Alpha in Heat

by Anna Wineheart

  Dad snorted. “Anyway, after that. After you got out of your room, all the way through dinner. Felt like... he was in a bad mood. You guys fought?”

  Jesse shook his head. Then he looked at his abdomen, and... Yeah. That was what Dom was still upset about. He sighed, scrubbing his face. “Maybe.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t push. He deserved to know, though. When he’d been searching for Jesse all these years. At length, Jesse admitted, “He wants something I can’t give.”

  “Love?”

  Jesse’s stomach flipped. No, he wasn’t ready to think about that. None of this was permanent. “Worse. Remember what I said about the experiments?”

  He showed his dad the big scar, his heart thumping. Dad had been so accepting of him all afternoon. But what if this changed everything?

  He told Dad about the visit to the medical center. Then he told Dad about the uterus. “So... I’m pregnant. And he wants the baby.”

  That threw Dad for a loop. “Holy fuck, son. Pregnant?”

  Jesse looked at his feet, trying to breathe. Maybe this was where he fucked up, and Dad would tell him to get out. Having a uterus was one thing, but letting another alpha knock him up?

  Dad took a while to digest the news. Then he sniffed at Jesse, and his eyebrows drew low. Jesse’s stomach twisted. He tried to brace himself for Dad’s disappointment.

  But instead of condemning him, Dad wrapped his arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “So what’re you gonna do about it?”

  Relief swelled through Jesse’s chest; he leaned against his dad, a lump forming in his throat. “Damned if I know.”

  He’d looked at the resources Perry sent. He’d considered both alternatives. And every time he thought about undergoing surgery to remove that thing, he remembered Dom’s wistfulness, his yearning.

  Part of him was ready to give Dom whatever he wanted. The pregnancy, the baby, everything. No matter how many times it sent him into a panic attack. That scared the crap out of him. But it was the alien parts influencing him, wasn’t it? The parts that tried to turn him into an omega?

  “How did you decide you wanted kids?” Jesse asked. He hoped his voice wasn’t shaky.

  Dad shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “You were an accident. I went along with it, because your mom was so excited.”

  That didn’t help, though. “How’d you decide you loved Mom?”

  Dad looked him in the eye. “I’d do anything for her. The moment I figured that out, I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I’d regret not doing it.”

  Did Jesse... feel that way about Dom? His heart pounded. He didn’t know. It felt like a commitment he wasn’t ready to make. “Oh.”

  Dad patted his shoulder. “Important things to think about.”

  Jesse nodded, filing those thoughts away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier,” he blurted.

  Dad frowned. “Why didn’t you?”

  Jesse turned his scarred hands over. “Was just—afraid, I guess. I thought you and Mom might’ve moved on and forgotten about me. The Facility, being stuck there for years... No one showed up for the longest time. I think it really fucked with my head. I thought... maybe I was good enough to be sold. And that was it.”

  Dad pulled him into a tight hug. “If I’d known where you were, if I had even the slightest inkling, I would’ve come to get you in a heartbeat. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t.”

  Jesse breathed out the lump of tightness in his chest. “I don’t blame you, you know. You couldn’t have known.”

  “I blame myself anyway.” Dad kissed his forehead and held him for a long moment. “You’re my flesh and blood. You’re important, son. You need to remember that. Lots of people love you. Like your mom and me. Kelly. And your team at the station. And...”

  Dad glanced over his shoulder, at the light streaming through the kitchen window. Jesse knew Dom was in there somewhere, helping Mom roll out some dough.

  “If he loved me, he would’ve said something,” Jesse muttered, his heart squeezing.

  “Maybe.” Dad looked up at the sky. “Sometimes love comes through in the quietest of ways. It’s not always the big declarations like it is in the movies.”

  They sat on the back porch until darkness fell, and moths came up to flutter around the porch light. Then they headed into the house, where the aroma of blueberry pie had filled the air.

  Dom was stamping out some dough hearts with a plastic cookie cutter. Mom was mixing some sugar with cinnamon powder. The moment Jesse and Dad stepped into the kitchen, Dom looked up, his gaze locking onto Jesse. Jesse’s heart stumbled and crashed.

