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His chest is pressed right up against my chest, my small boobs mashed against his pecs. He’s looking down, but his eyelids are closed tight over his eyes as he fights so damn hard for control. His hand is on my button, pushing and prodding. My injured arm is cradled carefully between us, naked of the bindings that once covered it and frighteningly exposed. But it doesn’t feel that way against the cage of his body. It feels…okay here.
“Gonna have to help me, Echo. Don’t got a lotta time. Gonna have to protect us while I’m out. Can you do that, baby?”
I shiver at the contact of his fingers on my lower abdomen. He’s got the button free and his fingers are moving down, inside… I suck in a breath and nod real tight. I brace my good palm against his abdomen and manage to lift my hips and shuck off my boots, socks, pants and panties.
Just as naked as he is, I look up at his face to see him looking down at my body. He meets my gaze and his cheeks redden. Mine respond with an equal heat. I start to try to cover my boobs, but before I can so much as lift my arm, he revolves our bodies, rolling us over so that I’m trapped between him and the trunks of two large trees. Pines. Not mangroves.
I tip my forehead forward until it touches the center of his chest. He bends his arm and wedges his bicep underneath my head, and pillows his own head with his hand of the same arm. I don’t like it. I don’t like that it feelsthoughtful. But that doesn’t stop me from lining his meaty thighs with mine and curling my shaking hands into fists and coddling them desperately between us.
His other arm wraps around my back and pulls me against him, and as my consciousness flickers in and out for a few more moments, I register three final sensations:
The rumbling of his chest that flares before dying out to deeper, more peaceful inhalations…
His cock, for the love of all that’s wretched, somehow partly erect and flaming hot and pushing at my belly…
And moss-wrapped vines coiling around us, shifting our bodies subtly, so that we’re no longer touching the wet ground.
Before I can figure out what nefarious plan those vines are concocting, his rumbling chest rocks me to sleep and I’m lost to the sound.
8 | Echo
Paradise River
I blink and then shake my head and blink again, trying to make sense of this…this shaking.A dull quake, it follows a certain pattern. I inhale, try to focus my gaze, but it’s my ears that find understanding first. He’s rumbling. He’s rumbling forme.
I don’t know where the idea comes from, but now that it’s arrived, I can’t shake it.He’s rumbling for me. He’s a Berserker trying to soothe his Omega.
Alphas, like Berserkers, can purr for their mates — it’s one of the only remarkable differences between Alphas and Betas, other than their slightly larger sizes, and is often used as the marker to distinguish them when the gleam of their eyes cannot. But Berserkers? Berserkers don’t just purr, theyroar. The sound is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It makes me feel like I’m not lonely — like I’ve never been lonely. Like I’m worthy.
I tilt my face up like a flower reaching for sunlight, but there is no light. At least, not enough to make out any more than the fact that we’re trapped inside of something and it’s…porous somehow, while still being firm and soft around me.Vines.And moss, too. They’re layered on top of one another, creating a shelter for us that’s less tree house and more sarcophagus.
I expect a quiver at the thought — some sort of negative reaction — but I’ve never been claustrophobic, and I never want to leave this. It’s notdryin here, but it’s almost dry and, above all else, it’swarm,almost heavenly.
I try to move my right leg but there is nowhere to move it. The cocoon that surrounds us leaves no quarter. I grunt when my toe hits the shell around us and his hand darts out of nowhere, palming the side of my face. I gasp. He rumbles louder. His fingers dig into the back of my headhardand my good hand slaps down onto his chest. I rub my fingers across it, distracted by the feel of his scars.
There’s one over his heart that stands out the most. Raised from his skin, it feels like a giant X. I lean forward and he lets me go where I want until I breathe against it. He rubs his thumb beneath my eye and I stop moving, then lean further into his touch. He purrs even louder, roaring quietly for his Omega, drowning out my thoughts, erasing them. My breathing is a little panicked and rough and spots fill my vision, purple and yellow blooms exploding in time with my pulse.
I’m grateful for the hazy lens I’m seeing him through. Helps me keep my distance from the fact that he smells like snow and metal, like two Berserker warlords of old battling to the death in the dead calm of a winter’s night. He smells like war itself. And I like the scent. I inhale it deeply and know that I should have let him drown in the river. In saving him, I doomed myself.
I close my eyes when I feel the press of his hot mouth at the point where my hairline meets my forehead, just right of center. His kiss is wet and hungry and there’s a tingling in my nipples that I feel mirrored on the tops of my thighs. I don’t know what to do with either.
He presses his mouth more forcefully against me, bruisingly, and my thighs squeeze together — they try, but the left one is half-healed mess of scabs trying to scar. The pain intensifies when a cramp hits my lower abdomen that’s so out of place — I haven’t had a period since coming out into the woods. A little spotting, but I haven’t gone into heat yet. It can’t be happening now.Shouldn’tbe.
But the cramp twists harder and I moan. He freezes. The rumbling gets more intense, shaking my whole body. It…somehow releases the pain from the cramps without releasing me from them completely. No, the twisting has become a dull pressure and I stifle a whimper by biting my bottom lip.
He rumbles louder and I can’t take it. I gasp, “Present.” I say the word because that’s what I want to do. That’s all I can think about. “Present to my Berserker.” My fingers count his abs twice before my palm flattens and slides down.I want to feel it. I’m warm and dry. No. I can’t. I can’t possibly want… Maybe this is a dream.It has to be a dream. It has to. Anything can happen in a dream. There are no consequences here that will translate to real life. I whimper as my gut cramps harder.
His kiss turns hungry then, moving across my forehead like he’s trying to blanket my dirty skin in his scent, before moving down the bridge of my nose. He kisses the tip and he does it so tenderly, I wonder if this isn’t a different male than the Berserker I know, one I’ve never met before. And then he grabs my jaw so hard it hurts and it rips a smile out of me.It’s him, alright.
My fingers find his erection, that hot length of silk-wrapped steel. It’s dry and smooth and too huge to fit anywhere it’s supposed to and my cramping intensifies, wanting to try anyway — inallthe ways.I need him inside of me.The thought comes like a slap to the face — like a knife to the neck — and I gasp desperately, words mumbled and indistinct. My healing arm spasms. Desperation cuts me down. I mewl wildly and fist the head of his cock, and his reaction is pure violence.
His hips buck into my grip so hard my entire body slams against the mossy wall caging us. Pain splinters down my spine, erasing the pain in my gut. He doesn’t give a shit because the startledoophthatpunches out of me is captured immediately by his mouth.
He doesn’t just taste me, he fuckingimpalesme. He’s fangs and tongue, fire and brimstone, a demon trying to resurrect itself through my taste. I fight back, matching his violence with a violence of my own. I bite his upper lip and he hisses. His purr becomes a rumble again, more like the call he’d make before going into battle, full of rage and foreboding. It fills the air with an aggression I can taste and want to sing to.
My jaw clenches and I scratch my chipped nails across his chest and the rumbling turns wild. He jerks, like he’s gonna come back and kiss me, but he’s too late because I’m on the attack as I surge against his mouth, hurting my injured arm in the process. I cry out and my aim goes wild and I end up shoving my mouth against his jaw and getting a mouthful of beard. It’s rough and tastes feral but if he wanted me to, I’d suck it clean.I am his Omega. He is my Berserker. And I will present for him. I’ll do anything he wants. No. No…Yes.
Just this once.
