he screamed at his tormenters.
“I've slaughtered dozens of you! Dozens! I have hunted your kind for the past thirty years! I have sent your kind to hell and rejoiced! I would have killed that one too!”
Trembling now with rage, he pointed shakily at Vin.
“It's a sin for Evil to wear the face of an seraph! A sin...”
His mad rant was abruptly cut off when Chris stepped forward and casually kicked him in the face. The tall blond stepped back and turned to gently place his silent mate into Nathan's welcoming arms, murmuring a quiet reassurance to Vin when the younger man clung desperately to him. Tanner calmed at Chris' soft kiss on the cheek and slowly slumped in the big healer's arms, exhausted by his ordeal. Jackson carried him to one side, and was quickly joined by Rain as she returned carrying her medical kit.
Larabee turned back to the now silent madman crouching in their midst, holding his broken toothed, bloody mouth, his narrow, dark eyes glittering in the lamplight like a rodent's. The man glared up at him, still defiant. That look faltered at the expression on the blond's face.
Larabee shifted and pounced, and Fowler shrieked in terror before he realized the demon's teeth never touched him, as they shredded every thread of clothing from his body, leaving him only his boots. Josiah and Buck dropped and shifted, joining in the circling pack as they dashed in to nip and tease the human, pulling the shreds of cloth away from his thin, pale limbed body leaving him naked and shamed for having wet himself at Chris' sudden attack.
Abruptly, Larabee shifted back, crouched above the cringing human, one hard hand on his soft belly, pinning him to the cold concrete. He leaned down so his face was mere inches from Fowler's, teeth bared.
“Tell me, God's Anointed, how fast can you run?' he purred.
Behind him his pack raised their voices, howling in anticipation of the coming chase and Larabee watched with satisfaction as all color drained from the human's face. Teeth gleaming, he dug his nails into Cletus' soft belly and ripped, tearing open the skin and muscle enough to wound, not kill. Beneath him, Fowler screamed with pain. Lifting his hand, he lazily lapped Fowler's blood from his fingertips, glowing, wicked green eyes reflecting the lamplight. Smiling through blood smeared teeth, he stood and stepped back, waving a hand towards the shattered doorway.
“Run!”
Fowler gaped, then stumbled desperately to his feet and headed for the doorway, clutching his belly, and lurched out into the darkness, his booted feet noisily crunching gravel. Behind him, the pack milled around their alpha's feet, whining and yelping in anticipation, straining to go, impatient for their chance for retribution. Larabee stood, head cocked, listening as Fowler crashed clumsily away through the brush. He waited for several long minutes, and then spoke softly to his pack.
“Kill him slow.”
He nodded once, and they streamed out of the door, Buck leading the way, deep voices baying their joy to the sky. The hunt was on. Behind them, Chris turned back to the corner where Nathan and Rain were bent anxiously over his mate.
Chris hurried to the corner where his mate lay, curled in a half-conscious, shivering ball. Nathan was busy rinsing Vin's eyes with a sterile saline solution while Rain hastily cleaned his burns and contusions and applied a topical antibiotic. She raised liquid dark eyes to Chris' worried face.
“We need a blanket Chris. He's going into shock.”
Larabee nodded, ran a gentle palm down his mate's face, than stood to search for something to keep Vin warm. He quickly strode over to the madman's van, and slid a door open, only to recoil with an explosive snarl as a fetid odor hit him full in the face. Gagging, he took an involuntary step back, one hand clamped over his sensitive nose. Nathan was at his side immediately, questioning gaze quickly dissolving into a look of revulsion as the reek hit him as well. Both lupinii stared in silent horror at Fowler's heap of trophies.
They exchanged a speaking look, then slowly climbed into the disgusting mobile den. Gingerly they examined the heaping pile of skins on the narrow cot; lips curled back in mute revulsion, and stared briefly at the graphic gallery of photos pinned above it. Nate sniffed suspiciously, and then flinched violently at what he found tucked neatly in a small cooler under the cot. Hastily, he replaced the lid.
“Is that Paulo?” Larabee's voice was hushed.
“Yeah, at least that's his head. The Moon only knows where the rest of him is.”
Chris started to turn back to the photos, drawn despite himself, when he was stopped by Rain's urgent call.
“Chris! Come quick!”
He leapt gracefully out of the van and ran to the spot where his mate lay, now writhing and snarling, as he struggled feebly against Rain's gentle hold. She had attempted to apply a soothing ointment to Vin's eyes, only to have him come abruptly to complete consciousness and start fighting. Chris knelt beside him and gathered him into a warm embrace.
“Hey, Cowboy! Don't bite Rain, she's just trying to make your eyes feel better.”
“C-h-chris?”
