Zeke: The Boundarylands

by Callie Rhodes

  "We're not on your property," he objected, though with less force. "This road is neutral territory. You can't touch us here."

  "Watch me," Zeke said, then indulged himself in a roar that shook the ground beneath their feet.

  The beta cops' reaction to his primal sound of rage was immensely satisfying—until Zeke sensed a shift in the woman he'd left hidden in the trees. Her immobilizing terror gave way to raw self-preservation, and she bolted.

  Not quietly, either. The sound of her crashing through the trees as she ran deeper into Zeke's land was loud enough for even beta ears to pick up.

  Both cops tensed, turning toward the flash of bright pink bobbing in and out of sight.

  "Got her," Robert shouted, raising his gun.

  Zeke covered the ground between them in the split second it took for the beta's finger to tighten around the trigger. The cop absorbed the impact of Zeke's shoulder square in the chest but still managed to get off a shot before slamming into the side of the wrecked car. As he slid down onto the road, gasping to fill his lungs with air, Zeke felt a jarring pain in his side below his rib cage.

  "Get away from my brother, you son of a bitch," David hollered.

  Zeke turned around just in time to hear another loud pop and experience another searing shaft of flame near the first.

  And then another.

  Fuck this day.

  Zeke’s roar was loud enough to carry clear to the other side of the Boundarylands. David nearly dropped his gun, then seemed to briefly consider whether to go to his brother's aid.

  Evidently, he thought better of it.

  David dove into his car, jamming it into reverse and hurtling backward. He pushed back a hundred yards before executing a sloppy three-point turn and beating a cowardly retreat, leaving his brother behind.

  The remaining brother—Robert—turned out to be a sneaky little bastard. He took advantage of Zeke's momentary distraction to crawl back to his own cruiser. He was just closing the door when Zeke turned around.

  "This isn't over," the beta yelled as he peeled out.

  Of course it wasn't over.

  Zeke cursed his terrible luck even as the sting of his gunshot wounds grew more pronounced.

  He hadn't been lying when he said the bullets weren't big enough to bring him down, but that didn't mean they weren't a pain in the ass.

  And unfortunately, getting shot wasn't even the most pressing problem he had to deal with right now.

  There was the little matter of the pink-haired fugitive, who was racing full bore toward the border between his own land and his neighbor's. Which meant Zeke needed to pull himself together and go save her before that bastard, Cade, caught wind of a trespasser.

  Who the fuck was he kidding? There was only one way this day was going to play out.

  Zeke had known it from the first whiff of the woman's scent as she threw herself out of a speeding car.

  She wasn't in trouble—she was trouble.

  Chapter Three

  "Stop."

  Darcy skidded to an abrupt halt as the alpha stepped out from behind the tree in front of her, nearly falling as her boot heels sank into the soft earth.

  Where the hell had he come from? She'd left him back at the edge of the road, roaring like a damned grizzly at Robert and David. She decided not to stick around and see how that dumpster fire was going to end—she'd seen enough blood spilled in the last twenty-four hours to last a lifetime.

  Only a few seconds after taking off running, it became clear she'd made the right call when the crack of gunshots—three or four at least—echoed through the trees.

  Then came more of that roaring business, and then the squeal of tires speeding away.

  Darcy was too busy hauling ass to turn back and sort out who'd shot who and who'd escaped. Every ounce of her energy had been focused on getting to safety.

  At least it had been—until the damned giant had magically transported himself and popped out right in front of her.

  Unfortunately, Darcy's boots—shiny, black, and over-the-knee with three-inch heels—weren't exactly made for tactical maneuvering. She threw her arms out as she teetered backward, but still ended up landing hard on her ass.

  The situation didn't look any better from down here. The alpha loomed over her, even more menacing from this angle. The ferocious light in his eyes and untamed jet-black hair made him look almost feral.

  Oh God. What the hell had she been thinking, coming here? Had she really expected the fire to be any better than the frying pan?

