Beg Me Like You Mean It, Captain

​I sat back down on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. The heat was licking at my senses again, and it was making the air in the cabin feel too thick to breathe.

I knew what was coming. In an hour, maybe less, I wouldn’t be able to stand. I’d be a mess of orchids and desperation, and Reid would walk through that door with a bag of snacks and a look of pure, snobbish victory.

​He was right. I was going to beg.

​I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, a flare of genuine hatred for Reid McCoy sparking in my chest.

He wasn’t just a rookie or teammate to me anymore; he was a parasite. He had found the one crack in my armor, and he was prying it open with both hands.

Demon.

The random thought surfaced in my head, but before I could even grasp it, I heard the crunch of boots on the frozen porch boards.

​My heart jumped into my throat. My body—that traitorous, needy part of me—instinctively straightened up, my nostrils flaring in anticipation of the pine scent.

I hated myself for it. I wanted to bolt the door, to hide under the bed, to do anything but look him in the eye, but my entire senses were paralyzed.

​The doorknob turned, and ​Reid walked in, a small plastic bag from the lodge’s tuck shop in one hand and that same arrogant tilt to his head.

He didn’t say anything at first; he just kicked the door shut and leaned against it, watching me with those cold, grey eyes.

​"Miss me, Captain?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

​He didn’t move toward me. He just stood there, letting his scent flood the small room, watching the way my pupils dilated as I took him in. He knew exactly what I was feeling, and he was savoring it.

​"I brought the snacks," he said, tossing a bag of beef jerky onto my lap. "But I think we both know that’s not the ’dose’ you’re actually hungry for."

​I looked down at the jerky, then back at him. My pride was screaming at me to throw it at his head, but my body was already leaning toward him, my breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches.

​"Rule one, Evans," he said, taking a slow, sturdy step toward the bed. "If you want me to help you, you stop looking at me like you want to kill me. It’s hard to be ’understanding’ when you’re being so prickly."

​He stopped right in front of me, his shadow falling over me like a shroud. He reached down, his fingers hooking under my chin to force me to look up.

​"Now," he whispered, the smell of him so close it made my head spin. "What was that word I told you to practice again?"

I held his gaze, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw was starting to ache, the cabin feeling smaller and more stifling by the second as his scent began to coat everything I owned like a thick, invisible layer of frost.

My inner Omega was a complete disaster, pacing and whining in the back of my mind, practically preening under the heavy, arrogant weight of Reid’s oppressive presence in a way that made me feel utterly disgusted with myself.

I was the Captain of the Seattle Serpents, a man who had earned his place through a decade of perfect discipline and grit, and yet here I was, watching my own biology try to sell me out to a twenty-one-year-old brat who hadn’t even finished his rookie season.

He’s a demon, the thought surfaced and stuck, because he was grinning while knowing exactly how much I was struggling, watching the way my chest heaved and the way my eyes kept traitorously darting to the sturdy, flexed line of his throat as he waited for me to finally break and give him that one word.

But before I could even open my mouth to argue, the Captain in me—the part of my brain that hadn’t been turned to mush by the rising heat—kicked back, refusing to let him just walk in here and dictate the terms of my entire existence.

So, I took a deep breath and let it out.

I wasn’t winning this thing; I could already see that far. Because no matter what, I was at the short end of the stick.

I was the one with a hidden secret. I was the one currently in heat. And I was the one who needed him.

So instead of trying hard to fight him, only to entertain him further, it was time to be rational.

"Reid, we need a consensus," I said, my voice coming out rougher than I wanted but steady enough to make him pause, and I didn’t pull away from his hand; I just looked right through him. "You want my submission? You want to hold this over me? Fine. I’ll give it to you."

He narrowed his eyes, his grey eyes slightly reflecting a curious light as he wondered what I was up to.

Well, it was exactly what he was going to hear.

"Behind this door, you will get exactly what you want. You can use me, you can humiliate me, you can do whatever the hell you need to satisfy that ego of yours. But out there?" I pointed at the door. "In front of the team?"

I reached up, my hand trembling only slightly as I gripped his wrist, pulling his hand away from my chin with as much authority as I could muster.

"Out there, you don’t let a single bit of this affect the game. You don’t let it affect practice. You keep your mouth shut, you keep your hands to yourself, and for the love of God, don’t leave marks where people can see them, because if one person sees a bruise I can’t hide, and they start suspecting both of us, I swear, I will end you."

Reid stared at me for a beat, his expression unreadable and cold, before he let out a short, dry snort and rolled his eyes, leaning back as if I were a teacher giving a boring lecture he had no interest in hearing.

"Blah, blah, blah. Seriously, you’re so boring, Evans," he cut in, his voice dripping with that trademark snobbishness as he looked at me like I was a chore. "Rules on top of rules. Is that all the ’Understanding Captain’ has to say? Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t bring a contract for me to sign and notarize."