  “We should head back soon,” Jesse said, trying to find his breath. “I still have to pick up my bike from the park.”

  “Some clothes, too.” Dom sent him a meaningful look—Jesse was sleeping over at his place tonight.

  And now there were butterflies in Jesse’s stomach. Dad’s words couldn’t be true, could they?

  Mom made them wait until the pie was done, before packing some into a box for them to bring along. Then they bade Jesse’s parents goodbye and set off for home.

  An hour’s drive later, they pulled into the park where the barbecue party had been. Shadows had swallowed the lake; orange lamplight faintly illuminated the pavilion. It was far too quiet.

  Dom pulled up next to Jesse’s bike and parked. Jesse hopped out, his skin prickling. Maybe it was just the chilly night air.

  He unlocked his bike trunk, riffling through its contents. Everything was still there. So he pulled out his gloves and helmet, expecting to pull them on.

  Except there was the faintest, most awful scent of bitterwood in his helmet.

  Jesse’s stomach plummeted.

  He remembered a dark cell, he remembered being blindfolded, and the scorching lashes of a whip splitting his back open. He remembered the glint of scalpels before things slid under his skin. He remembered a cruel smile, he remembered the red-hot agony of a cattle rod stabbing into his neck. And accompanying all the pain was bitterwood, everywhere, every time the door slammed open.

  Larson had found him.

  Jesse swallowed hard, trying to breathe. He scrutinized every shadow, every tree and shrub around them. But there was only silence.

  Dom rolled down the passenger-side window. “Something wrong?”

  Jesse tightened his fist around the gloves. “No.”

  If he said yes, then Dom would stay. And Dom was no match for Larson. Even with Jesse by his side. Larson was always several steps ahead of Jesse, he was always armed, always prepared to take Jesse down. Whatever the cost.

  Jesse could deal with it. But Dom—Jesse could not risk his safety. No matter how capable Dom was.

  “Sinclair.”

  “I’m fine.”

  His heart pounding, Jesse yanked on his helmet, his entire scalp prickling at the scent. Larson had been through his things. Maybe he’d known Jesse would return for the bike. And maybe he was already at Jesse’s apartment, waiting.

  Jesse couldn’t go home with Dom tonight. Not until he’d made sure Larson was well and truly dead.

  Dom left his truck, stalking over with narrowed eyes. “Something’s wrong.”

  Jesse swung his leg over the bike. “I’ll meet you at the house.”

  “Sinclair.” Dom grabbed his arm, forcibly turning Jesse’s helmet so their gazes locked. “What’s wrong?”

  Worry flashed through Dom’s eyes. Maybe wariness. And Jesse knew he needed to get Dom off his tail, as quick as he could. “I’m leaving.”

  Dom scowled. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No.”

  Dom yanked Jesse’s helmet off. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”

  “It means I’m just gonna drop by the apartment,” Jesse snapped. “I’ll get my things, and I’ll join you.”

  For a moment, Dom studied him. Jesse thought Dom would finally let him go.

  Instead, Dom leaned in and kissed him hard, pushing his tongue into Jesse
’s mouth. He tasted like roast beef and chai tea, and his was a warm, possessive touch. “I don’t believe you for a second, Sinclair,” Dom whispered.

  “Then don’t,” Jesse growled. “I don’t need you to believe me.”

  Dom’s eyes flashed. “Just fucking tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Why?” Jesse snatched his helmet back. “I don’t belong to you.”

  “I’m your alpha.”

  “Like hell you are.” Jesse tugged his helmet back on. “I just asked you to bite me. Not to bite me there.”

  Dom growled, grabbing Jesse’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  Jesse yanked his arm back. “No.”

  “That’s an order, Jesse.”

  Like hell he could pull that deputy card out here. Jesse flipped him off. The longer he stayed, the longer he spent with Dom, the more danger Dom was in. Dom had no fucking clue how low Larson would sink.

  Larson could very well kill Dom, and Dom wouldn’t even know until it was too late.

  “It shouldn’t matter this much to you,” Jesse hissed. “My head’s fucked up. I’m just some guy you happened to sleep with. You—You don’t even love me, anyway.”

