Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Halley
My thighs protest with every heavy step as I trudge downhill, following Viper. The giant Alpha is the strong, silent type, but he’s taking the ‘silent’ part a little too seriously recently.
Knox ordered him to train me how to shoot a gun, and before I could tell the Prime Alpha I already knew how to shoot, he disappeared into a small tent that has become a sort of fortress of solitude for him. A supply tent with a small desk scattered with documents.
Despite his deep scowl, Viper didn’t waste time. He grunted, slung a heavy bag over his shoulder, and jerked his chin at me to follow.
I scurry behind him like a little mouse, his long legs eating up the ground.
I want to ask him to slow the hell down, but I won’t.
If I complain, it means I’ll be admitting weakness, and I’m not willing to do that just yet.
Besides, communication with me is at the bottom of Viper’s list of things he wants to do.
I can’t decipher what he wants to do with me.
Kiss me? Kill me? Mate me?
I can’t read the big guy and my nerves are fried from the tension.
I can’t forget how it felt when we touched in the hospital, and again on the forest floor. How can I? It’s burned in my memory like a brand. My whole life feels like it’s separated by pre-Viper and post-Viper. He crashed into my boring life and shook it like a snow globe in his meaty hands.
And then there’s the tender way he held me after the training session on day one. I don’t remember much after I passed out from exhaustion and drifted into O-space, but I know Viper cared for me.
As much as walking uphill is exhausting, walking downhill is yet another kind of fitness I don’t possess. The muscles in my butt are burning, begging for a break.
Finally, we reach the bottom of a ravine, a narrow rocky valley carved out of the mountain with steep walls of forest on either side.
I grunt in relief when Viper drops the bag on the ground next to a large boulder and crouches beside it.
I inhale deeply, sucking in a lungful of air before exhaling, slowing my thumping heart rate and satisfying the biting stitch in my side. He barely looks bothered by our hike and it irks me. I’m not sure if I’m annoyed or impressed he moves his giant body so effortlessly.
Viper assembles an assault rifle and sets it on the large boulder on its side with a magazine of bullets propped next to it.
He then trudges off towards the end of the ravine and places a cardboard target against the rock wall.
Black rings are arranged in progressively smaller circles with a red dot in the center.
He pulls out a big marker pen and scrawls a fat black arrow pointing to the center of the target. He writes in block letters: Hit me.
I smile and chuckle softly.
He hides his personality from me, but I live for the moments he lets me see his dry sense of humor.
The lieutenant doesn’t make eye contact as he comes back, staring resolutely at his boots like they’ve offended him. I don’t think he’s going to say anything until he grunts, “Omega Sparks, come.”
I start at the sound of his voice. I forgot how deep it is, resonating from his huge barrel chest.
The towering trees stand witness to the tension hanging between us as I cautiously approach the gun laying on the boulder. I look between him and the rifle, unsure how he wants to do this training session.
I know how to handle a gun. I’ve been doing it since I found my father’s old rifle in our supply shed.
Being a bored twelve-year-old with a never-ending list of chores, it provided me with something to do that was solely mine.
Every day, after my chores, I’d hike to a remote part of our land. My family assumed the daily gunfire was our neighbors or one of my cousins, and I didn’t dissuade them.
I liked keeping a secret from everyone else. Something that was mine alone to learn and master.
At first, it was frustrating. I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to handle a gun, and looking back, it was definitely dangerous.
It became a bit of an obsession. I’d set my target up, and take my time to learning how to hit my target dead on, beating my own record time and time again. Once I made the shot perfectly, I’d move the target further away for a new challenge.
By the time I was discovered, I’d already reached the limits of what the old rifle could do.
When I arrived at The Omega Division, I was granted permission to use the shooting range after hours under the watchful eyes of a Beta escort.
It kept me sane for the first few months before Dazz arrived to keep me company.
I got to play with bigger, more powerful guns.
I’d test out their range and finding new ways to challenge myself.
The longer the shot I made, the more satisfaction it gave me.
I look down at the rifle. The gun is a standard issue military rifle, and I’ve shot them plenty of times before. Yet, this one is obviously someone’s personal weapon, customized to suit a larger body than mine with a distinctive hand-wrapped pistol grip behind the trigger.