The broken rasp that was now Vin's voice enraged him all over again, as did the return of the uncertain stutter. He pulled his mate closer and kissed him reassuringly as Vin clung tight, trying to burrow into his arms.
“H-h-hurt me...” It was a timid stammer against his shoulder, Vin was still trembling with cold, and Larabee slid an arm under his thighs and stood, lifting him up off the dank concrete. He was determined to remove Vin from this makeshift abattoir as soon as possible.
“I know, sweetheart, but he'll never hurt anyone again, I promise.” He pressed another kiss into the tangled hair and looked down at Rain.
“Let's take him home, he'll be more comfortable there. The others can follow later. I'll carry him out to the truck and turn the heater on.”
He strode out into the darkness, Vin cradled close against his chest.
She nodded and hurried to close her medical bag and follow. A low, guttural vocalization from Nathan stopped her in her tracks, and she turned to see what had shocked her steadfast mate so.
“Nathan?”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she approached the van and her dark eyes widened at the sight of the ghastly trophies within. Nate quickly exited the van and silently held out a photo, his face grim.
She gasped in shock and clamped a hand over her mouth and raised her eyes to her mate's.
“Did Chris see this?” her voice was hushed.
“No,” Nathan answered slowly, “not yet.” His mouth was set in a grim line.
“I think we better wait until Buck and Josiah get back before we tell him.”
They stared silently down at the photo of Sarah and Adam Larabee, wondering how their alpha would weather this particular revisit to his personal Hell. Sarah and Adam's decomposing lupine bodies had been found draped over a fence line bordering the Larabee ranch five years ago. Their murderer had never been found—until now. Chris and the pack had searched for months for any clue, but had found nothing.
Chris and Buck had been away in New Mexico on a buying trip, and as a surprise for Adam's seventh birthday, had purchased a small paint pony. They had returned to a silent, empty house and a barn full of thirsty, hungry horses. Apparently, Sarah had taken Adam for a morning romp in lupinii form—he loved to chase rabbits--- and they had somehow attracted their murderer's attention.
Their deaths had driven Larabee to the brink of madness. He had raged in lupinii shape, taking out that rage on the innocent pony and spent most of his time in human form dead drunk. Only Buck and Josiah had managed to weather their alpha's black rage long enough to remain close to insure that he did not slip over the brink.
An impatient growl from the darkness had them hurrying out to assist their leader. As they stepped out of the garage, they paused, heads tilted as a high-pitched, terrified shriek echoed down from a nearby gully. It ended abruptly in a wet gurgle, and triumphant howls rose in tribute to the moon.
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Buck Wilmington trotted silently along the deer trail that skirted the mesa, intent on one final duty for his pack, his ebony fur rendering him almost invisible in the night. Josiah, Ezra, and the others has dispersed along similar paths, each carrying a grisly burden. The pack had ways to insure that no remains of Cletus Fowler would ever be discovered by human authorities.
Buck reached a fork in the trail and started up the mesa, sharp teeth clenched around his burden. Once he reached the top, he trotted over to a narrow crack bisecting a section of the mesa, stopped, cocked his massive head and listened. Keen lupinii senses easily picked up the hiss and slither of dry scales against rock, and the musky, cucumber-like odor of the mass of rattlesnakes in the underground den. He dropped his burden and shifted, squatting easily by the den. He spat contemptuously on the sandy ground to clear the taste from his mouth. Nostrils flared; he sniffed the wind, stood and took one last cautious look around, listening hard for any sign of human presence.
Finally, satisfied, he bent and picked up what remained of Fowler's gore covered head, tossed it broodingly up and down in one big hand for a moment and eyed the fear-twisted features with deep satisfaction before roughly slam dunking it down into the entrance of the den.
“So long, you twisted son-of-a-bitch, may you rot in hell.”
He listened for a moment to the hiss and rattle of the disturbed snakes as the head thudded and rolled into the depths of the den. Then he turned, shifted, raising his head in a brief howl. He was answered from all directions as the rest of the pack finished their grisly chores as well and checked in.
They met back at the abandoned garage, sniffing and nipping each other in greeting with satisfied yelps and snarls, before shifting back to human form. Lydia trotted off to the remaining vehicle and came back with a jug of water and towels and they worked at wiping all visible traces of the contemptible human's blood from their nude bodies.
“Buck? Josiah, can you all come here a minute?”
Nathan emerged from the shadows, his normally amiable face grim.
Buck wiped his face with a wet towel and then took a slurp of water, and spat to rinse his mouth of the coppery tang of blood. He raised his mobile brows questioningly at Nathan.
“Chris and Rain take Vin home?”
“Yeah. We got another problem.” He held out a photograph. “Chris don't know yet.”
Wilmington took it and stared down at the beloved faces captured so vividly. Sarah snarling with fear and rage, Adam's small face smeared with dirt and tears. A guttural sound of grief, half groan and half growl emerged from the big beta's throat.
