Annie: Behave, and There's a Reward

Annie looked up.

The blue eyes so close to her were clouded over, thick with heat.

His towering frame enclosed her completely—one hand pressed against the door panel, the other gripping her shoulder—yet he dared not advance further.

Like a beast holding prey at its jaws, wary and hesitant to take the bite.

"You're not reacting," Arthur said, his voice hoarse. "Why?"

Unlike Annie, his clothes were soaked through with sweat, clinging to his skin.

The thin fabric did little to hide the contours of his solid muscles, and the potent pheromones twisted through the sealed room.

Arthur turned his head, greedily inhaling at the side of Annie's neck. The scent of citrus, lemon leaf, and honeyed pomelo peel lingered in his nostrils, making him swallow instinctively, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"...You've already answered that yourself."

Annie lowered her gaze.

She raised a hand and brushed it against Arthur's neck—just a light touch, yet it made him shudder as if shocked.

He struck back swiftly, seizing her slender fingertips in a firm grip.

But his fierce glare was met only with Annie's extreme composure.

"Due to certain special circumstances, I'm not affected by pheromones," she said softly.

There was no point in hiding it. She was going to pose as Arthur's wife; he'd find out sooner or later.

Annie's pheromone influence was one-way.

She could release pheromones and could smell others' scents. But to her, they were no different from sprayed perfume.

Similarly, her own heat could affect Alphas, but an Alpha's heat could not affect her.

What she hadn't expected was that this "defect" of hers would prove useful the moment she met Arthur.

At least, she wouldn't end up rolling into bed with her partner within twenty-four hours of meeting him.

"Mr. Kane, the Empire wouldn't send an ordinary Omega to partner with you," Annie murmured, almost a whisper. "You and I are cooperating, not marrying."

At the word "marrying," Arthur clenched his jaw.

He let out a heavy breath, seeming frustrated, yet still holding onto his last thread of restraint, gripping Annie's hand tightly.

As if afraid that if he let go, he'd tear apart the easy prey and devour it.

Annie suggested again: "I have universal suppressants in my bag."

"No," he refused outright.

Fine.

She wasn't surprised.

Arthur Kane hated the Empire to the bone. If his heat hadn't interrupted, he'd have tried to kill Annie just now. Why would he accept supplies from a royal agent? Probably afraid she'd give him a lethal injection.

But then...

Slowly, one finger at a time, Annie slipped her hand free from his broad palm.

An Alpha had absolute strength and could easily crush Annie's bones. He could have slammed her to the ground and done what he told the Twilight soldiers he'd do.

But Arthur didn't.

He didn't even dare stop her from pulling her fingers away, as if moving against her would shatter his last boundary.

So much self-control?

Was he unwilling to force her, or simply unwilling to touch an Imperial?

Annie's other hand still clutched the electric stun. She'd been ready to defend herself, but watching him suffer like this stirred a sliver of interest in her.

His heat had come on too suddenly.

It wasn't just electric shocks that could trigger pheromone imbalance. Field agents faced all kinds of dangers: extreme peril spiking adrenaline, chemical exposure disrupting hormone balance—any number of situations could harm an agent's body, and pheromone imbalance was just a minor nuisance.

When Annie worked in logistics, she'd encountered plenty of Alpha agents going into pheromone meltdown without suppressants on hand.

For people who might die any day, these were trivial problems.

A heat triggered by imbalance usually didn't last long; a good night's rest was enough.

But, considering how well he was holding out—

Annie curled the corner of her mouth.

"Worth a reward," she said softly.

"What?" Arthur rasped.

"Mr. Kane, we're bound together now. Killing you would do me no good... At least trust this much: even for my own safety, I'll help you through this."

"What are you planning?" Wariness flashed in those blue eyes.

Annie merely tilted her head and swept her hair aside.

The pale, slender nape of her neck was exposed to Arthur for the second time, the crisp scent of lemon leaves now even easier to reach.

The little bird in his grasp was offering up its vulnerable spot.

"Normally, a sudden heat just needs to be endured overnight," Annie said. "But since I'm here... Mr. Kane... Arthur, you can bite me."

If you can't have the meat, at least give the beast a teething stick.

And that subtle shift in how she addressed him was the final straw.

His name rolled off Annie's tongue, the tail of it still hanging in the air when Arthur could no longer hold back. He scooped Annie up in one motion.

Her body met the mattress, and then the Alpha's frame crashed down on her like a looming mountain. Arthur pulled Annie tightly into his arms, lowered his head, and bit down on the back of her neck once more.

Annie's breath hitched, but she relaxed as much as she could, her yielding posture only making Arthur's breathing more ragged.

