Darcy didn't think about anything at all as Zeke carried her through the woods, letting herself bask in the novel sensation of safety, of being guarded and cherished by someone who had vowed to protect her. She had wasted so much of the last three weeks worrying about this change in her nature, living in self-imposed exile, fighting against…what?
This sense of contentment?
This overwhelming desire?
The fulfillment of who she was truly meant to be?
She'd been a fool.
Darcy turned her head at the sound of burbling water and saw that Zeke had brought her back to the spring. Without bothering to remove even his boots, he stepped directly into the pool and gently lowered her down into the water.
It was just as cold as before, the icy water stinging her skin and contracting her nipples, but Darcy didn't care. She was vaguely aware of the steady stream of water cascading down the smooth rock and washing away the blood and violence...but mostly, she was aware of him.
More aware than she had been of anything in her life.
Darcy didn't wait for permission, but circled her arms more tightly around Zeke's neck and kissed him hungrily. She trailed kisses down his jaw, his throat, the skin under his sodden collar. The rumble of his chest reverberated against her, causing another gush of hot slick to pour from her pussy.
Underwater, she wrapped her legs around his hips, opening them completely to accommodate him, and ground her cunt against the hard plane of his belly.
Fuck, it felt good—better than good. Darcy's swollen clit begged for the friction that would get her off, and she was dangerously close to the edge of orgasm merely from rubbing against his body.
But she wasn't about to settle for less than all of him. She needed Zeke inside her. Filling her—taking her—claiming her in a way that no one else ever would again.
And he wanted it too. She knew—her soul knew, with a certainty she'd never felt before.
Zeke set Darcy on the smooth ledge of the hollowed-out pool basin, the cold stone offering temporary relief to her inflamed body. She drank in the sight of him, naked as the day she'd seen him bathing in the lake. So big and finely sculpted…and fucking perfect.
Every new instinct urged her to set aside her fears and join him in the water again. Or she could spread her legs and touch herself in front of Zeke until he couldn't resist the urge to take her.
But if she had, he would have hated her—just as he hated the omega who'd come before her. If they were going to go past the point of no return, Zeke had to be the one who led.
Not even that came with a guarantee that he'd accept her. Once the haze of lust subsided, and they both came back to their senses, he might regret every decision that led to this moment.
But maybes and what-ifs would have to wait for another day.
The moment Zeke's clothes were off, he returned to Darcy and used his knee to push her legs apart. She bit into her lip as the massive swell of his cock pressed against her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, losing herself to the sensation.
Zeke's cock wasn't just bigger than those belonging to the beta men she'd been with—it was somehow more powerful, more alive. Every stroke of his hard shaft sliding up and down caused the ache of Darcy's need to grow until she was whimpering with it.
She grabbed his shoulders and tried to maneuver her body into the right angle to accept the head inside her opening.
"Please, Zeke," she begged in a ragged voice she barely recognized as her own. "Please."
But Zeke held her hips steadfastly away from him, depriving her of the satisfaction she was begging him for. As she squirmed and writhed, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him.
His gaze was brutally hard and utterly unforgiving. "Once I'm inside you, that's it. You're mine. Forever. Understand?"
Darcy bit her lip and nodded impatiently—but Zeke shook his head. His grip tightened, making it clear this wasn't some game.
"Don't just tell me what I want to hear. Understand my words. Once I fuck you, it’s over, Darcy. If I give you my knot, you're mine. Mine in this life, to the grave, and beyond." His eyes narrowed dangerously, and Darcy's eyes watered from her hair being pulled so hard. "Do. You. Understand?"
The primal fire his touch had ignited now exploded into a blaze. Not only did Darcy understand his every word…but her body did, too. Slick poured from her, washing over his cock, her heat dispelling the chill of the pool.
"I do," she whispered—though those two little words didn't capture just how much she understood, how deeply she felt his emotion, how her body craved his command.
Zeke shifted slightly, a small motion that brought his cock to the level of her pussy, its velvet head teasing her opening. "Good. Now take my cock."
And then he drove himself inside her.
Fuck, she was tight.
So wet and warm and deliciously tight.
Zeke threw his head back, praying for control as her body gave forth another rush of sweet slick to aid his way. He struggled for breath as her pussy walls gripped him.
Slowly—achingly slowly— her body adjusted to him, the muscles of her cunt easing and caressing his shaft until the entirety of his cock was buried inside her.
Darcy cried out above him, bucking and twisting as though she both wanted to consume and be consumed by him all at once.
It shouldn't have surprised Zeke, how quickly her heat had come on. Her body had spent the last three weeks silently priming for it, readying itself to become the omega it was always meant to be.
But he still watched in wonder as her eyes glazed over, and her face contorted in ecstasy, every cell in her body telegraphing more.
It was as if Darcy had been made only for Zeke by some benevolent god who saw every shitty thing that had ever happened in his life, who watched him rage and struggle and suffer, and decided to reward him with this moment…with this omega.
