Chapter 7

His voice echoes in my head. One word. My name.

The combination proves disastrous. I can't string two words together because of it.

Which makes my new endeavor baffling.

I rise onto unsteady legs and gnaw on my bottom lip. I should strike a pose or do something to make the moment more sensual, but I don't know what. The Sisters always said my scent alone would capture any alpha's attention, but this isn't just any alpha. This is The Submarine. My forever mate. My Port.

I need to make him want me so badly he'll do anything to protect my physical health and my mental wellbeing. If he breeds me, I need to nurture my babies myself, not pass them off to a wet nurse.

The soap squishes between my fingers as I stand like a dullard in the center of the shower.

Nothing comes to mind, so I touch my shoulder.

The slippery glide shocks me. I forget to think and explore my body as I've never wanted to before, running my hands down my arms, up my sides, along my ribs, and down my soft stomach to the curve of my hips. It's not enough. I skim my fingertips up my belly and cup my breasts. My entire world changes as I pinch my nipples and soft, sensual sensations roll through me.

All the while, lust-darkened amber eyes watch with burning intensity and a masculine rumble encourages me to continue my exploration.

I trail my hands down to the juncture of my thighs and gasp as electricity zaps through my clit. Too sensitive for more, I continue to sink lower and play in the slick gathered between my swollen folds.

The low vibration morphs. I move my hands away from my pussy and clean my legs instead, but even without direct stimulation, my sex pulses in need.

When soap covers every inch of me, I step under the nearest showerhead and let the downpour rinse it away.

I can't stop staring at my alpha's long, muscular arms stretched across the back of the bench. His presence alone dominates the space, and my heart simultaneously quails and celebrates. His broad chest tapers down to ridged abdominals and a slightly narrower waist, while his thick thighs and imposing cock perfect his alpha physique.

My mouth waters as my heart quivers.

"Good girl. Now wash me," he growls.

I hesitate. His knuckles turn white on the tiles. A wave of heat rolls up from my toes to my ears, clenching my womb along the way. The perfume of my slick overpowers the scent of soap.

I blink as tears fill my eyes. The shower is too big. Too exposed. Too cold. I need a nest.

Remembering the comfort of his arms cocooning me away from the world, I stumble toward him.

He catches me by the shoulders and prevents me from burrowing against his chest.

"Not yet, little angel. Wash me. Touch me. Worship me. I am your god down here," he growls.

A sob wrenches from my chest, but my hands itch to obey his command. I rub the soap in both hands before dropping it on the ledge behind his shoulder and splaying my fingers over his chest.

With my tears and slick almost as prevalent as the water raining down on us, I test the resilience of his flesh and marvel at the rock-hard muscles underneath. His scars hurt my heart, and without thinking, I lean down and press my lips against the one on his shoulder, needing to soothe the pain even though the wound healed long ago. The sting of soap on my lips only encourages me to find the next scar. And the next.

Down his arm. Over his wrist. Each knuckle. The inside of his forearm. His ribs.

He stops me from going lower. His chest expands and contracts with rapid breaths.

I kiss the round scar above his heart. Sadness squeezes my throat as I imagine this massive, powerful alpha as a younger version of himself with a raw, gaping wound after being stabbed with what must have been rebar.

Thin white scars cover so much of him. I continue upward, stopping where his shoulder meets his neck to enjoy the pheromones wafting from him, before leaving a trail of soft pecks up the side of his throat.

His purr deepens. My slick thickens and pain radiates from my womb, but I can't stop. I must kiss the pain away from the scar on his face.

The stubble on his chin scratches my lips. A shiver runs down my spine. My nipples brush against his chest.

I sweep my lips side to side over the lowest part of his scar. He stops moving. Stops breathing.

With pain and awe overflowing my heart, I kiss every millimeter of his once torn flesh until I reach the top of his scar.

Needing to rid myself of the taste of soap, I lick his cheek.

It isn't enough.

My body moves on instinct, climbing into his lap and clutching his shoulders as I sneak another lick. I lower my aim, enjoying the different textures of his face.

The silkiness of his lips intrigues me the most. I flick my tongue over the raised scar. Test his bottom lip. Trace the seam of his mouth.

His control breaks.

I gasp as he fists my hair and demands full use of my mouth. His tongue invades and retreats, urging mine to dance along. He grabs my ass and grinds the underside of his shaft through my folds. Water swirls and splashes around our hips.

He stands. I wrap my legs around his waist, trapping his cock between our bodies. My breasts flatten against his chest. Water sluices over us as he stalks through the downpour.

He releases my hair, turns off the shower, and goes right back to dominating my mouth with his.

