95% and Counting

The acrid smell of scorched metal quickly filled the guest room.

Arthur's body temperature rose. He looked down at Annie, so close she was almost touching him, yet still refused to loosen his iron grip on her wrist.

"Talk first," he commanded.

"...Fine," Annie sighed softly.

Though with her sprawled across his chest like this, it hardly looked like the setting for a serious conversation.

"It's because our pheromone compatibility is as high as 95%. Even with the suppressant, your proximity to me triggers a temporary heat—"

"Compatibility that high? You and me."

"You can verify it with Peace Star."

Arthur Kane didn't bother hiding the disgust on his face.

What did this mean?

He wasn't ignorant of what a 95% pheromone compatibility rate meant. Under normal circumstances, a bonded Alpha-Omega pair with a compatibility over 60% were already inseparable.

It meant he and Annie were made for each other.

With her? A treacherous, scheming Imperial agent, full of nothing but tricks and deceit—and they had 95% compatibility?

Disgusting!

Arthur felt as if he'd been tainted by something filthy. His clear blue eyes brimmed with wariness, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to shove Annie off the bed.

But...

His hand remained on her waist, unmoving.

The scent of lemon leaves still lingered around his nose. If he wet his lips, he could almost taste that refreshing, sweet-and-sour tang. Arthur was still burning up, and that fragrance stirred his appetite, making him swallow involuntarily.

Sweat trickled down his temples, soaking into his loose shirt collar, steam rising from his skin and leaving a faint sheen of moisture on his tan flesh.

Arthur tried, but he couldn't move his hand.

He even unconsciously pulled Annie closer, making her cling entirely to his chest, bringing the back of her neck nearer to his scent organ.

"Solution?"

Suppressing the surging heat and thirst, Arthur asked hoarsely.

"A temporary heat," Annie said meaningfully. "It's a one-time thing. Either you grit your teeth and endure it, or... ahem, well, take care of it."

"I'm talking about a permanent solution." Arthur frowned.

"Mark me." Annie answered without hesitation.

Everyone knew that was impossible.

Annie would never allow an Interstellar Federation agent—especially a wanted criminal who'd caused the Galactic Empire so much trouble—to mark her. And Arthur Kane certainly wouldn't mark an Omega from the Galactic Empire. He found the very idea revolting.

So Annie was blunt, while the Alpha furrowed his brow deeply and fell into silence.

"You can take care of it yourself if you prefer," Annie reiterated. "It's only temporary anyway."

Besides, Arthur Kane had incredible recuperative powers—in Annie's eyes, almost supernatural.

Last time his pheromones went haywire, hadn't he gotten through the night just fine?

Maybe he'd recover faster using his own two hands. If he didn't want her help, that was his choice.

With that thought, Annie decided not to press the matter.

She tried to pull her wrist free from Arthur's tight grip and get up. But the moment she began to break away from the Alpha's embrace—

Annie had barely made a move to leave when the palm on her waist suddenly tightened.

Arthur shoved her back into his arms.

What the hell?!

The Alpha's sudden move caught Annie completely off guard, and she lost her balance. Her cheek nearly buried itself in Arthur's open collar, her nose brushing against the defined cleft of his chest.

Disgusting.

The phrase "95% pheromone compatibility" felt like a slap to Arthur's face—not physically damaging, but deeply insulting.

He should have shoved Annie away roughly, proving she had no hold over him.

But his body's instincts moved before his mind.

She smells so good.

When she'd begun to leave, the Omega's pheromones had only drifted slightly farther away, yet Arthur's uncontrollable restlessness had compelled him to stop her.

The organs in his chest pounded wildly. His temperature climbed, sweat slid down his skin, and the dryness and itch in his throat grew worse than before.

He wanted to bite her, to devour her, to tear through the thin fabric and taste every inch of skin and flesh.

But he couldn't. She was an Imperial. Damn it, why did she have to be an Imperial?

Longing and revulsion tangled in his throat, choking him into a knot he could neither spit out nor swallow.

The temporary heat still tormented Arthur, urging him to hold Annie closer, to press her nearer—

And so he did.

That thing pressed against Annie's stomach again. She raised her head from where she lay on his relaxed, firm muscles.

