Jocelyn might have cried with pleasure if deep, comforting sleep hadn't washed over her.
Chapter Five
There was a trespasser on Aric's property.
He sensed their presence when he was still a mile from the turnoff from the Central Road to his drive. The scent was faint but undeniable, and it was coming from somewhere near his house.
Fuck.
Whoever it was, they'd just made the worst damn decision of their life, because Aric was definitely not in a merciful mood.
After Nicky's new girl had left him high and dry, Aric had grudgingly settled for Courtney instead. She'd done her best to keep up with him, and—as always—she'd done a decent job. But she just wasn't what he'd wanted, and their session had left him unsatisfied.
Still, he couldn't blame Courtney for his crappy temper. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't the new girl.
There was something about the slim, black-haired woman that had stuck with Aric. Even while he was grinding it out with Courtney, he'd been imagining the newcomer crying out for more beneath him.
And the notion that he'd been too much for her—that the thought of taking him between her legs had frightened her so much that she'd run away from a job—made Aric want her even more.
Even after he'd nutted deep inside Courtney, filling her to overflowing, Aric's blood was still running hot. He didn't feel any of the peace, the calming of his mind, that fucking usually provided, at least for a while.
He took Courtney back to Evander’s, handed over her wages, and said a mechanical goodbye, all the while resisting the urge to snap—if not at her, at someone or something. In this mood, he could easily pick a fight or destroy something, neither of which seemed like a good idea.
So he'd driven home, trying to move past the disappointing evening—right up to the point where he'd picked up the intruder's scent.
Then his general malaise instantly combusted into rage.
In the Boundarylands, nothing was more sacred than an alpha's property. A man's land was his life and his livelihood, and any attack on it was an attack on the alpha himself, to be met with the full force of his strength and righteous fury.
That hadn't stopped a half dozen confrontations with a variety of bad actors over the past year, when betas had become increasingly brazen in their incursions into the Boundarylands. Even the bloodbaths that resulted hadn't stopped more of them from coming.
This was the first time anyone had come onto Aric's land, however. Whoever it was, they were about to experience some hardcore alpha justice.
But the closer Aric got to the turnoff, the more confused he was by the intruder's behavior. They weren't securing a position or setting tripwires or explosives. There was no scent of cordite or gunpowder or propellant or chemical weapons. In fact, as far as Aric could tell, they weren't doing anything at all.
There was no movement, only the telltale signs of their presence—a foreign scent hanging in the air, the even rise and fall of their breath, the steady beat of their heart.
The mystery only grew when Aric roared up to the front of his cabin, only to find an unfamiliar car illuminated by his headlights, parked right in front of his door.
As Aric killed the engine, he realized that he had seen this car, a ridiculous little blue two-seater, before. It belonged to one of the newer omegas who had come to the Boundarylands in the last few months. Faith or Darcy or somebody—Aric had given up keeping track of them.
Aric got out of his truck and tilted his head back, testing the air. Whoever was inside his house wasn't an omega.
But she was female, her scent deep and mossy now that he was up close. And…familiar.
Aric shook his head in disbelief. He charged through his front door, any remaining doubt evaporating once he was inside. The scent that had driven him crazy in the parking lot, that had stayed with him all night, was undeniable—as was the sight that greeted him when he threw open the door of his bedroom.
The new girl—Jo—was curled up asleep in the center of his bed like a gift from the fates.
She was sleeping so soundly that she didn't even stir when the door bounced off the wall. Aric soon realized why: sniffing the air in the room, he caught the lingering fumes of potent alcohol.
Somebody had been digging through his cupboards and drinking from his cup.
And now she was sleeping in his bed.
A grin tugged at the corners of Aric's mouth. So his little whore—Jo—wanted to play Goldilocks? That was fine by him—though he hoped she hadn't been expecting Papa Bear, because she was about to get a heaping dose of Big Bad Wolf.
Aric briefly considered waking Jo up right away but decided to let her sleep a little longer. He didn't want her groggy and fuzzy-headed.
When he took her, he wanted her eyes wide open, her thoughts crystal clear, without a doubt in her mind who was fucking her.
His cock went stiff as a board at the thought. At least he'd gotten off an hour ago—maybe that would ease the ache somewhat. Aric had waited all night to experience the new girl for himself. He could wait a little longer.
He pulled a chair over to the foot of his bed and sat down. Leaning back, he propped his feet up on the footboard and settled in to wait.
The anticipation was only going to make this sweeter.
"Good morning."
Jocelyn had been slowly coming out of heavy sleep, burrowed into the covers to block out the light, when the deep, low voice invaded.
She gave a half-hearted attempt to lift her head from the soft pillow, but the effort was just too much. Surely there was no harm in lingering just a little longer in this incredibly comfortable bed, drifting lazily between sleep and wakefulness.
Though the voice was right—it was a good morning. A very good one.
The sun that bathed the canvas behind Jocelyn's closed eyelids with brilliant red and orange was also gently warming her face.
But even better was what she didn't feel. By some incredible stroke of luck, the rocket fuel she'd drunk last night hadn't left her with the hangover she deserved: her mouth wasn't dry, her head wasn't pounding, and her stomach felt just fine.
