Alpine Bucky Barnes Novels & Stories

Inside, a stocky guy in grease-streaked overalls looked up from under the hood of a beat-up truck. “Aliyah?” His grin widened. “Damn, haven’t seen you since the Ember Ridge circuit. Thought you quit for good.” I blinked, caught off guard. “Timo?” “In the flesh.” He wiped his hands on a rag and came over. “Still got that death stare when you’re riding, I see.” “I wasn’t—” “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you pass guys twice your size like they were standing still.” He glanced at Asher, then back at me. “This guy is your new pit crew?”

Instead I had a woman who would not die and an Alpha who had turned his pack inside out looking for answers. Every border was being monitored. Patrols had been doubled. Visitors were searched and questioned. Nathan Lockwood moved like a man possessed and every move he made tightened the net around him and his people, and now, I knew that I was furious at the fact that she was going to eventually wake up and that the two of them would be standing as Alpha and Luna should, strong with desire. I rose from my chair and walked toward the basement without thinking about the sound my boots made on the concrete.

Bucky lowered his head and took out a cigar. Alina disappeared for three years, then became the director of Circuit Group. A rabbit who was usually very obedient and gentle, tonight dared to bare her fangs and claws in front of him. Bucky snorted: "This is ridiculous. How could she do that?" Just after taking a puff of the cigar, the phone on the sofa rang. Bucky glanced at the phone indifferently; he did not want to pick up the phone at all.

He said. Waking up my sense, i slowly strech my arms and yawn. "Tsh, a lazy woman," Boss Jan said. I just glared at him then he smirked, "We're now here at Mt. Evergloom, remember that we came here for documentary and not on a vacation. Understand?" "Yes, Boss Jan." They simultaneously said. Of course, i didn't join. It's just a waste of-- "Understand, Miss Sy?" Jan called out. "Y-Yes, Boss Jan."

That was my excuse, anyway. When the heavy oak doors finally creaked open, the sight of him hit me harder than I expected. Jake strode in, tall and proud as ever, but his movements were stiff, his expression carved from stone. Blood smeared his shirt, and his left arm hung limply at his side. “Jake—” “Alpha,” he corrected coldly, his voice like a blade. The sharpness made me pause, but I squared my shoulders. “You’re hurt. Let me—”

“But to the outside world, this entire operation—and the Alpha himself—runs under a different title. Welcome to the Boulderback MC.” I tilted my head, the acronym sounding foreign. “MC?” “Motorcycle club," she nodded, a proud gleam in her eye. “A biker gang.” A gang. I swallowed hard, a sudden wave of panic hitting me. God, what kind of world have I stumbled into? Did I sign up for way more than my human mind can handle?

“Monty is honored, your uncles, and your dad too. I can’t stop you, and I won’t, but I will never call you Finch.” Duke nods and hugs his mom. Duke remembers when she handed the title of Alpha over to Monty. She spent the next day sitting at Finch’s grave, talking to him. Duke says a small prayer that he never fully understands her pain. He heads to the lounge to wait for the plane. At the lounge, Bär has gotten a drink and is enjoying a book when another werewolf tries to talk to him. “What ya reading?” A pretty blonde asks sitting down. Buck- Slut alert. Someone wants to ride on the royal Johnson!

You could feel everyone hold their breath at the same time, the moment of frozen horror. The bike was going down. "NO!" The scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it. But Tristan... His Alpha strength did something that shouldn't have been possible. Instead of fighting the slide, he used it, letting the bike drop even lower while his leg came down to brace against the pavement. Sparks flew from his boot as it scraped concrete, his leg taking weight that would have shattered human bones, and somehow—SOMEHOW—he kept the bike upright through pure strength and balance.

I look back at the deer and take a deep breath before asking, “are you… are you the Sorcerer?” “Perspective of you,” the deer-man said, bowing his head down at me. “You can call me Bucky if using titles feels strange,” he then introduces himself. I give him a deadpan stare at the name he gives me. Either this is his actual name, or he is being an idiot and trying to be funny. “What?” He asks, slowly moving towards the cabin. “I thought it was rather punny.”