Alpha in Heat

by Anna Wineheart

  “Yeah, there’s that,” Dom said, glancing away.

  Jesse swallowed, pulling out. There wasn’t any point staying when Dom didn’t want him around.

  But Dom caught his hand. “Are you free tomorrow?”

  Jesse hesitated. “Kind of.”

  “Lunch?” Dom actually looked hopeful.

  Jesse’s heart stumbled, but he shook his head. “I’m going to Highton.”

  That made Dom’s gaze sharpen. “To the medical center?”

  “No. I’m gonna—gonna visit my parents.” Maybe. He’d decided that he needed to, before Larson showed up and he forever lost his chance to say hi.

  “You don’t sound so sure.” Dom watched him shrewdly. “What’s wrong?”

  Jesse gulped. “Nothing.”

  Dom sat up, squeezing Jesse’s hand tighter. “Tell me.”

  “It’s nothing you can fix,” Jesse snapped, his heart sore. “It’s not your problem.”

  But Dom cupped Jesse’s face and hauled him close, kissing him on the lips. “I gave you that bonding mark on your neck, Sinclair. You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.”

  Jesse froze, his thoughts crashing into each other. “Bonding mark?”

  His neck ached dully, where Dom had bitten him. That... had been a bonding mark?

  Jesse touched it gingerly, still disbelieving. Then he fumbled off the bed, staggering to Dom’s bathroom. His ass ached; Dom was right. Jesse would feel this into next week.

  When he glanced at his reflection, all those thoughts left his mind. Dried blood had welled up on the crook of his shoulder, where his scent gland was. Teethmarks. The sort that you gave a bondmate.

  Jesse had asked, and Dom had bitten him. His heart squeezed tight.

  That was the mark you gave someone when you promised your life to them. Dom didn’t want to commit. Even though he’d bitten Jesse there. Jesse wasn’t mentally right enough for him.

  “Sinclair.” Dom pressed him against the counter, all sharp eyes. “Calm down.”

  “I’m not calming down—”

  Dom kissed him. He tipped Jesse’s face up and sealed their lips together, sliding his tongue into Jesse’s mouth. Jesse bit him; Dom hissed, but he didn’t let go. “You’re mine now,” Dom said. “Deal with it.”

  Jesse’s heart hurt. “I’m not yours.”

  Even though he wanted to be.

  Dom kissed him again. “I’m coming with you tomorrow.”

  Jesse sucked in a shaky breath, his pulse going uneven. How would that even work out? “They won’t recognize me, Dom. I don’t think you should be there.”

  “They won’t?” Dom held him tighter. “Why not?”

  And now Jesse’s face burned. “I haven’t been home. Since—Since I got out.”

  Something like sympathy flashed through Dom’s gaze. “Why?”

  “Look at me,” Jesse hissed, feeling every single one of his scars. “The last time they saw me, I was fourteen.”

  He was twenty-four now. Jesse wasn’t sure what his parents expected, but it certainly wasn’t him like this, and him pregnant.

  Dom sucked in a slow breath. Then he cradled the back of Jesse’s head, and held him tight. “They’ll want to see you.”

  “I have a fucking bump under my abs.”

  Dom growled, trailing his wrists down Jesse’s arms, marking him with blackwood. “If you were gone for ten years, Sinclair, I know I’ll sure as hell want to see you again. Whatever you look like.”

  Jesse’s heart stopped. Then his eyes began to burn, and he had to blink hard. Why was Dom saying shit like this? When Jesse wasn’t enough for him? Didn’t that matter? “You’re not my mom or dad.”

  “No. I’m your alpha now.”

  Jesse turned away, struggling with the wetness in his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to cry. Only omegas did. He breathed in hard, trying to blink away the burning. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Dom slipped his arm around Jesse’s waist. “So I’m coming with you.”

  “Fine,” Jesse said, his throat too tight. Maybe he needed company just in case Mom and Dad couldn’t recognize him.

  Dom kissed his bonding mark, his lips gentle. Then he slipped his hand over Jesse’s abs, stroking his wrist lightly over that bump. Where the baby was. Jesse wasn’t sure if he was more terrified of that, or lying on an operating table again.

  “Shower,” Dom murmured. “Get all this sweat washed off.”