“Sweet Mother Moon! That motherfucking bastard! If he wasn't already dead I'd kill him again myself!”
Josiah draped a big arm comfortingly over his shoulders as they both examined the photo. The rest of the pack gathered close, and they all stood arms entwined and faces and bodies pressed together in an instinctive attempt at comfort. Soft murmurs of shock, and low growls of outrage filled the air. Silently, Nathan beckoned them back into the garage to show them the contents of the van.
Buck examined Fowler's trophies, face grim. This was a monster they were unfamiliar with. A sexual predator who hunted for the sadistic thrill of it all. Who took his pleasure in the torture and murder of innocents. Fully two thirds of the photos pinned above the skin-piled bed were of females and children, the remainder of young men.
Josiah silently tilted a picture of Paulo Alvarez to the lantern light. The young man's naked corpse had been obscenely arranged on the pile of skins to emulate the pose of a pin-up, limbs posed to invite sex even as his empty eyes stared silently into nothing. It was becoming blatantly obvious that the same fate had been intended for Vin. With a bass snarl, Josiah turned and drove a fist into the side of the van, denting it visibly, as he vented some of the frustration they all felt.
It was a good thing Fowler was already dead, because every lupinii in the pack wanted nothing more than to take their teeth to him again---only this time, when they took him apart a mouthful at a time, it would have taken days.
Buck turned blindly away from the van, tears of grief welling, only to be confronted by the sight of Fowler's sleek tray of instruments, still waiting on the nearby table, the sharp, polished steel glinting under the lantern light. He snarled and struck, turning it over with a crash, so that the tray spilled over the floor, before visibly restraining himself. He had to be strong here. He still had to tell Chris of their depressing discovery and he did not look forward to that.
He took a deep breath and wiped a shaking hand over his face, smoothing his moustache.
“Nathan, you and Josiah gather up all these skins and photos. We got to work on identifying these folks. Contact Rafe, see if he has reports of others disappearing. Josiah, take care of what's left of Paulo. Notify his brother. Ezra, you look through his papers and personal effects and find out exactly who this bastard was and how he knew to home in on us. Lydia, Inez, Maria—ladies I hate to ask you to do clean up, but I need you all to make sure this all disappears.”
He indicated the cage, tools and vehicles. Fowler had a small flatbed trailer that held an ATV and a dirt bike parked in the back of the garage.
“Maria, you still carry that little digital camera in your truck? Darlin', I need to take a picture of everything the murdering bastard owned. His vehicles, his tools, everything. Record it all; it may help identify some of the poor souls who lost their skins to that sick fuck. If you find anything that's odd, or raises your hackles bring it to me before you go to Chris. Okay?”
They all made soft sounds of assent and turned briskly to finish the night's work.
Ezra was pale, gulping and almost sick as he methodically searched Fowler's van and possessions, but he made a soft sound of triumph when he discovered a laptop hidden under a seat and a manila folder, fat with printouts. He carried them over to a lantern and quickly began to page through the folder, speed reading as he went. His shocked gasp brought his beta's head up, and Buck was at his side instantly, one hand extended to take the sheet of paper. Wilmington read for a moment, and then voiced a low bass snarl that raised the hackles of every pack member within earshot. Wordlessly, he turned and strode out into the night and they heard the engine of the SUV start, and the tires crunch gravel as Buck headed towards Four Corners.
Josiah turned a questioning look on Ezra. The younger man's green eyes were wide, his face waxy.
“It's an email message...from the Clarion. Apparently he corresponded with Mary Travis.”
Josiah hissed out a long breath. Mother Moon have mercy on her soul. He had no doubt that Buck was on his way to drag her out of her warm bed to face pack wrath and, more importantly, Chris. He wondered if she had a logical explanation at all to explain her communication with a serial murderer. He decided to head for the Larabee ranch to try and give the fool lupa a chance to explain her actions with their alpha.
“I'm headed out to the ranch. You all follow when you can. I have a feeling things are about to get nasty for Mrs. Travis, but I want to give her a fair chance to explain herself.”
Quickly, he shifted and ghosted out the door, heading cross-country towards the Larabee ranch.
7777777
Chris curled his body around his mate, crooning wordless comfort into Vin's ear. The younger man had finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fallen asleep, both hands fisted securely in the front of Chris' open black shirt, face buried in his broad chest. Rain sat back, stethoscope in hand, concern on her sweet face.
“His heart and respiratory rhythms are fine. I don't find any signs of broken bones. We do need to keep a close eye on his throat and make sure the swelling doesn't cut off his airway. Other than that, I think we only have to worry about the burns, bruises, muscular pain and possible headaches. His eyes should be fine.” She tucked an ice pack against Vin's throat and turned a gentle look on her alpha's worried face.