  Unfortunately, Darcy had run out of options. Crossing the border had been her only chance—even though it meant putting herself between a pair of psychotic brothers and an angry giant.

  Darcy had done what she always did—acted on impulse, took her chances, jumped off the edge before looking down. This time she'd landed too hard. Honestly, it was a miracle that made it this far.

  She closed her eyes and waited for the death blow. A grim ending to a life that had never met anyone's expectations—not even her own.

  "I don't know what you're waiting for," the alpha said, his deep, rough voice interrupting what Darcy assumed were her final moments. "I ain't helping your sorry ass up."

  What?

  Her breath caught in her throat, Darcy cracked open one eyelid to peer up at the towering giant. He was still standing way too close, but now he was glaring down at her like she was some kind of idiot.

  Which she probably was, because she didn't have the first clue what was going on.

  "You're not going to kill me?"

  The alpha's scowl deepened. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

  "I heard you back there," Darcy sputtered, some of her defiance returning as she got up, dusting leaves off her skirt with as much dignity as possible. "You sounded like you wanted to kill David and Robert."

  "They had guns. You don't—unless you're hiding them where the sun don't shine."

  Darcy blushed. She'd given him a view right up her skirt at her wisp of a lace thong...and down her low-cut sweater at her matching bra. It was pretty obvious she wasn't packing, but she shook her head just in case. She wasn't in the mood to be strip searched.

  "Good," the alpha muttered, drilling her with an unblinking gaze. "Listen, I don't care where you go from here, but if you keep on in this direction, you'll end up on my neighbor's land—and Cade ain't half as friendly as me."

  Darcy swallowed. Was it really possible that there were scarier alphas than this one?

  "Th-Thank you for the warning," she said as politely as possible, barely stopping herself from adding 'sir,' as she did at work.

  The alpha stared at her for another long second before abruptly shaking his head and turning to head deeper into the woods. "Whatever."

  "Wait," Darcy called after him before he'd gone more than a few steps.

  The alpha stopped, his body rigid, but didn't bother to turn around. "What?"

  "You're bleeding," she said, transfixed by the bright red stain spreading on the side of his T-shirt.

  The alpha finally turned toward her, his black eyebrows slightly raised. "So?"

  Darcy rolled her eyes at the tough-guy act. If this alpha was anything like the cops she worked with, he'd sooner drop dead than admit anything was wrong.

  "So, you've been shot," she said. Without thinking, she stepped toward him.

  "Back off," the alpha barked. The warning in his eyes was steely and cold. "Don't take another fucking step."

  Darcy held up her hands to show she posed no threat, and slowly backed up. For a moment she almost thought—but no. The alpha couldn't possibly be afraid of her….could he?

  "But you're hurt," she said, wondering if he had gone into shock. He hadn't lost that much blood—yet—but maybe the bullet had struck a vital organ. "You need help."

  "I'm fine." The alpha shook his head impatiently, already on the move again. "This is nothing—a scratch that'll heal in no time."

  "I have a first aid kit in the car," Darcy cal
led to his retreating back, trying to stall him.

  Of course, her first aid kit was filled with bandages and alcohol wipes. Nothing in it could treat a gunshot wound. What this man needed was an ambulance and emergency ward—but he was never going to get those things if he disappeared into the trees.

  Darcy had sat through far too many department-mandated first aid classes not to know what happened to untreated gunshot victims. First, the alpha would become confused. As oxygen failed to reach his brain, his disorientation would worsen. Then his heart would begin to fail. His kidneys would shut down, and eventually he'd simply crumple to the forest floor like a wounded animal and die.

  She couldn't let that happen.

  The alpha might be the scariest son of a bitch that Darcy had laid eyes on —and she should know; she'd dated some doozies—but he'd also saved her from the Baron brothers. He'd saved her life.

  Now she had to return the favor.

