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

The law was clear. The borders laid out in the Treaties specified that alphas' land started at the tree line. What happened on the beach or in the water didn't have a damn thing to do with him. As long as this woman stayed on her side of the trees and he stayed on his, they were in completely separate worlds.

  There wasn't an alpha in the Boundarylands who'd give her another thought. But Ryder wasn't some hardened, world-weary lone wolf like Gray—not yet, anyway. He'd only come into his alpha nature ten months ago, at the age of twenty, which made him both a late bloomer and greenhorn at the same time.

  Most alphas' true natures emerged when they were sixteen or seventeen, signaled by a huge growth spurt and the development of powerful muscles and senses and an even more powerful urge to strike out on their own. They left behind their families and high school friends to pursue a new life in the Boundarylands among others like them.

  But Ryder had been starting his third year of college when the change had hit. He'd joined a frat, had an internship, a car, and a reputation of being something of a heartbreaker. Even though he'd managed to make himself at home here in the uplands, his memories of the beta world were still fresh…maybe too fresh.

  Not only could he still remember the sound of a keg being tapped or the perfume cloud of girls arriving for a party or the smell of fresh-cut grass on the field where they tossed the football around…Ryder also remembered what beta emotions felt like, especially fear and helplessness. He hadn't forgotten how small you could feel in the face of the other team's offensive line or a bunch of drunk townies outside a bar or even nature's powerful whims.

  It was probably that vestigial empathy that kept him rooted to his spot in the trees, watching this pathetic drama playing out in front of him.

  And then there was the allure of a woman in need.

  The beta's scent was thick with bile and all the saltwater she'd swallowed, but underneath was the fresh, feminine scent that Ryder had gone without for so long now.

  Women in the Boundarylands were rare, limited almost exclusively to sex workers and the omegas of the few mated alphas. The unspoken laws of the Boundarylands required Ryder to keep his distance from the omegas, which left the prostitutes for female company, and they were…fine.

  From the way his alpha brothers strutted and bragged around the working girls, Ryder knew he was expected to be satisfied with their services. Unfortunately, he'd quickly come to the conclusion that a couple of hours in the bed of his truck with a woman who was being paid for her time would never scratch that itch deep inside him.

  Ryder held out hope that, like so many other things about his new nature, he would get used to the situation in time. Maybe in a few years, he, too, would be satisfied with a simple transactional fuck.

  For now, though, he was still too new to this life. His memories of dating and girlfriends and the fulfillment that came from falling asleep next to someone were still too fresh.

  That didn't mean that Ryder held any illusions that he'd be keeping this woman warm come nightfall. She was none of his business, a beta on beta land. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and leave her to figure out how to get out of the mess she'd gotten herself into.

  Ryder waited until she finally reached the log, using what appeared to be the last of her strength to crawl to the far side of it before collapsing in the shelter it offered from the wind coming off the water. Then he rose to his feet, ready to retrace his steps and set those last few traps before dark—but he stopped in his tracks when she peeled the hank of wet hair away from her face.

  He couldn't help it—he'd never seen a face like hers.

  She was gorgeous, younger than he'd realized, with large golden-brown eyes that matched the color of her hair. Her lips were chapped and pale, but there was still a rosy tint that hinted at their true hue.

  They were the kind of lips—full and lush—that Ryder dreamed of when he had to content himself with his right hand in his bed at night. Those lips would perfect for kissing, and whispering secrets against his ear, and encircling the head of his cock, and—

  Ryder suppressed a growl as his cock stirred. He really ought to look away.

  But he didn't. Instead, he kept his eyes on her, wondering what her smile would look like. Probably amazing—he'd bet there would be dimples, that it would light up those eyes like sunshine. She had a perfect nose and ears and high cheekbones as if they'd been carved by some fucking famous sculptor or something.

  But those weren't the features that had seized his attention.

