It took every ounce of restraint that Aric possessed to reject the call of her heat, his teeth clenched hard enough to split wood, the tendons in his neck standing out like steel bars. But that was nothing next to the pain in his cock, as though it was being stretched on a rack and set on fire all at once.
He knew he couldn't simply toss Jo on the bed and rush out the door—she was too wild with need, a danger to herself. Her heat blinded her to danger, to anything other than being filled with his cock. If he didn't secure her somehow, she'd get herself killed by following him.
With his free hand, he reached for the leather belt he'd discarded on the floor days ago and used it to bind her wrists, cinching them tightly together. Jo flung herself from side to side as he dragged her to the closet, making hungry mewling sounds even while he was securing the other end of the belt to the closet rod.
Aric froze briefly as he turned to go, gaping at the sight of her hands tied above her head, lifting her heavy breasts with their tight pink nipples aching for his mouth. Her feet scrabbled as she kept humping the air, searching for sensation as slick pooled beneath her on the floor.
Fuck, she looked hot like that.
As pain ripped through his cock, Aric slammed the closet door shut so he wouldn't be tempted. Behind the heavy wooden slab, Jo let out a cry of want and frustration that felt like a razor slicing through his heart.
"Sorry," he muttered, resting his forehead against the hard wood briefly even though he knew she couldn't hear him.
In this state, there was no way to communicate to her that this was for her own safety. All she knew was the one thing she needed had locked her away.
Aric redoubled his resolve as wrath and adrenaline surged through him. He would return and take his omega in his arms again as soon as he ripped the head off this intruder who dared threaten what was his.
Not bothering with clothes, Aric stormed to the door and threw it open wide. Planting his feet and raising his fists high, he roared. The sound set birds rising from the trees in a cloud of black wings and echoed off the granite faces of faraway hills.
Aric waited for an answering shot. But none came.
He tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath, but sensed nothing amiss in the air.
No—that wasn't completely true.
His senses still compromised from countless hours of pleasure, Aric had almost missed the faintest hint of a chemical note in the wind—a scent blocker. He'd first encountered one a few months back while helping an alpha brother run some betas off his land, and committed the smell to memory.
The problem was that the chemical tang was so faint that Aric couldn't pin down where it was coming from. Its chemical signature was elusive enough that had he not experienced it once before, he never would have noticed it at all. All he knew for sure was that it had to coming from a long way off to diffuse almost completely by the time it reached to his nose.
The bastard was still out there somewhere. Aric just didn't know where.
He stayed very still, listening for any sign of the shooter—a broken branch, a rustle of leaves. No human could remain completely quiet for long, and betas could never match an alpha for stealth.
Still, impatience eventually made Aric pace back and forth across his porch like a caged animal, primed and ready but with nothing to strike.
As the moments ticked past, the scent of the chemical blocker stayed constant, neither fading nor growing. So the beta was waiting, apparently believing he could outlast him.
And the bastard just might be right. The longer the standoff continued, the more powerful the rage inside Aric. It got to the point that his body screamed for the release of the battle. He needed to move, needed to strike, needed to lash out, tear his enemy to pieces, and wash the earth with his blood.
Aric was almost ready to dash into the forest and uproot every tree until he found the son of a bitch, when the shooter finally made a mistake.
It wasn't much—just the snap of a twig as he resettled his weight—but it was all that Aric needed. His senses zeroed in on the spot at blinding speed: his foe was waiting nearly a mile to the west, halfway up a hill that would provide excellent visibility.
At first, Aric thought he'd made a mistake, that his senses were playing games with him. After all, no one could make a shot from that distance.
But as Aric bolted to the other side of the patio, he heard a disturbance in the far-off underbrush: the son of a bitch was on the move.
Aric didn't hesitate but headed directly at his target, running as fast as he could while naked and barefoot, the forest blurring in his peripheral vision as each step found its precise mark.
There was no way that the intruder could know that Aric was one of the fastest alphas in the Boundarylands, second only to a lone wolf alpha named Roman. But it didn't matter. The beta knew he was coming and was already making his escape.
Aric listened in agony to the metallic click of the sniper rifle being quickly and efficiently disassembled, followed by the pounding of boots on soft soil and the sound of an ATV roaring to life.
He roared back as the vehicle came tearing into view through the trees, moving faster than any beta should have been able to without slamming into a tree or losing control and flipping. Whoever this shooter was, his reflexes were astonishingly sharp for a beta.
He's every bit as dangerous as Jo warned you he was.
Aric tried to shake off the thought. This son of a bitch might be good, but he was still a beta. And Aric refused to let him get away.
He pushed himself even harder, but he was no match for the powerful engine. When he finally gave up and followed the trail back to the shooter's hiding place, he found evidence of his presence: the fallen log where he'd sat, the three disturbances in the ground where he'd steadied the legs of his tripod, the faint boot tread in the flattened foliage.
Aric took a knee where the bastard had been scoping him out. Narrowing his eyes, he peered at his cabin in the distance, but even with his keen sight, he could only make out the slightest reflection of what glass remained in his bedroom window.
