He'd just learned something that scared him—Stacy's will was as strong as his.
Maybe stronger.
With her wrists bleeding, she simply changed her strategy…again. She seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of Plan Bs, going from sawing to gnawing, literally chewing the rope with her teeth, severing one strand at a time.
Vonn had just about run out of patience. Stacy had seen how thick the rope was when he'd bound her, and had to know that it would take a lot more time than she had to chew through it.
But that didn't stop her…because she felt that she had no other choice.
So Vonn was going to have to give her one. If he didn't shut this down right now, her next idea might be to gnaw her damn hand off at the wrist.
"Is that you or a mouse chomping at that rope?" he asked, calling his own bluff.
Stacy froze once again, but this time, she let out a sigh after weighing her options. "Must be a mouse."
"Well, it had better stop that and get some sleep, or I'll have to set some traps. And trust me, neither of us wants that."
"I'll pass that warning along to the mouse," she whispered after another long pause.
Vonn pulled a pillow over his head to stifle a laugh. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, but he was pretty sure the little mouse heard it anyway.
"While you're at it…you might want to remind it who's in charge around here."
Chapter Nine
The human brain was at its least efficient in terms of cognition and decision-making in the wee hours of the morning. It was a lot worse when exhaustion was factored in. Stacy had learned that during her SERE course, the U.S. military's little-known Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape training. And her experience in the field had proved it true over and over again.
And yet last night, after her escape efforts proved fruitless, she'd still refused to fully climb on the bed in order to get some decent rest. Instead, she'd compromised by bending over at the waist, her toes still barely touching the floor, with only the top half of her body resting on the mattress.
In this position, she was not only just as vulnerable as she'd have been if she climbed all the way on, but because of the pressure of the footboard on nerves in her thighs, she'd suffered paresthesia and peripheral edema—legs "falling asleep" and swollen ankles, in lay terms—and wouldn't have been able to run if she needed to. Also, her shortness of breath from the pressure-induced reduction in lung volume meant that she'd never achieved the deep REM cycle her body needed.
But the worst effect of the position she'd chosen was that she'd unthinkingly put her ass on display while unconscious for several hours. The moment she woke to find the bedroom filled with bright sunshine, Stacy jerked to her feet in horror, realizing what she'd done.
By some miracle, though, Vonn hadn't taken advantage of the situation. He hadn't touched her in the night—Stacy was certain she would have known instantly.
Even stranger, he wasn't in the room now.
The bed was made up except for her small corner, the blankets smoothed into place, and the pillows neatly fluffed.
Stacy checked the room, bracing herself to find him primed to attack. Still, even as she determined he wasn't under the bed or in the closet, she realized how ridiculous she was being. Not only would an alpha have a hard time hiding in such compact spaces, he had no need. Whatever Vonn had planned for her, he could do it anytime and anywhere he wanted.
Her brief inspection had revealed something else: her pack was gone.
Shit.
Without that pack, Stacy was in deep trouble. She was down to less than twenty-four more hours of protection against her dormant nature, and if she wasn't able to inject herself in time…No. It would do no good to go down that road, and Stacy forced herself to focus.
Her first objective right now had to be freeing herself from these bonds. Only then could she turn her attention to retrieving the suppression serum. Then came escape and extraction. It didn't matter that she had almost no chance of success. Until the moment when her mission's failure was complete, she would keep moving forward.
At least Vonn's absence meant that Stacy could drop her efforts at stealth while she worked. The dossier that Fulmer had given her had described extraordinary powers of hearing, but it was shocking to experience them in real life.
She would have sworn that she'd been almost completely silent last night, but it was clear now she couldn't trust her own senses here in the Boundarylands. Maneuvers that worked with betas wouldn't come close here. Whatever she did, her efforts couldn't just meet her usual high standards—they had to be perfect.
She had to be perfect.
Stacy felt the old, familiar tension building inside her, starting in her temples and spreading through her body—the same tension she'd felt since her first day in the service. From the moment she'd signed her recruitment paperwork, the message was loud and clear: women weren't half as competent as their male counterparts. They never would be.
Stacy had been passed over for promotion close to a dozen times before she'd bested every other candidate in both physical and written tests. Eventually, no one could come up with an excuse to hold her back, but even then, the handshake from her senior officers had been grudging.
But Stacy had made a habit out of surprising the men in her life, starting with her father, who never expected her to follow his footsteps into the army. She'd endured repeated drubbings from her drill sergeant until the day she beat his time on the Indoor Obstacle Test. Since then, she'd proved herself to every damn skeptical officer who came to watch her train recruits in hand-to-hand combat.
She wasn't about to back down now just because the man she had to outperform was over seven feet tall and currently holding her captive.
Stacy examined the rope where she'd been gnawing at it when he caught her and saw with dismay that she'd barely made any headway at all.
On the other hand, something about the knot at her right wrist caught her eye, something she hadn't noticed in the dark. Vonn had used ordinary constrictor knots at the post and bed frame, but he'd gotten a little fancy at her wrists, using the Double Surgeon's variation…but he'd made a mistake. One of the loops failed to pass through the others in the proper order. It would only leave a little extra slack in the knot, but….
