Stacy tried to keep up her feigned indifference as he picked up each item and examining it with more interest than seemed warranted. Had he really never seen a tampon before? And was there something especially interesting about her Nalgene water bottle that she hadn't noticed?
Slowly, it dawned on Stacy that what Vonn was actually studying was her. Of course. For a primitive brute, he had managed to outwit her once again. He had known when she was lying. He could read her emotional state through her scent, and now he was reading her like an open book, cataloging her every reaction as he went through her things. In moments he'd reach the lip balm that served as camouflage for the cyanide tablet secreted inside, and then—
But no. Assuming that the geniuses at the Alpha Control Division were good enough at their jobs to fool an alpha with their little gizmos—the preloaded injections hidden inside pens, the radio transmitter screwed into the bottom of her metal water bottle—all she had to do was…not look.
Stacy let her eyes drift shut and focused on her breathing, doing her best to ignore the faint sounds of his exploration of her things. If he forced her to watch, it was all over. But he either didn't think of that, or chose not to push it for his own reasons, and in a few minutes, she heard him shoveling everything back inside the pack.
She opened her eyes in time to see Vonn slide the bag into the corner, even further out of reach. Then he stood and moved to the other side of the bed and began undressing as if she wasn't even there. She turned her head away just in time for his shirt and his jeans to go sailing through the air, landing in a pile just in front of her. Then he got into bed.
But he didn't reach for her.
Stacy let out the breath she'd been holding, her relief tempered by a strange sense of imbalance. Inside her, there was still a lingering sense of an unmet need that she couldn't put her finger on.
But for now, she was safe.
"If you're smart, you'll climb up here and get some sleep," Vonn said before extinguishing the lamp. Once again, the room was pitch dark.
He was right—the smart thing would be to get as much rest as possible before having to face whatever tomorrow would bring. But there was no way that Stacy was about to willingly crawl into bed next to an alpha.
So she stayed on the floor and, despite knowing there was absolutely no evidence for telekinesis, tried to will her pack closer with her mind.
Chapter Eight
As Vonn lay in the darkness listening to his captive sigh and shift, obviously finding it difficult to sleep with her arms bound above her head, he turned over her name in his mind.
Stacy.
Detached from the longer version, and free from the robotic monotone in which she kept repeating "Sergeant Stacy Clarke," Vonn decided that the name suited her. It wasn't frilly or flowery; a woman who could outmatch an alpha even for a few seconds could never be an Annabelle or a Clarissa.
It could even be a man's name, like Stacy Keach, the actor who'd played Mike Hammer in Vonn's favorite TV show when he was a kid, about a tough private eye who didn't think twice about taking out the worst criminals. Vonn had gotten a kick out that at the time, a guy with a girly name playing a badass like Hammer, and it was kind of the same thing in reverse with the Stacy wiggling around on his bedroom floor. She was a tough girl with a gender-neutral name, a no-nonsense style, a no-makeup jeans-and-T-shirt fighter who nonetheless was all omega underneath.
Yeah, he'd bet the house on it. Vonn's alpha brothers generally didn't pay much attention to the women smugglers who passed through. It took a formidable combination of guts and street smarts to do what they did, and that tended to harden them to the attention of men, at least while they were on the job. Besides, now that the prostitutes were back in business, there wasn't any reason to waste time on pointless pursuits like seducing a disinterested beta.
But his first look at the medical supplies dealer had stirred something in Vonn—okay, had stirred his cock to attention.
She might not realize it, but she was the kind of gorgeous that makeup would almost detract from, with her long, brown hair with glints of red, sculpted cheekbones and a strong jaw, full lips the color of fired clay, and eyes like pools of molten amber.
Where the fuck that poetic thought came from, Vonn had no idea.
There was something about her fierceness that he found sexy. Also, her nose had been broken, more than once from the look of it, and even that was hot.
Hell, her arms had to be aching, and all she had to do was get up on the edge of the mattress to get some relief—but she didn't. Which made him wonder if she secretly enjoyed the sensation. Not the pain, though Vonn didn't judge anyone for their kink, but the battle. Facing off against a worthy foe, the fight making it all the sweeter when…
Fuck, his cock was throbbing now, so hard he could probably use it to pound nails. He'd been with a few prostitutes who liked it rough, and he'd been all too happy to indulge them. Vonn knew his own strength, and despite his easy-going reputation, was always in control of it. He'd never actually harm Stacy, but the thought of winding her up into a savage little tornado had his blood simmering.
Now that he thought about it, her scent had deepened every time she'd challenged him. Almost as if a part
