Beg Me Like You Mean It, Captain

The flashing lights of the press conference were still dancing behind my eyelids as I stepped onto the team bus.

It was such a headache having to face those reporters in a press conference every now and then.

And I’m definitely sure what’s going to be making the headlines soon. Rising star rookie, Reid McCoy’s statement. ’Now that I’m here, we’ll definitely crush it this season’.

’Huff, he is such a piece of work. How could he be so immature and sexy at the same time?’

Well, at least this would bring more attention to our team.

The air inside the bus was a thick, stagnant fog of ’Alpha Forest’. Quite a heavy blend of cedar, damp earth, and sharp citrus from twenty different players. To any other Beta, it was just the smell of a locker room. To me, it was a sensory assault.

These guys were going to give me an overload... Again.

The last time I had an overload where the blockers couldn’t keep my Pheromones hidden, I was lucky to be alone since the guys went out for a drink.

But we’re going on a trip, and we’d basically be together for most of the time. If I had an overload, it would be bad.

I adjusted the strap of my gear bag, my fingers brushing against the side pocket where my suppressants were tucked away.

They were my secret and my lifesavers. As long as those little glass vials stayed intact, I didn’t have to worry about an overload exposing my identity as an Omega.

And as long as they were in effect, I was just Kain Evans, the reliable, easygoing Beta captain of the Seattle Serpents.

"Seat assignments are on the headrests!" Coach Devin barked from the front. "No musical chairs. We’re building cohesion, not a playground. Get moving."

I found my row and stopped. Reid McCoy was already there.

He was four years my junior, but he sat with the entitlement of a veteran. He was already sprawled across the window seat, his long legs taking up more than his fair share of the footwell. Sniffing in his frozen pine forest made my heart do a traitorous little stutter.

’Look at those shoulders,’ my internal Omega whispered, practically swooning. ’He looks so... Tasty.’

I cleared my throat, keeping my face neutral, Beta calm. "You’re in my seat, McCoy. I’m by the window."

Reid didn’t even look at me. He just leaned his head against the glass, his grey eyes fixed on the parking lot. "I like the view, Evans. Find another one."

Yeah, for a guy four years younger than me, he was certainly rude. But even that, my inner Omega swooned over it.

"Respect your elders, brat!" Coach yelled from the front, not even looking back from his clipboard. "Move over, McCoy. Give the Captain his seat."

Reid stiffened, a low, frustrated huff escaping his nose, and he still didn’t move. He just stared harder at the glass, the line of his jaw hardening, like he was going to throw a tantrum if we insisted any further.

I looked at the way his messy blonde hair was sticking out from under his beanie, and the sheer, stubborn pride radiating off him, and I felt that familiar, dangerous ’short-circuit’ in my brain.

My instinct told me to reach out and smooth that frown off his face. My logic told me to kick his shin.

I chose the Captain’s route, of course, since I can’t handle doing either route.

"It’s fine, Coach," I said, my voice light and easy as I dropped my bag into the overhead bin. "I’ll just sit here. I’ve seen the highway to Lake Placid plenty of times. So let the rookie have his turn."

I slid into the aisle seat, my shoulder brushing against his. The contact sent a jolt of heat straight through my blocker-muted system.

’Oh wow, his heat is contagious.’ There, my Internal Omega went again.

I sat down, clutching my smaller carry-on bag against my lap. It was the one holding my emergency blockers. I felt it would be safer clutched in my palm.

Reid didn’t say thank you even after what I did for him. He didn’t even acknowledge I existed. He just kept staring out the window, his reflection faint against the tinted glass.

What could he be thinking about? I wondered and then leaned my head back.

Well, it was none of my business.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way the bus swayed as we pulled out of the area. I was hyper-aware of the weight of the suppressants in my bag.

Just stay calm, I told myself. It’s just a bonding trip. Four days. You can do this.

I let my breathing slow, pretending to drift off. But as the bus hit the highway, I felt a strange prickle on my skin—the sensation of being watched.

I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t. Because if I did, my eyes would meet the very eyes that were watching me, and things could get awkward.

Reid wasn’t looking at the scenery anymore. He was looking at me.

His reflection was sharp, his grey eyes tracking the line of my throat, the pulse point just above my collar. He looked confused—his nostrils flared slightly, as if he were trying to catch a scent that wasn’t there.

He was searching for the crack in the wall, looking for the man behind the ’Easygoing Captain’ mask.

I kept my eyes shut, my heart hammering frantically against my ribs. I wondered if he could hear it. I wondered if he knew that I was watching him right back through my closed eyelids.

The mountains were hours away, and the air was already getting thin.

Just what is he trying to find?