by Hondo Jinx
The bison wanted all of it. All of it and more.
He would fill his home with females and sire whole herds of young. His sons would carry bull’s blood in their veins as they ventured into neighboring territories to conquer and claim and sire, expanding Brawley’s reach and bringing back both Bison latifrons and the power mages.
12
Remi leapt from his back, jarring him back to reality.
She landed lightly beside him, eyes glowing with excitement. Her luscious curves gleamed with perspiration and moonlight.
She reached up and slapped his thick shoulder. “That was awesome, handsome! But don’t let the other girls ride without something to hold onto or you’ll throw them. Now shift back to human form. Because even if I’m a flesh mage, there is no way I’m doing it with a gigantic beast like you.”
Remi laughed, but her smile dimmed when Brawley just blinked at her for a few seconds, growing hard.
“Earth to Brawley,” Remi said, crossing her muscular arms over her perfect breasts. Her scowl and stance were meant to convey toughness. But she was so tiny and vulnerable, it was laughable. Brawley snorted and took a slow step forward.
“I mean it, asshole. Either switch back or no nookie.”
Teasing her was fun, but Brawley was in the mood for a different kind of fun now. His blood was up, and he was alone with the most beautiful woman in the world, a woman he loved, a woman who was naked and perfect and who wanted him. Now.
So he shifted again and stood grinning before her.
Remi shoved him. “I thought you’d gone around the bend for a second there. I was trying to figure out how to fend off the affections of a five-thousand-pound super bison.”
“Five thousand seventeen pounds,” he said, and drew her into his arms.
She raised her mouth to his, and they kissed. It was a long, slow kiss. Their tongues wrestled playfully but without the usual frantic urgency, and Brawley understood that tonight would be different. Remi said she wanted to fuck, but tonight, she wanted more than that. Needed more.
Sensing this, he released just a trickle of juice, wanting to give his woman everything, and plunged into her emotional state.
Remi was head over heels in love with him. She was delighted to have at long last met her match. She loved him for who he was. She loved how he thought, talked, and acted, and she loved him for the way he treated her and the other women.
She even felt safe with him. And that was a thing she had never ever felt or even dreamed of feeling. She would lay down her life in defense of Brawley or the other women, whom she also adored. She was already fond of his folks and optimistic about this place and the life they could all lead here together.
But throbbing at the center of all this happiness was a clot of despair, a flashing beacon of pain tainted her joy. Visiting her family had reopened the old wound. The roadside event this morning had covered it with salt.
Remi’s twin sister, Winchester, was locked away in the Chop Shop. And if the FPI had twisted to the degree that it was employing psi mages and dispensing teams of professional hit men on vengeful seek-and-destroy missions, what were they doing to poor Winnie?
Despite heroic efforts to suppress these fears, Remi’s mind raged with half-formed nightmare possibilities, the streaming horror flick set not to music but a mantra of deepest self-loathing. All my fault, all my fault, all my fault…
Brawley broke the kiss and ran a thumb gently along Remi’s strong jawline.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
Her gaze ticked rapidly back and forth between his pupils. “Talk about what, handsome? The ride?”
He shook his head, drew her face to his naked chest, and just held her for a moment. Using his Seeker senses and Carnal awareness, he matched his breathing to hers. Then he adjusted his heartbeat to mirror hers, so their blood pumped together like soldiers marching in step.
“Your sister,” he said. “You want to talk about Winnie?”
Her head shook back and forth against his chest. “No thanks, Brawley. I mean, I do. But I don’t. I’m just so worried, especially after what happened this morning. Do you think she’s okay? I mean, can you Seeker that or whatever? I’ve wanted to ask but haven’t dared.”
Holding her shoulders, he stepped back and looked into her dark eyes. Remi’s long lashes shimmered with tears. “You want me to do that, darlin?”
She hesitated, released a heavy exhalation, and nodded. “I do.”
Brawley kissed her forehead, closed his eyes, and drew his lungs full of the cool, night air, loving the smell of the creosote bushes. Off in the distance, a coyote yipped its high, keening cry.
Holding the question of Winnie in his mind, Brawley released a burst of juice and braced himself for the impact of news that might destroy this woman whom he loved.
But there was no impact. His query just faded away across the scrubby pastureland without so much as an echo.
One more secret. The whole world locking down tight as if in preparation for the storm of all storms.
When he opened his eyes, Remi looked up pleadingly, her full bottom lip pinched between her perfect white teeth. “Well?”
“Nothing,” Brawley said.
A wild light came into her eyes. Desperation twisted her beautiful features. “Nothing? Promise? You aren’t holding back, are you? Hiding something you think I can’t handle? Because I want to know. I want to know everything, anything, no matter how bad. I—”
“Darlin, I am telling the truth,” he said calmly. “I promise.”
Remi let out another shuddering exhalation, and suddenly, she seemed small again. Small and tired and vulnerable. A second later, she was sobbing.
He pulled her into an embrace. She hugged him back, howling with despair.
And Brawley found himself standing once more upon the psychological precipice of a choice that would resonate into the future, across all manner of difficult moments.