Stacy went at the knot with renewed vigor, contorting her other hand to tug at the strands until, as if admitting defeat, the rope slipped off her wrist. Her heart pounding, Stacy rubbed her sore flesh only for a few seconds before testing her reach. She still couldn't reach the closet…but she was able, lying flat and extending her fingers as far as they would go, to reach the bottom drawer of Vonn's dresser. It took a few tries to tug the drawer open by the knob, but eventually, she was able to pull it free of the dresser and drag it close enough to reach the contents.
And there, between a tangle of mismatched socks and a couple of button-down shirts that looked brand new, was a worn leather wallet, a flashlight…and an old pocketknife, the red cross enameled on the surface faint from wear.
Stacy could barely believe her luck, but she wasn't about to second-guess it. She sawed at the rope, her wrist aching by the time she freed herself—she would have liked to know where she could buy rope as sturdy as that—and when the frayed ends finally fell to the floor, she experienced a rush of elation.
Her confidence had been badly shaken by her failure to complete her assignment as planned, something that hadn't happened since her first year or two in the army. But maybe this was just one more example of her discovering that she was more skillful than anyone gave her credit for…including herself.
Stacy moved silently to the bedroom door and pressed her ear against the solid wood. She heard nothing, even after listening for a full minute. Turning the knob slowly so as not to make a sound, she waited another few seconds before slowly emerging from the room into a short hall.
Opening off the hallway was a bathroom with the door slightly ajar and a second, narrow door that
was probably a linen closet, but Stacy's attention was drawn to the room beyond, a vast great room that was open to the kitchen and seemed to take up the rest of the simple layout.
Sunlight streamed in from the two large windows of the cabin's main room and from overhead through a series of skylights in the peaked roof. Judging from the angle of the shadows, Stacy estimated it was still early, perhaps 7:30 am, but there was no sign of Vonn. So she started a hurried reconnaissance of the place, hoping to see as much as she could before his return.
Another soldier—maybe even most soldiers—would have fled immediately, orders be damned. But Stacy wasn't other soldiers, and she had accumulated plenty of evidence that alphas, and specifically her captor, wasn't nearly as dumb as the dossier promised. And anyone, man or woman, beta or alpha, who got the upper hand on her deserved to be treated with caution. For all she knew, he was waiting right outside or had set traps—and Stacy had no intention of walking into either.
She made a quick survey of the bathroom, which was also lit by a skylight in the tall ceiling that opened up to a brilliant blue spring sky. Like the bedroom, the ceiling of the small room was paneled in knotty pine, the walls and floor tiled with rustic terra cotta. The shower enclosure was enormous, the showerhead so high up Stacy would have to stand on her tiptoes to adjust it, and the bar of handmade soap on the ledge emitted an appealing spicy scent.
The small window revealed something Stacy hadn't noticed last night. The cabin was situated at the foot of a steep, wildflower-covered hill that rose to a craggy granite ridge, a miniature version of the Cascade mountain peaks in the distance. A small waterfall sent glistening spray into the air fifty or so yards up the rock face. Distracted by the beauty of the vista, Stacy almost missed the pipe that emerged from the rock and ran down all the way to the cabin.
She tested the water from the taps and confirmed it was cold, clear snowmelt, then frowned. Constructing such a system took a lot more than dumb luck and brute strength, as did building this house…which the Alpha Control Division had to be aware of, given that Fulmer said they had thousands of aerial photographs of the settlement.
So why were they pushing the false narrative that alphas possessed inferior intelligence and abilities? Hell, Stacy was pretty sure she could bring in the entire recent recruit class she'd trained, along with a warehouse full of equipment and materials, and in a year's time, they would still be shitting in the woods.
She filed that away as she continued to explore. The other door did indeed lead to a closet, but instead of linens, the shelves held stacks of animal pelts—rabbit, beaver, and fox. There were also several soft, tanned and tinted hides that felt like butter under her fingertips. Deer? Antelope? Elk? The dossier hadn't provided much information on local game, but Stacy had seen similar goods fetching huge prices from the black market traders.
She moved into the main room, noting the solid construction of the house. The pine walls and massive beams supporting the roof gleamed with a recent waxing. The cabinets built into the open kitchen and one wall of the living room were beautifully constructed with hammered iron hardware. A large stone fireplace was placed adjacent to the kitchen. Next to it was the type of brick oven Stacy had only seen in restaurants, the kind that could bake half a dozen pizzas—or the haunches of a wild boar—at once.
Add that to the bottles of oil and herbs, the rope of garlic hanging from a hook, the variety of knives in the block, and it looked like Vonn was a serious cook. Stacy was suddenly aware that she was ravenous, and she turned away from the kitchen before her stomach could start growling and risk giving her away.
Stacy picked up the iron fireplace poker before finishing her tour. As a weapon, it might not offer the best protection, but it was better than nothing. There wasn't much more to see in the sparsely finished great room; two huge chairs flanking the fireplace, a shelf lined with books, and a dining table with a honed stone top arranged in front of the windows to take advantage of the view of the mountains beyond.
