“Sinclair,” Dom began.
“I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry, or some stupid crap like that,” Jesse snapped. “It’s over. I don’t care.”
Dom reached over and grasped Jesse’s wrist, a warm weight on his skin.
For a second, Jesse tensed, surprised at the touch. He stared at the dashboard of the truck, listening to the quiet hum of the engine.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re not a psycho.”
Jesse swallowed. Then he turned to look at Dom, half-expecting to see pity, or arrogance, or whatever.
But Dom’s gaze was even, and there wasn’t an ounce of judgment on his face. Just... a pensive look. Maybe regret. “I didn’t know about the beads,” Dom said quietly. “I won’t mention them again.”
“But you’ll still look at them like they’re some kind of alien eggs,” Jesse muttered. “You know what, lemme just get them out—” He fished around in his pocket for a utility knife, sliding its blade out.
Dom swore and retracted the knife, pushing it back into Jesse’s pants. “No. That wasn’t what I was asking. Don’t fucking do that.”
“Why the hell not?” Jesse bristled. “My body, Dom, not yours.”
“I don’t want you to fucking hurt yourself.” Dom’s eyes flashed. “Don’t ever do that.”
“What, so you’re the boss of me, now?” Jesse seethed.
“Yeah, I’m your boss, and I’m going to tell you exactly what to do.” Dom reached into Jesse’s pocket, pulling out the utility knife. Then he set that on the other side of the truck cabin.
“It’s not like I can’t find other tools,” Jesse muttered. “Hell, I can even pick up a corkscrew—”
“Do you not understand what I’m trying to say?” Dom hissed, scowling. “Or do you just want to be punished?”
Jesse froze, his thoughts crashing into each other like cars in a multi-vehicle pileup. He’d had plenty of punishments back at the Facility. But Dom’s punishments... Jesse remembered two nights ago, and the drunken kiss in the shadows.
“What kind of punishments are we talking?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry.
Dom raised an eyebrow, one corner of his lips pulling into a slow smirk. “We’re going that route, huh?”
“I didn’t agree.” But that dark thrill was back, the same urge that had hissed through his veins when Dom had threatened to fuck him.
Dom caught his chin roughly, turning Jesse to face him. Their eyes met; Dom’s gaze dipped down to Jesse’s mouth. His stare roved from one corner of Jesse’s lips to the other, and hunger flickered through his eyes. As though he was thinking about tasting Jesse, dipping into his mouth.
For a second, Jesse thought Dom might kiss him. But they were out in the open, in broad daylight, and neither of them were drunk.
He couldn’t fight the disappointment in his chest. Why would I even want his kiss?
Except it seemed like such a good idea to get drunk on that pleasure. Especially when Dom said nothing of Jesse’s time in captivity. Like maybe he didn’t care about it. Maybe Jesse’s outburst had made Dom stop judging him.
Dom leaned in, so close that his breath fell heavy on Jesse’s mouth. For an intense moment, Jesse only saw the copper-brown of Dom’s eyes, and he only felt the swell of heat from Dom’s body. He smelled the thrilling blackwood scent that washed over him, and he wanted it on his skin.
It was wrong. But he could suddenly imagine this alpha as his alpha, and it unnerved him, at the same time he was curious how that would turn out.
Then Dom leaned away, releasing Jesse. He blew out a breath. “Head back to the station, Jesse.”
That felt like a punch in the face. Since when have you wanted him to call you Sinclair? Jesse reeled, trying to come to terms with the jumble of emotions in his chest. Stop letting it affect you. Don’t give him that kind of power.
He didn’t need anyone else having power over him.
Jesse ignored his too-tight pants, trying to focus on the truck. On getting them back to the station.
He’s just messing with your head. Get over it.
There were alphas in the world, like Harris and Valen, who found each other. Then there were alphas like Jesse and Dom, who didn’t. Why was the voice in Jesse’s chest telling them they could?
10
Bar Nights Part 4
Jesse wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen during the next bar night, but it certainly wasn’t for Dom to leave the party first.