Her slender fingers, like dancing notes, lightly climbed up his collarbone, then hooked around the pink heart at the center of his collar.

It suited him, actually.

The ostentatious heart-shaped pendant sat right in the hollow of the Alpha's collarbone, made all the more vivid against his wheat-colored skin.

Annie toyed with the heart, her fingertips brushing against his skin with a featherlight touch.

The faint stirring made Arthur grit his teeth.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" he growled.

Like a big dog drooling over a meaty bone, yet snapping and baring its teeth the moment she actually came close. Annie couldn't help but think.

She played with the collar around Arthur's neck: "We can't keep relying on temporary marks. I need to extract some of your pheromones—with a needle. It'll hurt. Can you bear it?"

Arthur let out an irritated breath. "Do whatever you want."

"Good." Annie nodded. "Obedient. You deserve a reward."

"You—"

The Alpha's indignant protest was cut short by Annie's face suddenly closing in.

Too close. So close that blue eyes and black eyes were only a finger's breadth apart. Her nose brushed against his. The intimate contact instantly silenced the towering Alpha, until Annie parted her lips and bit down on the tip of his nose.

A bird's peck—slightly painful, but stirring far more.

The ambiguous nibbling vanished as quickly as it came. Annie moved lower.

Her lips traced over his philtrum, and just as she was about to catch his upper lip, Arthur jerked his head to the side.

Her lips met empty air.

Unwilling to kiss?

His action was swift and decisive, though Annie could see his lower lip trembling unconsciously—he wanted it, desperately, yet he refused to kiss her.

Fine, then.

Annie didn't insist. Instead, she sank her teeth into his jaw.

Arthur Kane had only just woken after a night out, and his usually clean-shaven chin was now dusted with a faint shadow of stubble. It felt rough against her tongue, and each time Annie bit down on his skin and circled her tongue, the muscles of his neck and jaw tensed involuntarily.

Her actions made the Alpha uncomfortable.

In Arthur's understanding, it was only natural for an Omega to serve her Alpha. Her affectionate touches had gone a long way toward easing the Alpha's inner agitation, yet they were still far from enough.

What made it harder for Arthur to endure was that she was clearly the one making the advances, but it didn't feel that way at all.

This wasn't service. It was more like a little bird that had gotten its favorite treat, using its nimble beak to peck open the delicate wrapping paper one bite at a time.

And that was exactly what she was doing.

She unbuttoned his white shirt, opening the lapels wider, then continued.

When she went lower, Arthur held his breath.

His temperature was high, like a weapon just pulled from the forge. Annie held it in her hands and couldn't help but think of the first gun she'd assembled in mechanics class.

A handsome shape, just the right weight, satisfyingly heavy in the palm. It filled her grip nicely, its lines fitting perfectly into her hand.

Except the Alpha's gun had more life in it than cold metal—it reacted on its own to Annie's handling.

When she pressed against the bolt, it trembled in her palm.

When her thumb slid over the muzzle, it expanded at her touch.

She traced every texture with her fingertips, even checking the magazine.

The process of examining and studying it made Annie feel like she was back in her school days, in the lab—vivid reactions, subtle changes, everything under her control.

This was truly fun.

Annie thought, what researcher could resist the temptation of handling a weapon herself, fine-tuning its parts?

Those blue eyes, under Annie's careful manipulation, were now veiled in a thick mist.

Sweat from his brow dripped down, clinging to his thick lashes, trembling with each blink. He was beautiful—she had to admit the Interstellar Federation was lucky. Arthur Kane curled in on himself, his muscles taut from her adjustments. The defined contours, the broad back, and that handsome, rugged face—he himself was the perfect weapon.

And now that weapon was in her grasp.

The trigger was pressed to its limit, only a hair's breadth from the rifling. But Annie wasn't in a hurry. Instead, she slowed her pace, lingering at the edge of the bullet's release, back and forth.

The barrel trembled, heat rising, struggling in her hand as if it were alive.

Annie let out a soft laugh.

Her other hand looped around Arthur's neck, her fingertips rubbing the spot where the collar met his skin. The leather pressed gently against his gland, making the explosive, burning metallic scent in the air surge even stronger.

