Vonn: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance

by Callie Rhodes

  Vonn felt a twinge of emotion—pity? mercy?—as she seemed to shrink, muttering a curse that would make most betas' ears curl.

  "What the hell is going on?" Of course, it had to be Gray who pushed his way to the front and shot him a furious look. "Vonn?—what the fuck?"

  Vonn didn't give a shit whether or not the bastard meant well. After being tossed to the ground by someone a fraction of his size, Vonn needed an outlet for his frustration, and this self-righteous son of a bitch was as good a target as any.

  "I don't know, Gray. You tell me." Vonn pulled himself up to full height to remind the older alpha that he had a few inches on him. "You let this 'trader' come through your property? You cleared her for entry?"

  Gray folded his arms and glared. "You know I did."

  "Then how about explaining what the fuck you were thinking letting a goddamn soldier into the Boundarylands."

  Chapter Five

  Stacy's first reaction to the alpha's shocking accusation—shocking because there should have been no way for him to guess the truth—was to deny it. After all, he had no proof. Well, nothing other than her ineffective trading skills, nimble feet, and stupid bravery—none of which were proof positive of her military career.

  For all he knew, she'd merely spent way too much time working out at the local martial arts studio instead of working on her sales pitch. Or she could have picked up her street fighting skills in prison, considering that half the smugglers she'd traveled with had spent time locked up.

  But no, Vonn seemed completely sure of himself—and now his alpha brothers were looking at her like she was a ticking explosive device.

  Goddamn Fulmer. For all of the intel he'd packed into that dossier, there had been nothing about what to do if her cover was blown.

  The Alpha Control Division's training protocols included always being truthful (alphas could sense a lie), never exhibiting aggression (as it would be met with the same), and limiting spoken interactions to blunt any curiosity they might experience. The fact that her superiors had no plan B was evidence that they weren't the elite minds Fulmer seemed to think they were…or that they knew she'd be screwed if she was found out and decided to send her anyway.

  No wonder Fulmer had been willing to offer her a promotion if she succeeded. The asshole knew that the odds of her surviving to take it were less than even.

  But Stacy didn't serve Fulmer—and she didn't serve some division she'd never heard of until a week ago and wasn't an official part of.

  No, as a sergeant in the United States Army, Stacy served the constitution, the president, and those in her chain of command. Maybe it was a technicality, but until she saw an official signature on an official set of orders, this covert operation took second place to her military oath.

  And so, given that Fulmer hadn't prepared her for this scenario, she would rely on the basics she had learned as a new recruit and which she continued to practice every single day. Assess. Plan. Act. Repeat.

  The worst part of her situation was that she didn't know why this alpha had come raging toward her. No other alpha had questioned her story or commented on the way she smelled. And it had thrown her—badly enough that she didn't plan before she acted.

  Stacy had no one to blame but herself for mouthing off to the beast. Sending such a dangerous threat crashing to the ground and making him spit blood was a pretty clear violation of the rule about not showing aggression.

  But she hadn't been able to help it. She'd only had two days of alpha training, but she'd trained on the mat for years. The moves that she'd used to avoid him were so ingrained that she hadn't even thought before putting them in motion. But in defending herself, Stacy had escalated the situation, trading a possible threat for a very real and much bigger one.

  Angry muttering filled the air as the crowd of alphas eyed her with varying levels of suspicion and scorn. An older alpha with a head full of thick silvery hair and the body of a much younger man pushed his way to the front and scowled at her as though he was seconds from taking her down himself.

  "You sure about that, Vonn?" he demanded. "Because if you can't back up your words and prove she's a beta soldier, then you'll answer for speaking to me like that."

  As Stacy tried to figure out the power dynamic between the two of them—Fulmer had insisted there was no hierarchy among the extraordinarily territorial and self-sufficient alphas—she couldn't help turning over the name of her aggressor. Vonn—not what she expected, but strangely, it suited him.

