She briefly considered slinking back to the woodshed and never coming out again, but the lure of the cool lake was too great, and the blood and filth coating her body too much to bear for another minute.
She waited a few more minutes to make sure that Zeke wouldn't return, stripped off her boots, shirt, skirt, and undies and slipped soundlessly into the water.
The water was perfect—not freezing cold as she had feared, but refreshing once she got over the initial shock of immersion. She could feel the heat draining from her face. The fatigue left her muscles as she floated, and Darcy closed her eyes, enjoying the weightless sensation and the late-afternoon sun shining on her face.
Under any other circumstances, she might have stayed until the sun went down, but unfortunately, she didn't have that luxury. She needed to get back before dark descended.
So she quickly washed up, threw on the fresh clothes she’d brought, and headed back up the riverbank. The sun had just sunk below the trees when Zeke's cabin came into view.
Darcy kept to the woods as she approached the shed. When she slipped around the front, she found another bowl of stew waiting outside the door.
She briefly worried that Zeke might have noticed that she was gone, but the stew was still piping hot. He'd probably just left it after pounding on the door a couple of times as he'd done earlier.
Besides, why would he worry about her?
As Darcy settled down on her cot to eat dinner, she considered the lopsided situation. Now that she had seen Zeke wet and naked, she couldn't seem to get him out of her thoughts—but Zeke didn't seem to think about her at all.
Zeke was going out of his mind.
Bringing the woman onto his land had been a mistake, a massive one. He'd been a goddamned fool to think that he could control a situation like this by throwing her in his shed and telling her to stay put.
It had been bad enough hearing her walking up the path to Green Lake. The rational part of him advocated yelling at her to turn back and stay in the goddamn woodshed as she'd promised.
But he hadn't done that. He hadn't said a damn thing, just listened to her footsteps getting closer as his senses filled with her scent. There was a whole rich encyclopedia of emotions beneath the sweat and blood that she was so desperate to wash off, the combination enticing and hypnotic.
Zeke tried to tell himself that he was powerless to resist the heady promise threaded through that scent, that he couldn't help himself.
But that was bullshit.
Accepting that would be tantamount to admitting that he was a slave to his nature. If that was true, he wouldn't have been content to let her stand there and watch him from her safe little hiding place. He would have rushed out of the water and taken her on the forest floor and showed her the true essence of her nature.
But Zeke hadn't done that.
Instead, he'd done his best to ignore his cock swelling beneath the surface of the water in response to the knowledge that she was watching him.
Not just watching...appreciating.
He'd fought against the urge to stroke himself under the cover the water as her scent intensified with each passing second. She wanted him, and that made Zeke nearly insensible with need.
There was only so much he could stand, and when the scent of her arousal became too intense, Zeke knew he had to get the hell out of there before he did something he regretted.
Something he couldn't take back.
So he'd returned to the house as quickly as he could, before the urge to turn back could win out.
He'd known when he reached his house that it was going to be a long-ass month. But he hadn't imagined the hell he was going to endure the very first night.
Several sleepless hours had passed, and Zeke was still tossing and turning. Why the hell had he put her in the woodshed? He should have carried her to the cave at the far border of his land and tied her up inside. Instead, she was only twenty feet away, and despite the walls separating them, he could sense everything that she was doing in there.
Not that it would have mattered if he'd tossed her in the cave—he still would have been acutely aware of her. But at least he wouldn't have to deal with the maddening knowledge that he could reach her in ten seconds flat.
Now, he was stuck in bed, his cock aching and rock hard, every nerve ending thrumming with awareness of every move she made.
He knew when she smoothed lotion into the silky skin of her legs, her fingers kneading her tired muscles. He heard the crinkle of cotton as she got under the sheets and her soft sigh as her head settled on the pillow.
Then he jerked to attention as he sensed her hand moving slowly over her body, her fingertips brushing against her nipple, then dipping lower. The soft wet sound of her tongue wetting her lips, her teeth biting into the soft flesh of them as her fingers slipped under the elastic of her panties.
Then came the scent of her slick, blinding him momentarily with its intensity. He rolled onto his back and gripped handfuls of bedding, ripping it from the mattress as her fingertip drew a bead of slick along the length of her opening, drenching her clit as her fingertips worked in small circles.
Zeke's cock had never been so hard.
He didn't want to feel like this. Didn't want to think about her at all. But the harder he fought against his urges, the stronger the craving became—until finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
Screw it.
Zeke threw back the covers with a groan. If he couldn't touch her, at least he could touch himself. It was either that or go mad.
He spit into his hand before wrapping it around his shaft. He tried thinking of one of Nicky's girls that he'd had a few times, a curvy blonde with tits until next week, but his mind kept zinging back to Darcy, to the sound of her quickening breath and the scent of her slick.
He gave up and let his rhythm match hers, squeezed his eyes shut and imagined that it was her pussy and not his hand, that he was inside her, on top of her, deeper, harder, faster.