  Instead, it was the massive scar that ran across the whole right side of her face, from the edge of her temple all the way down to her chin. Puckered and red, the groove of the old wound was deep and ragged...and deliberate.

  A surge of anger welled up in Ryder's gut at the knowledge that someone had done that to her. That they had taken a blade in hand and cut her cruelly, marring her smooth skin forever.

  His hand tightened on the bough his hand was resting on. The wood splintered in his grip. Ryder instantly stilled, but the woman didn't seem to notice the sound, intent on taking in her surroundings, scanning the beach from one end to the other.

  Who the hell would do something so violent to a face that beautiful?

  Plenty of people, that's who.

  Ryder might still bear traces of sentimental feelings toward the beta world, but he didn't allow them to cloud the truth. He remembered exactly how cruel and hard the culture he'd left behind could be…especially to women.

  He'd seen it when he was growing up, in the woman who lived up the street who was always coming back from the hospital with stitches or a cast from "falling down the stairs." He'd watched his boss at the accounting firm store chewing out his female assistant for screw-ups he'd made. Hell, he'd seen it at his own fraternity, where a couple bad apples had a reputation for taking advantage of girls too drunk to defend themselves.

  Ryder knew there were far too many beta men who'd look the other way when a woman was in trouble.

  Just as he'd been about to do.

  Shit. Ryder ground his teeth. He might not be this woman's keeper, but he wasn't a damned hypocrite either. He had no intention of stepping over the border and saving her, but it wouldn't cost him anything to hang out a little longer and make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

  It turned out to be a goddamn lucky thing he did.

  Ryder kept his mouth shut as he watched the woman make one rookie mistake after the other. She'd piled up debris in a way that ensured she wouldn't be seen by rescuers. She'd taken off her jacket to collect water instead of lining a hole with leaves and stones. She'd stayed sheltered out in the open by the log when it would make a lot more sense to move closer to the tree line where she could take advantage of the canopy of leaves without technically crossing the border.

  Hell, she didn't even attempt to start a fire.

  A single one of these mistakes on its own might not have been so bad, but put them all together, and Ryder knew the woman wouldn't make it through the night. Shit, she wouldn't last much past sunset—which would come in about fifteen minutes, judging from its position in the sky—and the temperatures plummeted.

  Even now, her lips were tinted blue, and her face was nearly white with cold, making that horrible scar stand out even more.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She might not be Ryder's problem in any official sense, but if she died just feet away from his land, the smell was going to be.

  Yeah, whatever you gotta tell yourself to rationalize talking to the first free woman you've seen in a year, buddy.

  "You'll be dead by morning if you stay like that."

  The woman started at the sound of his voice, lurching onto her knees and frantically looking for its source. When she focused on a spot a good ten feet to his left, Ryder knew she couldn't see him.

  For the first time, he caught the scent of fear rising up from her.

  Which was pretty damn strange, come to think of it. Why hadn't he detected it before now? A sh
ipwrecked beta stranded only a few feet from the Boundarylands border ought to reek of terror.

  But this one didn't, not until now.

  As the seconds ticked past, she mastered the better part of her fear, the shock on her face replaced by intense calculation. As Ryder watched, she slowly and deliberately slid her hand to her back, resting it on her waistband.

  "Stay back," she ordered, her voice hoarse with what he suspected was dehydration. "I have a gun."

  Knowing that she couldn't see him, Ryder didn't hold back his smile at her bluff. She was a good liar, one who'd obviously had a lot of practice. She'd probably have no trouble fooling another beta.

  But she didn't fool Ryder.

  "No, you don't. Not that it matters. It wouldn't do you any good."

  Her jaw tightened grimly. "You want to bet your life on that? Come any closer, and I'll prove you wrong."

  Ryder raised an eyebrow in surprise. She was a fighter—that much was obvious. But the fact that she'd gone straight to threats of violence suggested she was tougher than she was smart. He wondered if it was that kind of talk that had gotten her in the kind of trouble that led to a permanent scar.

