Vonn: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance Read online

  Vonn

  The Boundarylands Omegaverse

  Callie Rhodes

  Contents

  Vonn

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About the Author

  Also by Callie Rhodes

  Vonn

  Stacy may be a loyal beta soldier, but she soon discovers that in the wilds of the Boundarylands the only real battle is between predator and prey.

  No woman willingly travels to the Boundarylands.

  It’s where they are—the Alphas.

  They keep to themselves in the wilderness, and beta civilization knows to keep its distance. Especially beta women…for fear they may not be a beta after all.

  In the beta army, female soldiers are few and far between, and ones as skilled and highly trained as Stacy Clarke are even rarer. She’s the best of the best. That’s why she’d been chosen for the most dangerous mission—to test a revolutionary omega suppressant in the field.

  If she’s successful, many in the beta world will be freed from their greatest fear…but if she fails, she’ll be plunged into a never-ending nightmare.

  Welcome to the Boundarylands. A place where the only way to know your true nature is to feel the touch of an Alpha. Omegas may be rare, but every woman knows their fates are hellish—held captive, broken, mated, knotted, and bred.

  Chapter One

  "You're going down, Sergeant."

  The private standing across the sparring mat from Stacy Clarke oozed the kind of bravado that came from intimidating size and strength and the willingness to use it to dominate others.

  Yeah, Stacy knew the type. Back in high school, this guy wouldn't have been the captain of the football team—more like the powerhouse tackle who gets kicked off the team for failing his classes and drinking. There seemed to be a few in every new class that came through the Fort Blanchard Maneuver Training Center.

  She glanced at the fifty or so enlisted men assembled before her. No women this time. She wasn't surprised. The last female recruit she'd trained had been eight months ago.

  Maybe there would be one in the next class. Unlikely...but maybe.

  But now wasn't the time to dwell on what might be. Stacy was too busy dealing with what was in front of her.

  The over-confidant private had been eager to volunteer for the exercise. At six-foot-one, he had a few inches on her and a lot more muscle—the kind that came from time spent at the gym, checking himself out in the mirrors every chance he got, taking supplements to build mass. And from the challenge in his sneering gaze, he probably didn't think much of women in positions of authority—especially those who were his superiors in the army.

  Stacy felt a familiar, bitter swell of resentment and forced it back down. There was no room for that kind of thinking while she was on duty.

  "This'll be quick," the private joked, earning a wave of laughter from his fellow recruits. They stood at ease in a semicircle around the padded mat in the center of the training facility's large gym, across from the row of folding chairs had been set up for today's visitors.

  Stacy didn't react to the taunt. She'd heard worse in the eighteen months since she began leading this particular training exercise, facing off with over a hundred newly-minted servicemen. Besides, she had more important things to focus on.

  She let her gaze roam over the recruit class, but in her peripheral vision, Stacy was tracking her opponent’s every breath, gesture, and motion. Words could be powerful—Stacy herself had been trained in using them to distract or deceive—but no matter what someone said, their body never lied.

  "You can begin at any time," she told him calmly. "No need to wait for me."

  "Seriously?" The private appeared incredulous…and pleased. "You just want me to come at you?"

  "If that's what you think will be most effective in hand-to-hand combat."

  A flicker of doubt crossed his face. "But if I hit you with my full force, I'll flatten you, Sergeant. I mean, I could kill you."

  Stacy knew the young man wasn't worried about her safety, but rather the consequences to him. He might think it good fun to pin a woman to the mat, but seriously injuring a superior in front of the visiting high-ranking officers was another matter, one that could result in unpleasant disciplinary measures.

  As for Stacy, she'd long ago overcome any intimidation she felt in front of the brass. Good thing, too, because there were more than usual in attendance today, including Captain Mortimer, the facility's commanding officer—along with four or five men dressed in suits. Not the expensive, well-fitting suits favored by civilian visitors to the facility, but the plain, ill-tailored variety that practically screamed "government agency."

  Stacy wasn't especially surprised to see them; lately, it seemed that every official who visited the base wanted to catch a glimpse of the army’s only female combat training sergeant in action.

  "That's all right, Private. I understand if you're scared. I'll call someone—"

  "I'm not scared."

  "—else to take your place."

  "I ain't scared!" the private roared, barreling toward her.

  Stacy easily discerned his plan of attack from the tension in his muscles, the way he gauged the distance between them, the lowering of his shoulder in preparation to plow into her. She was more than prepared, waiting until he was nearly upon her to pivot.

  Even with an opponent like this one, there were advantages to Stacy’s lean physique. It was precisely because she weighed forty percent less than him that she was able to move much more nimbly. Caught off balance by her sudden movement, he sailed past and stumbled when he attempted to recover, giving Stacy plenty of time to take a defensive posture.

