Aric (The Boundarylands #7) - Callie Rhodes Page 0,30

When he finally gave up and followed the trail back to the shooter's hiding place, he found evidence of his presence: the fallen log where he'd sat, the three disturbances in the ground where he'd steadied the legs of his tripod, the faint boot tread in the flattened foliage.

Aric took a knee where the bastard had been scoping him out. Narrowing his eyes, he peered at his cabin in the distance, but even with his keen sight, he could only make out the slightest reflection of what glass remained in his bedroom window.

Even with the aid of scopes and sights, those had been incredible shots. That the beta had barely missed Aric's head was nothing short of amazing.

He let out a low groan. He had underestimated this beta, inviting death in the process. Jo had been right to fear him. Aric should have listened.

The reminder of the fear and pain this bastard had caused his omega set fire to Aric's blood.

This son of a bitch might be good, but he was still just a beta—a beta who'd fucked with the wrong alpha.

Chapter Twelve

Where was her alpha? Jocelyn cried out as she tried to right herself in the darkness—the total, terrifying darkness.

Her mind was too overwhelmed with sensation and need to process anything close to rational thought. She could only feel. And right now, everything she felt was horrible.

Her wrists hurt. Her spine was stiff against the hard wall behind her. But none of that compared to the suffocating sense of loneliness.

Aric wasn't nearby. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones, and with his absence came a brutal longing, as if her own soul that had taken leave and wandered away.

She struggled against the leather straps binding her wrists, but they refused to give. Desperately, she kicked out in every direction, in a frenzied bid for sensation.

Her heat didn't care about her solitude. It didn't care about her situation. All it wanted was stimulation, and if Jocelyn didn't find some way to touch herself, she would go mad.

Her heels met solid walls in every direction. The space she was in was small—a closet of some sort—but there was nothing on the hardwood floor as she rolled and twisted and writhed. Even though her body had been pounded into for days, the fire burning inside her still raged as hot as ever.

Ever since her heat began, she had been completely focused on the constant stream of pleasure that Aric had provided. He had been her only tether to the real world.

And now that he was gone, Jocelyn had no idea what she was going to do. She rubbed her legs together, trying to create enough friction between them to get off, but only succeeded in driving her frustration higher.

Only one thing could soothe her in this state, and he was gone.

He was gone.

Oh God, what had happened? The image of John—blurry and shifting in her present mental state—arced through her hazy thoughts for the first time in days, bringing with it a wave of pure, raw terror. But just as quickly it dissolved, leaving behind only an acute ache for her mate.

Aric wasn't hurt. Somehow, Jocelyn was certain that she would know if harm had come to him. Whoever had tied her up here, whatever else they had done, they had not got the best of Aric…not yet, at least.

But that didn't lessen the pain of his absence. It was like nothing she'd ever known, as if her heart had been cut out of her chest. She cried out, a high-pitched keening, and tugged at the bonds around her wrists with every ounce of strength and resolve in her body. But they refused to give even a fraction of an inch, and her efforts yielded nothing but fresh pain.

How long had she been trapped here in the dark? As the moments passed in an agony of sexual frustration and unresolved desire, Jocelyn had lost all sense of time. Eventually, she gave up fighting to free herself, but still her body twitched and tossed in its endless yearning, while her mind slipped back into its fog.

Then, starting as a mere pinpoint of brilliance in the gray haze, Aric's presence returned, a feeling that he was somewhere near. It grew steadily stronger, and by the time Jocelyn heard heavy footsteps outside the door, she was on her knees and straining in his direction.

The door opened, and he was there, backlit by bright sunlight that made her blink furiously until her eyes