Even with the aid of scopes and sights, those had been incredible shots. That the beta had barely missed Aric's head was nothing short of amazing.
He let out a low groan. He had underestimated this beta, inviting death in the process. Jo had been right to fear him. Aric should have listened.
The reminder of the fear and pain this bastard had caused his omega set fire to Aric's blood.
This son of a bitch might be good, but he was still just a beta—a beta who'd fucked with the wrong alpha.
Chapter Twelve
Where was her alpha? Jocelyn cried out as she tried to right herself in the darkness—the total, terrifying darkness.
Her mind was too overwhelmed with sensation and need to process anything close to rational thought. She could only feel. And right now, everything she felt was horrible.
Her wrists hurt. Her spine was stiff against the hard wall behind her. But none of that compared to the suffocating sense of loneliness.
Aric wasn't nearby. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones, and with his absence came a brutal longing, as if her own soul that had taken leave and wandered away.
She struggled against the leather straps binding her wrists, but they refused to give. Desperately, she kicked out in every direction, in a frenzied bid for sensation.
Her heat didn't care about her solitude. It didn't care about her situation. All it wanted was stimulation, and if Jocelyn didn't find some way to touch herself, she would go mad.
Her heels met solid walls in every direction. The space she was in was small—a closet of some sort—but there was nothing on the hardwood floor as she rolled and twisted and writhed. Even though her body had been pounded into for days, the fire burning inside her still raged as hot as ever.
Ever since her heat began, she had been completely focused on the constant stream of pleasure that Aric had provided. He had been her only tether to
the real world.
And now that he was gone, Jocelyn had no idea what she was going to do. She rubbed her legs together, trying to create enough friction between them to get off, but only succeeded in driving her frustration higher.
Only one thing could soothe her in this state, and he was gone.
He was gone.
Oh God, what had happened? The image of John—blurry and shifting in her present mental state—arced through her hazy thoughts for the first time in days, bringing with it a wave of pure, raw terror. But just as quickly it dissolved, leaving behind only an acute ache for her mate.
Aric wasn't hurt. Somehow, Jocelyn was certain that she would know if harm had come to him. Whoever had tied her up here, whatever else they had done, they had not got the best of Aric…not yet, at least.
But that didn't lessen the pain of his absence. It was like nothing she'd ever known, as if her heart had been cut out of her chest. She cried out, a high-pitched keening, and tugged at the bonds around her wrists with every ounce of strength and resolve in her body. But they refused to give even a fraction of an inch, and her efforts yielded nothing but fresh pain.
How long had she been trapped here in the dark? As the moments passed in an agony of sexual frustration and unresolved desire, Jocelyn had lost all sense of time. Eventually, she gave up fighting to free herself, but still her body twitched and tossed in its endless yearning, while her mind slipped back into its fog.
Then, starting as a mere pinpoint of brilliance in the gray haze, Aric's presence returned, a feeling that he was somewhere near. It grew steadily stronger, and by the time Jocelyn heard heavy footsteps outside the door, she was on her knees and straining in his direction.
The door opened, and he was there, backlit by bright sunlight that made her blink furiously until her eyes adjusted. Outside the door was Aric’s bedroom—she'd been locked in his closet. Jocelyn couldn't speak—that ability had vanished when her heat had begun in earnest—but his nearness unleashed joy and relief, and a cry of pure animal want escaped her.
Aric stiffened at the sound. He was only inches away, but he didn't touch her.
"Shit," he muttered. "This is going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought."
He gritted his teeth before loosening her bonds and scooping her up off the floor. Jocelyn experienced the blinding relief of his touch for only a few seconds before he deposited her on his bed.
She arched her back and whimpered, but Aric didn't join her. Instead, he quickly refastened her wrists to the headboard. Then he used a second belt to bind her ankles to the footboard.
Jocelyn watched him without comprehending or even considering what he was doing. It did not occur to her to question why he was imprisoning her again. It made no difference to her.
All that mattered was that he was with her again.
Her Aric.
Her Alpha.
All that was left to do now was to get back to fucking, taking his come, submitting to his knot.
But that didn't happen.
Aric stepped back from the bed once he was done lashing her down.
"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out as if to touch her face before reluctantly withdrawing his hand. "I have to stay vigilant in case he comes back. If something happened to you…"
Jocelyn pulled against her restraints. She didn't understand. Not his words. Not his actions. Nothing but the fact that he wasn't touching her.
She cried out for him as he slowly backed away, his face betraying a collision of powerful emotions. She thrashed and moaned, trying to impel him back where she needed him—where he belonged—but he ignored her as he began to cover the windows, blocking out the light. Then he dressed quickly in the dark and left without another word, closing the door firmly behind him.
Jocelyn's stomach twisted at the realization that Aric had left her. He hadn't returned to be with her after all. The brilliant light of his presence faded into the distance, trailing the ragged threads of their connection behind it.
And everything inside her broke apart.
It nearly killed him, but Aric stayed away.