  Damn it. Stacy shook her head to clear it, wondering what was causing her mental fog. Assess. Plan. Act. Repeat.

  "Pretty damn sure," Vonn answered, obviously not intimidated by the older alpha. "She sure as shit ain't no trader."

  Stacy had been so careful never to say that she was, using the precise wording in the scripted responses she'd practiced. Instead of claiming to be a beta trader or smuggler, Stacy told anyone who asked that she was 'here in the Boundarylands to trade medical supplies.' Every word in that sentence was technically true.

  But there had been one time—just one—that she'd forgotten. With dawning horror, Stacy realized that under the strain of Vonn's relentless scrutiny, a lie had slipped out.

  I'm a medical supply trader.

  It took everything she had to keep the panic off her face. How had the huge alpha been able to pick up on such an insignificant slip? It hadn't been deliberate—in her mind, Stacy had been saying the same thing she'd said a dozen times before—and yet that didn't seem to matter.

  She'd lied. And in doing so, she'd failed her entire mission. All that remained was to see how she would be made to pay.

  "That ain't proof," the older alpha—some sort of leader, no matter what Fulmer's team of experts said—scoffed.

  "You don't believe me?" Vonn growled. "Then ask her."

  Stacy stiffened as every pair of eyes turned her way. Because she was the only training sergeant on base, the novelty of being the focus of a curious and frequently hostile crowd had long ago worn off. But she wasn't anywhere close to nonchalant now, not when her audience consisted of hulking, angry alphas instead of swaggering new recruits.

  Still, she wouldn't let them see her fear. She kept her expression neutral, her chin high, her stance loose as the other alpha looked directly at her.

  "Is what Vonn says true?"

  Stacy repeated the line she'd practiced in a clear, strong voice. "I'm here to trade medical supplies."

  But something had changed. Vonn's suspicion seemed to have heightened the others' senses, or maybe they were picking up on the fact that she was rattled. Hell, if they could sense a minor lie, they for damn sure would notice the sweat breaking out on her brow and her elevated heartbeat. If Stacy had doubted Fulmer's claim that alphas could sense minor shifts in emotion before, the growing agitation among the alphas convinced her.

  "Son of a bitch." The lead alpha's eyes glinted with fury as he took a step toward her. Stacy had to work hard to stand her ground. "So, who the hell are you?"

  She'd been found out. There was no way she'd be able to talk her way out of this. As a soldier in a combat situation surrounded by the enemy, there was only one thing she could say.

  "Sergeant Stacy Clarke, United States Army, Fort Blanchard."

  The string of curses the alpha muttered weren't a fraction as terrifying as the rage emanating from him. His huge hands clenched into fists; his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt; the tendons in his neck stood out. As he moved toward her, there was none of Vonn's curiosity to blunt his purpose.

  Without thinking, Stacy found herself in ready position again, tensed for a battle in which she was hopelessly outmatched. God help her, she was really going to have to go toe to toe with an alpha. And this time, it wasn't answers he was after: she'd be fighting for her life.

  Even if some miracle occurred and she somehow got free of the alphas' leader, it wouldn't be over. By her estimation, there were at least a dozen more of them looking all too eager for their
turn.

  Stacy had always known things could end like this ever since the day she walked into the recruiting office in her hometown. It didn't matter that in the years since then, the few women who remained in the military had been officially barred from combat. She was still a soldier, and her oath still echoed in her ears from that long-ago day when she placed her hand on the bible held by her commanding officer:

  I, Stacy Clarke, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Beta Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

  …and it went without saying that there was no greater domestic threat than the alpha population.

  She would stand, and she would fight.

  But before she or the approaching alpha could make a move, Vonn grabbed her roughly by the arm and pushed her behind him, shielding her with his body. "Get your ass back in the bar, Gray," he snarled. "I wasn't asking for your help."

  The older alpha laughed derisively. "Sure looks to me like you need it, though."

  "Maybe you just ain't looking hard enough."