Dom paid the bill, telling them that the rest of their drinks would be on him, too. Then he’d left without a second glance, and the anticipation that had been building all night in Jesse’s stomach just... deflated.
The bar night after that, Dom pulled the same crap.
On the third bar night, Jesse stalked after him out the back door, grabbing his arm. Then he swung Dom around, glowering. “Why the fuck are you doing this?”
Dom narrowed his eyes. “Doing what? Going home?”
For all that Jesse had been prepared to confront him, he hadn’t thought of what he’d say when he did. Because there wasn’t anything he wanted to acknowledge. All he wanted was another drunken fight, another drunken rut in the back alley, so they could both pretend it didn’t happen.
He gritted his teeth, gesturing vaguely. “This.”
Dom seemed to understand, though, because his entire body tensed. And he grasped Jesse’s collar, shoving him roughly against the wall. Jesse’s blood surged south.
“What,” Dom whispered, leaning in so their chests brushed and his breath feathered over Jesse’s ear. “Did you think I’d treat you to more whiskey shots?”
“Yes,” Jesse retorted. “What’re you afraid of?”
Dom’s throat worked, but he didn’t answer. He was afraid of something, then.
The small wound on Dom’s lip had healed by now—Jesse itched to put another on him. He wanted to bite Dom, to leave his mark on that alpha’s skin.
On impulse, he grabbed Dom’s arms and turned his head, his mouth grazing the stubble on Dom’s jaw. For an instant, Jesse’s mouth brushed the corner of Dom’s lips, a hairsbreadth from a kiss. Dom jerked backward, danger flashing through his eyes. He slammed Jesse into the brick. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“What, don’t kiss you?” Jesse lifted his chin. “Because you’re afraid to?”
Copper eyes dropped to Jesse’s lips. Dom was contemplating it, then. And he glanced back up savagely, like the slightest word could set him off. “I’m not making that mistake again,” Dom muttered.
“Because you’ll want more?” Jesse shoved their chests together, tilting his face up to whisper in his ear, “Afraid you’ll cream your pants again?”
Dom growled, clenching Jesse’s shirt so tight that the fabric strained. Then Jesse felt it—the press of a hard line against his hip. Before he could say a word about it, Dom leaned in, his breath hot on Jesse’s ear. “I’m not afraid of you, Sinclair.”
Then he bit down on Jesse’s earlobe, sharp points of his teeth sinking into Jesse’s skin, and he took that earring into his mouth.
Dom sucked. Pleasure shot down Jesse’s spine; his hips bucked. All Dom did was circle Jesse’s earring with his tongue, a warm, damp touch, like he was tasting the parts of Jesse he let himself have.
Just as suddenly as he’d started that kiss, Dom jerked away, his lips glistening, his eyes so dark, it dragged an answering jolt of want through Jesse’s gut.
Dom released him entirely, stepping back. Then—of all things—he turned to leave. After a kiss like that. After he’d gotten hard, just from how close they’d been.
“You want more,” Jesse growled after him.
Dom strode away, not bothering with an answer.
“Coward,” Jesse added.
Dom stiffened, but he kept walking.
Maybe that was it. Maybe all Jesse had to do, was push him hard enough. Then Dom would take him up on the punishment he’d promised.
Jess
e straightened his clothes, stalking back into the bar.
This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
Over the next few weeks, Jesse waited for a chance to confront Dom again. He didn’t want to do it during bar night or a call, because Dom could avoid him like he was getting really good at doing.
No, Jesse was looking for a chance where Dom couldn’t leave so easily. That chance presented itself one morning, while they were at a grocery store getting food for their next meal.
There were four of them on this trip—Jesse, Alec, Gareth, and Dom. On the way into the store, Gareth turned like he’d spotted something. “Catch up with you guys in a bit.”
He strode off quickly. Dom made for the pasta section first—food that wouldn’t spoil in a basket if they needed to drop it for the next call.
They were almost to the aisle, when Alec said, “Oh, Gareth’s kissing his omega. That’s a young one, isn’t he? And I thought I was young.”
Jesse couldn’t help looking. As old as all the scarring made him look, he was just twenty-two. Had Gareth found someone even younger than Jesse?
