“Go on, head on back to your Alphas and that sexy Beta."
I squint at my friend. “You really have a thing for smart, capable Beta soldiers, don’t you?”
She smiles down at the chart in her lap and bites her lip.
Oh yes, Jason is getting lucky tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Halley
Sparring, I decided a while ago, is a special brand of torture.
Some things never change.
One little Omega versus a trained super-soldier isstillhardly a fair match.
Knox isstilla grueling trainer, barking orders at the others to try new ways of pushing me to my limit.
"Leg back, Omega Specialist."
Shade swipes my feet out from under me and I hit the ground with a heavy “oof”.
I haul myself up and try again, gritting my teeth.
This is what I asked for. Help to figure out how to control my Omega Command. But apparently, we’re still using thepush-the-Omega-to-her-limittraining style to draw out my O-space.
I hit the mat for the third time in the span of two minutes, and a whine of annoyance slips through my determination.
I swiftly choke the sound off.
Old habits. Knox used to snap at me if I so much as breathed like I was in pain. One grimace and he’d launch into a full lecture about my lack of commitment to becoming a soldier.
But this time?
He just called for a break and tossed me a towel.
No yelling. No accusations. Just… a towel.
Then he nodded to Shade and asked him to explain the training plan again. Like I mattered and had a right to understand what was happening to me.
It makes me want to believe he really is changing.
Shade lights up instantly, diving headfirst into one of his science-heavy explanations like it’s the best part of his day.
"The parameters surrounding the key stimuli that activate this instinctual response requires careful refinement. We need to determine the precise conditions required to reliably trigger the observed altered state, then optimize the process for consistency. Only once we achieve this can we begin to systematically test the full range of capabilities associated with this phenomenon."
I must have checked out somewhere around “stimuli,” because he pauses, tilts his head at me, and asks with a smirk if I want the "Blazed-down version."
I giggle at his phrase for simplifying his scientific methodology and nod.
“Tried and tested methods, baby girl,” he says, smiling. “They worked before and they’ll work again. We’ll use physical exertion, heightened emotions, and sexual tension to bring out your O-space. And once we can trigger it consistently, then we’ll figure out how to control it.”
Sweet rut, it’s attractive to see him in his element, his intelligence getting the chance to show off. And that smile! It’s dangerous.
We aren’t sparring right now, but it’s disarmed me completely.
He looks like the Shade who would talk my ear off about all sorts of interesting technology. Growing up we were lucky if the power stayed on long enough to heat water, so the way he described those specialized computers? It felt like magic. He never got annoyed when I asked the same question twice. Just kept explaining things until I got it. Honestly, I think I started falling for him right then, hiding it behind every stupid grin I gave him while he smiled like I was the smartest person he knew.
