Beg Me Like You Mean It, Captain

I kicked Reid’s bag. Not hard enough to damage the gear, but enough to shove it a few inches closer to his bed. Reid didn’t even flinch, his eyes glued to his screen as if I were a minor annoyance he’d already forgotten.

The walls of the cabin were thin. Through the wood, I could hear the muffled roars of Russo and Miller two doors down, probably arguing over a card game. There was a crash of something heavy—likely a chair—followed by a burst of raucous laughter that shook the floorboards. That was my team. A collection of loud, physical Alphas who lived for the friction.

Usually, I loved that sound. It meant they were bonding, but tonight, it just felt like the walls were closing in.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my heart still performing that frantic, uneven thud. My hand went to my bag, surreptitiously checking the seal on my suppressants. The vials were cool against my fingertips and safe.

I have to stop checking it every now and then, or Reid will get suspicious, but I just can’t help but feel uneasy because of it.

"You’re doing it again," Reid suddenly said, his voice cutting through the noise from the other cabins.

I didn’t look up as I asked, "Doing what?"

"That ’Captain’ thing. Sitting there looking like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders just because I didn’t say please." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.

The bed arrangement was insane. While some rooms had bunks, ours had two small beds facing each other. And I mean, they were really close to each other. So close that if I leaned forward in my sitting position, our knees would touch.

I kept my spine rigid, hyper-aware of the way his pheromones seemed to fill the gaps in the air, making it feel heavy. My insides were a mess—half of me wanted to snap at him to show some respect, and the other half was embarrassingly occupied with how sturdy his frame looked in the dim light of the cabin.

That other half was a pervert, I know.

"I’m not looking for a ’please’, Reid. I’m looking for a teammate who understands that we’re here to work, not to stroke your ego."

Reid leaned in, his grey eyes mocking. "And I’m looking for a leader who isn’t a doormat. You spend so much time ’understanding’ us that you’ve forgotten how to command us. It’s pathetic, Evans.l."

He didn’t say more or wait for me to make a comeback as he stood up, his height forcing me to look up at him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming.

He grabbed a towel and headed toward the tiny, cramped bathroom, deliberately brushing my shoulder with his large hand as he passed.

"I’m taking the first shower," he said as he tossed the towel over his shoulder, and then the door slammed shut.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. He was such a piece of work.

I stood up, moving to the window to stare out at the dark, snow-covered trees. My reflection looked back at me—pale, composed, and utterly exhausted. The ’war’ wasn’t just with Reid. It was with the fact that every time he insulted me, my body reacted like it was being challenged by a mate.

I spent the next hour in a state of high alert. Every sound from the bathroom—the spray of the water, the thud of his bottles—felt amplified. When he finally emerged, a cloud of steam and pure Alpha energy following him, I kept my eyes fixed on my book.

Pretending not to care, but I wished I could look up and take in that pure masculine sight.

"The bathroom is all yours now." He said, and I used this opportunity to lift my head, taking a quick glance at the sight before he could notice.

’Hot. So hot. I want to lick his dripping abs.’ My omega screamed, but I ignored it and went to take my bath.

Once I was back, I was met with the aggressive clicking of a controller and the digitized explosions of some shooter game Reid was playing. It was at such maximum volume that I knew for sure he was doing it to get on my nerves.

I tried to look productive, sitting on my bed with the team’s playbook, but it was impossible. Reid was sprawled out on his bed across from me, his long legs dangling off the edge, wearing a pair of low-slung grey sweats.

Every time his character died, he let out a frustrated growl, his torso flexing as he shifted positions. I kept my eyes glued to the diagram of a 1-3-1 power play, but my side eye was a traitor. It kept tracking the sharp lines of his abs—the kind of definition that only came from being twenty-one and genetically gifted.

’Delicious,’ my internal Omega purred, practically pressing its nose against the glass of my eyes, ready to jump out and take control. ’Look at the core strength of that brat.’

It was just too much, and I had to break the hypnosis somehow.

"Reid," I said, my voice impressively level considering I was staring at his stomach. "It’s 11:00 PM. We have drills at 6:00 AM. Turn the volume down."

Click-click-click-BOOM.

"In a minute, Evans," he muttered, not even looking up. He adjusted his grip, the muscles in his forearms rippling. "I’m on a streak. Go back to your bedtime stories."

I closed the playbook with a snap. "It’s not a suggestion. The walls are paper-thin. You’re keeping the whole hallway up."

Reid finally looked at me, a slow, mocking smirk spreading across his face. He didn’t put the controller down. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his arms over his head in a way that made his waistband dip dangerously low to show the veins crawling just above his junk.

This guy... He knew exactly what he was doing.

"You’re so uptight," he said, his pheromones hitting me in a heavy, arrogant wave. It wasn’t about the smell; it was the sheer pressure of an Alpha trying to dominate a room. "Is this how you lead? By nagging everyone into submission? No wonder Russo looks like he wants to fall asleep when you talk."

"I lead by respecting the people I work with," I shot back, sliding off my bed. I stood over him, trying to channel ’Authority’ while my brain was busy admiring the way the lamplight hit his collarbone. "Something you clearly haven’t learned yet. Volume. Off. Now."

Reid’s eyes darkened. He dropped the controller onto the quilt and stood up, once again looming over me with that broad frame.

"Or what?" he challenged, stepping into my space.