His balls tightened, but he didn't come. Not yet, at least. His cock had grown attuned to her scent and wanted more than his hand. It wanted the real thing. His nature knew the difference.
It wanted what it had once had before—but would never have again.
Twenty feet away in the darkness, separated from him by wood and insulation and the crisp night air, Darcy was beginning to breathe faster, to touch herself more urgently. The scent of her electric pleasure shimmered in the air as she approached orgasm.
So fucking close.
Zeke gritted his teeth and rubbed himself harder.
He sensed her throw her head back and arch her back, the fever rising in her, echoing his own.
"Yes," she gasped.
He was getting close himself, close enough, just maybe, that another word from her might take him over the edge.
"Oh God, yes," she moaned. "Zeke."
Fuck.
Chapter Seven
The door went flying off its hinges.
Darcy shot up from the cot, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream. She didn't scream—screaming never did as much good as fighting like hell, in her experience—but reached for the heavy wrench she'd left on the workbench instead.
Unfortunately, her foot caught in the tangle of blankets, and she went down hard on the cold floor.
The weapon wouldn't have done a damned bit of good anyway—not against a pissed-off alpha.
And Zeke looked seriously pissed off right now.
He filled the entire doorway, his broad shoulders almost touching the frame on either side. His face was in the shadow of the golden glow spilling from the cabin's back door, but Darcy didn't need to see his expression to read his mood.
Zeke's frustration and anger were evident in his rigid stance, his hands clenched into fists, and most of all, the faint rumbling coming from his chest—like a semi-truck in the distance that was barreling straight toward her. Darcy glanced up at the wrench on the workbench above her head and considered whether to try for it a
gain.
Her rational brain knew she'd never win in a fight against this hulking giant, but it was against her nature not to fight back. Starting in first grade, when two older girls tried to take her lunch money, Darcy had learned that in most conflicts there could only be one winner—and that if she wanted it to be her, she had to fight like hell and not look back.
But she was pretty damn sure there was no winning against an alpha like Zeke.
"Stop," he growled, the sound reverberating through the floor and up into her body. "Just…fucking…stop. You're driving me mad."
Darcy crab-walked backward, never taking her eyes off him, until her back was pressed against the wall. What the fuck was he even talking about? Stop what?
She hadn't been doing anything. She's just been lying there on the cot, basking in the warm glow that followed a supremely satisfying orgasm—and yeah, maybe she'd been remembering the way a certain alpha with a ridiculously perfect body had emerged from the water with his ripped muscles glistening in the sun…and maybe she'd been imagining wrapping her legs around him while he took her up against the smooth, sun-warmed granite—but that was none of his business.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted. "I wasn't doing anything."
"The hell you weren't. The air is fucking thick with the scent."
What?
Darcy knew that alphas' senses were superior to betas', but there was no way he could mean…that. Even if he somehow could smell the dampness in her panties, there was no way he could have known what she was doing from inside his own damned house. Unless…
She glanced up at the small window that faced out on the cabin. In an instant, her confusion turned to indignation.
"Were you spying on me?"
Zeke snorted. "I don't need to. I can hear and sense everything you do out here. Everything. I could keep time by your heartbeat. I know when a fly buzzes by your head. And what you were doing was a hell of a lot more distracting than that."
Oh God.
Apparently, alphas' senses were a hell of a lot better than she realized.
Darcy felt her face flame and wished she could crawl under the cot to hide.
She hated being embarrassed. Usually, it made her feel weak and vulnerable, but right now, Darcy was too damned exhausted for either one of those emotions.
For the last twenty-four hours straight, she'd been terrorized. First by Scott, then his brothers—and now Zeke.
Fuck the consequences—Darcy was done with this shit.
"What do you want me to say?" she shot back, scrambling to her feet so she could look him in the eye. "You want me to apologize for trying to feel good for a few goddamn seconds after what's been a supremely shitty day?"
Fighting back felt a lot better than cowering on the floor. It felt familiar. Maybe now that she was up, she could grab that wrench after all.
Immediately Darcy thought better of it. She didn't have a death wish. Still, she was determined to make her point.
"Screw you for standing there judging me. The only thing I'm sorry for is that you're such a fucking prude."
The low growl increased in volume, deep and menacing. Darcy was still breathing hard from her outburst, but the sight of Zeke gripping the doorframe accompanied by the sound of splintering wood made her go still.
Oh shit. He was actually crushing the solid wood trim with his fingers.
Darcy gulped, realizing she just might have gone too far this time.
"You don't know a goddamned thing about me," Zeke said.
That wasn't entirely true. Darcy knew three things about this alpha: he scared the shit out of her—he intrigued her—and he was one more disaster waiting to happen.
She couldn't stay here.
"And you don't know me," she said, grabbing her duffel bag from under the cot. She started pulling on her boots, glad she'd gone to bed fully dressed. "Thank you for the place to crash. I'm glad you're not dead. But this obviously isn't working. So get out of my way, and I'll get out of your hair."
"Don't be ridiculous." He bit off the words without budging from the door.
