Gray (The Boundarylands #10) - Callie Rhodes Page 0,34

the thought of the beta bastard who'd dragged Olivia here. That piece of crap wasn't thinking about fairness when he set up an innocent woman to be a pawn in his scientific experiment.

Gray's hands tightened involuntarily into fists. Maybe there was a place in the world for fairness, after all. If he could switch places with Olivia right now, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He'd gladly endure all of her exhaustion, weakness, and pain if he could give her his strength.

But that wasn't possible. So in the service fairness, he would have to find some other way to restore the balance sheet, to deliver justice to those who'd harmed her. Because while Olivia had emerged from her heat with a few battle scars, she had asked—no, begged and screamed—for them.

She had never asked for the rest.

That brought up an entirely different emotion that Gray wasn't accustomed to—feeling powerless. He hadn't been able to stop the sons of bitches for dragging him into their twisted plans, hadn't even sensed their presence. He would take the blame for that—but not sitting down.

His blood starting to simmer with anger, Gray stepped away from the bed and went outside.

The crisp morning air stung his cheeks, and he rubbed his palms together as his breath formed clouds in front of him.

It seemed like forever since he'd been outside. Nature had been busy, turning the leaves on the trees surrounding the cabin to red and gold, covering the grassy meadow with frost that glinted in the sun as it melted.

Gray filled his lungs with fresh, clean air and listened to the sounds of birdsong and the waterfall cascading down the sheer rock face in the distance. He would have to get used to this, to being trapped inside for four days every month.

But Olivia's first heat had been a hell of a ride, more fulfilling than anything he'd ever experienced. Gray never dreamed he'd willingly give up an iota of his freedom—but hell, for another round of Olivia, he'd gladly chain himself to the bed.

Tilting his head back, Gray drank deeper of the scents of the forest around him—the moss and damp redwood bark, the fallen leaves turning to rich compost underfoot, the mineral-rich waters of the hot springs.

No sign of betas…not that that he could trust his nose anymore. For the next hour, as Gray caught up on chores around the cabin, he remained on high alert for anything out of place.

But by the time he'd mended a section of deer fencing that the rangy bastards had managed to trample, he let himself relax a little.

His ruse had been a good one, and there was no reason to think the betas weren't convinced that Olivia's body was lying in a shallow grave after he'd killed her in a fit of rage.

But that didn't mean they wouldn't come back. Maybe this failed mission would keep them away from his land—but there was nothing stopping them from trying again with one of his brothers.

There was no way they'd gone to the trouble and expense of creating those ridiculous scent-proof suits to only use them once.

Gray gave the reinforced fence a hard shove in frustration, but it held. Of course it did—he'd buried the post almost five feet deep.

He'd sure love to know what the beta authorities were up to. First, they'd cut off the Boundaryland gas shipments right before the cold season started. Now they were dropping in unawakened omegas with secret chips embedded in their skin.

What the hell were they planning?

And more importantly, what would they try next?

By the time Gray decided to break for lunch, he was no closer to an answer. The only conclusion he'd reached was that he couldn't keep this information to himself.

If there was even the smallest chance of further beta incursions into the Boundarylands, then he needed to warn his brothers. Because whatever the betas were planning, it was for damn sure nothing good.

"Wake up, little hellcat."

Olivia's eyelashes fluttered at the sound of Gray's deep growl, which had come to sound to her more like purring. But when her eyes were assaulted by the bright spill of light from the oil lamp, she quickly shut them again and rolled face down on the bed.

"I know you're tired, but you've gotta wake up."

Oh, no, she didn't.

"Go away," she croaked, her throat parched. She tried to grab the sheet tangled around her body and pull it up over her head, but the muscles in her arms were too sore and weak.

Damn—Olivia