“C’mon, let’s go rib him,” Alec said, pulling Jesse along. He gave a loud whistle. Jesse elbowed him; other shoppers had turned to look. But Alec only grinned.
“For gods’ sakes, Alec,” Dom muttered.
Gareth’s boyfriend scrambled away when they approached. He was a thin omega, pale, a bit uncertain. Maybe he would’ve been Jesse’s type, a long time ago.
A glimmer of color caught his eye. The omega’s nails were a rich, sparkly blue, more purple than cyan. Something about that nail polish stood out to him—it was a nice shade. Bright. Almost... pretty.
Alphas shouldn’t think that about nail polish. But Jesse couldn’t help staring at the man’s nails—it was as though he’d spread minuscule bits of glitter all over them.
“This is Alec, and this is Jesse,” Gareth said. “Guys, this is Flores.”
Jesse blinked. Had he been so distracted by nail polish, that he’d missed the rest of the introductions?
Flores waved. Like everyone else, his attention fixed onto Jesse. Jesse breathed out, waiting while Flores gaped at all his scars. Then Flores’ stare landed on the embedded beads. Jesse almost wished he’d cut them out the other day.
“Do they hurt?” Flores squirmed.
“It’s fine,” Jesse answered. Like he could say anything but.
“Jesse’s a tough nut. Don’t worry,” Gareth said, sliding his arm around Flores in a casual, intimate way that Jesse wished he could stop looking at. But he couldn’t. What would that feel like? Having someone to hold, having someone who wouldn’t flinch when they touched you?
“Okay,” Flores said. “York’s also on your team, right?” He paused. “York’s our—my neighbor.”
Alec wriggled his eyebrows. “‘Our’?”
Gareth sighed. “Flores and I were neighbors.” So they weren’t neighbors anymore? Had Flores... moved in with Gareth?
“We really should get going,” Gareth said.
“No kidding,” Alec retorted. “The rest of us don’t get to snog omegas on our grocery runs.”
The words crowded onto Jesse’s tongue even before he could think. “Harris gets to snog Valen when we change shifts.”
Then his heart thumped. Dom was very definitely listening. And he knew what Jesse was talking about.
“They’re married,” Gareth explained to Flores. “Harris has an alpha and an omega.”
So what was Dom so scared of? That the others would judge him? The reckless part of Jesse grabbed his tongue and said, To hell with this. “Pretty open-minded of them. Unlike Dom, who seems to really like—”
“We’re getting distracted,” Dom said sharply.
—putting his tongue on my body. Jesse didn’t finish his sentence, but Dom didn’t need him to.
Dom glared. “Jesse, if you could stop speculating about me—”
Yeah, he’d gotten Dom’s attention, front and center. And Dom was looking straight at him, those eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously. A thrill shot down Jesse’s spine. “Just stating a fact,” Jesse retorted. “If you didn’t keep shoving your—”
—dick against mine, and pretending you didn’t, I wouldn’t have to talk about it in front of everyone else.
“Gareth, if you could join us in fifteen seconds, that’ll be great,” Dom snapped. “Alec, with me. I’m not spending more time here.” In a kinder tone, he added, “Welcome to the family, Flores.”
Dom spun around and strode off. Alec’s eyebrows crawled up. “What was that about?” Alec whispered.
Jesse shrugged, ignoring the prickle of heat on his neck. Alec left to follow Dom. Gareth looked too shrewdly at Jesse—it felt like he knew. “Things okay between you and Dom, Jes?”
Jesse shrugged. That would depend on what Gareth meant by ‘okay’. “I guess.”
“You mean, you’re together?” Flores asked. “Like, boyfriends?”
“What?” Why would he even think that? Jesse grimaced. Dom and him? Boyfriends? “No.”
But what would that feel like? If Dom actually put his arm around Jesse like Gareth did with his omega? If he didn’t actually mind... touching Jesse? For a long time?
Jesse’s skin prickled with curiosity, and something else he didn’t want to put a name to.
In a roundabout way, Dom had welcomed him to the team. He’d not mentioned the beads on Jesse’s skin anymore, or even said a word about Jesse’s past. When they were on duty, he treated Jesse just like everyone else.