Viper takes my hesitation as nerves, and his neutral expression softens. He holds his palm out to me and waits.
I place my hand in his without reservation. His hand is so big that it almost completely covers mine, making me feel even smaller than usual.
I decide that if he wants to give me a lesson, I won’t stop him. I’ll take any attention the Alpha will give me.
Viper presses the weapon into my grip, covering my hands with his, and guides me into position. Leaning me over so I’m braced against the rock for stability.
His chest grazes my back, and his warmth radiates through my clothes. He presses the center of my shoulder blades until I get the hint and bend over to look down the rifle’s sights. Having his body so close makes it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.
An unhelpful thought springs forth. This is how an Alpha makes his Omega present before she takes his knot.
I bite my lower lip.
He smells so good. His familiar scent of gunpowder and roses is a heady combination. Even the slight sweat he worked up on our hike smells nice to me. Masculine and salty. I find myself breathing faster through my nose, chasing more of his scent.
Viper must think my rapid breathing is nerves because he doesn’t leave me to it.
He stays close for support. His strong, calloused hands guide mine, cradling the cold metal of the rifle.
The weight of the weapon is familiar, except this feels very different to the little games I played in the shooting range.
Shooting this gun has a purpose. It’s made to stop enemy forces in their tracks. Frack, this gun has probably taken countless lives.
Viper handles it with flawless expertise, confident and sure in a way he isn’t when he interacts with me. I don’t doubt Viper is capable of great and terrible things with a gun in his hands. It’s oddly flattering that someone so skilled is teaching someone he believes to be a complete beginner.
I want to learn from him.
“You have good instincts.”
His deep voice breaks the silence, a melody of rumbling reassurance as he explains the intricacies of aiming and firing.
He encourages me to look down the scope and hold the weight of the gun.
Always using the shortest amount of words possible.
It should be annoying and off-putting. Instead, I hang on his every word like they’re a gift.
I want nothing more than to please him. To show him what a good Omega I am.
The familiar shimmer of O-space hangs at the edge of my consciousness.
I’m beginning to understand that its presence doesn’t herald vulnerability, rather a way to protect me through either relaxation or unleashing my burgeoning new power.
As I focus on the target ahead, his hands guide mine into position, and he has me match his even breaths. Our chests rise and fall in tandem, and a subtle intimacy blossoms.
I sense his unease, a delicate undercurrent beneath his stoic exterior.
It’s as if we’re both navigating the fragile edges of this connection, afraid to shatter the spell between us.
The scent of the bark mingles with the damp of the forest floor, and I hope it masks my growing arousal.
Having the full attention of such a powerful, capable Alpha is heady.
“Now hold your breath,” he murmurs, his breath a warm whisper against my ear as he leans over me. “And squeeze.”
I squeeze the trigger under his watchful gaze, and the echo of the shot dissolves into the vast embrace of nature.
It’s a little off the red bullseye, but for a first shot with an unfamiliar gun, it’s impressive.
I turn my face to the side, locking eyes. With our faces so close together, it’s the first time I notice his dark green eyes are flecked with gold.
His hot breath fans over my face and I lick my lips, chasing the taste of him in the air. His eyelids drop as he follows the movement.
He blinks, and it breaks the spell. Viper straightens and takes two large retreating steps. He shakes his head, clears his throat and returns to his role as instructor.
“You’ve done this before,” he states. I straighten as well, handling the rifle with practiced ease. I’m worried I’ve offended him by not disclosing my skill level, but he quickly adds, “It’s a good shot.”
There is a warmth in his feedback, and I feel the tender connection deepen between us. It’s another thing that we have in common. A shared interest. Something that links us together more than the inexplicable and unexplainable connection that simmers behind my breastbone.
My cheeks tingle and I know they must be flushed pink from the compliment.
“Show me what you’ve got, pretty girl,” Viper says with a hint of amusement.
He’s laying down a challenge.
“Alright.” I nod, shifting my weight and propping my spare hand on my hip. “Let’s have some fun, big guy.”
His beaming smile makes me quiver.