At least this time, he didn't use force.

Slowly, he gnawed and ground his teeth, tasting and memorizing, his lips pressed against her pale nape as if they would never leave. His nose buried deep into her hair, he inhaled greedily.

Heat rose between the two of them, concentrating especially in places impossible to ignore.

It smelled wonderful.

Everything around them seemed to vanish. The Twilight soldiers' clamor outside, the screams of residents being raided, the lurking dangers—all of it faded from Arthur's awareness, leaving only Annie in his senses.

A simple thought formed in Arthur's mind.

She smells so good.

He'd already marked her; this scent was supposed to be his.

Time to teach her a lesson.

Bite her, devour her, enjoy what was already his by right.

Omegas were born to be used by Alphas. Arthur would personally shatter that cold mask of hers, pin her beneath him like any Omega, make her accept him, take him, melt in his hands, cry—

No.

At the critical moment, Arthur wrenched his sanity back by force.

He wasn't an animal. He wouldn't become a slave to pheromones. And marking an Imperial Omega? The very thought made Arthur sick, and his reason slowly returned. He finally released Annie and bit hard on his own tongue!

The pressure on her nape suddenly vanished. Annie turned in surprise and saw blood seeping from Arthur's thin lips, trickling down his jaw and dripping onto the pillow.

Annie: "..."

Held in his arms, she felt like a comfort toy for a large dog—besides the slight discomfort of having her gland gnawed, there was no reaction at all.

And he was still holding out at this point? Did the guy have a masochism fetish?!

She tilted her head, feigning astonishment: "You can endure this much, Arthur? You're not actually impot—"

"Shut up."

He cut off her taunt viciously, opened his mouth again, and bit down on the gland at the back of Annie's neck.

The pheromones in the air exploded once more, and the choking metallic-burning scent made Annie laugh out loud.

Looks like the backup stun won't be needed. Silently, she tucked the spare weapon back into her pocket.

New Thebes had a dry climate with extreme temperature swings.

As hot as it was during the day, it was just as cold at night.

But the heat source behind her enveloped her, driving away what little chill lingered in the room.

Annie had to admit, being held in Arthur's arms felt... comfortable.

Especially after a long day of exhausting work...

Steeped in the blended pheromone scent, Annie closed her eyes. She leaned back, listening to the Alpha's steady, powerful heartbeat, and regardless of how much he suffered, she drifted off to sleep with a clear conscience.

…………

…

The next morning.

When Annie woke, Arthur was still asleep.

She turned over, and what she met was the unguarded sight of the Alpha's sleeping face.

Relaxed, he lay on his side, his handsome features no longer tense, his thick lashes covering eyes blue enough to seem inhuman—he looked almost fragile.

Annie reached out and quietly touched his solid shoulder. Good, the fever had gone down, and the pheromone scent in the room had dispersed too.

While Arthur was still asleep, Annie slipped silently out of his arms and headed straight for the bathroom.

She didn't just wash off the sand, dust, and salt crystals left by dried sweat—she also scrubbed away the lingering pheromone scent with soap and shampoo.

Only after changing into fresh clothes did she finally breathe easy. Otherwise, she'd carry Arthur's smell everywhere, as if he were still holding her.

Annie walked to the balcony, facing the sunrise rising slowly over the vast desert, and connected with her logistics officer.

At Galactic Standard Time 7:10, "Meridian" came online promptly.

"Agent Annie," an elegant baritone sounded in her ear. "I've read the report you left last night. Quite critical intel, and you handled it well. I hope Arthur Kane didn't cause you any extra trouble."

Annie let out a dry laugh.

Meridian understood immediately: "Sounds like last night was thrilling as well."

Can we not bring it up?!

Weren't you the one who called me your true protégé? How could you bear to send me into this? Annie's nape and neck still throbbed with pain.

Where to even begin?

Annie weighed her words and decided to cut to the chase: "Last night, Arthur Kane suddenly had a pheromone imbalance and went into heat. That's not right, Meridian. Do you think—"

A large hand reached out from behind her, and Annie tried to dodge.

But it was too late.

She'd barely begun to turn when Arthur had already snatched her glasses off.

When had this guy woken up?!

A man nearly two meters tall, and he could approach her without a sound!

At some point, Arthur had even stripped off his filthy T-shirt. He stood bare-chested on the balcony, the morning sun glinting off his broad back and wheat-toned skin.

Arthur pushed the royal agent's glasses up the bridge of his straight nose.

"Meridian," he said, all the tension and wariness of last night gone, almost taunting. "I've heard so much about you."