So why did Jesse’s stomach flip whenever he saw Dom? Why did he feel that urge to make Dom look at him? Why did he—whenever Dom was nearby—want to step closer, just to feel the heat rippling off Dom’s skin?
His mind clouded with too many thoughts, Jesse strode off in the opposite direction, needing to put some distance between Dom and himself.
11
Dom is In Deep
“So, about Jesse,” Gareth said slyly.
Dom was sorely tempted to chuck his wrench at Gareth. “What about him?”
“Nothing.” Gareth leaned against the truck, where Dom was inspecting the fan belt system. “Harris told me a few interesting things.”
Fuck. Dom closed his eyes, unease creeping through his limbs. Harris, what the hell did you say? “Is there something I should know?”
“He mentioned you were fighting.” Gareth sipped from his mug. “After one of the bar nights.”
Harris, you fucker. Dom bit down his swearing, trying to suppress the heat that threatened to swallow his face. “You’re the nosiest damn person I’ve ever met, Gareth. Worse than an omega.”
Gareth’s smile grew. “That only means you’ve got something to hide.”
“Go back to your duties,” Dom muttered.
“I will, but after I’ve gotten to the bottom of this.” Gareth glanced around the garage, then inched closer to Dom so he could drop his voice. “Have you fucked?”
“What the hell,” Dom spluttered.
Gareth kicked Dom’s shoe. “The sooner I’m caught up, the sooner I’ll get back to work, deputy.”
“Fuck off,” Dom hissed.
“I’ve been putting it off for weeks. So it’s about time you spilled, damn it.” Gareth kicked him again. “What the hell’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing.”
“That fight at the grocery store ain’t nothing. Sounded like there was some miscommunication to me. About... ‘shoving’.” Gareth raised his eyebrows.
Dom straightened, the wrench feeling like a pretty solid threat in his palm. Yeah, he’d fucked up. Had Harris mentioned that, too? “It was just once. A few months back.”
“Oh?” Gareth searched out Sinclair, who was on the other end of the garage, washing down a truck. “You told him it was a one-off thing? ‘Cuz he seems to think otherwise.”
Dom followed his gaze, finding Sinclair with half his shirt wet, the fabric clinging to his pecs. It looked good on him. Better th
an it had any right to be. Dom wondered if Sinclair would peel his shirt off today, but that alpha rarely did.
As though he felt Dom’s attention, Sinclair looked up. Their eyes met, and exhilaration sizzled down to Dom’s toes.
Gareth snorted. “Actually, no. This is far from over, isn’t it?”
Dom yanked his stare back to the truck’s engine. “There’s nothing going on in the first place.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Gareth coughed discreetly. “You look like you’re one second from turning into a beast and ravaging him.”
Well, Gareth wasn’t wrong about that. Dom had been aching to—that bar night, when Sinclair had dared to grab Dom. That afternoon in the truck, when Sinclair’s lips had been just a whisper away from his own. He’d wanted to taste that man. To hear him groan again.
There were a great many things Dom wanted to do to Jesse Sinclair, and none of them was a good idea.
“You know about his past?” Dom asked.
Gareth sent him a look. “You think? Have you talked to Nate about him? Because I think you’re the only one who hasn’t.”
That had alarm bells ringing in Dom’s mind. Bad enough that he knew a little about Sinclair’s past. Bad enough that he’d been imagining that alpha tied down in some dark room, being given injections and who the hell knew what else.
Deep down, Dom had figured that the multitude of scars on Sinclair’s body hadn’t all been self-inflicted. But to know that he’d wanted none of them, to know that an alpha like that had been tied down against his will—it made a savage voice in him snarl, Don’t let any more harm come to him.
That was more emotional than Dom allowed himself to be.
Then, he had wondered about the sort of person who had suffered so badly, and who still kept his head up. The sort of person who climbed up ladders and picked cats off tree branches, cradling them gently against his body.
In the months since Sinclair’s outburst in the truck, Dom had revisited that conversation in his mind, he’d looked at Sinclair anew, trying to figure out what sort of man he was.
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