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

by Callie Rhodes

  She might as well have wrapped it up with a shiny ribbon and left it under his pillow.

  Vonn had put the bag somewhere she was sure to find it, somewhere out in the open so he could keep a close eye on it.

  But to do that, he would first need to know she would break free from her bonds.

  Damn it to hell, that sloppy loop in the knot hadn't been a mistake but a trap. The same went for the pocket knife in the only drawer she could reach.

  Vonn was no brainless brute. He'd been outsmarting her all along, laying schemes that played into her sense of superiority, her inflated pride.

  All the confidence that had returned since she freed herself crumbled to dust. Vonn had laid a laughably simple trap for her, and she'd fallen for it like a greenhorn.

  "You son of a bitch," she gasped, her face hot with embarrassment and fury. "You tricked me."

  Vonn only smirked at her. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

  Yeah…it did. But Stacy could think of one thing that would suck even more—at least for him.

  And that was a good hard knee to the balls.

  Chapter Ten

  Blinding white fury obliterated every thought from Vonn's mind as he clutched his most vulnerable flesh and staggered backward.

  For a moment, his vision turned into a kaleidoscope of shattered glass. It was as if the pain had reached all the way to his eyeballs, but as it slowly receded, he found himself looking at a warrior who still didn't have any quit in her.

  You'd think landing a solid kick square to an alpha's unprotected balls would be enough of a trophy. As far as Vonn knew, the only time an alpha had ever suffered such an injury, it was from another alpha—and a twisted one at that.

  The blow had shocked him enough to release his hold on her. Stacy stood crouched and ready a few feet away, pack already slung over one shoulder.

  Hell, if he didn't get it together fast, she might pull out a saw to take his dick off next.

  Vonn let out his frustration in a bellow that echoed off the granite face and down into the valley. It was better than vomiting, though he still might if the pain didn't subside soon.

  He locked eyes with Stacy, realizing belatedly that he had no idea what his next move was. There was no reason for her to still be standing here; any other beta would have headed into the woods, or maybe for his truck. Betas were no different from any prey animal, and their instincts prioritized escape.

  Except Stacy wasn't a beta.

  No matter what that blasted injection had done to her, blunting and muting her wonderful scent until he could barely detect it under its cloak of chemical armor, she was still an omega. Her instincts, her priorities, had been fundamentally different from other girls' since birth—which was probably the only reason she'd been able to endure the abuse dished out by her fellow soldiers and superiors in the Army. Deep down, she knew—and had always known—she was different, even if she never acknowledged it, even to herself.

  Ignoring the inferno of agony in his balls, Vonn let out a growl and launched himself toward her. But even dormant, her instincts got the better of him yet again, and just as she had in the roadhouse backlot, she dodged his charge before he could connect.

  He crashed into the side of the cabin at full speed, and it would have undoubtedly splintered if he hadn't used four-inch lumber in building his house instead of the weak-ass beta construction standard. The wood groaned and cracked, probably leaving his ribs with a hell of a bruise, but it withstood his weight.

  He recovered from the impact and turned around just in time to see Stacy heading toward the trees. She was seizing the moment to escape. Anger propelled Vonn forward like a comet—but he skidded to a stop a few feet away.

  Every instinct in him urged him to tackle her to the ground. But so far, all that had gotten him was injured and humiliated. Every time he'd used that blunt approach, he'd ended up with empty arms.

  Stacy's fighting style, the one she'd honed over years of sparring with bigger, heavier men, was perfectly suited for an alpha's brute force attack. Other than her little knee-to-the-balls move, she hadn't dealt him a single blow, focusing on evasion and leverage.

  And in doing so, she had managed to make Vonn into his own opponent. He had no doubt that if he tried to take her down by force, all he'd get was a face-full of dirt.

  So instead, he swooped in front of her, leaving a protective buffer of space between them. "Give me the pack," he commanded.

  Stacy barely bothered to shake her head. He might be frustrated, but she seemed calm and composed. It occurred to Vonn that, in contrast to the handful of drunken fistfights he'd gotten into over the years, Stacy had taken fighting to the level of an art.

  She had the discipline and focus of someone who'd practiced her moves a thousand times. She had trained for tense situations; she had learned to put aside her fear.

  Despite the fact that she'd humiliated him with a kick in the crotch, Vonn couldn't help but admire her bravery and determination.

  Strike that…if he was honest, he found it hot as hell.

  Vonn hadn't met too many omegas in his life, and none of them were as feisty—as dangerous—as Stacy. Until now, he'd thought that once her nature changed, she'd become cooperative, even subservient.

  But the notion that she might stay as sharp, smart, and fierce as she'd been since he first laid eyes on her was an unexpected rush. What would that even be like? A fearless mate whose submission would have to be fought for and earned every single time?

  Vonn's cock knew the answer. As fast as he'd gotten hard, Vonn knew that Stacy's surrender would be that much more satisfying if it was hard-won.

  Defeating her at her own game would be far from easy. Vonn might not be light on his feet, and he didn't know shit about combat strategy, but he hadn't hunted for over a decade in the Boundarylands without learning a valuable lesson: each animal required a different approach. Brute force could bring down a buck, but you needed stealth to catch a rabbit.