  He hadn’t meant to let that slip. But he’d been thinking about it the whole way home, wondering what it’d feel like if Dom loved him. Then he’d tried to convince himself that it was just a fantasy. And maybe he just wanted proof, once and for all. So he didn’t have to torment himself wondering what this thing was between them.

  Dom froze, his throat working. And, for the longest moment, he didn’t answer.

  Dom didn’t love him, then. Jesse’s heart cracked. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. He shoved his key into the ignition, bringing the bike roaring to life.

  “Sinclair,” Dom snapped.

  “You know what, maybe this should just be over,” Jesse retorted. No point trying to get Dom to like him, if Dom was just going to end up hurting him.

  He was in the middle of turning the bike around, about to leave, when a black car pulled into the parking lot, headlights off. The windows were tinted, one halfway rolled down.

  A gun muzzle pointed right at them.

  Alarm clawed through Jesse’s nerves. Larson was here. He was here to capture Jesse, and put him back on the operating table.

  Jesse sucked in a deep breath, trying not to panic. He thought about yesterday. Dom giving him power. You can be strong. You’re strong. Remember you can do anything?

  He could leave, and let the car chase him down. But what if Larson shot Dom first? What if he killed Dom?

  Ice sluiced down Jesse’s spine. He pulled the bike around, placing himself between Dom and the car.

  “Sinclair,” Dom muttered. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Protecting you, Jesse didn’t say. No point. “Get in the truck.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  With each moment, the car crept closer, gravel crunching under its tires. Jesse was no longer in the line of sight between Dom and the gun. Dom swore. He’d seen the gun, then.

  Jesse threw down the kickstand, climbing off his bike. He put himself between Dom and the gun again.

  “What the fuck, Sinclair.”

  “Get in the truck, now.” Why was Dom being an idiot?

  Dom grabbed his arm. A gunshot rang out; the truck pinged. When Jesse looked again, there was a bullet hole in the side of the truck, punched clean through the metal.

  “Fucking leave right now, Dom.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Dom snarled.

  “They won’t kill me,” Jesse snapped. “But they will fucking kill you.”

  What were the chances of Jesse walking closer, shooting Larson in the head point-blank? But was Larson the one doing the shooting, or was he driving? Or was he even in the car at all?

  Jesse would go ahead and find out, except the moment they took him down, Dom would be absolutely defenseless.

  “Sinclair,” Dom snapped.

  Jesse only half-heard it through the adrenaline. He yanked his gun out. “Not going. Now fucking get out of here, before I shoot you myself.”

  Dom snarled. He strode forward, snatching the gun out of Jesse’s hand. To Jesse’s horror, Dom stepped in front of him, shooting at the wheels of the car. One popped. Then the rifle moved, and Jesse knew the second before they pulled the trigger.

  He threw himself in front of Dom. An impact went straight into his back like a hard punch, and pain sluiced white-hot through his body.

  “Fuck, Sinclair.” Dom lowered the gun, shoving Jesse up against the truck. Panic flashed in his eyes. Jesse heaved him off, placing himself back between Dom and the car.

  “I’m fine,” Jesse gritted, breathing out the pain. “Fucking get out before they pull the tranqs. They’ll save me from an OD. They won’t fucking save you.”

  “I won’t leave you.” Dom’s gaze scorched into him.

  “Please.” Jesse tightened his fists in Dom’s shirt. Stop being an idiot, Dom. “I’m begging you. Go.”

  He shoved Dom backward, pulling the truck door open. Then he rammed Dom into the passenger seat cavity—where he’d be safe.

  “Sinclair—”

  “We won’t both make it out of here. I’m buying you time. Get. Out.”

  They exchanged a heated glare. Dom’s lips thinned. Then he reached into the opening of the helmet, rubbing his thumb across Jesse’s mouth.

  “Stay alive,” Dom growled. “I’ll get help.”

  Good enough. Jesse peeled away, rounding the truck so the occupants of the black car could see him again. He pulled his helmet off, tossing it aside. Then, just in case they couldn’t recognize him, he pulled his shirt off, too. Leaving all his scars exposed.

