Page 90 of Knot Their Soldier: Part One
Viper’s bag looked heavy for a reason. The Alpha brought a veritable arsenal with him for this training session. I’m not sure what he was expecting to teach a brand new beginner marksman, but I won’t question his teaching methods.
We spend some time playing around with the M4, with him observing my technique and occasionally making adjustments.
Gentle touches to my elbow, and caresses against my hands.
Apparently, I’ve taught myself some bad habits. Without a teacher, I did my best. I’m not upset that he’s pointing out my errors. In fact, I find myself repeating them so he’ll have to touch me to make adjustments.
The third time I shifted my finger to the trigger before I was ready to shoot, he huffed in amusement.
“Behave.” A deep, rumbling growl that had my panties dampening.
I shot him a cheeky, chastised grin and said in my huskiest voice, “Yes, Alpha.”
The amused look melts off his face, replaced with a burning intensity.
The undercurrent of attraction crackles between us.
Viper shakes his head, clears his throat, and jerks his chin back towards the target.
After working with the rifle, we moved on to a few different handguns. Viper even takes out the most badass handgun I’ve ever laid my hands on. It’s far too powerful for me, the kickback almost making me trip backwards if it weren’t for Viper’s steadying hand on the small of my back.
Finally, he pulls an enormous gun from the bag. It’s almost the length of my body.
I gape, impressed. I’ve never seen a sniper rifle up close.
He motions for me to follow him, and I scramble behind as he walks away from the target further down the ravine. When I think he should stop, he keeps going. When he eventually stops and sets up the rifle on the ground, I can barely see the target. It’s a tiny square in the distance.
He lays down behind the rifle and looks up at me, waiting.
Catching his drift, I lay down on my stomach beside him. I crawl up to the gun, propped on my elbows. The cold bite of the dirt seeps into my clothes and the smell of the soil rises around us.
Viper reaches over me to adjust the weapon until it’s nestled into my right shoulder. It’s heavy.
I squirm as he presses his palm to the small of my back. The weight is reassuring, but very distracting.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod, licking my dry lips.
I have to admit, the distance between the rifle and the target makes me a little nervous.
“You’ve never shot long distance?” he whispers, like he’s afraid to disturb the silence stretching around us.
“No.” I’ve never shot at anything more than 110 yards.
“It’s a different skill.”
I look down the scope, and am momentarily disoriented by the magnification. Carefully, I line up the target until it’s as if it’s right in front of me.
Viper’s body is a wall of warmth at my side, and I have to force myself not to get distracted.
“It’s not as satisfying.”
“How so?”
“I prefer to be with my team.”
“And being a sniper means you’re not in the fight with them?”