  “I’m showering by myself.”

  “Okay.”

  Even though Jesse wanted to see Dom under the shower. Maybe next time. He pulled away, feeling raw and vulnerable. Except Dom tangled their fingers together. “Hey, Sinclair.”

  “What?” Jesse turned, scowling. He almost crashed into Dom’s chest.

  “Remember today,” Dom murmured in his ear. “You’re one hell of a top. ‘Specially when you’re pissed.”

  Jesse froze. Dom was talking about earlier. When he’d let Jesse fuck him. “You can’t be serious.”

  Dom’s smile curved his lips, slow and satisfied. “You’re something special when you threaten me like that.”

  Jesse remembered the power, he remembered feeling like he could do anything when Dom trusted him. “You didn’t... You—You did that on purpose.” The dots connected in his mind. Dom giving up his dominance, Dom allowing Jesse to fuck him. Because Jesse had been feeling like crap, and then... it had faded. And Dom had replaced it with confidence. Strength.

  Dom wasn’t just strong enough to buoy himself—he’d lifted Jesse’s spirits, too.

  Jesse stared incredulously at Dom, wanting to leap at him, wanting to kiss him, and do something ridiculous about the gnawing in his chest that said this wasn’t enough.

  It was dangerous. He shouldn’t get his hopes up so high.

  He tucked himself into the shower, turning it on hot. Dom was on the other side of the shower curtains, just being there.

  After spending years at the Facility, after being alone for so long... Having Dom by his side—Jesse felt safe with him.

  Maybe... tomorrow wouldn’t be a complete fuck-up. Maybe, if Mom and Dad didn’t turn him away, maybe he could introduce them to Dom.

  25

  Dom Meets the Family

  Sinclair was rooting around in the fridge when Dom woke the next morning.

  It was something special waking up to that cinnamon scent, layered over with honey. Not so nice to find that Sinclair had disappeared from his bed.

  Dom had been disappointed. Then he’d noticed the bedroom door ajar—he never left it that way. It was always either open, or closed. So he’d followed Sinclair’s scent to the kitchen. And he’d found that alpha raiding his fridge, not a stitch of clothing on his scarred body.

  Last night had been real nice.

  “Woke up early?” Dom rumbled.

  Sinclair jumped and straightened. He had some raw celery sticking out of his mouth, but otherwise he seemed fine. “Where’s the honey?”

  Dom pulled it out of the pantry—an unopened bottle he’d brought back from the station, courtesy of York and Perry’s overstock. It was precisely because the honey came from them, that its bottle was the perfect size to dip an alpha cock in. Not that Dom had intended it for that purpose until now.

  Sinclair seemed to recognize the jar, too, cracking a smile. “I’m eating your celery first,” he said, pulling another stick out of the fridge.

  “Then some meat?” Dom growled.

  Sinclair eyed Dom’s hips. Then he took the celery out of his mouth and shook it at Dom. “This is harder.”

  “Brat. One of these days, I’ll bend you over my knee,” Dom growled.

  Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “And?”

  “And not put anything into that hole.”

  Sinclair scowled, turning back to the fridge. That shut him up. He was still adorable, though. And Dom’s ass ached pleasantly, a reminder of yesterday. Sinclair’s probably still hurt, too.

  Dom smiled, setting the honey on the counter. Sinclair b
rought out the sour cream and hot sauce. Then he mixed all three in a cereal bowl, and dipped his celery stick in.

  Dom winced. “That can’t taste great.”

  Sinclair tipped the mixture into his mouth, all but drinking it. “You’re missing out.”

  Then he mixed up more of his concoction, spread it over a slice of cheese, and wrapped it around a pickle.

  Dom was glad Sinclair didn’t offer to share that. “You usually eat stuff like that at home?”

  Sinclair shrugged. “Not really.”

  So it was his pregnancy cravings, then. Dom couldn’t help growling, heading over to wrap his arms around Sinclair. He loved touching this man—all hard lines and muscles, so unlike an omega.

  Sometimes, Dom could even fool himself into thinking this would end differently from how it had with Mal.

  He mouthed Sinclair’s nape, his instincts rumbling at the new scab of his bonding mark. Then he stroked down Sinclair’s chest, lingering at his abdomen. Sinclair was right about the bump. It was more visible now, if anyone thought to look closely.