“The damage to his throat looks far worse than it is, Chris, with the bruising and swelling. I think his voice will be okay,” She reached out and gently smoothed Vin's tangled hair. “And the drug that was used was quick acting and has worn off, there should be no lingering effects other than an upset stomach and headache.”
She patted Larabee's knee gently. “We were in time Chris. He's gonna be fine.”
Larabee nodded, grateful for the slender lupa's earnest, comforting presence. Rain Jackson was one of the most competent physicians he knew. If she thought Vin was going to be fine, it eased his mind considerably. He relaxed slightly and leaned back against the heavy carved headboard, Vin held close. Vin sighed in his sleep and nuzzled in, nose buried against Chris' breastbone, breath warm and moist against his skin.
Chris kissed the top of the damp, tousled head, hands running gently down Vin's bare back, soothing the tiny muscle spasms that occasionally rippled under his skin. He had come so close to losing his young lover, so close. He closed his eyes in denial, a shudder running through his own body. Eyes still closed tight at that unthinkable thought, he frowned, mind racing. How had the killer homed in on Vin? Buck had said he had been in town for over two weeks. Had the man spied on them the entire time? More importantly, was he working alone, or did he have accomplices?
His eyes snapped open wide at that thought. He met Rain's questioning gaze.
“Rain, call the pack in. We don't want anyone running around alone until we find out for sure if that sick bastard was working alone.”
Rain gasped in horror at the thought. It had never occurred to her that there might be more than one hunter. She knew very little about the psychology of serial killers. She rose from the bed and hurried into the den for the phone. As she punched in Nathan's number, a pale form loomed up at the French windows, causing her to start and snarl reflexively before she recognized Josiah's familiar brawny physique. She huffed out a relieved breath and relaxed as the tall shaman shouldered in through the doors, only to tense at the bleak expression on his face.
Something else was wrong.
“Josiah?” She questioned softly.
He reached out and hugged her gently.
“Stay close, Rain. I need to talk to Chris.” He gave her a squeeze and released her, turning to pad silently down the dark hall to the master bedroom.
Chris was still seated, back against the headboard, cradling his sleeping mate against his chest, one hand gently and repetitively stroking the curly head, but his attention was focused on the door. Obviously he had known of Josiah's presence the moment he reached the porch. He arched a blond brow in silent query, narrowed eyes intent on the shaman's grim face.
Josiah sighed and slowly approached the bed to crouch beside it and place a big hand on his alpha's knee.
“I got bad news, Chris. Normally, I'd wait for Buck to join us, but I think you've got your temper well leashed tonight, as well as your hands full.”
Gently, he reached out a big hand and patted Vin's leg. The sleeping man sighed and snuffled softly, breathing in the scents that meant home and safety to him, then relaxed again.
Quietly, Sanchez told Larabee of their discoveries at the station, both of the photos and of the incriminating email, compassionate eyes on his alpha's stony face as Chris assimilated the information. He kept one large hand on Larabee's knee, squeezing gently to anchor and comfort, letting him know he was not alone in his grief and pain. To his surprise, there was no explosive outburst of rage. Chris merely closed his eyes tight in remembered pain and pressed his mouth to Vin's head, breathing deeply of his mate's scent.
Opening his eyes, he lifted his head when he felt Vin shift uneasily, turning in his arms, and his eyes met wide pools of cerulean blue that held nothing but concern, trust and love. Swollen and bloodshot though they were, they were still the most beautiful he had ever seen. He felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth at the steady regard of his mate, and it widened at the sleepy, lop-sided smile he got in turn. The bond between them hummed with the deep feelings they shared.
He remembered that first morning, not so long ago, when he had awoken in the tall, dewy grass, Vin wrapped tight in his arms, their legs entangled, his body tingling and sore from a night of passionate lovemaking, the like of which he had never known before. The sun had been coming up over the rim of the mesa, to gild them with gold, and those extraordinary eyes had opened and shyly met his, and for the first time he saw their true blue color. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life and, awed, he had lifted a hand to trace the clean, strong curve of Vin's jaw and thumb the soft, swollen lips before bending his head to claim them again in a hungry kiss.
He had lost himself in his new lover then, and he now he anchored himself the same way, by bending his head and kissing him deeply, passionately, with all the love he had in him.
Vin responded with a small, needy sound, lifting his arms to wind his arms around his mate's neck, holding tight to the one true thing in his life as they comforted and reassured themselves, secure in their love and their bond.
When Chris lifted his head, he was panting softly, eyes dark with passion.
