Chapter Fifteen
The woman wasn't used to losing. Especially not to a creature that, in Vonn's estimation, was twice as dumb as a housecat—though a lot tastier.
Never mind that, before today, she'd never picked up a bow. From Stacy's body language as she stalked through the woods back toward the cabin, it was obvious that she considered missing the buck by a matter of inches a profound failure.
"You know, if you hadn't tensed up at the last second, you would have made the shot," Vonn told her.
All that got him was a dirty look tossed over her shoulder. If anyone else had looked at him like that, they would have paid for it with a mouthful of knuckles.
But somehow, when Stacy shot him her fiercest glare, all Vonn wanted to do was chuckle. He didn't, though, remembering something his dad used to say about his mom—though only to his friends, and never when she was in earshot: "Happy wife, happy life."
And his parents had been very happy together, though from what Vonn could see, his mom did just as much overlooking of flaws as his dad.
But apparently, he wasn't quite as wise as his father because he couldn't resist one last jab.
"Don't feel bad," he tried again. "Rabbit stew is every bit as good as venison."
This time Stacy stopped in her tracks so she could give him the full effect of her scowl. "Don't patronize me."
"I'm just saying, I've got a nice one in the smokehouse. We can throw it in a pot with some parsnips and carrots and let it simmer all day."
"If I'd had a rifle, I would have hit the damn deer," Stacy insisted. "Who the hell hunts with a bow and arrow anyway? It's so…crude."
Vonn was more amused than put off by her defensiveness, but he wasn't about to let that show. "People who dislike guns, that's who."
Basically, the entire Boundarylands.
Stacy crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. Clearly, she wasn't about to let this drop. "Why don't you like guns? It's not like you've got anything against violence."
Vonn let that comment pass. He was all for indulging her taste in foreplay, but that was completely different from encouraging a petulant spat.
"No alpha likes guns. They're a beta thing, a crutch to make up for their lack of physical power." Before she could object, he added, "I mean, look at you. You fight with your body, with strategy. That gives you an advantage over every son of a bitch who thinks he can take you down."
"Which wouldn't be much good to me if one of them shot me."
Vonn stiffened at the thought. "No. I'd rip the head off any bastard that tried before he'd even managed to get you in his sights."
Stacy stared at him, her face unreadable but her scent clearly reacting to his protective instincts. After a long moment, she silently turned and started trudging through the woods again.
The truth was that Vonn didn't really have a problem with betas' love of firearms. After all, they had to hunt too, and those who lived on the edges of their society needed to protect themselves against the wilderness outside their doors—a wildness they were not equipped to face unarmed.
The problem was that most were too dumb to leave it at that. Put a gun in a beta's hand, and he fell into some John Wayne fantasy in which he wasn't content with his natural place in the world but believed himself superior to every other living creature.
The soldiers who'd come to the Boundarylands might have been pretending to serve their constitution, but every damn one of them saw their weapons as free passes to do whatever the hell they wanted, even if it meant breaking all manner of laws—beta law, their treaties with the alphas, even the laws of nature.
But that didn't describe Stacy. Vonn had no doubt she was more than competent with a gun, but he doubted she missed having one.
"So you don't like bow and arrows," he said lightly. "That's fine. Next time, I'll teach you how to hunt with your bare hands."
"You don't have to teach me what I already know," Stacy retorted without slowing her pace. "Or have you already forgotten where underestimating me got you?"
Was it Vonn's imagination, or was there a faint tinge of humor in her voice? It wouldn't surprise him if giving him shit served as an apology. Which was fine with him—alphas generally followed the same playbook.
"No, I remember," he said. "It landed me on my ass. Twice. But I doubt your technique would work on, say, a charging wild boar."
"You're probably right, but only because that feral pig has a higher IQ than you."
Vonn laughed as he watched some of the tension drain out of Stacy's shoulders. He was glad she was ready to stop beating herself up over the missed shot. Even more pleased that she'd found enough ease with him to relax.
He knew she'd come here pumped full of the government's lies, but calling him dumb pretty much proved she'd given that one up. A couple days ago, he would have torn the limbs off of anyone—especially a beta—who dared talk that kind of shit to him. Now it felt like…
Foreplay, if his cock stirring to life had anything to say about it. But it wasn't just that. Underneath her faint omega nature, her fierce pride and unstinting determination, there was a fresh, almost playful note in her scent.
She was warming to him, Vonn realized. And not just because she was hot for him. She might not even realize it, but she had come to view him as a fellow human, not the threatening, alien beast she'd come here expecting. One who deserved more than the cold silences and unapologetic insults she'd hurled earlier. Who deserved to be treated as an equal.
Vonn decided to press his luck and see if he could keep her talking.
"You might be right about the pigs," he