  Dom wondered what their child would look like. Whether it would have Sinclair’s features, or his, or a mix of them both. He imagined their baby grinning toothily, babbling and grabbing Sinclair’s fingers. He thought about their child running around, tiny and excitable, and a small, quiet part of him yearned.

  “You said you had an omega. Why didn’t you have any kids with him?”

  Sinclair had caught Dom fixating on his abdomen, then. Dom sighed, rolling his shoulders. “We weren’t ready for them. I didn’t think he would ever be, really.”

  “So—So is that a dealbreaker for you?” Sinclair asked, stumbling over his words.

  Did he think Dom would leave him because of that? Dom’s chest squeezed; he pulled Sinclair closer. “No. But we didn’t have an accidental pregnancy, either.”

  Sinclair looked down, staying silent. Dom didn’t want to think about losing this baby. It threatened to break his heart every time.

  “If I could be the one with the uterus, I’d carry it, you know,” Dom said.

  Sinclair stiffened, a flush sweeping up his neck. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

  Dom probably shouldn’t have said it. “Forget it.”

  He turned Sinclair around and kissed him, slipping into his mouth. The sour cream and honey and hot sauce were all faintly there, mixed in with cheese and pickle and celery.

  And maybe it wasn’t that awful a taste, if it meant he was kissing Sinclair.

  His heart swelled, needing more of this man. That was dangerous. Dom pulled away, squeezing Sinclair’s ass. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll drive.”

  Sinclair scowled. “I can drive, too.”

  “Yeah, well. My truck. I get to decide.” But he kissed Sinclair’s jaw, then his mouth, distracting Sinclair from the sudden tension that had sprung up in his body.

  Sinclair was nervous. Dom hadn’t realized just how self-conscious Sinclair was of his scars, how terribly he thought of them—enough for him to think his family would hate them, too. He rubbed Sinclair’s arms, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “It’ll go fine. You’re still the same person, I think. Deep down. They’ll recognize you.”

  Sinclair looked doubtful, so Dom said, “Tell you what. I’ll make you dinner when we get home. Your choice.”

  “I can cook,” Sinclair muttered, but he looked a little less anxious.

  “Blowjob, too?” Dom offered.

  Sinclair cheered up more. He’d loved the one Dom had given him last night.

  He gathered his clothes from yesterday, spraying them down with scent suppressants—they’d come home from the barbecue smelling like sex. Not the best scent to be wearing to your parents’ place.

  When Sinclair was ready, Dom drove them to Highton, Sinclair fidgeting in the passenger seat. Dom reached over, holding his hand. That helped calm him a little.

  It wasn’t long before they turned down a quiet road in a suburban neighborhood, pulling to a stop in front of a pale yellow house. Sinclair stiffened, his breaths coming faster.

  Dom took his hand. “Focus on me.”

  Sinclair looked like he might go into a panic. Dom unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. “Look at me. Breathe.”

  Sinclair breathed. Slowly, he managed it, one shaky inhale after another. Dom didn’t know what was going through his head; he’d figured it was bad. Sinclair didn’t even flinch at their most difficult fires, but things like this, just going home...

  Dom kissed his lips, stroking his nape. Gradually, Sinclair calmed down, his breaths puffing onto Dom’s mouth. “I hate freaking out like this,” Sinclair muttered. “I wish it’d stop.”

  “Can’t help so much with that. Sorry.” Dom squeezed Sinclair’s shoulder, cupping his neck. Just to let him know he wasn’t alone.

  More minutes later, Sinclair blew out a breath, leaning away. “Better now.”

  Dom kissed the back of his hand.

  Sinclair scowled. “Not an omega.”

  “Nope. Just someone who needs kisses.” Gods, that sounded so cheesy. But it was true. And it made Sinclair scowl harder—not that Dom would tell him those scowls only made him more adorable.

  So he kissed his alpha.

  Sinclair always looked so eager for more, every time Dom ended a kiss. Dom brushed their mouths together—Sinclair’s lips were soft and velvety, decadent. Dom tasted him. Then he tasted Sinclair again, nipping on his lower lip, sliding in, tangling their tongues.