  Behind, Dom started the truck engine. Jesse stepped closer to the car, in front of the gun muzzle so there was no way they could point it at Dom.

  Another gun appeared—smaller, simpler. A tranquilizer gun. Panic bubbled into Jesse’s veins. He knew where this was headed. He knew he only had half a minute before he went down, and Dom would lose any time Jesse could buy him.

  Behind, the truck reversed. There was a pause. Jesse felt the heat of Dom’s stare. Then the rifle swiveled and fired, and Jesse panicked, diving for it, trying to stop them from shooting at the truck.

  With a roar, the truck drove away, at the same time the tranquilizer gun popped. A dart embedded itself into Jesse’s chest. He ripped it out, flinging it aside. Another dart flew at him. The rifle fired again—all that mattered was that the truck kept going, even as more darts landed in Jesse’s arms, pumping him full of drugs. He ripped them all out.

  Then he listened as the truck turned out of the parking lot, rumbling down the road. Away from here.

  And it didn’t matter so much that Jesse couldn’t stand upright anymore. Dom was safe.

  He staggered, trying to keep his feet under himself. He couldn’t. The gravel came up to meet him, and Jesse smashed into the rough ground, his head swimming, his vision fogging up.

  Voices murmured in the distance. Car doors slammed. Jesse closed his eyes, the pain in his body fading away.

  For the first time, captivity had been his choice. And he didn’t regret it at all.

  27

  Dom Tries To Save Jesse

  Every last instinct screamed at Dom to turn the truck around. Head back. Grab Sinclair and get him out of there.

  He desperately wanted to. It had ripped him apart, hearing the gunshots. Watching Sinclair in his side view mirrors, Sinclair pulling tiny dart-like things off his skin.

  Please, Sinclair had said. I’m begging you.

  Dom could count on one hand the number of times Sinclair had begged him for anything. It didn’t make this right.

  But Sinclair had seemed so damn certain that they’d kill Dom. Without knowing what else was in that car, Dom couldn’t say he was wrong. If Dom had grabbed Sinclair and driven off, the guys in the car might’ve fired an explosive at them. Or something even worse.

  He
could only hope that those guys would keep Sinclair alive, that they wouldn’t kill him the first chance they got.

  His gut clenched. He pulled over onto the road shoulder, calling Nate.

  In the time it took for Nate to answer, Dom’s stomach twisted over and over. He listened out for the sound of an electric car, but there was nothing. Just more silence.

  “Dom?” Nate asked. His tinny voice gave Dom scant relief.

  “They got him,” Dom said. “We were ambushed.”

  Nate swore. “Where are you?”

  “At the park. Just down the road, at the first turnout. What do I do?”

  “Have you called 911?”

  “I’ll get on that.”

  “Stay low,” Nate warned. “I’m on my way. But I can’t promise we’ll get him back tonight.”

  Dom didn’t know how to deal with that. “Right.”

  He pulled the truck further off the road and cut the engine, the better to hide it from sight. Then he called the police, gave them the details, and waited.

  He couldn’t help thinking about Sinclair’s words before the car showed up. Sinclair saying maybe they should break up. Sinclair had asked if Dom loved him, and Dom couldn’t give him an answer. Because he’d still been trying to protect his heart. Because it had taken him years and decades to fix it.

  Dom still remembered Mal promising he’d be okay. Mal had been all weary and sad, and Dom had made him swear not to leave the house. He’d made Mal all the food he loved, he’d made sure Mal had been comfortable in bed. Then Dom had said I love you, and he’d left for a shift at the station.

  Mal must’ve calculated the exact moment he’d wanted to die, because it was only when Dom was on the way home, freshly off-duty, that he’d received the call.

  Mal had promised. And he’d been a mess of broken parts at the foot of the building, and Dom had just... frozen. He’d gone into shock.

  Over and over, he’d gone back to that moment before he’d left, wondering what he’d done wrong. Whether he should’ve done more, whether he should’ve said something aside from I love you. Then he’d realized that he shouldn’t have fallen in love at all, except that had been so far out of his control by that point.