  "It'll only take a second for you to come with me to my car so I can grab my kit," she said, hoping that once there, she could talk him into calling for help.

  The alpha let out another low, rumbling growl, making his irritation with her obvious.

  But he'd already shown his hand—if he hadn't killed her already, he wasn't going to. So Darcy decided to treat him like a cop in a foul mood or one of the disorderly collars they brought in for holding—ignore the bullshit and keep repeating herself until her words finally sank in.

  "I told you, it's a scratch," he said, resignedly turning back toward her.

  That was when Darcy spotted more blood seeping from additional holes in his shirt. "Holy shit!" she said, rushing forward.

  The alpha staggered backward, never taking his eyes off her as he picked up a huge fallen bough. "Don't come near me," he ordered her, brandishing it like a sword.

  "You're in shock," Darcy said, enunciating each word carefully. "Your mind is playing tricks on you. I'm no threat to you. See?"

  She held out her arms to show him that she wasn't hiding anything.

  "You don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing wrong with my mind."

  "Fine," Darcy said, beginning to lose patience. "But at least tell me how many times you were hit."

  He let out a huge sigh as if she was the dumbest person he had ever met. He obviously didn't want to talk about it—he probably thought that admitting to being shot was some kind of moral failing. "Three."

  "Dear God," Darcy gasped. There was no way that a person could be shot three times without sustaining serious injury. "We have to get you to the hospital."

  "I don't have to do shit."

  Darcy dug deep into her reserves of patience. This was where years of experience with recalcitrant boyfriends came in handy.

  "You're right," she said calmly, "you don't. But here's what I'm going to do. I'm walking back to the car, and getting my first aid kit. Now you can either come with me, or I can follow you around all day while you lose more blood and get weaker and weaker until you won't have any choice in the matter."

  The alpha’s steely glare turned calculating. He looked her up and down, taking in her tangled hair and torn tights, lingering briefly on the narrow band of skin between her cropped sweater and her skirt.

  Obviously, he wasn't impressed by what he saw. "If I take some bandages, you promise to leave?"

  Darcy traced an X on her chest. "Cross my heart."

  Of course, his compliance wouldn't begin to solve her problems. If anything, it only forestalled the inevitable: her car was totaled, there were two homicidal cops waiting for her at the boundary, and more than a hundred miles of hostile wilderness in every other direction.

  But those were problems for later. Right now, she had to save an ogre.

  The alpha scratched his neck and looked past Darcy to the road, his eyes narrowing with disgust. She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Ladies first."

  Darcy hid her relief as she started back to the car, moving gingerly. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she could feel every bruise and scrape she'd suffered when she'd flung herself out of a moving car.

  "You're hurt," he said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

  She waved off his words and started moving again.

  "It's nothing," she told him over her shoulder. "Just a scratch."

  What the hell was he doing following this woman?

  Zeke had no idea. Sure, it got her to promise to leave him the hell alone, but he hardly needed that. He could leave her in the dust in three seconds flat.

  Zeke wasn't the meanest or most stubborn alpha in their corner Boundarylands. His neighbor, Cade, was always looking for a fight, and an alpha down the road named Maddox could be downright vicious. But Zeke wasn't known for taking shit from anyone.

  At least, not until women started tumbling out of their cars and landing at his feet. It didn't help that she smelled like the first thunderstorm of the season, her energy electric with the promise of chaos ahead.

  Zeke knew that scent far too well. He'd first encountered it years ago, in what seemed like another lifetime…and it had nearly killed him. He'd run thousands of miles to escape the memories, but they still haunted him to this day.

  Zeke had hoped that he'd never catch that particular scent again, but fate was a cruel bitch.

  He'd recently detected that same electric fire emanating from the skin of a woman who had pointed a rifle at his friend Troy…right before becoming his mate.

  Zeke had tried to warn his alpha brother before he touched the woman and caused her omega nature to fully emerge, but he was too late. Fortunately for Troy, things seemed to have worked out between the two of them.