Vin murmured a soft protest as their mouths parted, and nipped softly, pleadingly at the strong curve of his mate's throat, hands sliding under his shirt to caress wide, well-cut pectorals and broad shoulders. He could sense his mate's underlying grief and buried pain and wanted nothing more than to take it from him, and comfort him in the best way he knew. Chris had told him about his lost family, shown him the photo albums. The ranch house itself still bore traces of their presence; Sarah's small feminine touches, Adam's small room tumbled with toys and books, faint traces of scent.
Chris smiled through burning eyes and hugged him close. He had loved his wife and cherished his son, would always miss them, but he held his future in his arms and he thanked the gods that it hadn't been taken from him. The man who had murdered his family was dead under the fang, by his command. He could do nothing more to avenge them. All he could do was move on into the future with his new mate.
He sniffed, straightened and smiled into Josiah's compassionate eyes.
The big shaman gave him a toothy grin, pale eyes twinkling in amusement as he watched his alpha, hair tousled and face flushed with arousal, attempt to regain his dignity while his mate nibbled insistently at his earlobes, hands busy under the black shirt.
Larabee planted a smacking kiss on his lover's cheek and lifted his head to smile down into sleepy, but determined blue eyes.
“Behave yourself, you're supposed to be sleeping.”
Vin opened his mouth to protest, only to surprise himself with a wide yawn. He opened his eyes wide, trying hard to stay alert and scowled up at Chris' broad grin.
The blond smiled down at him, and gave him a loving squeeze.
“You go back to sleep. I'm not going anywhere.” He said affectionately, proud of his mate who, although bruised and battered and exhausted after hours of torture, was still determined to comfort Chris. He stroked Vin's face and kissed him again.
Vin eyed him suspiciously for a moment, lids drooping as he fought his need for rest then slanted a questioning glance at Josiah.
The big lupinii nodded solemnly at the silent question.
“Rest, son, I'll keep an eye on him for you.” He rumbled.
Vin rewarded him with a small smile, then yawned again, eyelids sliding shut against his will. The curly head drooped against a broad shoulder and his breath began to even out into sleep. Larabee held him close, expression tender as he eyed the relaxed face.
“He's had a hell of a night,” he said softly, fingers combing gently through tangled hair.
Carefully, he eased Vin down onto the pillows beside him, and drew the quilt up close, tucking him in. Even nearly asleep, Vin reached out, fumbling for a moment and latched firmly onto Larabee's shirt. Chris grinned at his mate's tenacity. He wasn't going anywhere unless Vin knew about it. Resigned for the moment, he settled back on the bed, Vin curled close against his side, and turned a sharp eye on Sanchez.
“So, our man had a email from the Clarion? From Mary specifically, or her staff?”
He found it a bit hard to believe that the snobbish, prim lupa would involve herself with a killer, but she might be foolish enough to be duped into aiding him in some way.
“Buck is bringing her. He probably has the truth out of her by now.”
Josiah gave his alpha a toothy grin. They both knew how formidable Bucklin could be when he wanted answers, especially when he was angry.
“Nate is caring for the remains until we can identify them. Paulo's brother may want to take care of him...the ladies are helping Ezra with cleanup. Ezra is turning the man's lair inside out. He probably knows more about his identity now.”
Chris nodded soberly, thoughts turning in circles. He honestly did not think Mary was directly involved, but he had been surprised before when she had attacked his mate without provocation, so anything was possible. The mere idea that she might have given information to the madman that caused him to focus his attentions on Vin raised his hackles. If he found out that she had been the cause of Vin's kidnapping and torture, he would kill the bitch himself.
He would do it by pack law and fair challenge, but she was dead meat if she was involved in his mate's near murder. He had been merciful once. He would not make the same mistake twice. He glanced down at his mate's sleeping face, and covered the hand fisted in his shirt with his own. He lightly traced the bruising on Vin's swollen throat, a silent snarl forming. He would have to guard him more carefully in the future.
7777777
Mary Travis awoke to a furious pounding on her front door. Yanked from a sweet dream, she was confused for a moment then hurried to pull on a robe over her thin nightgown, her pale hair tumbling over her shoulders. When she looked through the peephole on her door, she was surprised to see Buck Wilmington looming on her doorstep, handsome face grim. Had something happened to Chris? Heart pounding she opened the door, lips already open to barrage him with questions.
He stopped her with one curt gesture, palm out.
“Mary Travis you are called before pack council. Be silent. Get dressed.”
His voice was icy with rage, dark blue eyes glittering in the porch light. She caught the rank scent of fresh blood on his person. She had never seen this fearsome side of the amiable Wilmington.
Frightened now, she nodded numbly and obeyed. Heart thumping with fright, she turned back to her bedroom, thoughts looping in frantic circles. Had the pack learned of her illicit search for Tanner's past? She had been careful, very discreet in her inquiries, both on the computer and via the phone...to be called before the pack council was serious, very serious, however, she had certain rights by law.
