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“Why?” Wait,what?Why did I say that? What iswrongwith me?
His eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that’s not chill. “Didn’t get enough?” Not chill at all.
“No…I mean yes. Back up, Berserker. Please.” My voice cracks.
The humor in his gaze is gone. He hardens and I shiver a little, recognizing that I’ve made him angry…or something…and not liking it. My pussy lips clench open and closed, knowing how to make it right, but then I consider that he didn’t want me in the dark. Why would he want me in the daylight?
I close my eyes and look anywhere but at his naked body kneeling in front of me, the huge weight of his uh…junk just hanging out there, like it’s got nothing better to do in this shitty weather than get hard.
Don’t look don’t look don’t look.
The harder I think the words, the harder it becomes to obey them. Hard. Why do I keep thinking the damn word? I shiver and my gaze rakes down his blazing hot, naked form, skipping over a lifetime of scars and settling on short pubes the same color as his beard, maybe a little darker, that don’t do damn near enough to cover his package.That thing was inside me. I begged for it. I came. I came but he didn’t.
I swallow hard —there it is again, fuck! —my gaze moving over thighs the size of my waist, a waist the size of my torso, and a chest four times larger than mine. His neck is as thick as my thigh and his head is a big stump of a thing that makes me feel small. I’m not, but that’s how I feel as I sit on the cold, damp ground underneath him in nothing more than a blanket.
“Where…” I clear my throat, wishing that my voice didn’t come off so pathetic as I finally croak, “Where’s my stuff?”
“Wet. Found new stuff. Get up and you can help me scavenge some of it.”
He’s got scars on his chest, one big one in the shape of an X, just off-center from his heart.I touched it last night. Stroked it. Clawed at it.But in the cold light of day, I don’t see any claw marks. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t see any scars either. Berserkers don’t scar. Their venom heals them. Their venom should heal the Omegas that bond to them, too. But it didn’t heal me. It didn’t heal him, either. Maybe, there’s something wrong with him. Yeah. He must be defective.
No. This happened to him when he was a Beta, because he was a Beta too, once.
Somebody hurt him. Or took something from him. Isn’t that what he said? Did he come for me to replace someone he lost? The thought needles me in ways it shouldn’t and I panic when I look up and see him watching me with a steady expression that betrays concern and something ugly.
“Take off the blanket.”
I clutch it tighter to me and shake my head.
He grunts, “We been traveling since sunrise. Didn’t get a good look at you then. Wanna see what I’m workin’ with. You got bruises around your eyes and on your jaw.”
“I bruise easy. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“I hurt you last night?” His expression does something horrible then. It softens. He rakes a big stupid hand down his stupid dirt-smudged face. “Fuck, please tell me I didn’t hurt you. Tried hard not to, but it was dark. Couldn’t see how weak you looked. Could only feel how strong you felt in my arms.”
“Please, stop.” I can’t hear anymore. I don’t want to hear anything about last night. “Berserker…”
“Omega, pull the blanket back. Let me see. Not gonna fuck you…”
“Adam.” My voice is loud. It wobbles.
The Berserker stiffens and meets my gaze, his eyes betraying little.
I glance around, a rabbit caged. I hunt for explanations even though I shouldn’t — they don’t belong to him. Nothing about me does.Except for my pleasure. He had that last night.I latch onto the first thing I can think of and the words blast out of me in terror, “I’ve always got bruises. There’s nothing I can do about my bruises out here. I just need my…my shoes.” I sniffle. I hate that I do that.
“Why d’you bruise so easy?”
I scoff, all wet and ragged. “It’s Paradise Hole.”
He sits back on his heels and waits for more.
“Everybody’s sick in Paradise Hole. I’m not special.”
“Disagree.”
Frustrated, I comb my hand through my hair — it gets stuck in knots and tangles — then I pull it free and gesture wildly. “My shoes, Berserker…”
“Don’t need shoes. I got you.”