  Sinclair had gotten a lot better at kissing. Dom liked to think it was because of all the kisses they’d shared, him pressing Sinclair up against walls, dragging hungry groans from his throat.

  When Sinclair relaxed further, Dom stroked his jaw and pulled away, waiting until Sinclair anchored himself in the present. “Ready now?”

  Sinclair sighed. “Guess I am.”

  Dom walked with him up the driveway, tangling their fingers together. Last night, while they’d sat together in bed, Sinclair had double-checked the address. They’d joined in on the team’s group chat, and then Dom had pinned Sinclair, and given him a blowjob. Sinclair had come so hard, it had taken him a while to speak again.

  Dom savored that memory now, rubbing his knuckles against the small of Sinclair’s back, waiting as Sinclair pressed the bell of his childhood home.

  Muffled voices came from deeper within the house. Someone pattered up behind the door, and there was a pause. Then the door opened slowly, a short, plump woman poking her head out. “No, we’re not interested in buying your products,” she said warily.

  Sinclair sucked in a sharp breath, freezing. His mom made to close the door—Dom threw his hand out, catching the door before it shut. “Ma’am, hold on for a second. Hear him out.”

  Opal Sinclair paused, looking from Dom, to her son. Then she did a double-take at his scars, faltering.

  Silence stretched between them. Sinclair’s throat worked; he tried to speak, but no sound came from his moving lips.

  His mom stared at him for a long moment, her eyes slowly growing wide. She had vivid blue eyes, just like Sinclair did. The same nose, too. “Wait,” she said slowly, opening the door wider. “What’s your name?”

  “Jesse,” Sinclair said, his voice rough. “Ten years ago, March 22nd. I was walking home from school. We were gonna celebrate Kelly’s birthday. A van drove up and—”

  Something broke in Opal’s expression. She threw the door open and barreled out, pulling Sinclair down into a fierce hug. “Jesse, hon. We thought you’d died.”

  Sinclair trembled, his eyes full of unshed tears. Dom reached over, touching his waist. “Okay to cry,” Dom murmured. “You’re no less of an alpha.”

  Sinclair wrapped his arms around his mom, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’m sorry I haven’t been home sooner,” he mumbled, sucking in great, heaving breaths. “I just...”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Opal said, t
ears trickling down her cheeks. “I’m just so happy that you’re home.”

  Sinclair hid his face, his shoulders shaking as he broke down. Dom pulled his hand away. Sinclair didn’t need him now. He stepped back a couple paces, just letting Sinclair have his privacy. He thought about going back to his truck to wait, maybe heading elsewhere until Sinclair was ready to see him again. But he didn’t want Sinclair to think he’d upped and left without at least saying something.

  So Dom waited. Sinclair’s dad stopped by the door, frowning when he found his wife sobbing. “Opal? What’s the matter?”

  Opal pulled away from her son, wiping her eyes. “It’s Jesse, Wayne. He’s alive!”

  She ushered Sinclair into the house, and Sinclair stiffened when he saw his father. “Dad,” Sinclair croaked. He curled his hands into fists—he was more afraid of meeting his dad, than his mom.

  Wayne Sinclair stared for a moment. Then something broke in his expression, too, and he was striding forward, hauling his son into a tight hug. Sinclair trembled, hugging him, swiping the tears off his face. But his dad was blinking hard, too.

  “We searched for you for years,” Wayne said, thumping his son’s back. “No one knew anything. We hired private investigators, but nothing came up.”

  “I was kidnapped,” Sinclair mumbled. “Was a long time before I could get out.”

  “What happened to you?” His mom touched his arm gingerly; Dom could see her heart breaking in her eyes. “How did you get all these?”

  Sinclair shrugged, pulling away from his dad. And now he looked uncertain. “I—I was in an underground facility. Human trafficking. They did experiments on me. About six years.”

  “Six years? Of experiments?” Opal paled, looking horrified.

  “Yeah. I tried my best to escape. They just kept shooting me down.” He looked at his feet. “I wasn’t strong enough to beat them.”

  There was so much shame in those words that Dom wanted to go over and hug him. But it was still a family moment, and Dom hadn’t been invited into the house.

  “Thing is, you survived.” Wayne clapped his son’s shoulder, his eyes flashing. “Just tell me where they are, and I’ll go beat them up—”