  The smile faded from his face at the thought.

  "Okay, if you really want me to come closer," he said, taking a step forward, "then that's what I'll do."

  "No!" Her hand shot out from behind her back—empty, of course—and she ducked down low again. "Stay away."

  Ryder stopped just short of the tree line in a break between the huge evergreens. The woman's eyes widened as she took him in...but that was her only reaction to the sight of him. He had to give her credit for her poker face. His only disappointment was that he didn't sense reciprocated admiration mixed in with her rising scent of panic. Women had always told him how easy on the eyes he was—even before he became an alpha.

  "Calm down," he told her sternly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

  The woman's golden eyes swept him up and down, but her expression betrayed only relief offset by deep skepticism. "I don't need your help."

  Ryder chuckled. "Yeah…you do. In a few minutes, the sun is going to set, and the temperature is going to drop about twenty degrees. It'll keep going down from there. If you don't start a fire and put that jacket back on, you'll be frozen solid before dawn."

  The woman narrowed her eyes as she absorbed his words, considering them only briefly before shaking her head. "Thanks for your concern. You can go now. I'll be fine."

  "No," Ryder sighed. "You won't."

  He understood that the woman was scared. Any beta would be unless they were an idiot. He was an alpha who had a good two feet and nearly two hundred pounds of muscle on her. She'd probably grown up hearing the same bullshit he had, that betas were as stupid and unpredictable as they were violent.

  But he was also her only chance of survival.

  "I said, you don't need to worry about me," Her voice tightened with irritation. The sharp note of panic in her scent had receded, outweighed by fierce defensiveness and rapidly spinning calculation.

  Apparently, this woman's default setting was high alert. Trust no one—Ryder didn't have to hear her say the actual words. The motto was clearly woven through every fiber of her being.

  But that was her problem, not his. Ryder crossed his arms and glared at her. "You want me to go? Fine. Put on that jacket and start a fire, and I'll go."

  The corners of the girl's mouth lifted in an actual sneer. This chick was ballsy, he'd give her that.

  "I can't do that."

  "Sure you can. Here." Ryder reached into his back pocket and tossed her the essential supplies he always carried. "Take my flask and fill it with the water you've collected. Use the lighter to start a fire."

  The girl flinched when he tossed her the items, her hands flying up for cover as they landed on the sand in front of her. He shouldn't have been surprised, given that scar—this was a woman who was used to being struck.

  This time Ryder didn't bother to suppress his growl.

  The beta was young—only a year or two younger than him. In that brief unguarded moment, she reminded him of the girls at his old high school or the sorority girls who lived next door, innocent and inexperienced. She should be all mischief and giggling and gossip like them…not hardened and so distrustful that Ryder could actually taste it.

  "You don't get it," she told him. "It's not that I can't start a fire. It's that I won't."

  "Why?"

  "That's none of your business. Now leave me alone. Go back to your cave or hovel or wherever the hell you live and start your own fire. I'll be gone by morning."

  "You'll be dead."

  For the first time, she turned her gaze away. "You're not the first person to tell me that," she muttered. "So far, you've all been wrong."

  Ryder stared at the scar, still visible in profile. A powerful wave of fury surged through him. He had no trouble believing she'd heard that and worse.

  But he wasn't some beta standing here making threats. He didn't need to make her feel afraid so he could feel strong. And he sure as hell wasn't about to waste time standing around arguing with her. What she did on her side of the border what her business.

  Just as what Ryder did on his side was his.

  Chapter Three

  Mari waited until the alpha had disappeared into the cover of the dense forest before releasing the breath she was holding.

  Her relief didn't last long before it was tempered by the return of anxiety…and something else, some other emotion that was just out of reach.

  Pleasant emotions—especially ones like affection and hope and nostalgia—were harder for Mari than they were for most people. After all, she'd rarely experienced them in her childhood, and almost never now that she was grown.