Something caught Stacy's eye as she took in the view—what looked like a length of steel-gray nylon webbing flapping in the breeze. Sure enough, it was the strap of her backpack, which Vonn must have taken out onto the porch to continue his investigation.
Stacy prayed that he hadn't sniffed out any of its secrets as she crept outside, opening the door with great caution in case he was lurking just out of sight. But the patio was empty. The pack rested on a wooden stool next to a matching carved chair. If she wasn't trying to save her ass at the moment, it would make a hell of a good spot to read a book or enjoy a cocktail.
Stacy scanned the tree line for shadows, but the only movement came from the wind or the birds in the upper branches. Satisfied that she was alone for the moment, he abandoned her efforts at stealth and sprinted for her bag, dropping into the chair to examine it on her lap.
Mercifully, everything still seemed to be inside. Stacy gave a sigh of relief as she grabbed one of the three government-issued "pens." Sliding open the panel built seamlessly into the top of the barrel, she revealed the injection mechanism that would propel the needle with enough force to penetrate several layers of clothing and her flesh before releasing the serum. She positioned her thumb on the lever and brought the syringe down hard on her thigh. A sharp prick pierced her skin a fraction of a second before she felt a footstep reverberate through the stone beneath her feet.
Shit.
"So, that's what you were after."
Stacy spun around, the needle still protruding from her leg. Vonn's reaction was immediate. He was in front of her in the blink of an eye, slapping the needle out of her thigh.
"What the fuck was that?" he demanded. With only inches between them, Vonn towered over her. "What did you just put in your body?"
Stacy craned her neck to see around him and was dismayed to see that the injection mechanism was shattered. Even if she could reach it, there would be no way to learn how much of the serum had been discharged. She prayed it would be enough to enable her to endure his touch for a little longer.
"Migraine medication," she muttered through clenched teeth.
"Bullshit." Vonn's low, rumbling growl sent a shiver up Stacy's spine, but it would take more than that to break her. She held his gaze the way she held the chin-up bar just before her muscles gave out, giving it everything she had. There was no way of knowing if she'd received a full dose of suppressant, but she had gotten some. The panic she'd felt before the needle pierced her skin evaporated.
Now she just had to survive.
"Answer me, goddamnit." Despite his tone, Vonn didn't look furious—just determined.
"You know I can't tell you.”
"Fuck 'can't.'" Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She waited for him to twist it—it's what she would have done if she wasn't so outmatched—but he only held it tightly, pulling her forward. He stared straight down at her. "You mean 'won't'. There's a big-ass difference."
Stacy felt hysterical laughter threatening to bubble up inside her. She supposed she could try to explain the oath she'd taken and why she'd never willingly break it. But an alpha would never understand. That kind of honor was beyond them.
"What I put into my body is none of your business," she said instead.
"Everything an omega does is her alpha's business."
The words stung like buckshot. "For the last time, I'm not your omega—or anyone else's."
Vonn's mouth twisted into a sneer, and she braced for a roar…but within seconds his face relaxed, his temper quickly burning out as quickly as it had flared—only to be replaced by puzzlement.
"You're not an omega," he echoed thoughtfully.
Stacy couldn't believe her ears. Had he actually just agreed with her?
But then Vonn clamped his free hand around her other arm and stood, pulling her flush against him. Then he did the last thing she expected.
Holding her tightly, he bent his head down to her neck as if he was about to nuzzle her, but when she f
elt his stubble brush her skin, he inhaled long and deep, then pulled away. "Goddamn," he muttered.
"What?"
"Your scent. It's…changing. Fading."
Oh, thank God. There was enough suppressant in her system to work…for now at least. What she could really use was some insurance.
Stacy tried to keep her face impassive, but she was taken aback. No matter how much evidence she saw that alphas' senses were indeed as sensitive as Fulmer told her, it was almost impossible to wrap her head around the fact that Vonn could learn all that just from breathing her.
"So it is a chemical agent." Vonn might as well have been talking to himself. He obviously didn't expect a response. "Figures that would be the next thing those bastards would come up with—a way to inject poison and strangle an omega's true nature."
"It's not poison," Stacy burst out. "I have a right to decide my own nature."
Vonn gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head as if she'd just declared that the experts at Alpha Control had determined that the earth was flat.
"You're so bound up in this bullshit, you even lie to yourself," he said. "Those bastards you take orders from would never let you decide anything. Especially not your own nature."
"Like you're any different. You can't stand the idea of me taking control of my own body." The words were barely out of Stacy's mouth before her heart started to sink. No, he wouldn't. An alpha like Vonn wouldn't leave anything to chance. "You…you were waiting for me out here, weren't you?"
She already knew the answer. Stacy wasn't surprised that he'd been able to conceal himself so easily. She couldn't see ten yards into the woods. Hell, he could have been right around the corner, and she wouldn't have known.
And he'd let her think she was alone. Right up until she'd pulled out the injection pen…and then he'd materialized out of nowhere.
God, she'd been an idiot. If she was one of her own trainees, she'd flunk herself. It didn't take a whole lot of gray matter to figure out that once she got her hands on her backpack, she'd go straight for the item that was the most important to her.
Vonn: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance Page 7
