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 is still hardly a fair match.
Knox is still a 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 the push-the-Omega-to-her-limit training 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.
I rub my elbow where I landed on it awkwardly, the dull ache already fading.
At least the floor here has some padding.
The unforgiving ground of our outdoor training camp used to give me scrapes, where debris embedded into the wounds.
And frack, thinking back on it, it was Shade who would patiently clean each wound with tender care and that same dangerously kind smile reassuring me everything would be okay.
How was I ever supposed to resist catching feelings for him?
Knox calls us back onto the sparring mat, and just like that, we’re at it again. I’m sweating, stumbling, and seriously questioning every life choice that led me to this moment.
Shade fights like he's thinking about something else. Unlike the Alphas, he doesn’t have to concentrate as hard not to hurt me with super-strength. Yet, his blows are still swift, hard, and clever, finding every weak spot I’ve left open.
"Keep your guard up, Omega Specialist,” Knox calls from the sideline.
Right. Not Omega Sparks anymore. I’ve been promoted to Omega Specialist Sparks. And he sure as hell doesn’t call me princess while he’s acting as my trainer.
I have to fight the urge to pout.
I’d rather hear him whisper my pet name than bark my title across the mat.
“Feeling anything yet?” Shade asks between jabs at my ribs.
“Nuh-uh,” I gasp out.
I'm frustrated, angry, and humiliated by how out of shape I’ve become. I spent the many weeks away from them wallowing in self-pity, inhaling every carb I could get my depressed little hands on. And now? I’m paying the price.
I’m wheezing. My shirt clings to my sweaty skin, and my limbs feel like they’re made of noodles. Every muscle in my body is screaming by the time Knox finally calls Shade off the mat.
“Just give me a moment to catch my breath,” I plead, breathless and way too exposed.
Knox lifts one brow like I’ve personally offended his standards. Judgment radiates off him like heat.
Right. Not impressed that I’ve let my fitness slide. Not even a little.
Still, he gives me more time to rest.
I breathe out a shaky sigh of relief, only for it to catch in my throat.
Because Blaze steps out of the shadows.
He doesn’t walk. He stalks, slow and sure, like he’s already imagining how this ends. Me beneath him, pinned and wrecked. His eyes glitter with a dark promise and a brighter heat.
Is he remembering how wet I was when he touched me last night?
My hand moves on its own, fingers brushing the spot where his bite used to be. It’s healed now, not even the faint bruising from earlier this morning is left behind. But Blaze sees. He watches the gesture, tracks it, and his smirk spreads slow and sharp across his face.
My core pulses in response, deep and traitorous.
I force my eyes away before he sees more than he already has.
I don’t think sparring with Blaze is a good idea. My body remembers how he forced that false orgasm, and my Omega seems especially eager to claim a real one from him.
Rutting-frack. Save me from my rampaging hormones.
I look to Viper for backup. Surely his declarations of love and devotion, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of his balls against my pussy, extend to protecting me from my own raging desires.
But Viper only tilts his head, lips twitching like he can hear every dirty thought I’ve had since crawling out of bed this morning. His arms cross over his chest as his voice slips through the bond with annoying calm.
‘Focus. The sooner your O-space activates, the sooner this ends.’
Frack. Okay. I’m on my own.
I scrunch my nose at him, annoyed and aching.
I shouldn’t be too mad. He’s doing what he thinks is right. After Blaze pointed out how uneven my attention has been, Viper’s been giving me space. Letting the Pack dynamics settle, trying to help us heal.
Selfless, loyal jerk.
Sure, I was the one who avoided him first. I know that, but my Omega is throwing a full-blown tantrum over the lack of attention.
That’s as much introspection as I get before Blaze tosses me across the mat like an Omega-shaped training dummy.
When it comes down to it, I’ll let him throw me around as much as he needs. Either until he works through his frustration and leftover betrayal, or until my body gives out. Whichever comes first.
"Don't let him overwhelm you, remember he's a rut-damn cockwomble."
A smile breaks free. It's the little familiar things that make me feel like I've come home.
Despite all the changes, Knox still calls Blaze a cockwomble.
"Again!" Knox shouts.
I take a deep breath and square up with Blaze.
He used to take it easy on me, pulling punches, slapping my thighs with playful reminders to move my feet, sometimes flicking me on the nose if I left my face unguarded. He’d even leave openings so I could practice my counters.
Not anymore.
Sure, he adjusts for my lower skill level by dialing back his ridiculous Alpha speed and strength, but that’s where the mercy ends. He just knocks me down over and over with ruthless precision and that smug grin that practically screams he’s enjoying every second of it.
“Anything, Halley?” Shade calls again, checking in on my status.
Nope. Still no sign of my O-space and therefore, this torment must continue.
Knox inclines his head at Blaze. “Push her harder, Sergeant.”
There’s a beat, a loaded pause, where something passes between the two soldiers, but I don’t have time to catch it.
Blaze moves preternaturally fast.
He feints left, and I track the motion too slow. His fingers brush against my chest, a barely there graze over my breasts, and my breath catches before I can stop it. That split-second hesitation is all he needs.
He slams me onto the mat and flips me onto my stomach. Suddenly, I’m pinned.
His weight crashes down, stealing the air from my lungs.
I kick at him wildly, nothing but panic and muscle memory. It’s useless. He’s not even trying, just lying there, heavy and smug, because he knows I’ll burn myself out trying to fight him off and all he has to do is wait for my submission.
I can’t get enough air and spots dance at the edge of my vision as I twist beneath him. My body’s screaming and my pride is in tatters.
Then he grinds his hips against my ass. He’s rock hard.
I make a noise that isn’t a word. It’s instinctive and needy and utterly shameful. If that’s not enough to have me wanting the ground to swallow me up, I tilt my neck, exposing my throat to the Alpha in a classic sign of submission.
“You look so pretty submitting to me,” he purrs, voice dragging down to my throbbing core. “Do you like this position?”
My Alpha, no matter how fracked in the head he is, has me pinned beneath him in a mating position. His body is all heat and weight and dominance, and every nerve in my body lights up like it’s been waiting for this.
My pussy throbs in gratitude, soaking my shorts like I’m grateful to be restrained.
I make the sound again, softer, wrecked.
He chuckles. Bastard.