His only sense of the passage of time was the movement of the moon across the night sky, viewed through the picture window in his living room. At times he thought he couldn't hold out another second, that he'd rush back through his bedroom door to the omega who hadn't stopped crying out for him, but then he would think of the danger she was in and somehow found the strength to steel his resolve.
Dawn came, and the sun rose. The house warmed; birdsong came through the windows. Aric felt no hunger, no fatigue, no thirst—only the raw wound of separation, the pain of ignoring his omega's pleas to the deepest part of his alpha nature.
The sun set again, but still he did not waver. Somehow, Aric endured two endless days and two excruciating, sleepless nights of his vigil.
There was no other way. If he gave in to his omega's pleas, to his own yearning, and the sniper came back onto his land while he was deep inside her, oblivious to everything else—
Well, he would never recover.
And that was no exaggeration.
Jo's essence mingled with his own deep inside of him. All that was left to seal it was her claiming bite, but even without it, the bond was permanently set. If she died, Aric knew that he would follow.
So he stayed outside her door. He drank gallons of black coffee and the occasional swig of moonshine to dull the roar of his primal lust, and somehow he made it through.
By sunrise on the fourth day, the overwhelming scent of Jo's slick started to wane. Her keening settled into a hoarse whimpering, eventually becoming the occasional ragged sigh. By afternoon, her scent had almost completely evened out again, and she was back to her old self.
Although not entirely. Aric could tell that something inside her had shifted. She was still beset with a steady thrum of fear and anxiety, but the constant impulse to run had lifted.
Aric tried to be grateful for that small mercy, but could not get past his frustration that he hadn't been able to screw that urge out of her as he'd intended. He'd wanted to be the one to break down her skittishness and reluctance—not her nature or hormones.
Still—they were both still here. Still alive. And that was what really mattered.
Aric needed to keep that in mind as he dealt with what came next, the thing he was really dreading: walking into that room and eating a hot steaming plate of crow.
He put it off as long as he could, and when he finally went to her, he took with him a peace offering of coffee and a simple lunch of bread, cheese, and meat. He found her lying motionless in a twisted mass of bedcovers, her eyes open but her expression flat.
Aric couldn't help stiffening at the sight of her, exposed and spread-eagled on his bed. He had a feeling that he could see her naked for the next hundred years, and never tire of the sight.
But Jo barely acknowledged him, a sharp exhalation the only sign that she was aware he had come into the room. He tested her scent, breathing deeply of shame.
The overwhelming nature of her embarrassment knocked Aric slightly off balance. He'd expected anger—rage, even. But not this.
When he reached the bedside, she twisted her head away from him, avoiding his eyes. "Please untie me."
Aric did as Jo asked, releasing her ankles first, wincing at the red marks where she'd fought her bonds. When he moved up to untie her wrists, he saw that her eyes welled with tears.
Shit.
"Jo," he tried, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.
"Just untie me," she whispered hoarsely. "Please."
The moment her hands were free, she snatched up the stained sheet and clutched it to her chest, hiding her beautiful body from his sight.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, wishing he could wipe her regret away along with her tears.
"No."
"Sore?"
She shook her head.
"I'm sorry I had to tie you up. There was no other way."
Jo shook her hea
d harder, her tangled black hair falling over one red-rimmed eye. "Don't."
Aric felt the stirring of resentment. He knew that his omega was feeling fragile, that the aftermath of a first heat was no walk in the park, but he had suffered too, his own needs brutally ignored.
Besides, he was a goddamn alpha, and everything inside him bristled at being ordered around…even by his omega.
"Jo, I know—"
"I said, don't!" She pierced him with a furious gaze that belied the tear tracks on her cheeks. "Don't you think I've had enough? First, you change me into an omega. Then you ruin me for every other man in the world. Then, when you aren't satisfied with me, you tie me up and leave me begging for days."
Not satisfied? What the hell was that bullshit?
"That's not what happened, Jo."
Her lips tightened into a hard, flat line. "Don't give me that shit, Aric. I might not have been acting like myself, but I was still here. I know what happened."
"All right," he conceded. "All of those things happened. But not because you didn't satisfy me."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Aric could tell she wanted to believe him, but she didn't…not yet.
He reached for her, and she scuttled away from him. But he was quicker, and caught her in his arms and dragged her back.
He wasn't about to let her get away. Not now—not ever.
"I didn't leave you because I wanted to. I had to. During our second night together, someone shot at us. The bullet came right over our heads."
Jocelyn stiffened in his arms. He sensed her mind recoiling, her flight instinct flaring, but he held her tight.
"John," she whispered, twisting her head to look up at the wall. "There are two bullet holes."
"Yes," he admitted. "You were in the middle of your heat, Jo. If I hadn't tied you up, you would have followed me when I went after him."
Her gaze snapped back to him in horror.
"You went after him? What the hell were you thinking? That man is a trained killer!" She rubbed at her eyes in disbelief. "Dozens of people have died at his hands. You could have been the next."
Aric: The Boundarylands Page 8
