Page 32 of Knot Their Soldier: Part One
He speaks about me like I’m a possession of the army, a thing, not a person.
The attraction simmering under my skin twists into something akin to distaste. This Alpha is a piece of work. It’s not fair that someone who looks so good can be so rotten inside. I decide then and there that no matter how violently my Omega wants to submit to him, I will never give him the satisfaction.
I open my mouth to tell him as much, but he holds his hand up to silence me.
“This team is unique. We are a small four-man cell with the highest clearance level, experience, and skills. We’re the best of the best and do not tolerate mediocrity. You will either rise to meet our standard, or fail, which would be a blemish on our otherwise spotless record. Failure is not an option. Do you understand, Omega Sparks?”
I don’t speak. I don’t nod. Because I don’t understand.
Why the hell would the General send me to train with some commando macho Alpha machines?
I was expecting to be slotted into a recruit class and do my best to scrape by on the minimal requirements.
I am so rut-damn fracked.
“Further, there are three unmated Alphas in our team. The presence of an unmated Omega is not ideal.”
He thinks this situation is not ideal? That’s an understatement.
I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. I’m certainly not okay with being exiled to a remote ‘black site’ with no contact with the outside world while at the mercy of three rampantly horny Alphas!
Panic wells up within me, vicious and hungry. My inner Omega thrashes in my chest. She’s skittish and desperate to escape.
I need to nest.
To burrow until I feel sane.
I stare at the bare mattress, tauntingly devoid of nesting materials.
“While you are a guest with our team, you are to be considerate of your…” his nostrils flare as he swallows, “urges.”
Urges?
“All measures will be taken to keep your stay with us professional,” he grunts in a rehearsed tone, then hands me a package. Looking inside, I fight the need to roll my eyes.
“The suppressant pills to be taken daily,” he says in his monotone, curt voice.
I want to reply with a sassy, “no shit, genius,” but I figure Prime Asshole wouldn’t take kindly to that kind of backchat. The pills are the same kind that I’ve been taking my entire adult life. Every morning, like clockwork, I take two suppressant pills that dampen my scent and sex drive.
“Scent-canceling body wash is to be used daily,” he recites, his nostrils flaring again. It feels like an accusation, like I’m so smelly he thinks I need to be told to wash myself every day. Besides, I was stuffed in an airless metal box to sweat overnight. Of course I smell ripe!
I pluck a plain bottle of liquid out of the package. There is no label detailing the ingredients, only a bright orange label that says, ‘Maximum Strength Scent Deodorizer.’
I gingerly place the package on the bed, already missing my gentle lavender soap.
He turns to me, spreads his legs, and stands rigidly with his hands behind his back. The classic military stance I’ve seen used by the Beta soldiers on base a hundred times each.
Yet, when he does it, it looks different. Like fracking sin.
I bet he wouldn’t do it if he knew how tempting the fabric pulling across his chest looks.
“As of this moment, you are temporarily part of this team. You will eat with us, train with us, sleep with us—”
I choke on my spit. Did he just say…?
“Sleepin the same bunkhouse as us,” he snarls, apparently disgusted by the mere suggestion of sexual contact with me.
Fine by me. I have years of experience looking with no touching.