  Tension arced between the alphas, both of them rumbling with anger. At this rate, they'd soon be circling each other and snarling like wolves.

  Stacy took advantage of Vonn's momentary distraction to back up a few steps. What she really wanted to do was run like hell, find some cover and hunker down until she could be extracted. And if she was in any kind of beta conflict, that's exactly what she would do.

  A beta might shoot her in the back, but at least there was a chance she'd get away. That wasn't the case with alphas. If she bolted now, there would be a dozen of them on her tail, and she wouldn't make it more than a couple of steps before being ripped to shreds…or worse.

  Staying put wasn't a much better option, but given the choice between attacked from behind and looking death straight in the eye, Stacy preferred to go out on her feet. She looked from Vonn to the one named Gray, wondering which would win their little pissing contest and come after her first.

  "This is bigger than your wounded pride, Vonn," Gray muttered. "If she really is a beta soldier, it's a problem for all of us."

  "Guess you're not listening hard enough either. I only said she was a soldier. I never said she was a beta."

  "Oh, for fuck's sake." The older alpha suddenly stopped growling and rocked back on his heels, much of his anger draining away. "Look, Vonn, I know you've been through a rough patch, but I didn't know you were still taking it this hard. You're going to have to let it go, brother. What you're saying is delusional. That piece of shit soldier is not an omega."

  Vonn's response was swift and violent. He grabbed Gray by the shoulders and yanked him forward, brutally head butting him before releasing him.

  "Don't talk about my woman that way," Vonn said menacingly as Gray stumbled backward. Then he turned and addressed the silent crowd. "That's a warning for everyone. Next time I won't be so forgiving."

  Stacy was too shocked to react to his words. If that was what passed for forgiveness, her end was going to be even more brutal than she'd feared.

  Gray quickly recovered and seemed poised to throw a punch, but then his snarl died on his lips, and he shook his head pityingly. "Look, Vonn, you've been through a lot, but you know this woman isn't really an omega. It's obvious to everyone here."

  "It's not something I believe," Vonn shot back, making it clear he wasn't about to be reasoned with. "She is. I can feel it in my blood."

  Gray still wouldn't let it rest. "Wanting something to be true doesn't make it so. Look at the facts, brother. She's been here for a while now. She's been moving among us, drinking with us, doing business with us. By now, she's probably touched half a dozen alphas, and she hasn't changed. You just had your hands all over her and—nothing."

  Stacy bristled. Holding onto her hand was hardly being "all over her"—she'd never allow such a thing to happen. She'd sooner bite down on the cyanide tablet that she'd insisted Fulmer include in her supplies—the one that was unfortunately still in her rucksack back in her tent—than be taken by one of these beasts.

  "Who knows?" Vonn shrugged in frustration. "Maybe they've modified her somehow. They could have altered her genetically or maybe performed some sort of surgery. Or maybe they've developed some chemical agent, just like they developed the scent blockers."

  "That's a hell of a lot of maybes. Don't you—"

  Vonn cut him off. "The point is I won't be able to figure it out until I can get her talking."

  Gray shook his head doubtfully. "Why would you think you could get it out of her if she's really some sort of elite soldier?"

  "She had a whole lot to say until you showed up."

  Shit—he was right. Stacy had been saying all kinds of things, grasping at straws, and trying to talk her way out of the tense situation. Well, no more. These bastards wouldn't get one more thing out of her.

  Gray gave her a murderous look. "What do you have to say about all this?"

  Stacy lifted her chin. "Sergeant Stacy Clarke, United States Army, Fort Blanchard."

  The disgust in the older alpha's eyes made it clear that he hated her kind every bit as much as she hated his. "Fine. Go ahead and take her, Vonn. I'll give you a week to see what you can get out of her."

  "You'll 'give me' a week?" Vonn demanded. "You think you're my boss all of a sudden? My dad?"

