Alphas weren’t the most trusted without a muzzle the second their ruts struck. They were like crazed, rabid animals that only knew how to bite and protect their precious cargo. Their omegas.

Which was why a rather strict rule was implemented. A mandatory one, really. Most bitched and whined about it, while others were seemingly excited and at ease at the prospect of rabid alphas being tightly muzzled and collared during their ruts.

Unfortunately, Simon was an alpha.

Even worse?

His rut was nearing.

The muzzle was tight, damn near torture with the way they had placed it over his face. It felt like a heavy iron cage. Something to make him stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd of soldiers.

He usually spent them alone, so he wasn’t.. that worried. The only thing that irked him was you. You wouldn’t leave his bloody office. It felt like babysitting.

Simon leaned back with an irritated growl, staring daggers at you. Didn’t you have anything better to do? Something important? Unfinished paperwork?

“You obviously want something. So spit it out or get out of my office.”

You paused, turning and tightly wrapping your hand around the.. unsavory chain that sat heavy around his throat.

“How about a spar? Knock out all this anger you’re carrying.”

His growl only deepened.

“You’re playing a dangerous fucking game.“

Your grin only widened.

“Don’t I know it.”