But then an unwelcome thought came nipping at the heels of the pleasant feeling of reprieve. A night that left no pain in its wake wasn't quite the same as one that left no regrets behind.
And as Jocelyn’s consciousness—and the memory of the last twenty-four hours—returned, the regrets started pouring in.
What the hell had she been thinking? She'd made one terrible decision after the next, and the fact that she'd meant well was worth about as much as the paper John's clients' invoices were printed on.
Jocelyn had stolen evidence from a mob killer and money to disappear. Thrown in her lot with prostitutes. Found herself in the Boundarylands, with nowhere to hide but the house of an omega stranger.
And worst of all, she'd paid back the single offer of help she'd received since this disaster began by drinking the stranger's booze and passing out in her bed.
This wasn't like Jocelyn at all. She usually went out of her way to do the right thing, avoided trouble at all costs, and responded to kind gestures with handwritten thank-you notes.
She needed to get up now, find that nice omega, and apologize to her and her alpha.
The thought made Jocelyn’s heart pound. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, terrified to face the omega's alpha, especially from the vulnerable vantage point of his bed. After what she'd seen of his kind last night, there was no way a creature like that wasn't going to be pissed.
She was lucky he hadn't already ripped off the covers, grabbed her by the arm, and tossed her out the door.
"Time to rise and shine." This time the voice landed like a hammer.
Jocelyn's eyes popped open and she scrabbled to the headboard, wrapping her arms around herself protectively and preparing to apologize as fervently and long as necessary.
But the apology died on her lips when she saw who was standing at the foot of the bed. No�
��not standing, sitting at the foot of the bed.
Oh crap. Even seated he was taller than most men.
"You," she gasped.
The alpha smiled slowly, but there wasn't a trace of humor in his familiar polished-agate eyes. The man from last night was staring down at her with a predatory focus.
"Don't bother pretending to be surprised."
Pretending? What the hell was he talking about? "What are you doing here?"
Jocelyn grabbed her bag and clutched it to her chest, grateful that she'd brought it to bed with her, even if it offered little protection against someone as big as this alpha.
"Funny." The intensity in the alpha's gaze deepened. "I had exactly the same question when I came home last night and found you in my bed."
His bed?
"You're the omega's alpha, aren't you?" Jocelyn demanded, desperately hoping the woman who'd invited Jocelyn into her home wasn't cursed with a lecherous, whore-hunting asshole for a mate.
The alpha's expression turned puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"Your omega. The one that invited me here. She said I could spend the night here while I…" Jocelyn trailed off mid-sentence, seeing no reason to bring up the series of events that had brought her here.
"What did this omega look like?"
"Um…tall, pretty, pink hair."
The alpha's expression shifted slightly. "Zeke's woman. You thought you were on his property?"
"I'm…not?"
The alpha slowly shook his head, never taking his eyes off hers.
"No, Jo," he said sternly. "You've trespassed onto my land."
Trespassed. Jocelyn didn't like the way he said that word at all.
"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I didn't mean to. I must have gotten turned around last night. I've made a terrible mistake." She started to crawl across the mattress toward the door, holding on to her bag for dear life. "I'll leave right now."
But she didn't even make it off the bed before the alpha was up out of his seat and blocking her.
"No, you won't. Do you know what it means to trespass on an alpha's property, Jo?"
Jocelyn scuttled back to her spot at the headboard. The alpha loomed much too large, even in the spacious room. There was no way to get away from him.
"I told you it was a mistake. An accident. I didn't mean any harm."
Her protests didn't appear to move him. In fact, his expression suggested that trespassing was a hell of a lot more serious crime in the Boundarylands than it was back in the city.
"Do you know what happens to anyone who trespasses on an alpha's land?" he continued as if she hadn't spoken, his voice a lazy rumble.
Jocelyn shook her head, too terrified to even risk a guess.
His predatory smirk widened as he slowly and deliberately slid his gaze up and down the entire length of her body, leaving no doubt in her mind about what he was thinking.
"Anything the alpha wants."
Chapter Six
Aric watched Jo crawl across the mattress to the other side of the bed, holding her big, shapeless leather bag like a shield. He supposed she was trying to get to the door, but she tripped over the chair he'd dragged in and went down hard on the braided rug.
Up until now, the emotions layered through her scent had been relatively mild. Though she was worried, concerned, and confused, none of these were enough to add up to alarm.
But now fear was the top note to the complex scent. Her eyes flashed with it; her blood simmered with it.
She was finally coming to understand the magnitude of the line she'd crossed by trespassing on his land, breaking into his home, and passing out on his bed.
It was true that her crime hadn't been intentional. Aric was even slightly amused by her mistake, even though he found it pretty hard to believe that Zeke had consented to one of Nicky's girls spending the night on his property. Sure, Zeke's omega did seem a little wilder than most—but not threesome-with-a-beta-whore wild.
Then again, what did he know about their personal life? It was none of his business.
At least it hadn't been until now, when their Friday night plans had become his Saturday morning breakfast.
"There has been a big mistake," Jo said. She was trying to project confidence, but her quavering voice gave her away.
