Aric (The Boundarylands #7) - Callie Rhodes Page 0,28
what destiny felt like.
Unlike his omega, Aric had no problem at all ceding control to his nature. His instincts, and the body he inhabited, had never led him down the wrong road.
And this time they'd brought him to a perfect place, one he never wanted to leave. He'd happily stay forever between Jo's legs, where no living creature could interrupt them.
At least, that's what he believed…right up until the bullet smashed through the window.
Shattered glass rained down on the floor of his bedroom as the bullet lodged deep in the thick redwood wall, missing Aric's head by inches.
What the…
Aric struggled to switch his brain to threat mode, coming up fast from the hazy, lust-filled stupor like a diver surfacing from the deep. His perception lagged—infinitesimally, perhaps, but enough that it took his mind too long to fully comprehend what he was seeing, what he was hearing, and what it all meant.
Luckily, his instincts reacted to danger without thought.
Aric threw his arms around Jo and rolled off the bed and onto the floor, shielding her with his body. His omega didn't react, so deep was she in her heat, her mind in another place entirely, unable to sense anything that wasn't her alpha. Even as Aric covered her body with his own, she still writhed against him, riding his cock for everything she was worth.
This couldn't be happening—not now.
Aric knew he needed to be the one to pull away from her—from the intoxicating scent of her slick, from the heavenly warmth of her cunt, from the sweet welcoming tangle of her arms—but it was almost impossible. He too was at the mercy of his nature's focus on mating with her, rutting deep and hard so as to leave no doubt who she belonged to. Even the thought of separating from her sent searing shocks of pain through every nerve.
Aric gave a roar—half in rage against whoever had dared to come after him and his omega, and half in frustration at the interruption of this sacred act.
But it had to be now. Pulling out of Jo might be torturous, but the idea of the next bullet finding its target in her flesh hurt even more.
As if summoned by his thoughts, another bullet whizzed above them, embedding in the wall next to the first one.
The shock of it was exactly what Aric needed to force himself back to the present moment, to deal with whoever was trying to kill them. He pulled out of Jo with a grunt of frustration and rage that was eclipsed by her own howls of need. He had no choice but to hold her down by her wrists to keep her from clawing her way back on top of him. Even then, she twisted her body, her shoulders and hips coming off the hard wooden floor in her desperate efforts to reach him.
It took every ounce of restraint that Aric possessed to reject the call of her heat, his teeth clenched hard enough to split wood, the tendons in his neck standing out like steel bars. But that was nothing next to the pain in his cock, as though it was being stretched on a rack and set on fire all at once.
He knew he couldn't simply toss Jo on the bed and rush out the door—she was too wild with need, a danger to herself. Her heat blinded her to danger, to anything other than being filled with his cock. If he didn't secure her somehow, she'd get herself killed by following him.
With his free hand, he reached for the leather belt he'd discarded on the floor days ago and used it to bind her wrists, cinching them tightly together. Jo flung herself from side to side as he dragged her to the closet, making hungry mewling sounds even while he was securing the other end of the belt to the closet rod.
Aric froze briefly as he turned to go, gaping at the sight of her hands tied above her head, lifting her heavy breasts with their tight pink nipples aching for his mouth. Her feet scrabbled as she kept humping the air, searching for sensation as slick pooled beneath her on the floor.
Fuck, she looked hot like that.
As pain ripped through his cock, Aric slammed the closet door shut so he wouldn't be tempted. Behind the heavy wooden slab, Jo let out a cry of want and frustration that felt like a razor slicing through his heart.
"Sorry," he muttered, resting his forehead against the hard wood