She dressed quickly, but carefully, deliberately choosing a silky, feminine dress in soft blue with a delicate lace collar, and leaving her ash blonde hair to cascade loose down her back. She also took the time to apply a touch of color to her lips and cheeks, determined to look her best when she appeared before Chris and the pack. Her shunning by the pack had weighed heavily on her, and she was anxious to see him and be among her own kind. Plus, she was about to burst with curiosity. Why this sudden late night call?
She slipped on her shoes and grabbed a sweater and her purse before joining Wilmington on the porch. The tall beta swept her with an indifferent glance from head to toe before coldly staring her down, and then turned his back and strode away towards his truck ignoring her stammered questions. Meekly, she clamped her mouth firmly shut and followed, wary eyes on his broad back and stiff posture. Buck's body language spoke volumes. He was about to explode, and she most definitely did not want that rage directed at her.
77777777
It was shortly after dawn before the remainder of the Medicine Bow pack silently trickled into the yard of the Larabee homestead. Mary Travis paced uneasily on the low porch, rubbing her chilled arms, both outraged and frightened. She had not been invited inside and had been left to wait for several hours under the steady, unblinking custodial gazes of Nettie and Lydia. She was definitely under guard and neither woman spoke to her to offer an explanation as to why she had been brought here. She had yet to see her alpha.
As she watched, Ezra and Nathan, the last to arrive, emerged from Nate's SUV. Both men looked hard at her, and she shivered at the traces of pity she saw in the healer's dark eyes. Ezra's poker face betrayed nothing, but she sensed a certain empathy there as well. They walked rapidly past her and into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind them. Standish was carrying a thick file and a laptop case.
Just as the growing tension was about to make her scream aloud and demand an explanation, the door slammed open and Chris Larabee emerged, flanked by his beta and shaman and followed by Jackson and Standish. He was barefoot and clad only in a pair of black jeans. Mary felt a surge of excitement rise within her as she noticed Tanner's absence. Then she saw the look on Larabee's face and she fought hard to stand her ground and not cringe as Larabee stalked towards her with the narrow, sidewinder prowl of a predator ready to attack, a single sheet of paper clenched in his hand, cold eyes on her face.
The pack circled her lazily--- casually cutting off any avenues of escape, and their body language spoke volumes. This was a trial and if Mary lost her plea, she would die, executed by her own pack. A shiver of pure fear caused her to tense and reflexively bare her teeth in defense before Chris' guttural snarl had her quickly dropping her head in submission.
“Look at me.” Larabee's voice was a feral purr and she raised her head obediently, eyes wide.
He silently shoved the sheet of paper he held bare inches from her face and watched as she quickly scanned it, frowning in puzzlement.
“Do you know what this is?” His voice held an arctic calm that raised her hackles and had her nervously stepping back.
“It's an email I sent in reply to an inquiry from a businessman interested in investment possibilities here in Four Corners. He asked about game hunting in the area as well.” Nervously, she licked her lips, wary eyes on his face, very aware of the still listening, silence in the pack members surrounding her.
“Did you meet or speak with this man in any other capacity?”
“No. I never met him. I got the email several weeks ago. That's the only contact I had with him.”
She lifted her chin and stood her ground as Larabee leaned into her personal space, breathing in her scent and staring hard into her eyes. She swallowed hard and her pulse raced as she suddenly realized that her life hinged on the answer she had just given. Chris was judging whether she spoke the truth and reading the answer in her scent, body language, and face. She met his gaze squarely, unable to stop the rosy flush of arousal that flooded her skin at his close proximity. She took a breath, inhaling his heady, masculine musk, almost lost in the intense moss agate green of his eyes. She had never stood so close to him before. If only...
Abruptly, he gave a sharp nod of satisfaction and stepped away, lip curling over white teeth, turned his back arrogantly and dismissed her, as he thrust the suspect paper into Josiah's big hand and strode back into the house. Stung at the abrupt rejection, she bit her lip sharply to keep from crying out a protest. Why was she being treated like this? Before she could voice that question, Josiah stepped forward and gestured for her towards his battered car. She felt a surge of pure anger, and dug in her heels, resisting the big hand on her elbow.
“What on earth is going on?' She cried, backing away from his hand, eyes flicking to the kitchen door.
Buck stepped in front of it, blocking her access, blue eyes still hard on her face.
“Vin was nearly killed tonight by your 'businessman', Mary. In fact, the man was the same one responsible for Sarah and Adam's deaths, and they weren't the only ones. The bastard had been hunting and killing our kind off for years. So, if you know anything at all, now is the time to speak up, because Moon help you if lied. Chris will rip you apart with his bare hands, law or no law.”
