Dangerous Command: Absolute Submission of the Ome…

In the operations command room of the Third Military District, the air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and cold metal. Eighteen-year-old recruit Asher Donovan stood in front of the desk, a suppressant patch stuck to the back of his neck, his heart pounding like a war drum. For three months he had passed himself off as an Alpha among the troops, but he hadn't escaped the nose of Commander Seraphina Locke. The woman rose from her chair, her combat boots thudding dully against the anti-static floor. Her dark, piercing eyes were like blades, slicing away his disguise layer by layer. Asher knew he was finished. Seraphina Locke was an iron-blooded commander with a record of distinguished military achievements, her lysine pheromones could press an entire squadron so hard they couldn't lift their heads. And now, that scent of lime was surging toward him, overwhelming and inescapable.