Aric: The Boundarylands

by Callie Rhodes

  Aric shrugged. "He had his shot, and he missed."

  "Did you find him?"

  A muscle ticked along Aric's jaw. "He must have seen me coming. He was gone before I could reach him."

  "Oh God," Jo mumbled, the color draining from her face. "Aric, you have to know he's going to come back."

  He nodded. "I know."

  "That means we have to go. Now."

  Jo struggled to free herself, but Aric didn't let her. It was still too soon after her heat. Her body and mind still needed time to recover. If he let go now, she was in danger of hurting herself in an effort to flee.

  "Calm down," he told her. "Panicking won't help."

  "What the hell do you mean, calm down? There is a mafia hitman out there trying to kill both of us. If anything, we should be panicking more."

  Aric regarded his omega, at a loss as to what to do next. She was so beautiful, so vibrant—but so damned afraid.

  "What do you want me to do? Leave my property? Leave the Boundarylands? Run and hide because some fucking beta has a rifle and a grudge?"

  "Yes. That's exactly what I want. It's what anyone with a working survival instinct would do."

  "Oh, my sweet little omega," Aric sighed, bemused. He might not have been able to tame the fear out of her yet, but there were still things he could teach her. "You're still thinking like a beta. I am an alpha—your alpha. We don't run or hide. We protect what's ours. And we sure as shit don't worry about surviving run-ins with shitbags like John. If he's got any brains at all, he'd better be worrying about surviving me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jocelyn tried over and over to warn him, but Aric refused to listen. And now he was going to get his stubborn ass killed.

  It wasn't her fault, she knew that…but it wouldn't matter whose fault it was when Aric was lying dead on the ground, and John was holding the gun that killed him. Then there would be nothing to stop him from finishing her off too.

  Damn her omega nature for cursing her like this, giving her everything she'd given up hoping for—a man who'd never leave, who'd never stop wanting her, not to mention the incredible sex—but then making him a stubborn ass who refused to listen to reason.

  No matter what she said, Aric kept repeating that John was the one who was in danger, not them. It was as if he saw something completely different in the two bullet holes above the bed in this room where they'd spent the last four days.

  Or at least where she'd spent the last four days. According to Aric, he'd been present only for two of them.

  Jocelyn's own memories were fuzzy. She could recall certain moments and sensations—breathtaking, magical sensations etched forever in her memories—but they were all…fractured, like the beautiful colors and patterns in a kaleidoscope, shifting in her mind.

  Even now, thinking about those sensations stirred the longing that had become a permanent part of her. Not like during her heat, when it raged so intensely and obliterated rational thought. Now it was more like a constant low flame that could kindle a fire with the slightest change in the wind.

  For a woman who'd never thought of herself as particularly sensual, who'd never achieved orgasm with a man, Jocelyn wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that she could match her alpha's sexual hunger.

  Before, during the long hours when she'd waited alone in the dark closet, Jocelyn had burned with the painful shame that she hadn't been enough for Aric. That despite hitting one sexual peak after another, the experience hadn't been enough even to keep him close.

  Then he had returned and erased her doubts and convinced her she was enough for him. The relief she'd felt was overwhelming, briefly overshadowing even her terror of John.

  But Jocelyn still didn't fully recognize that part of herself. Every cry, every moan, every wild ride she'd taken on Aric's cock seemed like it had been some other woman.

  Except for the splintering, explosive pleasure...that had definitely been all her. She'd hungered for it, fought for it, begged for it, until she'd turned into someone she didn't know.

  And what was worse, Jocelyn was realizing she'd become a stranger to herself even before she set foot in the Boundarylands.

  If anyone had asked her a month ago—even two days ago—if there was anything that could make her give up her old life, her home, her family, she'd have thought the question ridiculous. But Jocelyn kissed all of that goodbye the moment she made the decision to turn John over the feds. As naïve as she'd been, even she knew that a person couldn't do such a thing and then expect to show up at Uncle Peter's for the holidays.

  It would be so much easier to lay the blame for all her burnt bridges at Aric's feet. But the truth was that she'd burned them all down on her own.

  As Jocelyn admitted the truth to herself, she realized she couldn't even hate Aric for tying her up. He'd only done it to save her life, even at the cost of staying away from her for two whole days just to make sure he'd be ready to protect her if John decided to come back and try again.

  And now that Jocelyn fully understood the power of her instinctive need, she knew it couldn't have been easy for Aric. If he felt even a fraction of the mind-altering desire that she had, those two days must have been pure hell.

  But he'd done it without complaint.

  And so Jocelyn found herself without much to despise him for. She still felt light-headed from the days of pleasure, bone-tired from the physical demands of it. Their sexual connection didn't seem to be something either could control. It was a natural force as undeniable as gravity, and she was just grateful that he'd been strong enough to resist it long enough to protect her.

  But none of that meant that she actually liked Aric. Or that he liked her in return.

  Despite their bond, they were very different people. Aric was bold; she was timid. He pushed forward; she pulled back. Her impulse was to run, and his was to fight like hell—even when it meant he was sure to get himself killed.