Zeke's cock swelled even more at the thought. He pulled back and sank in again. And again. And again, faster and harder. The icy water flowed around him in exquisite contrast with Darcy's ravenous heat.
Right before Zeke had entered her, he'd wondered if he ought to take her back to the home that was now theirs, and bed her properly.
But Darcy was the farthest thing from proper that Zeke had ever seen. As her first orgasm built, she made no effort to hold back, clawing at his shoulders, grinding with bruising force. Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth fell open…and she screamed his name.
Zeke had given up ever seeing the gorgeous sight of an omega coming. He thought he would never fill his lungs with the gorgeous scent of her release. As he watched her let go, however, the anguish he'd endured was forgotten.
She was so bright, so brilliant, so fucking alive as she erupted around in him in shattering waves of pleasure.
And then it happened again. And again. And again…until Zeke couldn't hold back anymore. Until the pressure at the base of his cock began to surge.
He gripped Darcy's hips and rammed one last time, her legs wrapped around him, her fists pounding his back, her voice in his ear crying out his name.
Deep inside her, Zeke finally let go too, his knot already beginning to swell with a ferocity that felt like it could kill him. But he didn't care as he drove himself to the absolute limit of what Darcy's body could handle—and then his knot locked.
He shot wave after wave of come inside her, filling his omega until he thought she might burst. Behind his closed eyes, the world disintegrated into nothing but shocks of black and silver.
Eventually, the moment passed—maybe seconds later, maybe an eternity. Either way, Zeke didn't care.
All that mattered was that his body was locked tightly with Darcy's. Her head rested on his chest, her ragged breaths slowly evening.
Zeke turned, so he was the one propped against the basin wall, gathering her in his arms on top of him. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as though she had fallen asleep.
Zeke smiled to himself: his little omega was going to have work up some stamina if she was ever going to keep up with him.
But maybe, for now, it was for the best. When, eventually, his knot subsided enough that Zeke could ease out of Darcy, he cradled her in his arms and climbed out of the pool. He left their clothes where they lay and headed for his cabin, knowing that unless he used this brief respite to bring her home, they would spend the next four days of her heat locked in a tiny shed.
Bring her home.
The words echoed in Zeke's mind.
He was bringing another omega home—something he thought would never happen—his greatest fear.
He could only pray this time wouldn't end like the last.
Stephanie had ripped his world apart when she rejected him, and somehow, by the skin of his teeth, Zeke had survived.
But he knew down to the marrow of his bones that if Darcy ever left, it would kill him.
Chapter Fifteen
Darcy slowly emerged from the haze, her senses returning as if layers of filmy lace were being removed one by one.
She knew where she was—in Zeke's bed, their bodies tangled together, as they had been for four days straight.
At first, she was aware of only a peaceful, floating warmth. Then she felt her heart beating in harmony with Zeke's, the steady, strong rhythm traveling between them as she lay curled up next to him, her right arm and leg draped loosely across his body.
Four days.
Darcy had experienced a great deal of pleasure in many men's beds. She had what she considered a healthy libido; others might call it voracious. But never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought she could spend four days straight doing nothing but fucking, with occasional rest breaks spent in dreamless sleep.
Her conscious mind had never really disappeared. She hadn't experienced anything like the horror stories she'd heard. She'd never lost control. She wasn't enslaved by her alpha master. She retained her free will.
It was just that her will wanted to screw day and night until she collapsed in exhaustion.
Okay—maybe she hadn't been fully aware during every moment of her heat. Though her senses had processed every thrust and grind and searing orgasm with an intensity she'd never experienced before, there had been an ebb and flow to her consciousness.
Some moments she felt fully present, but others were more like a fever dream. Her vision had faded in and out. The hard details were obscured by memories of sensation.
Darcy had paid little mind to what time it was. Her body abandoned its natural rhythm and attuned itself to a much more primal clock. When she was exhausted, she slept. When she was awake, she fucked.
For four long, blissful days, her life had been as simple as that.
But now Darcy felt her heat subsiding and her consciousness being fully restored. More complex emotions began to intrude. Real life was returning.
And with it came the realization that she was sore all over.
Really sore.
As it turned out, riding a seven-plus-foot-tall alpha for days on end came with some physical consequences. Muscles that Darcy never knew she had ached like hell, having been strained and tested in ways that no beta body was ever meant to endure.
But that was the thing: Darcy didn't have a beta body anymore. She was an omega now.
And the strange thing was that she didn't mind.
Until she'd come to the Boundarylands, Darcy's first thought when waking up in a man's bed was to figure out how to get out of it with the least possible drama. Some men didn't mind when she tiptoed out the door at daybreak, but an uncomfortable number of them wanted something more from her.
They'd ask for her number, or make a play for her to stay for one more round. Some seemed to think that a night of fucking made them her boyfriend. And a few were insulted, being used to girls who stroked their pride and begged for more.
Darcy always found a way to leave. She'd never been the girlfriend type. She liked to keep her options open.
But this time was different.