  Focusing on survival, on the other hand, was as familiar as her own skin, something she could do in her sleep. Hell, she did do it in her sleep, as far back as she could remember.

  So why was she still wasting time thinking about the alpha, especially now that he was no longer a threat standing right in front of her?

  It had to be the novelty of the situation. Mari had never seen an alpha in the flesh before. The sight of him had been every bit as frightening as she'd imagined.

  Well...she assumed it was. Through the dense tree cover, she'd only been able to make out his shadow. But it was enough. The alpha's frame was every bit as colossal and powerful as she'd imagined. Every bit as terrifying.

  She knew that some women fantasized about men like him. They were turned on by all that muscle and might. Not her, though. Mari had learned early on to be wary of strength.

  With strength came power, and with power came corruption, greed, and the never-ending hunger for more. More wealth, more territory, more pussy, more of everything they could get their hands on.

  It was hard enough to deal with the betas who tried to threaten or intimidate or control her, and they only had a few inches and fifty or sixty pounds on her. But to go up against an alpha? Mari knew she didn't stand a chance. The creature who'd just been ordering her around could crush her with one hand if he wanted to.

  Lucky for her, he didn't want to.

  At least not for the moment.

  He clearly hadn't been happy to see her. Her presence obviously annoyed the hell out of him. Nonetheless, he'd been careful to stay on his side of the border—almost as careful as she'd been to stay on hers.

  And strangely, that made the alpha the least of her problems. Of course, that was a testament to how dire her situation really was. All of her current problems were life-threatening…but the fact that he'd respected the invisible border between them was the reason she was still hiding out here on the beach instead of taking her chances with the waves again.

  Mari turned her attention to the steel flask and refillable lighter lying on the ground. They looked serviceable, unadorned but sturdy, obviously chosen for function over form.

  She wasn't so st
ubborn that she couldn’t see that the alpha was right. She was already exhausted and shivering, losing sensation in her extremities. She could feel her mind slowing, her movements becoming clumsy—all signs of hypothermia. Things were only going to get worse once the sun went down. If she didn't change some aspect of her plan and figure out a way to warm up, she'd end up dead, no question.

  The only issue was that the flask and lighter came with a cost Mari wasn't willing to pay…even if it meant saving herself.

  If there was anything that she knew for certain, it was that absolutely nothing in life was free. Everything came with a price…especially "gifts" from powerful men.

  And the more you needed the gift, the steeper the price you'd end up paying.

  Damn it.

  But what if she didn't take both of them? After all, building a fire was out of the question…but the flask?

  Mari snuck one last look at the darkening woods where the alpha had vanished. There was no sign of him, no sound other than the mournful call of some hidden bird.

  She was alone.

  Before she could change her mind, she bent and picked up the flask. She unscrewed the cap and took a sniff before dumping out the contents—whiskey by the color of it, jet fuel by the smell. Then she filled it with the water that had collected in the jacket.

  She gulped down the water greedily, quickly emptied the flask, then repeated the process. After downing that, she was still thirsty but didn't dare drink more. The water sloshed in her empty stomach and if she drank any more right away, she'd only hurl it back up again.

  Instead, she filled the flask one more time, screwed on the cap, and slid it into her back pocket. Then she pulled the slicker back on and zipped it up, tightening the hood so that only part of her face was exposed. Within a few minutes, the worst of her shivering had stopped.

  But the sun hadn't completely set yet, and when it did, she would still be in real trouble. Having regained some of her strength now that she was hydrated again, Mari set to work building a shelter. She dragged over branches and rested them in a row against the highest part of the log, walling in a triangular space several feet tall. Then she scoured the beach for clumps of seaweed, which she wove into the branches to create a roof that she hoped would provide some insulation. The last step was to gather moss and pine cones, and whatever else she could scavenge on her side of the tree line, mounding it at one end to block out the wind.