  So there was no reason for Jocelyn to keep trying so hard. Aric was a grown man—over seven feet tall and made of muscle, for God's sake—and he could do whatever he wanted. She couldn't be held responsible for his bad decisions.

  In a way, it would solve some of Jocelyn's problems if John did shoot Aric—maybe then she could go back to being her boring old self again.

  Instantly, her stomach twisted, and acidic bile rose up in her throat, and Jocelyn pushed the idea out of her mind as fast as she could.

  Aric turned and looked at her sharply from his post near the window. "You all right?"

  How had he known?

  "I'm fine, just…" She searched for the right word. Terrified? Overwhelmed? Suffering from the most profound existential crisis of her life? "…nervous."

  He gave a low grumble before turning his attention back to the approach to the house. "Have you always been this afraid?"

  "No," she answered honestly. "Then again, I never did anything I needed to be nervous about."

  "Except go after a mafia hitman all on your own," he said matter-of-factly.

  Jocelyn shifted uncomfortably in the huge chair in front of the cold fireplace. "I didn't really have a choice about that. I would never have been able to live with myself if I didn't try to stop him. Anyone would have done the same thing."

  The alpha gave a low laugh. "No, sweetheart, they wouldn't have."

  Something like annoyance crept into Jocelyn's thoughts. "You don't know that."

  "Sure I do. This boss of yours has been assassinating people for how long?"

  "Five years at least."

  "Five years." Aric almost sounded impressed. "And in all that time, no one else had the guts to turn him in. And I can fucking guarantee you, no one else thought about stealing two million dollars from the bastard."

  He made it sound like Jocelyn was some sort of criminal mastermind. "I only took that money to start a new life in some remote backwater where no one would find me."

  "The Boundarylands are damn remote, I'll give you that."

  "I did
n't mean to end up here," Jocelyn protested.

  "Yeah," he said, casting her a dark glance. "You made that pretty fucking clear."

  If she didn't know better, Jocelyn would have thought she detected a melancholy note in his voice. But that was impossible. Alphas didn't do sad.

  And this wasn't the time for psychological ruminating, not when any second could bring a red laser dot on her chest, the boom of a gunshot, and bye-bye Jocelyn.

  "I'm just saying that the last few days haven't been the best representation of my true personality," she said.

  "I don't know, sweetheart," Aric said with a shrug. "Maybe they actually were. Maybe it was all the boring years that came before that weren't really you."

  "I'm afraid there's no chance of that," Jocelyn replied. This only underlined how little they knew each other. Only someone who'd just met her could entertain such an outrageous notion.

  "When push came to shove, you listened to your heart, not your fear," Aric insisted stubbornly.

  Jocelyn wished he'd stop. It only made her feel more inadequate. She wasn't courageous—she didn't even like scary movies. "That was an extreme circumstance."

  Aric risked another glance, though his muscles remained tense and on guard. "You're just proving my point. When do you think this shit matters? Only when the danger is real. When you lived an ordinary beta life, you could get away with telling yourself you were nothing special. But trust me, the truth always finds a way out."

  Jocelyn opened her mouth to object, but no words came to mind. She couldn't argue with his logic—and she had stepped up when forced to make a moral choice, even though she knew the risks she was taking.

  Deciding to turn John in to the authorities, raiding his office safe, running to the Boundarylands, hiding with a group of prostitutes, shacking up with an alpha—an ordinary person wouldn't do any of that.

  Was it possible that Aric might be even a little bit right about her? But there was no way he could know her better than she knew herself…was there?

  Her actions over the last week were not those of a quiet, timid, and profoundly boring bookkeeper.

  They were… Jocelyn couldn't come up with a word that fit. And she couldn't spare any more time to figure it out now—because something had caused Aric to snap his head back around, his stance signaling high alert.

  Tilting his head back and raising his chin, he drew in a long deep breath.

  "Get down," he growled so low Jocelyn thought she might have misheard him.

  "What?"

  "Get down!" He moved so fast that all Jocelyn saw was him flying through the air toward her, grabbing her out of the chair and shielding her fall with his body before rolling on top of her.

  He was just in time.

  A hailstorm of bullets sprayed the house, deafening her with the sound of shattering glass and bullets tearing through furniture and walls. These weren't the precise shots of a sniper with a target in his sights, but a scattershot barrage that destroyed everything it came in contact with.

  Jocelyn's instincts urged her to curl up and cover her head, but it was nearly impossible with Aric's weight draped over her.

  Even now—when she was out of her heat and back to her old vanilla self—he was still protecting her.

  Her alpha was still willing to risk his life for hers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The bullets kept coming.

  For nearly a full minute, gunfire ripped through Aric's house, shredding everything in sight. Wood splintered. Dishes in the cupboards shattered. The walls were pumped full of jagged holes.

  None of that mattered—possessions could be replaced, walls could be rebuilt. Through it all, Aric had one thought on an endless loop in his head:

  Keep her safe.

  He was dimly aware of her trembling beneath him, her body tucked into the curve of his. She didn't say a word. She barely moved at all, her breathing shallow, her eyes squeezed shut. That was fine. Staying put—staying unhurt—was her only job. Everything else was up to him.