Aric crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What you call a mistake, I call a crime."
"I'm not talking about that," she protested, reddening. "I'm trying to tell you I'm not a prostitute."
"Yeah, probably not anymore," Aric agreed. "I know Nicky can be forgiving, but even she must have a rule against breaking into clients' homes and passing out on their beds."
"Please, just listen to me," Jo pleaded. "I've never met Nicky. I'm not a prostitute. I'm—I'm just a bookkeeper from San Francisco."
Aric snorted with laughter at the lame excuse. "You expect me to believe that you don't know Nicky when you arrived in a car full of her girls last night?"
"Yes!" The fear and frustration in Jo's scent crowded out nearly everything else. The porcelain skin that contrasted so nicely with her jet-black hair and bright amber-brown eyes had taken on a blush of rosy pink, making Aric wonder if it matched her nipples. "I know it sounds unbelievable, but—"
"They all knew your name," he pointed out.
"Not really. Not my real name, but—"
"And you didn't mention anything about bookkeeping last night when I tried to hire you."
"Would you have listened to me if I had?"
Finally—a spark of defiance. Aric's cock took note, stirring awake at the prospect of a sweet tussle with a willing firebrand.
But as to her question—no. Aric wouldn't have believed she was a bookkeeper last night because it was a ridiculous story.
But that didn't mean it was a lie.
Sorting through the overwhelming emotions rising off her skin, Aric detected the undeniable scent of truth. It was impossible to imagine what bizarre set of circumstances had brought a big-city bookkeeper to his bedroom…and honestly, he didn't care.
"Please," Jo implored him. "You have to understand that I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Please don't hurt me."
"I'm not going to hurt you," Aric said, retreating only far enough to close the bedroom door. The pleading in her voice, along with the rising desperation in her scent, was heating his blood to new levels. He'd never realized how tantalizing a woman in distress could be, especially since he knew that she was perfectly safe as long as she was with him. "I'm going to do everything but hurt you."
This couldn't be happening.
Jocelyn snapped her gaping mouth shut as the solid-wood bedroom door closed with a heavy thunk. The alpha turned back to face her, a hungry, calculating look in his eyes.
Yes. Whatever this was, it was one hundred percent happening. She was trapped. No one would hear her cries. Whatever he wanted from her—and her mind resisted the obvious guess—he would have it unless she did something fast.
And she had only one thing left to trade.
"Fine," she snapped with forced bravado and tossed her heavy bag to the foot of the bed. "If nothing I say will stop you, then maybe this will."
The alpha paused, raising an eyebrow at the sight of her soft leather bag lying inches from where he stood. He picked it up, finding it much heavier than he expected, and opened the zipper, then pulled out the folded sheaf of papers she'd shoved in there nearly twenty-four hours earlier, the evidence she'd lifted from the files.
He looked up at her suspiciously. "What's this?"
"Not that—look underneath. There's two million dollars in there." Jocelyn held her breath. She'd played her only card, and in doing so, traded away her hope for the future. She'd taken the money thinking it would save her life, and maybe it still would—but she'd hoped it would last a little longer than a single day.
"You were carrying two million dollars in cash with you?" The alpha sounded more puzzled than amazed.
"I was," she clarified. "Now it's all you
rs, if you let me walk out that door untouched."
The alpha set down the bag without even bothering to look inside. Instead, he simply stared at her thoughtfully, not saying a word.
She did her best not to flinch under his gaze, but it took a tremendous effort. This man, with his coiled energy and massive muscles, was more intimidating than anything she'd ever encountered before—and that included John.
Jocelyn prayed that his stony silence meant that he was considering the deal. How could he not? There was a lot of money in that oversized workbag.
But her hopes were dashed when he lazily swiped the bag off the bed and onto the floor as if it was nothing but trash.
"Wh-why…?" Jocelyn seemed to have lost the ability to put together complete sentences, no doubt due to the intense gleam in the alpha's dark eyes. The money only seemed to have irritated him, for some reason she couldn't fathom. She gave up maintaining her façade of calm and began to shake openly.
"You really don't know where you are, do you?" he demanded.
Of course she did. She wasn't stupid, despite what her current circumstances implied. "The Boundarylands."
"But you have no idea what that means. You think I give a shit about your beta money?" His expression was full of contempt as he gave her bag a nudge with his boot. "Look around, bookkeeper Jo. Look at my house. Look at me. What the fuck would I do with two million?"
Jocelyn bit her lip, desperately searching for an answer. But there were only two things that she knew for certain this alpha liked.
"You could buy a lot of booze and hookers with that kind of money."
"I make my own damn whiskey," he said, his voice going all low and rumbly again. "And why would I need to go looking for whores, now that I've trapped a pretty little intruder right here in my home?"
Jocelyn gulped, her heart practically stopping. The situation was spiraling out of control faster than she could keep up with. All that remained to do was to beg for mercy.
"Please," she whispered. "Please."
"You don't have start begging me to please you yet, little Jo." The rumbling turned silken. "Wait until your legs are wrapped around my hips. Until my mouth is on your nipples. Until I'm so damned deep inside you that you don't think you can take anymore."
Aric: The Boundarylands Page 4
