Beg Me Like You Mean It, Captain

"You...You’re a bloody Omega," Reid snapped, and my body froze up right away.

No, no, it can’t be like this. He can’t find out. No one can.

To stay in the team, to stay the Captain, I have to be a Beta. I have to hide my identity. I was doing a great job at it, so then... just how did things come to this?

***

The flashing lights of the camera shuttling nonstop were an ache to my precious brown eyes.

A nuisance, if I might say. But I have to be exposed to this nuisance every now and then.

I sat at the center of the long table, my spine perfectly straight, the ’C’ on my jersey feeling like it was branded into the fabric.

I was the captain of the Seattle Serpents, an ice hockey team.

To the room, I was the picture of Beta stability, the easygoing leader who didn’t let pheromones or pride dictate the play.

And due to that, I always had my ’Captain’ face on: chin level, shoulders relaxed, a pleasant, neutral expression.

But while I was looking like the perfect captain to the press, inside, my brain was short-circuiting.

It was all thanks to the damn Pheromones, especially the one from the guy sitting to my left. The rookie.

Reid McCoy was leaning back beside me, his massive frame nearly overflowing the folding chair. He was 21, a ’flashing Alpha,’ and he smelled like a frozen pine forest, crisp, biting, and so thick it made the back of my throat itch.

Every time he shifted, a fresh wave of that scent hit me, and my internal Omega—the one I’d kept locked in a dark room for as long as possible—began to claw at the walls.

My thoughts were messy and conflicting. One second, I was planning our power-play rotation; the next, I was shamelessly cataloging the way his thigh muscles strained against his team’s joggers.

’Look at that jawline,’ the instinct whispered, a traitorous hum in the back of my skull. ’He looks so sturdy today, too. He looks like he could carry the whole team on his back and not even break a sweat.’

I squeezed my pen until my knuckles turned white. ’Focus, Kain. You’re a Beta. You don’t care about jawlines.’

That’s what I’d like to tell myself, but there was no stopping the perverted omega in me.

In this world, Alphas were like the forest, and Omegas were the flowers that bloom in them. That’s why the Pheromones both sides have are always connected to the scent of nature.

’That’s why Reid is such a sexy pine forest,’ my internal Omega licked its lips even as I kept a straight face to the press.

"Kain! Over here!" a reporter barked.

"How has training been for the team?" Another called.

"With the team leaving for the retreat tomorrow, how are you handling the tension?" There was just so much noise.

"There’s talk that the locker room is divided between your ’system’ and Reid’s... let’s call it ’individualism’. What can you say about that?"

Yeah, while this guy might be such a hot Alpha even at the age of 21, he is quite the menace in the team, always questioning my leadership, always looking for a ’fight’.

And if I don’t give him what he wants, he scoffs and calls me a wimp for a leader. It’s always like that. So immature.

I forced a smile. It was my best ’I’m not annoyed’ smile and finally answered in my usual professionalism, "We’re heading to the mountains to find our common ground. No cameras, no distractions. Just the team. We’ll come back as a pack."

But then Reid let out a loud, mocking scoff through his nose. He didn’t even look at the press as he said, "Systems are for people who can’t skate," his voice low, a vibration that I felt in my own marrow. "Just get me the puck and stay out of my way."

The arrogance should have made me angry. Instead, the vibration of his voice sent a shameful shiver down my spine. Yeah, that voice was a killer, along with his bright blond hair and grey eyes.

And he has the talent to back up that confidence, so I reached over and patted his shoulder, a standard ’Captain’ move to settle a teammate.

His arm felt like a tree trunk. It was solid, warm, and infuriatingly stable. My palm tingled as I brushed over the fabric of his jersey. ’So so sturdy,’ my instinct cheered. ’Very sturdy. I want to grab on for a moment longer.’

I pulled my hand back regardless, since my instincts were doing one and two that could get me in trouble. I smoothed my expression before anyone saw the crack in my mask.

"He’s just hungry for the season to start," I told the reporters, keeping my voice light. "We like that hunger. It keeps us sharp."

Reid finally looked at me. His grey eyes were like a winter storm, narrowed and searching. He looked down at my hand, then back at my face, his nostrils flaring.

To him, I was a Beta. Scentless. Neutral. Boring. And that’s what he concludes as ’unfit’ for being captain.

"This question is for Reid McCoy," a reporter called insistently. "Since you joined the Seattle Serpents, what do you have to say concerning the previous loss with Vietnam?"

He pulled away with a huff, his lip curling in that trademark sneer.

"Nada!" He began, looking as arrogant as ever. "This season, now that I’m here, we’ll definitely crush it," he added, his pride practically radiating off him. "Just you see."