Nothing was more beautiful than the moment before firing, when the gunpowder's scent was thickest.

Annie's wrist twitched, and a pre-prepared portable syringe fell into her hand. Without hesitation, she drove the needle straight into the back of his neck!

The Alpha's tall frame tensed suddenly.

Agony exploded in his skull, a sharp, piercing pain that sent alarm bells ringing through Arthur Kane's entire body. Instinctively, he wanted to fight back, to struggle—but all he could do was gasp for air—

Because Annie pulled the trigger at the same moment.

The pain instantly transformed into a catalyst, making the already primed bullet burst from the barrel with even greater force. His brain confused ecstasy and agony. He raised his head unconsciously, his vision going white, and then the searing flash of gunfire swallowed up all of Arthur's consciousness.

The needle buried in his flesh automatically withdrew a small amount of pheromones.

That was enough.

Annie pulled her hand back and slipped the syringe into her pocket.

Give her a lab, and she could replicate the scent. Smear it on herself, and she'd avoid the trouble of needing temporary marks every day.

As for Arthur...

The Alpha breathed laboriously. His tall, sturdy frame—whether from pain or something else—could no longer hold itself up, like a collapsing mountain.

Annie released him and gently pulled him into her arms.

"Well done."

She patted the back of his head, not stinting on praise. "Thanks for your cooperation, Arthur."

The thick scent of scorched metal was slowly fading. Held by the shoulder, Arthur was drenched in sweat, his jaw clenched tight.

Her pheromones still saturated his senses.

Annie was unaffected by the pheromones herself, but because of the Alpha's temporary heat, her glands had released an unmistakable lemon-leaf fragrance.

It enveloped them both, making Arthur feel sick—and yet, inexplicably... at peace.

Damned Omega...

He would definitely find a way to kill her.

Arthur thought, not just to complete the mission, but because of this 95% pheromone compatibility.

At this rate, she'd surely use it as a means to control him. Arthur absolutely refused to expose such a weakness to the enemy.

But before that—

Arthur reached out with both hands and firmly wrapped his arms around Annie's small, delicate frame.

Just a little closer. Just a little clearer.

After the bullet had left the barrel, he was utterly exhausted. Breathing in Annie's fresh scent, he felt his restless, irritable heart inexplicably calm.

...

...

Two hours later.

The two of them had washed up and eaten a simple lunch. They'd barely stepped out of the guest room one after the other when they spotted a familiar nuisance in the Governor's Mansion's courtyard.

Among the white walls, domed roofs, and lush greenery of the well-kept grounds, Charles Lang's red hat and red scarf stood out garishly. Hearing the door open, he turned around, still wearing that lazy, carefree attitude, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Congratulations on the marriage!"

Charles Lang spread his arms wide toward Annie and Arthur, striding forward as if he intended to embrace them both at once.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Stop right there."

"Oh, how cold."

Luckily, the Butcher didn't mind.

He stopped obediently. "Good news—our leader heard about your marriage, and he's absolutely thrilled!"

Annie tilted her head.

Regardless, the goal had been achieved. But she still had to play the part of a sweet, docile Omega—freshly married, at that. She couldn't overstep and speak for her husband.

So she merely gave Arthur's sleeve a gentle tug.

"What do you need me to do?" Arthur got straight to the point.

Annie's subtle gesture naturally didn't escape Charles Lang's notice.

But the Butcher only glanced at her with a smile, as if he hadn't given it a second thought.

"My brother Arthur here knows what's what," he said. "Getting the Prophet's approval means gaining a foothold in the City of the Radiant Sun, right? Now that it's done, it's time to build on that and make a name for yourselves. I just happen to have a task—I'm heading to the war orphanage to distribute funds. Come along, how about it?"

There was no reason to refuse.

Participating in the orphanage donation, and appearing alongside a Twilight officer, would also cement the "newlyweds" as allies of Charles Lang.

But—

Why the orphanage?

Annie couldn't help but glance at Arthur again.

He was one of the war orphans created by Twilight's atrocities.

This Red Badge officer never failed to step precisely on Arthur Kane's most tender spot.