  "Put down the bag," Vonn told her in a voice that brooked no dissent while also moving slowly toward her. He put his hands up to show that he meant her no harm.

  Briefly, he thought he'd succeeded when Stacy dropped the bag—but the faint smugness at the corner of her lips signaled otherwise.

  Then Vonn saw what she was holding in her fists and realized he was too late. She'd found what she was looking for: two more of those fucking poison "pens" along with some other shit from the pack.

  "Give me those," he demanded, his patience straining toward his breaking point.

  She didn't bother to answer as she twisted the top off both pens. Their needles glinted in the sun. In a flash, Vonn's cautious strategy evaporated, and his instincts took over.

  As Stacy brought both syringes down hard on either thigh, he attacked.

  With her focus on the injections, for the first time, Stacy wasn't prepared. There was no last-minute dodge, no tripping or flipping or whatever the hell else she would have done to him. His hands arced through the air, smashing into hers and sending the pens flying along with everything else she had been holding.

  He didn't have time to congratulate himself, though. His momentum had carried him several paces past her, and by the time he managed to stop and turn around, Stacy was frantically searching the ground.

  Fuck.

  There was no way of knowing just how much of that damn poison had already flooded her veins, but he'd be damned if he'd let her find any more. Before she could get her hands on the syringes again, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her into the air.

  With a warrior's cry, she arched her back and tried to kick him, no doubt aiming for his balls again, but Vonn had learned his lesson and held her away from his body so that all she managed was a few ineffectual glancing blows to his thighs.

  It only took him a few seconds to find the bent syringes—still more than half full by the look of them—and quickly crush them under his boot.

  The sound of cracking glass and twisting metal dra
ined the fight out of her almost instantly. Stacy howled, a keening cry of despair. "You idiot. You don't know what you've done."

  "I know exactly what I'm doing," Vonn muttered, setting her down now that he'd destroyed the threat. "I'm keeping you from doing any more damage to yourself with that shit."

  Stacy gave him a bleak, hopeless look so at odds with the steely, calculating expression he was accustomed to that Vonn was taken aback. "Don't think this means you've won," she said, her voice barely more than a rasp. "I won't surrender. Did you really think that I would ever agree to be your prisoner for the rest of my life? That I'd ever allow you inside me?"

  The revulsion on her face hurt a lot more than any kick to the balls ever would.

  Ever since Vonn had stumbled into an awakening omega a few months back—heard her cries of ecstasy as she gave herself to her alpha, breathed in her ripening scent, felt her need rippling through the air—he'd been a man possessed. He went through his days on autopilot, never able to tear his mind completely from the hunger that had been ignited in him that night.

  Vonn had never been a patient man. Long before he'd been changed forever by that encounter, he'd earned a reputation in the settlement for being a brother who liked his liquor strong and his women fast. Whatever Vonn wanted, he wanted it now.

  But wasn't an asshole about it. There were enough of those already in the uplands—those brothers who didn't care who got hurt in the process of satisfying their appetites.

  Vonn had no patience for them. An alpha who hurt others—alpha or beta, it made no difference—just because he could, was no brother of his. Life up here might be wild, but it wasn't without its code, which could be distilled down to 'respect and be respected.'

  Vonn lived by that code, even when he was tested to the point of despair over these past two months, trying to keep his feral urgency under control. He'd even somehow managed to adhere to it during the last twelve hours with Stacy.

  But there was only so far an alpha could be pushed before he hit his breaking point. And that point was now.

  He didn’t have—had never had—any intention of making her his prisoner. Needing her to understand that, he pulled her close, flattening her against him, so he felt every swell and curve of her body. His blood caught fire at the sensation. Cupping her neck with his hand, he slowly pulled her face toward his, feeling her resistance all the way until their lips were almost touching.

  "Just like every other word that's come out of your mouth, that's a lie," he said softly, staring into her wide, soft brown eyes. He might not be able to read her scent, but he knew that look, the need that was bursting to be freed. "And I can prove it."

  She started thrashing again, but before she could do any harm to either of them, Vonn kissed her.

  The change was instant. She didn't go limp in his arms—instant submission would never be her way. Instead, she let out a little whimper, grabbed him around the neck, and kissed back, hard and hungry. If Vonn had felt desire before, it was a mere trickle compared to the geyser that shot through him now.

  He'd never experienced such need in a kiss—both his own and hers. It was searing, melting, bruising all at once, both the most delicious and the most dangerous intimacy he'd ever known. The poison in her veins might be muffling her true nature, but it hadn't snuffed it out completely.

  As her desire surged, so did his own, until it was almost as overwhelming as it had been that night a few months back.

  Almost…but not quite.

  That would come, though, as soon as the poison left her system. Vonn knew it down to his bones.

  Which was why he didn't worry too much when Stacy seemed to recover her wits, pulling away from him and starting up the thrashing again. Now, as she snarled and punched and kicked with none of her usual control, he couldn't help laughing.

  His little warrior hadn't been lying when she'd said that there was no surrender in her. There was no other way to explain how she'd been able to break free of what had to be the hottest kiss either of them had ever experienced.