  "Fuck going easy on you," the private snarled, his face red with anger. His meaty hands balled into fists, his eyes focusing on her jaw. He couldn't have telegraphed his next move any more clearly.

  Fueled with the kind of rage only humiliation could bring, the private drew back his fist and came at her head-on. All it took was a slight tilt of her head to evade the blow as Stacy tensed her calves, tucking down her shoulders and pulling in her belly in a compact crouch.

  The private was no student of physics, or he would have known that his momentum closed off all avenues of recovering from his failure to land the blow. He collided with her at full speed, striking her crouched form with his hips, just below his center of gravity. Stacy didn't have to do anything but hold her position as the soldier went flying, his backside landing against the mat with a spine-jarring thwap. His eyes bulged, and he made an unbecoming choking sound as he struggled to pull air into his lungs.

  "Well, you were right about one thing," she told him, offered her hand. "That was quick."

  Fury blazed in his eyes as the private reached for her wrist, signaling his intention to pull her down with him. Stacy let him, then clamped her hand on his own wrist at the last second. She tucked and dove for the floor, hitting the mat on the far side of him and rolling into a somersault, holding on tightly as she came out of it. From his high-pitched shriek, Stacy didn't have to look down to know that his wrist and arm were now bent in an unnatural position that subdued him comple
tely.

  The private slammed his free hand on the mat in surrender. Stacy immediately released him and stood to face the circle of onlookers, seeing a mix of expressions from dismay to wonder among the trainees.

  "The field of battle is not a barroom brawl," she told them. "Brute strength and bravado will not get you very far. As you've all just witnessed, misjudging your opponent can easily be used against you. Superior size and strength don't guarantee anything. The reason you are here today is to learn how to face off against a much larger opponent and win."

  "No offense, ma'am," one of the soldiers called, "but isn't that why we have guns?"

  Laughter moved among the ranks, but that wasn't why Stacy assumed her fiercest gaze as she stared down the soldier. She did so for his sake. Most of these young soldiers were barely out of high school, fresh-faced young men who were someone's son, brother, or friend. She owed it to their loved ones to knock some sense into their heads.

  "Over the last two years, we have lost more than three dozen soldiers in the Northwest and Southeast Boundarylands." Her tone made it clear she wasn't playing around. "Most of them were Special Forces. All of them deployed with the most advanced tactical equipment and weaponry available. And yet, none of that gear even slowed down their attackers. In fact, it seems to have only pissed them off."

  "Wait," came a hoarse voice from the floor. The private had managed to push himself up to a sitting position and was rubbing at his sore shoulder. "You can't be talking about facing off against alphas."

  "I pray that you never have to," Stacy told him, meaning it. She refused to hold his inexperience and swagger against him. "But there may come a time when you are called upon to pursue beta interests in alpha territory, and my job is to make sure that you have a fighting chance to make it out alive."

  "But…hand to hand combat with an alpha," a worried-looking private at the front of the ranks said. "That's like stepping into a boxing ring with a grizzly bear."

  "No, Private. It would be a hell of a lot worse. Grizzlies only attack for food or in self-defense. Alphas kill for fun."

  "A word, Sergeant Clarke."

  Stacy turned to find Captain Mortimer waiting to speak to her. She hadn't noticed his presence, having been focused on her task of overseeing the groups of soldiers working with her assistants.

  She saluted, giving no hint of surprise that the commanding officer was still in the facility. Though he frequently brought groups to watch her demonstrations, they rarely stayed past the tap-out.

  "Another impressive performance, Clarke."

  "Thank you, sir." Stacy thought she detected an edge to Mortimer's voice. Behind him stood the suits she'd noticed earlier, their flat expressions failing to disguise intense interest.

  Stacy was used to majors, colonels, even the occasional general coming to see her work. None of them made her half as nervous as these men.

  Politicians.

  Not Stacy's favorite. Whatever they were doing here, whatever their purpose in staying afterward…she doubted it was anything good. But Stacy hadn't become one of only a dozen women to rise to the rank of sergeant without learning to keep all evidence of her thoughts and emotions to herself, so she simply nodded in their direction.

  "I'd like you to accompany us to my office," the captain said, already turning toward the exit.

  "Yes, sir."

  Not another word was spoken as the whole group proceeded to the parking lot, where they climbed into identical unmarked black SUVs. The captain indicated she should follow him into the backseat of one of them, where she was sandwiched between him and a cold-eyed man with a beakish nose and gold-rimmed classes who appeared to have no qualms about openly studying her, frowning as if she was an alien specimen instead of a soldier.

  Thankfully it was a short trip to the building where the captain's large office was located. Between the fraught silence and the stranger's scrutiny, an uneasy feeling was taking hold in Stacy's stomach.

  The captain led the way to his office. “Clarke, come in, please,” he said, the first time Stacy had ever heard him make a polite request when an order would do. “If the rest of you will wait in the hall, we’ll join you soon.”