With just a squeeze of juice, he could wash away a good deal of Remi’s pain. He couldn’t remove it. The pain was too great for that. But he could dull the agony and flood her with distracting emotions. Happiness, optimism, lust. Help her to forget the worry gnawing at her guts. It would be a mercy. And besides, these painful worries were doing her no good whatsoever.
But he hesitated. Because the notion of juicing her felt wrong. Like dropping an antidepressant into her drink when she wasn’t looking.
Whatever he did would set a precedent. Would his women want him dulling the hard edges of life? Would they want him to wrap them in soft folds of ultimate denial?
No. They would not.
Because his women were fierce creatures.
If one of them faltered and asked him to alleviate pain, he would do so without hesitation. But that was their choice, not his. And to make that choice for Remi now, to secretly assuage her pain, would be out of bounds.
Doing so would brand her as somehow not equal to the moment. And if he repeated this act of mercy as they moved forward together into the future, Remi’s fortitude would atrophy, rendering her less and less capable of dealing with adversity and ultimately destroying the woman he loved.
So perhaps cruelly, he let her suffer.
“Darlin, I know you think what happened to Winnie was your fault, but it wasn’t. Your dad sure doesn’t think so.”
“He wasn’t there,” she said, anger cutting across her sobs. “Those agents thought Winnie was me. They were gunning for me. Because of things I did. When Winnie tried to explain their mistake, they attacked her.”
“And she killed them,” Brawley said.
“All of them,” Remi said, her eyes hollow with the painful memory. “She was the one who wanted to be a bounty hunter, not me. I was happy as a Scar, happy just fucking off. My greatest ambition was pushing myself to my limits. But Winnie wanted more. She sacrificed so much, tried so hard. Then Arizona happened.”
“Life has a way of fucking our plans in the ass.”
Remi sniffed. “It really does. Before Winnie could clear out, reinforcements arrived. Two vans full of heavily armed agents. How could Winnie fight them? She was all alone. I was supposed to be there. The damned diner was my idea. But I was miles away, partying like an asshole.”
He tried to comfort her with a hug, but she placed both hands on his chest and held him back. Her features once again filled with desperation. “If I had known, I would’ve been there, Brawley. I would have given my life for my sister. I would have killed every last one of those bastards.”
Now he did haul her into an embrace. “I know, darlin. I know.”
Remi shook in his arms. For a time, that’s all there was. A man and a woman standing naked atop a moonlit plateau, one sobbing, the other doing his level best to comfort her as the emotional storm raged on and on.
Eventually, the worst of it passed. He wiped the tears from her puffy, red-rimmed eyes.
“When Daddy calls, will you really help us break Winnie out?” Remi asked.
Brawley just looked at her.
“Sorry,” Remi said. “I know you will. I don’t even know why I asked.” She let out a shuddering sigh. “What the hell am I doing here?” She gestured across the darkened landscape. “If you had told me five days ago…”
And that was the crux of the matter, the need he had detected within her; not just her concerns over Winnie but also a swelling anxiety over the massive changes in her life and the unsteady ground to which these cataclysmic changes had delivered her.
A few days ago, Remi had been a superhuman bounty hunter. Fierce and fearless, dependent on no one, with absolute mastery over her domain.
Now she was nearly two thousand miles away, standing naked in the arms of a man with whom she had bonded for eternity. In their wake lay many, many bodies. And now, powerful forces rode their trail. She had gone from hunter to prey.
Before, she had been a powerful individual, reliant upon no one, making her own way in the world. Now, she relied on Brawley and the girls. Worse yet, they also relied on her, and that meant any mistake she made might hurt one or all of them.
Heavy shit, Brawley reckoned, especially for a girl already living in perpetual guilt over what her actions had done to her sister.
Remi’s future was suddenly uncertain. And uncertainty is the root of all fear.
Tonight, she needed comfort and assurance. Tonight, she needed love.
Brawley wiped her tears and rubbed her back and waited, holding her against him, giving her silence, ready to listen.
But Remi had nothing else to say. When she lifted her lips to his, he kissed her tenderly.
He had not removed her pain and had not offered false hope. But he had reassured her that no matter what happened, she would not be alone. No matter what she faced, he would be at her side, facing it with her.
Sometimes, that’s all it takes. If you hitch your wagon to the right person, you can face up to just about anything. Because you know that even when life douses you in gasoline and starts striking matches, your lover will stay by your side.
As they kissed, he sensed the ground beneath Remi’s emotional feet growing a little firmer.
Then firmer still as he lowered her gently to the ground.
Some people might scoff at the notion of a man easing a woman’s pain by showing physical affection. But let’s be clear; those people are assholes. And Brawley had never wasted time worrying about what assholes thought.
He lay on his side, propped on an elbow, looking down into Remi’s eyes. Time passed. They touched each other’s faces and kissed, their eyes doing all the talking.
What their eyes said was simple. I love you. I will never leave you. You can count on me forever, no matter what.
Remi reached between his legs and stroked him to full hardness. Her ministrations were brief and businesslike.
There would be no teasing, no foreplay, no games. Not tonight.
Brawley spread her legs, lowered himself between them, and entered her slowly.