  And Vonn knew she would keep fighting as long as she was physically able. Which made the solution simple—make that impossible.

  Vonn knelt in the wild grass and laid Stacy down in front of him, ignoring her attempts to free herself from his grip. He might have a few bruises the next day, but it didn't take much to pin all four of her limbs once he put his mind to it. He held both her wrists in one hand and took in the view of his omega with her hair spilling around her beautiful face.

  Even defeated, Stacy bucked and writhed, her breasts bouncing enticingly. Her grunts and gasps sounded a lot like Vonn's fantasies. When he finally got her into bed, she was going to be a goddamn wildcat.

  And they seemed to be heading there fast. Even when they'd kissed, her scent remained as flat as any beta's. Still, underneath it, a growing storm roiled, and along with it, the spicy, unmistakable note of lust was fast emerging.

  Vonn couldn't hold back his roar of victory when the fragrance of her slick first hit his nose. It echoed back into the valley, birds rising from the branches.

  It had been inevitable all along, their sparring and fighting testing the threads holding her nature inside until they finally started to fray. She could pump her body full of whatever chemicals she wanted, but she would never be able to snuff out her passions completely.

  Especially when faced with the alpha who was fated to satisfy them.

  Vonn released her wrists, but she didn't even try to strike him now. Instead, she bucked against him with more focus, rubbing the V of her legs against his now rock-hard length, making it clear that she had forgotten all about trying to escape.

  "That's right," he purred as a fresh wave of that gorgeous scent enveloped him. "You like to fight back, don't you?"

  Her eyes flashed anger. "You lying son of a—"

  His hand between her legs silenced her instantly. She stopped fighting as Vonn slid a fingertip up her inner thigh, his chest rumbling and his cock aching as he hit a patch of soaking wet denim. He pulled back his hand and held his fingers near her face so she could breathe in the evidence too. "Once again, I'm not the one who's lying."

  Stacy's eyes widened in disbelief, and then her shock turned to horror. She shot out her hand, but instead of hitting him, she simply opened her fist, revealing the tube of lip balm that had been in her pack. She must have grabbed it earlier when she'd taken the pens.

  All the emotion—fury, lust, even uncertainty—drained from her eyes as she flipped off the top and shook something into her mouth. "You should have believed me. I told you I would never give you what you wanted. I'd rather die."

  By the time Vonn realized what was happening, Stacy had already bitten down on the tablet.

  Chapter Eleven

  So this was it—the end.

  In the decade since Stacy had enlisted, she'd spent more time than the average person contemplating her own death. Of course, she hoped her final hours would be on a distant, tranquil night surrounded by family in her old age. But after three combat tours and almost a dozen funerals for lost comrades, she had accepted that death could come any day.

  And she was prepared for it. Stacy refused to let her own mortality prevent her from living life on her own terms. If she was taken early, she'd do her damnedest to go out in an honorable blaze of glory.

  Instead, she had bitten down on a suicide capsule while pinned by an alpha with a raging hard on.

  It was a death no one would consider valiant, and the only mercy was that no one would ever know—save a few top officers in a government agency no one knew existed.

  Still, an inglorious death was better than what would have come next if she lived. She didn't wrestle with the decision; there was no other choice.

  She might've started to doubt some of the information in Fulmer's dossier, but one thing no one had to convince her of was that she wouldn't survive being forcefully taken by an alpha.

  But there was an even more compelling reason Stacy had to
take her own life, and her last prayer might well be in gratitude that the shameful secret would die with her.

  Despite having injected herself with at least three partial doses of Fulmer's suppressant, her body had reacted to Vonn's touch. The evidence was in the slick soaking through her jeans.

  And worse, he'd known it even before she did. You like to fight back, don't you?

  But she didn't!

  Oh, she'd heard the accusation plenty, that tired old notion that she needed a real man to bring her to heel. The more soundly Stacy trounced a trainee, the more hateful the curses.

  But Stacy had never fantasized about anything of the sort. She had ordinary sex, not very often, it was true…but definitely plain vanilla.

  And yet, she couldn't deny what had happened. She had felt the heat building inside her as she and Vonn were locked in combat, an electric arousal stronger than any desire she'd ever felt before. She couldn't even stop herself from desperately, mortifyingly humping Vonn's massive body.

  Stacy wished she could blame it on her dormant nature, but the horrible truth was that the accusations had been true all along. She was turned on by fighting Vonn, by the intimacy of one-on-one combat with a foe worthy of her. Even now, in her dying moment, she was burning for more.

  That was the true horror, the one that needed to be ended by any means necessary.

  The capsule cracked between her teeth, and a bitter taste washed over her tongue. Fulmer had told her that the darkness would come in just a few heartbeats. She gazed up at Vonn's face constricted in horror—the last sight she'd ever see—and drew her last breath.

  She didn't die.

  It was taking too long. Stacy panicked that the powerful narcotic in the pill meant to render her unconscious as the cyanide did its work had failed. If that was the case, her death would be agonizing. In seconds convulsions would fill her mouth with a mixture of saliva, blood, and vomit.