Mary blanched, realizing just how close to death she had come and turned wide eyes on the grim faces around her. She had no allies here. They had all been fully prepared to execute her at Larabee's word. Swallowing hard, she numbly allowed Josiah to escort her to his car, biting her lips to keep the questions at bay.
Dully, she realized her situation had not changed. She was still shunned by the Medicine Bow pack, and Larabee showed no signs of relenting and allowing her back, especially since she had corresponded with the human who had attacked his mate. Was Tanner still badly hurt?
“Is Vin going to be alright?” she blurted, not really expecting an answer. To her surprise, Sanchez regarded her thoughtfully with keen blue eyes for a moment, and then spoke briefly.
“Vin will be fine. We were in time.”
He refused to elaborate, answering her barrage of questions with an impenetrable silence for the rest of the drive back to her house. He left her standing forlornly on the sidewalk, immediately turning and heading back to the ranch. For the next few weeks until the pack ascertained they were safe from further attack, they would stick together like glue, rallied around their alpha and his injured mate.
77777777
Three Days Later.
“As near as Ah can ascertain, the man was a loner. He traveled alone and killed alone, perfecting his skills over the years. As to his ability to recognize our kind, Ah think I have the answer to that as well.” Standish pulled out a thick journal, flipped through the pages to indicate a paragraph. “He was a rarity ---he had Lupinii blood. His great, great grandmother was apparently a halfling. That made him a hybrid himself.”
The pack members in the den huddled closer around their leader as he leaned over the coffee table to scan the pages. They were all staying close for the time being, still unsettled and alert with adrenaline from their encounter with the Hunter. Although it was a relief to find the man was a loner, they would remain on alert to be sure.
Josiah shook his graying head sorrowfully. There were sound reasons Pack Law now forbade mating with humans. Human/lupinii offspring were often unstable mentally. Both male and female tended to have homicidal tendencies. At best they often were schizophrenic, at worst, psychopathic. More than one human serial killer sported lupinii blood in his family tree. Such offspring were increasingly rare, but they did exist.
Today, with a better understanding of genetics most Lupinii were careful to avoid sexual interaction with human partners, but there were still a few packs that persisted in keeping humans bound to them in servitude, and that servitude often included ritual sex as a form of dominance. It was a practice that dated from medieval times and as an integral part of Lupinii law and history, it was proving difficult to eradicate.
Larabee scowled down at the journal. “Does it list his ancestor's name?” If the name of the killer's ancestress was traceable, a blood debt for the murders could be laid at her Pack's door.
Ezra shook his head sorrowfully. “No, Ah am afraid not. This was apparently during the civil war and the great upheaval that caused. There were a great many packs that were torn apart and fractured during that era.”
Chris huffed out a breath, sat back and pushed his hair out of his eyes.
“Well, that's that, then. Josiah did you get the remains cared for?”
Josiah nodded.
“Yes. We managed to return most of the skins and photos to their respective packs. The couple we could not identify I documented, then cremated and interred in the sacred Grove myself. Paulo's brother took care of him. He said to let you know that he acknowledges a blood debt to the Medicine Bow Pack, and that you only have to call him if you need him or his pack. Raphael is tracing Fowler's back trail to find out if there are other victims.”
There was a low pleased murmur among the gathered pack. It was always good to have a secure alliance with a neighboring pack. It served to reinforce the Medicine Bow pack's territorial holdings and added an additional protective element as well.
Buck yawned and stretched lazily on the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace, a snoozing JD tucked securely in the crook of his arm, Lydia curled warm against his back. He nodded approvingly.
“Its good to have Hector backing us up. He's a damned good fighter. Honorable, too. I took care of Fowler's vehicles. Donated the cash to the clinic.”
He watched with compassionate eyes as his alpha stared distractedly out the window to the deck, searching for a familiar form.
Vin had vanished the night before last, slipping away into the hills, overwhelmed and feeling crowded and chafed by the surrounding pack. While Chris acted nonchalant, it was obvious that he missed Vin and worried about his young mate. It was difficult for the pack leader to stand back and allow his mate the freedom to leave, to give him the space he needed.
Chris nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. It was good to have all the loose ends tied up. To finally be able to lay Sarah and Adam's ghosts to rest. He sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes. He wished he could feel Vin's thoughts more clearly. The bond stretching between them conveyed only a sense of distraction and of exertion. Tanner was running free somewhere, pushing himself to his limits, testing his strength and stamina.
Restless, he rose to his feet and crossed the room, pushing out the French doors to the porch, head lifted to sniff the wind. Behind him, the pack members resettled, relaxing on the plush rugs and comfortable, overstuffed furniture. Inez carried in a tray of sandwiches, followed by Maria with drinks. Ezra pulled a deck of cards out and conversation rose and fell, as they gathered around the table.