When her eyes finally fluttered open, her lashes brushing against Zeke's chest, she wasn't itching to get to the door. Even if she somehow found the strength to move, she didn't want to. She was perfectly comfortable where she was.
Which was another first—contentment wasn't a state that Darcy had much experience with. She was an engine that revved just a little too high, waking up in the morning itching for next new thing, falling asleep at night imagining what tomorrow might bring.
Some unquenchable kernel of optimism kept her hoping the next day would be better, even though experience taught her it probably wouldn't.
On rare occasions, Fate delivered a gift, like a tax refund or a compliment from her boss or a basket of muffins from the old lady who lived next door. But more Fate sent overdue bills, drivers who cut her off, and lewd comments from her coworkers.
And sometimes, the ol' bitch sent Darcy tearing into the heart of the Boundarylands and wrapping her car around a tree.
That was her life, and while it wasn't exactly thrilling, she'd learned to live with it.
But this—lolling in bed with a huge, slumbering alpha for days on end—was completely different.
Right now, Darcy felt calm, her urges sated. She felt…complete. Whole. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Her stomach grumbled.
Darcy smiled to her herself. Okay, maybe she wasn't completely whole. Maybe there was still a little empty space inside her that could be filled up with breakfast.
"I'll make us some eggs," Zeke said.
Darcy hadn't even realized he was awake, but with far more gentleness than she expected from his massive hands, he rolled her off his chest and onto a soft nest of pillows and blankets.
Darcy found herself licking her lips at the sight of Zeke's gloriously naked body as he got out of bed and stretched, his muscle rippling, his tendons standing out in stark relief.
Maybe breakfast wasn't the only thing she was hungry for.
"I'll come down and help you," Darcy murmured, trying to sit up in bed, but it was no use. Her limbs felt like rubber.
Zeke shot her a grin as he pulled on his pants. "You've just come through your first heat. Your body is beyond exhausted. It's going to take you some time to recover."
"How long?" Darcy asked, covering a yawn.
The change that came over Zeke was subtle. If Darcy hadn't been such an experienced student of trouble, she might have missed the twitch at the corner of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. With only two words, Darcy had accidentally just touched off a storm.
"Why do you want to know?" Zeke demanded. "You got someplace you'd rather be?"
"Maybe a bath later," Darcy said lightly, giving him a placating smile.
But her words didn't soothe him. Zeke was scowling as he left the room.
Well, so much for her little dose of contentment. Darcy should have known better than to expect it to last—that kind of luck was for other girls.
She wasn't Stephanie.
Darcy wasn't going to leave him.
There was a part of Zeke that believed this down to the marrow of his bones.
But another part—the part that had been burned before and carried the scars to prove it—called bullshit, screaming with rage to cover the fear.
As he went down the stairs to the kitchen, Zeke fought to silence his doubts. Darcy's need for him was the strongest note in her scent. Hell, he'd felt the strength of her emotions in every touch. Tasted their growing bond with every kiss.
But fear didn't give a shit about rational evidence.
It stood on the sidelines, shouting that he was going down. That he should have gotten out while he could. That he was doomed.
Fear didn't want to focus on the pleasure he'd felt in the last four days. It denied the deep connection and release. It only wanted him to remember the pain of the past, screaming a warning that, at any moment, it could happen again.
And this time, h
e wouldn't recover. No amount of grit or determination would save him. The pain would pull him under and hold him there until he drowned.
Zeke set the cast iron skillet down hard on the stove, the dull clang reverberating through the house. He lit the fire, breaking up kindling with his hands. He tossed a chunk of butter into the pan and watched it melt before cracking half a dozen eggs and throwing in a few strips of bacon for good measure.
Standing over the stove did nothing to cool his mood. His blood simmered right along with the blazing fire and sizzling food. By the time he reached for a couple of plates, he was so wrapped up in his dark thoughts that he dropped one, the plate shattering on the tile.
"So are you going to tell me what the hell is wrong, or just break everything in the house instead?"
Zeke turned to find Darcy coming down the stairs. He'd been so distracted that he hadn't heard her moving around.
And he hadn't been expecting her. He wasn't even sure how she'd pull herself out of bed. Heat wasn't something an omega just rebounded from. It took time, food, and rest to recover.
Even now, Darcy was clinging to the banister as she tried to navigate the last few stairs.
Zeke forgot all about the broken dish and rushed to help her, swooping her up and carrying her to the chair in front of the fireplace—the same one she'd first slept in all those weeks ago.
"What are you doing up?" he growled as he settled her gently into the chair. "I told you to stay in bed while I made breakfast."
Darcy shot him a disdainful look. She may have just submitted to his cock for four whole days, but that didn't mean she was putting up with his bullshit.
"From upstairs, it sounded like all you were doing was throwing pots and pans around. So why don't you cut the crap, and tell me what's got you so pissed off."
Zeke turned back to the kitchen. "That's not your concern."
"The hell it isn't," Darcy said, her voice rising. "Zeke, I'm not an idiot. This has to do with that other omega, doesn't it?"
Zeke: The Boundarylands Page 10