  "I think you're willing to endanger all of us, is what I think. So yeah. Have your fun, but if you haven't come to your senses by next Friday, I won't be the only one prepared to do what needs to be done."

  "Just admit I might be right," Vonn said stubbornly. "If you were really sure, she'd already be dead."

  Stacy winced. But she knew it was the truth.

  "You've got it wrong, brother. The only sense you've made all day was when you said we need to figure out what the hell she's doing here. And you're the only one of us who seems to be able to suppress the urge to rip her to pieces long enough to do it."

  Vonn's only response was to turn his back on Gray and the others and start walking deeper into the beta camp. "Come with me," he snapped over his shoulder. "We need to clear out your tent."

  But just because he and the other alpha had come to an agreement, Stacy wasn't about to follow at his heels like a puppy. "Uh uh."

  Vonn stopped and slowly turned to face her, appearing to be as disgusted with her as with Gray. "You don't want to do this. You've already proven you're too damn smart not to know what you're risking. You stay; you die. You come with me, at least you'll live to fight another day."

  Stacy was out of options. He was right…though not in the way he assumed. If she didn't answer to a greater authority, she'd take a quick death over what was waiting for her any day.

  But she was a soldier, and the mission she'd signed up for came first…no matter the cost.

  The only hope of salvaging her objective was to somehow find a way to escape the Boundarylands. She knew it was impossible—but slightly less impossible in the presence of one alpha than among a dozen.

  She forced herself to relax her stance. Taking a steadying breath, she started after him, feeling all those suspicious eyes following her.

  It wasn't a surrender, Stacy told herself. Just a strategic retreat.

  Chapter Six

  Vonn knew every detail of his truck like the back of his hand, having driven it for nearly all of the decade since he'd come to the Boundarylands. Like Vonn himself, the old Ford wasn't going to win any beauty contests. It had a hundred thousand miles on it already when he bought it. Since then, it had picked up plenty of dents and scrapes from driving on rutted dirt roads and hauling heavy loads.

  But the seen-better-days exterior of the truck didn't bother Vonn a bit, not when the engine he'd painstakingly rebuilt a few years ago still purred like a kitten. He took good care of it, never skipping routine maintenance and keeping his eye out for parts whenever the beta auto parts dealer came around.

  To do any different would be a gamble, considering that he lived
forty miles down the Central Road from the roadhouse and neutral trading territory. And Vonn would rather freeze to death than have to trudge miles in either direction to admit to his closest neighbors that he was a dumbass who couldn't take care of his business.

  As a result, the cab generally smelled like fresh grease and oil, with maybe some notes of pine sap or mud from the bottom of his boots. Right now, however, those familiar scents had been obliterated by a single whiff of the woman in his passenger seat.

  It wasn't like Vonn had never smelled a damn woman before. His brothers often accused him of being one of the horniest bastards in the uplands, and Vonn figured it was probably true. Hell, the truck cab held a lingering hint of some prostitute's perfume more often than not.

  But that was forgotten when he breathed in the tantalizing, complex signature of his omega-in-waiting: like honey dripping from the comb and splashing into a pitcher of fresh cream.

  Vonn cleared his throat, embarrassed by the poetic nature of that thought even as his mouth watered and his base instincts roared to life. They were only a mile or two from the roadhouse when he'd had to roll down the windows just to keep his thoughts straight, and even with all the air blowing through the cab, the scent chased him relentlessly. At this rate, his cock would be so hard by the time they got home it would probably break off like the arms of those ancient marble statues.

  Which might be a relief, actually. Because not only was his passenger throwing off that maddening scent, she was playing mind games with him. She hadn't opened her mouth once since she followed him to the truck and got in as if she was doing him a favor.

  She—Stacy—was a hell of an actor; he'd give her that. There was no other explanation for the disdainful look she'd tossed at the crowd as they drove off, as if they were a bunch of acne-covered middle schoolers rather than alphas who'd like to string her up as a warning at the beta checkpoint.