"You just lost your shit and ripped off a door because a woman had the nerve to get herself off in an entirely separate building—and I'm the one who's ridiculous?"
There was a brief silence, and Darcy wished she could see the alpha's expression. When he finally spoke, his tone had flattened slightly. "Even if I did let you leave, it's the middle of the night."
"Like that matters. You're obviously the most dangerous thing around here, and you'll …wait." She replayed his words, anger straightening her spine. "Did you just say, if you let me leave?"
"Trust me—I've got both our best interests in mind here."
Darcy laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the small space.
"Yeah, right. I'm sure you're really looking out for me, keeping me locked up like a prisoner. You're either a control freak or a sadist or—" Darcy yanked the duffle's straps over her shoulder, propelled by her all-too-familiar reckless determination. "You know what? Fuck it. Just get out of my way."
She kicked the cot over on its side for emphasis. Zeke didn't move.
"I'm not asking for permission, Zeke," she snapped. "The last guy who tried to make do something I didn't want to do ended up dead on the floor of my apartment."
Zeke's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow slightly. "I'm not him."
Darcy wasn't sure what he meant—that he wasn't going to attack her as Scott had, or that he wouldn't go down as easily.
Either way, he was right. He was nothing like Scott.
Scott had come at her unprovoked, but the alpha had done everything possible to stay away from her.
He'd never even touched her. Maybe he was a germaphobe. Maybe he just didn't like girls.
Or maybe he just can't stand you.
Darcy ignored the voice. Whatever the reason behind Zeke's bizarre behavior, it just might be her ticket out of here.
She pulled herself up straight, fueled by the adrenaline spike that always accompanied taking a gamble. "I'm walking through that door, Zeke, so unless you want to physically stop me, you'd better get out of my way."
More rumbling, escalating to the terrifying sound that had scared her so badly out on the road earlier. It still shook her now, truth be told.
But sticking around scared her more.
"This isn't a game, Darcy." Something about the way Zeke spoke her name sent a tingle up her spine that was both deeply uncomfortable and also exquisitely sensual—the same feeling she'd had upon seeing him half-naked in the lake earlier.
"You think I don't know that? I'm the one on the run here. I'm the one who had to wash a man's blood off me."
Zeke inclined his head, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Damn, what she'd give to see the look in his eyes right now, to know what he was truly feeling.
"That's right," he said, his tone cold. "I meant to ask you how your swim was. You didn't stay in the lake very long."
"How do you know about that?" Curiosity edged out her indignation. "Were you spying on me then, too?"
Zeke snorted. "That's quite an accusation from a woman who hid in the bushes so she could see me naked."
"I did not. It was a tree, not a bush, and I turned away before you got out." But that wasn't the point. "How did you know I was there?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Darcy," he said with exaggerated patience. "I'm not just this wild ogre you're making me out to be. I'm an alpha. I can hear you, see you, smell you wherever you are. All my brothers out there in the Boundarylands will be able to do the same. They'll know you're coming from a mile away, and they won't stop when they tear down the door to get to you."
The hard kernel of fear that had been like a pebble in Darcy's shoe for the last day grew into a boulder. If Zeke was telling the truth—and even if he wasn't—she was still in danger now…and that meant she had to leave.
"Get out of my way," she said one last time.
He
stayed right where he was.
Fuck.
She was going to have to call his bluff. Summoning all her courage, Darcy took a step forward.
That was all it took.
Zeke backed up like he'd stepped on a hot ember. "You really don't want to do this,” he said, disappearing into the darkness.
Yeah, she really did. She waited a moment until she was sure he was gone.
"Like I said, Ezekiel, you don't know me," she called out as she bolted for the tree line, praying she was headed in the right direction.
Then again, any direction away from him was the right one.
"Yeah, I do," he said, his voice coming from much too close. "You're not an idiot, Darcy. Haven't you figured out why I won't let you touch me? Why the scent of your arousal makes me tear shit up?"
Darcy ran harder, trying to block him out. But there was no outrunning an alpha.
It didn't matter. She'd run forever if she had to.
At least, she would have, if he hadn't played his ace.
"You're an omega, Darcy.”
Chapter Eight
That got her attention.
Zeke paused in the dry creek bed he'd been following, paralleling Darcy's mad scramble through his wooded land. He'd bet she had no idea she'd only gone a few hundred yards before losing her direction and starting to circle back the other way. It was for the best, anyway—there were so many emotions pouring out of her that she probably wouldn't sense a threat until it was right on top of her.
Then again, right now, her emotions—doubt, fear, anger, more doubt—were the threat. They clouded her thinking, made her act irrationally, recklessly.
That sort of thinking would get her killed if those dirty beta cops came back and found her alone on the road.
She turned around to face him with a scornful glare. Her gaze was hard, as if she could simply reject her omega nature by sheer will.
Underneath that brave face was another matter. Zeke had noticed the slight tremor in her hands and the sharp sting of worry that had crept into her scent.
It wasn't that she didn't believe him; it was that she didn't want to.
Zeke: The Boundarylands Page 5
