Dockside Heat

One minute I’m docking freighters, the next a human Alpha captain is storming up my berth like he owns the station.
Now his ship’s stuck here for “repairs”… and his berth is crawling with Citadel inspectors.

The man is infuriating. Smug. Impossible to ignore.
Worse — my heat suppressant shipment is late.

Omegas like me are supposed to keep their distance from Alphas like him.
Instead, I’m hiding in his quarters, breathing the same air.
And finding out “enemy” might not mean what I thought.