  The cold-eyed man had already taken one of the two chairs facing Mortimer’s desk. Whoever he was, he was important enough not to wait for an invitation.

  Once he closed the door firmly, Mortimer didn’t offer coffee or waste time with pleasantries. "Sergeant Clarke, meet Roger Fulmer. He's come all the way from Washington to speak with you today."

  Stacy nodded at Fulmer, noting that Mortimer hadn’t mentioned his rank or title. Whoever Fulmer was, whatever he wanted, it was obviously going to be strictly need-to-know.

  Fulmer stared unblinkingly at Stacy, as if she was a moth pinned to a board. She wondered if he was trying to intimidate her. If so, he was going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.

  "You're a very impressive woman, Sergeant Clarke," he finally said in a bland tone that was at odds with the obvious tension in the room.

  "I'm just a soldier doing my job, Mr. Fulmer."

  "Agent Fulmer." The man flashed a chilly smile that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "Now, that is the kind of answer I love. That whole there's-no-I-in-team mentality."

  The man's praise made Stacy even more uncomfortable, and she let the remark pass without comment.

  Fulmer seemed unbothered. "Tell me, do you consider yourself a true beta patriot?"

  What the hell did he think? Stacy was one of only a handful of women currently serving in the military, and she had struggled, fought, and bled to stay there. "Every soldier is a patriot," she settled on saying.

  "Maybe. But your attitude about alphas sets you apart. You're on record as saying they pose the greatest domestic threat to the country. Why is that?"

  Stacy shot a questioning glance at her captain, who nodded his permission. Still, she had to take a breath before telling Fulmer what he wanted to know.

  "Three soldiers in my unit went on to join Special Forces." She got that part out before her throat tightened and her voice went thick. "All three died on the mission to recover Senator Baird's daughter."

  "And now you train others to avoid their fate." Fulmer seemed unsurprised. He obviously already knew the story, begging the question of why he'd asked in the first place. A tendril of dread snaked through Stacy's at the knowledge that he was studying her reactions…and may have been sent precisely because he was good at it. "How touching."

  Stacy addressed Mortimer. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

  "Granted."

  "What is this about?"

  Fulmer regarded her with the faintest hint of a smirk on his thin, colorless lips. "My apologies. You're obviously a busy woman, and I don't wish to take up too much of your valuable time, so I'll cut straight to the heart of the matter. I head a small agency in Washington that has worked closely with the Pentagon for the last few years."

  "Which agency is that?"

  "The Alpha Control Division."

  Stacy frowned. "I've never heard of it."

  "For good reason." Agent Fulmer ignored the captain, who was nervously tapping his fingers on his desk. "But you do know our work—we're the ones who developed the scent blockers and the dormant omega tests."

  Stacy tried to hide her surprise. "I thought the military was heading that research."

  "God, no." Not bothering to conceal his scorn, Fulmer added, "But you have been an important partner in the work. And I'm hoping our relationship can continue. Just this month, our scientists finished testing something even more revolutionary—an injectable serum that blocks the hormone release that triggers a dormant omega's transformation."

  If true, that was revolutionary. Every woman Stacy knew was terrified of discovering their true nature at the hands of a brutal alpha, of becoming his slave, and being forced to live out their lives isolated in the Boundarylands.

  It also explained why not everyone had been invited to this meeting. Such a dis
covery would be handled with the utmost secrecy until the government decided to make it public.

  "What does this have to do with me?"

  Fulmer exchanged a glance with the captain before responding. "The results coming out of the lab are promising. Phenomenal, really. But laboratory testing can only take us so far. We've come to the point where we need to test the serum in the field."

  The captain cleared his throat. "I'm sure you understand, Sergeant Clarke, that this mission cannot be entrusted to a civilian."

  Stacy stared at him as it dawned on her what this meeting was really about. "But I'm not qualified, Sir. Surely you need someone who has tested positive for the dormant omega gene."

  "Yes," Fulmer said, impatience creeping into his voice. "You fulfill that requirement."

  Stacy shook her head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Agent Fulmer, but I was tested just a few months ago, and my results came back negative."

  "Those results were incorrect."

  Stacy looked from Fulmer to the captain, who gave an unhappy shrug. "I'm sorry, Sergeant, but it's true. At the time, the decision was made not to disclose your status in case the truth changed your, er, feelings about your position here at Fort Blanchard."

  Stacy's jaw twitched. The captain was a terrible liar. It was much more likely the higher-ups had wanted to keep her close at hand so she would be available the moment they were ready to conduct field testing. "What is the mission, sir?"

  Fulmer seemed to suffer none of the captain's compunctions. "You'll be injected with the serum before being embedded with a group of smugglers traveling to the Boundarylands.”