Their gazes were locked together just as firmly as their bodies. There was no talking and very little kissing. There was no pounding, no joking, no domination games.
They found their rhythm. Remi wrapped her legs around his waist.
With long, slow, steady strokes, Brawley filled her.
Remi’s slick heat gripped him. Her opening tightened to a snug band around his girth, squeezing along his length as it slid in and out. But this simple, rolling cinch was the closest they came to Carnal acrobatics.
Slipping one arm beneath her, Brawley cupped her skull with his big hand, lifting her head from the hard ground. He slid his other hand beneath her tailbone, cushioning her flesh and tilting her pelvis. In this way, he maximized the pressure against her clitoris. When each downstroke bottomed out, he paused, filling her and grinding his own pelvis against her swollen pearl.
Remi grabbed his ass with both hands. On his next downstroke, she held tight, gripping him with her fingers and her channel, wriggling urgently beneath him.
She didn’t need to tell him what she wanted. Her body told him.
So he held her in a loving embrace, buried to the hilt, and ground against her sensitive nub with subtle revolutions of his pelvic bone.
A short time later, Remi tensed and inhaled sharply. She let out a strangled whine as her body convulsed with release. Her silky walls contracted powerfully around him, milking his swollen girth with all the suction of a greedy mouth. Her euphoria washed over him as waves of pleasure and love and gratitude crashed over his Seeker senses.
Gripped by the pulsing walls of Remi’s climaxing sex and swept into the powerful whirlpool of her gushing emotions, Brawley exploded inside her, growling as he pumped her tender womb full of his seed.
Their simultaneous release went on and on and on, devolving blurrily into a tender embrace.
They lay there for a long time, kissing and staring into each other’s eyes.
At last, Remi reached up and touched his face. Her tears had dried, and he sensed that she had overcome her pain and anxiety. Not wholly, of course, but this time together had helped her move past it. She had rediscovered her strength, and they were free to move boldly together into the uncertain future.
13
Brawley geared up as Remi faded into the bedroom to join her sleeping sister-wives.
He wouldn’t follow her yet. He had business elsewhere.
He holstered his XDS and one of the modded Glock 19s, strapped on two bandoliers of extra mags, one for the pistols, the other for the stubby .308 MDR, which he examined briefly, ejecting the magazine and working the action several times, familiarizing himself with the awkward arrangement. He adapted more easily than he’d expected, thanks to his Seeker and Carnal strands, which more and more frequently worked in tandem.
He grabbed one of the tactical knives and stuffed a frag grenade in his pocket for good measure. Then he turned his attention to less conventional weaponry.
His Seeker strand had been increasingly responsive when directly accessing his mind, so he drew both arms full of telekinetic force. Then he chopped another measure of red energy and loaded a few dozen crackling rounds in his mind.
He decided to try something new and tipped every tenth round with Seeker juice. If he managed to go full auto, it would be good to have some tracer rounds packed in the mix.
Then he went outside, where the dogs were waiting for him. He messed with them a little, then said, “Y’all stay here. Keep watch over the girls while I’m gone.”
Overhead, the sky was a bowl of darkness spangled with stars. It was good to be home… even if he was fixing to leave again.
The ranch was quiet. Seeing no sign of Callie, he released a trickle of Seeker juice and held the question of her in his mind. But she had stripped off all her clothes, including the choker he used to Seek her when she was cloaked, so he couldn’t find her out there in the darkness.
But he sensed no danger.
Callie was probably hunkere
d down in the switchgrass yonder, stalking a mouse.
Good for her.
Over in the barn, the lantern still burned. Frankie must be in there, working on the FPI psionic detector. Girl was a worker, that was for sure.
All was right in the world. At least as right as it could be, given the forces in play.
He didn’t bother to draw the key from his pocket, wanting to see if this would work without actually holding the thing in his hand.
With the MDR at the ready, he said, “Welcome, Son, to Red Haven.”
The world broke apart, swirling away like so much smoke, and a second later, he was standing in Red Haven.
He whirled, sweeping his gaze and muzzle in a full 360, saw nothing, and then took another look, listening hard as he scanned the ceiling and floor and every inch of the cabin’s interior.
He was alone. A thing confirmed by his eyes and ears and gut. No danger here. Which was a relief, considering the welcome wagon that had awaited him last time.
And yet he did behold a strange surprise.
He had been expecting a mess. Corpses, stench.
But the cabin was clean. The wide-planked floors weren’t even stained.
That was curious. Powerful curious.
Had the place magically cleaned itself? A nice thought, that. He sure could’ve used a self-cleaning abode over the years.
Perhaps the strange nature of Uno’s magic had somehow sucked all traces into some strange, Cosmic void.
Or maybe someone had visited and cleaned up the place.
Yes, his gut told him. That’s it.
Was it the mysterious woman whose holographic image had greeted him when he’d first entered the structure?
He remembered her bright green robe, the shapely body beneath, and the red locks spilling from the shadowy hood.
Because he now had an eidetic memory, her voice returned to him effortlessly, the sound of it rich and layered, almost musical.
Welcome. My name is—
That’s where the memory ended, of course, because at that point, Uno’s zombies had come crashing through her image.