All the normal soldiers like TRX and weight training. Soldiers with a designation like to hit and be hit. They like the pain, the rhythm and endurance. They’re like moths to a flame—see a punching bag and start hitting.
It’s ridiculous.
This guy might be the most ridiculous. He’s punching the bag the way an alcoholic attacks a bottle of whiskey. His hair is blond, thick, and darkened with sweat.
He’s still wearing some of the clothes he wore on whatever mission he just came from. A black tank top, black tactical pants, and boots that are better than anything the military would buy. A black sweater is on the bench. There are no distinguishing markers on anything he’s wearing.
Colton puts all the pieces together to reach the only conclusion—even if it is fantastical.
This man is a submissive.
He is dropping after a mission and no one can help him. He must be very high level indeed. Important. What’s his special skill, Colton wonders?
Besides hotness and strength?
The submissive’s dysregulation prickles against Colton’s skin as he gets closer. This is definitely why Colton is here. Either this submissive is so far to the end of the scale that they’ve gone searching through military databases to find someone whomightbe able to help even him out, or he’s rejected everyone else he’s met.
The number of people who have designations high enough to warrant this sort of intervention and that are important enough to get matched rather than decommissioned and frozen is incredibly low.
Colton’s own designation is rare and odd. If it wasn’t for the blood tests that say he’s dominant, no one would guess.
There’s a sound like a firework exploding, and the punching bag snaps off the hook and flies into the wall. The submissive sways where he stands.
The higher the designation, the harder the drop.
His head turns and Colton gets to see his profile. He’s a statue come to life. Sharp jaw, perfect angular nose, high cheekbones.
But his cheeks are pink, as if he’s ill with fever. If he can’t get the submissive hormones out, release the buildup, then it is akin to having a fever. A poisonous accumulation in his blood and body.
Colton stops himself from taking a step back. This man is very unwell.His designation is killing him, Colton thinks, and turns to the man beside him.
His expression is cold. He won’t look at Colton. Colton can’t ask how bad it is but he can feel it. And it makes Colton feel sickto be this close to a submissive in unbelievable distress and not do anything. Dominants take care of submissives.
“I’m here for him?” Colton asks, just to confirm, his voice practically a growl. The submissive whirls around to face them, all rage and tension.
His eyes are a light brown, his lips full and practically obscene, and he looks so fucking angry Colton shoves any inappropriate thoughts far out of his mind.
The man in charge takes a step closer. He doesn’t have a designation, and the cues and requirements of those with designations make little sense to those without one.
Lucky them.
Colton extends a hand, stopping the man in charge from going closer. It’s instinct. The submissive flinches back, which reassures Colton that stopping the man was the right decision.
“Graham. This is Private Berringer. He’s the highest level we can find. Army.”
The submissive’s gaze goes right past Colton to the corner of the room. Colton glances over, sees two soldiers with stun guns at the ready.
This is a shit show.
The submissive—whose name is apparently Graham Knox—laughs. It grates against Colton’s nerves. “You’re all gonna take me down, is that it?” The submissive shakes his head, swallows hard. “Hold me down for him to… hurt me? You think I’m going to let him break me down? I don’t fucking think so,” he says, all fight.
Which is a fascinating idea on its own. This submissive is utterly incredible. He’s impossible to look away from. He’s a magnet, gravity itself, and it’s the first time Colton’s felt such a strong designational draw.
Five minutes ago, Colton would have said getting a designation was good because it had saved his life, cured him ofcancer, and made him love running. There hadn’t been a single downside because his dominance didn’t react like everyone else’s seemed to.
The frantic need to fight and fuck, to breed and claim, the violence thrumming under the surface of his skin isn’t something he’s ever felt.
But now he’s beginning to understand what all the Dominants complain about. The desperate need to be close to a submissive, to touch and settle them. He doesn’t let his brain go farther down the path of what he’d like to do to the man before him. It’s not helpful. The submissive would likely pick up on Colton’s arousal.