Too caught up in the haze of lust to notice the world beyond my alpha, I ignore our surroundings and writhe against him, demanding more. More kisses. More friction. More pleasure. More pain.

He nips my bottom lip.

"Be still, little angel, or I'll knot you against the wall."

I whine. I want.

He hisses and pulls my hair, aiming my face up to the ceiling, exposing my neck, and forcing me to listen.

"I'm climbing down the ladder. Don't move," he snarls.

I writhe, needing his hard shaft inside me, not pressed against my stomach.

"Stop grinding that hot, wet pussy against me before I deny you my knot again. Is that what you want, baby? My seed spilling from your cunt instead of filling up your womb?"

A whine, impossibly more pathetic than before, fills the air. I shake my head and groan as the movement pulls the hair in his grasp.

"Then be still. Can you do that for me, Coral? Can you stop moving, just for a little while?"

I whimper, tuck my face where his throat meets his shoulder, grab my elbows behind his neck, and dig my heels into his sides, lifting myself higher on his chest so his cock springs free and bops against my ass instead of stimulating my clit.

"Good girl."

His praise clenches my core. Slick gushes down his front. He curses and descends the ladder with quick movements.

I dig my nails into my forearms as the friction between our bodies scrambles my mind. The hardness of his chest against my sensitive nipples sends fissures of electricity straight to my womb.

He stops moving. I press my nose against his jugular and breathe in his fiery pheromones. He reaches for his nape and peels my arms apart. I hiss as he wraps his fingers around my throat and forces me away from his delicious scent.

Another pathetic whimper leaves my chest as he kneels and pushes my legs to the ground.

"Nest, little angel," he snarls.

I stare at his massive shoulders and muscular arms, wanting only them, but he weaves his digits into my hair, pinches my chin, and guides my attention to the side.

Disbelief spears through me. There's no way this is real. I must be hallucinating.

The same footprint as the entire bath level—including the shower, sinks, and closet—this room has the most space I've seen since entering his ship, but stacks and stacks of nesting materials line the walls and crowd the square footage until only a path wide enough for my alpha to sidestep to the center remains.

My omega heart squeals in joy and sobs in wonder while my body merely stares in shock.

"Nest, Coral."

Animalistic fury sparks through me and I lash out, pushing his hands and stepping away before crowding him like a lunatic.

"That's the third time you've said my name. You're not allowed to say it anymore." I poke his chest and snarl. "I don't like it." I lie, but I poke his chest harder and continue. "I can't stand it." Another lie. Another poke. "It's not fair!"

Sudden sobs break from my chest. I fling my arms around his neck.

Still kneeling, he doesn't budge despite my insanity. He wraps his brawny arms around me and crushes me against him for a moment before peeling me off him and setting me at arm's length.

"Another first?" he asks.

I nod, but I'm not sure if he means my heat-induced insanity or if he can sense the real reason behind my turmoil. I've never made a proper nest. The most materials The Sisters allowed me were a pillow, sheet, and blanket. A flash of heat steals my breath.

Port rises to his feet, turns me by my shoulders, gathers my hair in his hand, and uses it as a leash to guide me to the center of the room.

A bare mattress sits all alone. One pillow and one sheet lie folded near the head. Loneliness wafts from the area.

I grunt in surprise when my alpha shoves me face first onto the bed. He wraps his forearm under my hips and lifts me to my knees while keeping the side of my face mashed against the mattress.

His knot bops my ass. He releases my hips and scratches his nails up the back of my thigh as he whispers in my ear.

"You've got so much further to fall, angel. Build a nest so you have somewhere soft to land after I fuck you senseless and fill you with my seed."

He disappears. The air is too cold.

Fabric plops onto my head.

While faint traces of my alpha's scent waft from the fabric, it isn't enough to satisfy my omega needs. I snarl, sit up, and toss the blanket at the idiot in question.

"More," I snarl.

He quirks a brow. I pull the used pillow and sheet into a hug, bury my face inside, and hum in delight.

"Ah. More. Ask nicely, little omega."

I don't want to.

I peek out of the bundle but keep my nose and mouth covered. My muffled growl holds so much feminine fury my hackles rise, triggering a deeper layer of instincts hidden within me.

With the promise of retaliation in every move, The Submarine rubs the blanket over his chest and shoulders, never taking his eyes from mine.

Chills and heat alternate down my spine. My abused insides throb in remembered pain, but I can't back down from the challenge. I need the tension between myself and this giant alpha.

Every moment he caters to my will is another moment I dig my claws deeper into his heart. Maybe, with enough intensity, I can break through his defenses and become indispensable, not only in body, but also in spirit.

He's already stolen my heart.

I need him. I want him.

He's mine.

My alpha. My Submarine. My Port.

Mine.

Forever.