A sudden, fierce surge of warmth through the bond brought Chris' head up abruptly, and a broad grin spread across his face at the sudden erotic sight of the lean golden form that shifted and rose out of the tall, green grass bordering the yard to stride eagerly towards him. Joyfully, he stepped off the porch to meet his lover.
Blue eyes clear and steady as the noon sky met his, and the beloved, crooked smile blossomed to answer his grin. Vin stepped into his welcoming embrace, head tilted, hungry mouth searching for his. The ugly bruises were already fading from the golden skin, thanks to swift lupinii healing, and Chris drank in the heady scent of clean sweat and male musk. Chris kissed him deeply, wetly, hot tongue seeking out the hidden depths of the warm mouth, as they embraced.
Vin's strong hands dug into his shoulders, and he moaned softly as his lover devoured his mouth, arms holding him close. He had missed Chris too much to stay away for long. As much as he needed space and privacy, he needed his mate more.
They were both breathing hard when Larabee lifted his head, reluctant to release that lush mouth.
“Mmmmmm. You taste so good.” He smiled down into hazy eyes, pleased at the effect he had on his mate.
*I missed you, I love you. * Were the words that flowed unsaid between them. He held Vin close, burying his face into the wind blown hair, breathing in the beloved scent, enjoying the press of the nude body against his own fully clothed one. He slid caressing hands down Tanner's bare back, loving the feel of the warm, silky skin beneath his calloused palms.
Vin nipped and bit gently at his mate's throat and chin, pressing close against the lean body. Whining softly, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back in submission, offering his bare throat to his alpha.
Chris growled in arousal at the erotic gesture and closed sharp white teeth gently over the throbbing vein there, nipping hard enough to leave his mark, then soothing the sting with a hot, wet tongue. One big hand wound into the long, wind tangled hair to keep Vin close, and the other slid down to cup a bare cheek as he pulled Vin's hips hard against his to grind his groin against his.
Vin whimpered softly, clutching the broad shoulders, helpless as his mate took control, marking him and bringing him to the razor edge of climax with ease. He wound both arms around the blond's neck and clung, helpless to resist, drowning in sensation, panting for each breath.
Suddenly aware of their exposed position---in the yard in broad daylight, in full view of the den---Larabee gave a snarl of frustration as he resisted the urge to push his mate to the ground and mount him immediately. Instead, he bent and swiftly scooped Vin off his feet into a fireman's carry and headed briskly for the barn. Tanner gave a yelp of surprise, and Larabee took pleasure in turning his head and sinking sharp teeth into one shapely buttock as a warning.
Behind them, Josiah and Buck exchanged broad grins at the glass doors as they watched their alpha carry his mate away to be thoroughly ravished.
77777777
In the golden light of the hayloft, two nude bodies lay entwined, limbs thoroughly entangled. Larabee's body was still joined to his mate's. He lay over Vin's back, pressing lazy kisses onto and laving the tender nape of Vin's neck with a loving tongue. His right arm was stretched out and long fingers clasped with Vin's above the younger man's head, which was pillowed on his bicep. His left arm was snug around his waist, keeping his man close.
Vin made soft purring sounds of pleasure, sated and nearly asleep, cradled in the strength and warmth of the older man's arms. He had found his true home in the angle of Chris's bones. He clenched his muscles and pressed his ass sweetly back against Larabee's belly, reveling in the feel of the thick cock snug inside him.
Chris' breath hitched at that tight clench of muscled heat around his cock and gave a soft, contented growl of his own. He could feel the wet warmth between them, his seed sealing them together. He had yet to soften enough to slide free from his lover's body, and he felt like he could stay sheathed here forever. He nuzzled Vin's earlobe, suckled gently, tasting salt sweet skin. He crooned wordless endearments to his sleepy lover as he breathed in the beloved scent of his mate. Vin turned his head and they exchanged slow, deep kisses for long minutes.
Chris smiled as the long lashes fluttered closed and Vin slid into sleep. He yawned hugely himself, lay his head down on Vin's shoulder and closed his own eyes. The afternoon light gilded their skin with gold and warmed them as they dozed, content in each other's arms. The sounds of birdsong, the wind through the grass and contented horses drifted through the loft and the lovers slept the afternoon away, content and cradled in the sun's love. Whatever came tomorrow they would face together.
FINI
11/22/05
PHOENIX
Michael Biehn Archive
Choose skin:
The characters belong to various production/film/TV companies. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Author's Chapter Notes: Sixth story in the Dark Moon universe. This is for all the DM fans that whined, err, howled for more feral Vin. Presented after a 2800 mile move, two new jobs, and a sinus infection. As God is my witness I will never post a unfinished story again, it jinxes my writing. Thanks for your patience, folks. Feedback: Please. I am feeling kind of isolated here. |