  But Troy had been lucky.

  Everyone in the Boundarylands seemed to think that when an alpha's touch brought out an omega's true nature, they were automatically in for a happy ending.

  Zeke knew better.

  He stayed back a full ten feet as he trailed the stranger to what was left of her car and watched her rummage around in the trunk. In another situation, he might have relaxed and enjoyed the view.

  The woman wasn't hard to look at. Her hair might have been dyed the shade of bubble gum, but her ass was as round as a peach…and just as tasty looking.

  For fuck's sake—what was wrong with him? Zeke had just decided to slip away and disappear without another word when the woman let out a little squeal of victory and popped back up, holding a white plastic case with a big red cross on it.

  "Found it!" she said, bounding toward him until Zeke slashed the air in front of him with his rigid palm.

  "What part of 'don't come near me' is so hard for you to understand?"

  "Sorry," she said, instantly retreating. She sounded sincere—and even worse, she actually was, based on the regret mingling with her scent. "My bad. I'm not usually so…it's just been a really bad day."

  Zeke snorted. Jumping out of a moving car in the Boundarylands with a couple of trigger-happy beta cops on her trail—yeah, he could believe this wasn't how she'd imagined her Sunday morning.

  "You can just kick it over to me," he told her.

  A hint of a smile played at her lips as she put the case on the ground and slid it toward him. "Like a drug deal. Don't worry, it's all there—three bandages and a bottle of antiseptic. You can count it if you want."

  Zeke didn't respond to her little joke, but it gave him pause.

  Unlike a lot of the other alphas here, he'd been raised by decent people. His family had always used humor as a defense mechanism to survive hard times. When his father's paycheck ran out before the month ended, or their basement flooded or the washing machine broke down, somebody always cracked a joke to lighten the mood.

  It seemed his little fugitive was cut from the same cloth.

  "I trust you," Zeke said, a little stiffly. "And thank you."

  "You're welcome. Listen…won't you at least consider going to the hospital?"

  "We don't really do hospita
ls around here."

  "But if those wounds get infected—"

  "They won't."

  "But if they do—"

  "What's your name, lady?" Zeke asked, surprised to find that—instead of being annoyed by her relentless pestering—he was genuinely curious.

  "Darcy."

  "Listen, Darcy," he said, testing the feel of her name on his tongue. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm going be all healed up in a couple of days. Besides, you've got more important things to worry about than me. Those beta cops are pissed, and they aren't going to give up. It might take them a day or two to lick their wounds, but they'll be back. So you should stop wasting your time with me and get wherever the hell you're heading."

  The woman had been watching him steadily, but now her eyelashes fluttered, and her chin wobbled as her gaze drifted down to the ground.

  Ah, shit.

  "You don't know where you're going, do you?"

  Darcy shook her head, her flamingo hair fluttering in a gust of wind. Zeke looked past her to her car—and the tree it was currently wrapped around.

  "And even if you did, you've got no way to get there," he continued heavily.

  When Darcy looked up, there was still a little fight left in her honey-brown eyes.

  "Looks like I'm walking," she said with a shrug. "I've done it before."

  Zeke stifled a groan of frustration. Not through the Boundarylands, she hadn't.

  The woman was like a flashing neon sign. The moment his brothers caught her scent, they'd come racing through the trees to get at her.

  "That ain't a good idea."

  Darcy pursed her lips. Zeke could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she came up with a new plan.

  "You don't happen to know where I can get a car around here, do you? Nothing fancy, just something to get me from one place to another. I don't have a ton of money on me, but I swear I'm good for it."

  Zeke sighed. Money wasn't the problem. Sure, it came in handy even here in the Boundarylands, but it didn't mean half as much as it did in the beta world.

  The problem was that he did know a place—Evander's Bar, just a few miles down the road. In a few hours, it would start filling up with alphas, and someone in there would probably take this lady up on her offer.