  When the shooting slowed, Aric lifted his gaze just high enough to see that the bullets came from two distinct vantage points, one on either side of the cabin—confirming what he'd been afraid of since the shooting had begun: Jo's old boss had brought reinforcements this time.

  Rage surged in Aric at the thought. Almost every primal instinct in his body demanded that he tear out the front door and rip all of those bastards to shreds with his bare hands.

  But there was one stronger force inside him that overrode every other instinct: to protect Jo.

  And because of that, Aric controlled his urge for immediate action with a mighty effort and focused, instead, on strategy.

  There were at least two gunmen out there, on different sides of the house. That meant no matter which one he went after first, he'd still be leaving an opening for the second gunman to burst into his home and finish the job. Jo would be torn to shreds.

  Fuck. There was nothing he could do, no way to win this.

  His only option was to stay with her until his last breath. Her life was the only victory that mattered. She was precious—and their bond was sacred. Aric would give everything, including his own life, to ensure her survival.

  So he did something next to impossible for an alpha: he resisted the urge to fight. Intruders had come onto his land, destroyed his property, and threatened his omega, and Aric hadn't lifted one finger in retribution.

  Not yet, at least.

  At the next pause in the shooting, Aric rolled off Jo, ready to wreak havoc. He was about to rise up to his feet when Jo stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  "No," she hissed. "They're not done. This won't be over until John is certain we're dead."

  A growl rose up in Aric's throat. When those bastards came for him, he would damn sure be ready to tear them in half. He had no illusions of winning a fight against that kind of firepower, but he'd die fighting—after he made sure that Jo escaped. With any luck, he'd give them something to remember him by.

  Aric was about to shake off Jo's hand when he was stilled by the look in her eyes. He'd seen her terrified before. Had smelled her fear and sensed her anxiety's ebb and flow.

  But this time, all these emotions centered on him.

  The realization hit Aric hard enough to stop him in his tracks. Jo had forgotten her fears for her own life. In this moment, all she was thinking about was the threat of losing him.

  Which meant Jo…cared about him. It wasn't exactly a declaration of undying love, but it was a far cry from her screaming I hate you just days ago.

  "Please, Aric, trust me just this one time," she implored him.

  A deep grumble rattled in his throat, but Aric sank back down to the floor, unable to refuse her. He had only a moment to second-guess his decision when the shooting started again, more deafening than ever.

  Jo had been right. John was nowhere near done—he and his men had paused only long enough to reload. If his omega hadn't stopped him, Aric would have gotten them both killed.

  But before he could process that, he detected a new sound underneath the thundering storm of bullets. Racing up his dirt drive was the roar of truck engines. As loud as the old clunkers sounded, Aric knew they had to be owned by his alpha brothers.

  Thank God.

  They'd just been given their first advantage in this damn fight. The shooters outgunned and outnumbered him—but they were still betas. Without their weapons, they posed as much threat as a swarm of mosquitoes. And with their dull beta senses, there was no way in hell the bastards could hear the approaching trucks. They wouldn't know they had company until it was too late.

  A satisfied smile spread across Aric's face when that moment finally came. The gunfire paused just long enough for screams of alarm to echo through the trees. A short burst of bullets flew again—this time in the other direction. Then the shouts turned to wails.

  One was silenced with the sound of shattering bones and torn flesh. The other escalated into an otherworldly howl
before something slammed against the house with the force of a speeding bus, spraying jets of red onto the deck.

  Then it was silent.

  Underneath him, Aric could feel Jo holding her breath, her body tense.

  "It's all right," he told her, easing off her so he could take her in his arms.

  Jo's eyes were wide and uncomprehending. "What's happening?"

  "It's going to be all right," he repeated. "That's the sound of the cavalry. The good guys."

  He sat up and leaned his back against what was left of the wall, holding her close, fighting his own frustration that he hadn't been the one to take the bastards down.

  Seconds later, the splintered remains of his front door swung open, and two of Aric's alpha brothers stood silhouetted in the doorway.

  Samson spotted Aric first and whistled at the sight of him on the floor with an omega in his arms. "What the fuck kind of parties have you started throwing around here, brother?"

  At the sight of the two huge alphas at the door, Jocelyn twisted out of Aric's arms and crawled behind the kitchen island, peeking out around the corner. Despite Aric's repeated assurances that the alphas were friendly and she had nothing to fear, she told him she'd come out when she was ready. After what they'd just been through, she needed a few moments to collect herself.

  Aric, on the other hand, had no such reservations. After satisfying himself that she was unhurt, he went to greet the alphas, embracing them in turn.

  "Samson—Zeke—holy shit, am I glad to see you two."

  "I don't doubt it," the dark, brooding one named Zeke said. "What the hell is going on here? Who were those guys?"

  "Trouble," Aric muttered grimly.

  The first alpha, a giant with light coloring and an easy grin, shook his head. "No way. 'Trouble' is the little shit truck driver who thought he could skim off the supply shipments without Ty noticing. Those betas with fucking assault rifles whose skulls we just crushed?—those guys were something else."