Bound: Mason's Alphas

by D. J. Heart

  It was a nice daydream, but in the end the contrast between where he wished he was and where he actually found himself was just too depressing. He turned his mind off, and tried not to think about anything.

  After they’d been walking for what felt like hours—their alpha guard watching them while leaning against the wall by the door—Mason noticed that the redhead in front of him was sweating and walking funny. As they approached their guard, Mason was shocked when the young omega veered off course and walked right up to the alpha, falling to his knees in front of him and pressing his face into his thigh.

  He didn’t say anything, but his body language was desperate.

  “Everyone keep walking,” the alpha said, seemingly unconcerned. He leaned down and grabbed the redhead under the arms, hoisting him up and throwing him over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Mason resumed walking, realization hitting him. The redhead had gone into heat. Their captors must be keeping them quarantined from the other omegas until the shot they had given them kicked in.

  He stared at the remaining omegas with him, looking for a sign that any of them were going into heat. He couldn’t see any, though they all looked confused and worried. Mason wished he could explain to them what was going on, but he didn’t dare.

  An awful pit bloomed in the bottom of his stomach. Once he got put in with the rest of the omegas, he would be in heat. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone get the implant out of their arm. If he was going to help, he’d have to do it now. He just couldn’t think of a way to do it without getting caught.

  Their guard came back into the courtyard, the redhead nowhere to be seen. Mason took a deep breath, admitting to himself what he’d known all along. The only person he stood any chance of helping was himself.

  The admission made him feel guilty and terrible.

  ***

  Chapter 9

  Chris stood with his back ramrod straight, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Marlow and his guest were in the VIP section of the club occupying the whole lower layer of the brothel’s main building, getting drunk and laughing together as they traded boasts and tried to one-up each other with their stories.

  Watching the two men was boring work, and Chris was in a bad mood. His attempt to find more information on Vincent Conroy had come up woefully short, and when he finally got time to pay him a visit, he’d be going in with practically no useful information other than the case files Emily had forwarded.

  “Now look at that,” Eric, Marlow’s guest, scoffed. He was pointing at an omega dancing in a cage hanging over the dance floor. “I don’t get it. He’s skin and bones! Give me a fat omega any day over a twig like that.”

  “He’s cute and breakable, which is what sells. You’re an outlier, Eric. Though if you want a fat omega, I’m sure that can be arranged.” Marlow was grinning.

  “See, I don’t believe that. I think that if you had some variety you would do much better.”

  Marlow snorted. “Which is why I should start buying from you again? The last batch you sent me were practically middle-aged.”

  “What about you?” Eric asked, ignoring Marlow’s accusation and turning to Chris. He had to crane his neck looking up from the couch he was sitting on. “Do these teenage twinks do it for you?”

  Marlow answered for him. “Of course they do! Look at him, strapping young alpha. In fact…” Marlow grinned. “Chris, which one of our omegas did you fuck at the party last month? We’ll show Eric here exactly what your type is.”

  Chris opened his mouth, thinking fast. The truth was that he’d never knotted any of the omegas in the brothel. They assumed he did, and that was enough. It was the one part of his cover he couldn’t bring himself to live in truth.

  “None of them,” he said, shrugging. “The whole artificial heat thing freaks me out—and I prefer them a little older. Usually if I want to get laid I just head down to Mercer Street. You don’t have to be as… careful there either.”

  Marlow frowned, and Eric laughed.

  “See! I told you, Marlow. Tastes vary. You might like skinny teenagers, but some of us prefer something a little more substantial.” He turned to Chris with a suddenly judgmental look. “Though Mercer Street? Really?”

  Chris shrugged again, stone-faced.

  “Whatever, you’re both freaks,” Marlow said, shaking his head in disgust. Then he got a thoughtful look on his face. “I’ll look into it though. Who knows, you might be right. Some variety might do the business good.”

  After that the conversation shifted, and Chris breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Not taking advantage of the omegas at the brothel when he had the chance was completely at odds with the character he was playing. Hopefully he’d saved himself with the Mercer Street reference. That’s where the low-rent pimps and worn-out omegas operated. The only reason an alpha would choose that over Rover was if they wanted to do things to the omega that Marlow wouldn’t allow.

  It was okay to be rough, but if you actually damaged the merchandise Marlow would make you pay back the full value of the omega.

  Chris knew exactly how much Marlow had charged the alpha who killed his little brother.

  Staring past Marlow and his guest, Chris scanned the rest of the club. It was a busy night, and the scent of alpha pheromones and omega heat made the air thick and cloying. Being just like any other alpha, Chris couldn’t help the way the omega heat pheromones made his cock harden in his jeans.

  He shifted, trying to be discreet when he adjusted his bulge.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone paying Marlow and his guest any attention, and Chris wondered again why he was there. Marlow frequently went to the club without extra security, and that he’d requested that Chris actually join him in the VIP section was even more unusual.

  By three in the morning, both Marlow and Eric were falling-down drunk, and Chris had to help Eric into his car. Marlow laughed as Eric almost fell down, but Chris managed to lower him into the backseat of his town car without making it seem like he was actually lifting him into place.

  When he was done, shutting the door and indicating to the driver that he could go, he turned to Marlow.

  His boss suddenly seemed far more sober than he’d been a second ago.

  “Good work, Chris. You can head home,” Marlow waved him off, turning to head back into the club. Chris was confused. He hadn’t noticed that Marlow was faking his intoxication, and the oversight galled him.

  He was supposed to be better at this.

  Marlow was halfway into the club before he turned around.

  “Why Mercer Street?” he asked, frowning and looking genuinely perplexed. Chris felt a hollow pit in his stomach. If his cover was blown now he was fucked. He had information on all the low-level players Marlow dealt with, but he still hadn’t figured out the actual movers and shakers.

  He needed Marlow to think he was simply too sadistic and depraved to be allowed near any of his omegas.

  “I just like… doing stuff, to them. And I like it when they can think clearly. It’s no fun when they’ll do anything just to get your knot.”

  “I knew you were a kinky fucker,” Marlow answered, shaking his head. He looked vaguely disgusted. “But that’s fine, I guess. Head on home.”

  Chris nodded sharply, turning around and walking away.

  Hopefully Marlow didn’t suspect that anything was wrong.

  ***

  Chris knew he was in trouble when Blaze walked up to him the next day with a smug grin and asked if he wanted to tag along on a visit to Mercer Street after work. He should have known that the people listening to his and Marlow’s conversation—and there had no doubt been quite a few—would spread the word that he was a deviant pervert who couldn’t get it up for a normal omega in heat.

  “With you?” he asked after a few seconds had passed. He made sure his face conveyed exactly what he thought about doing anything with Blaze.

  “Yes?” Blaze asked, looking unc
ertain. Chris wondered what was wrong with him. They weren’t friends, and the last time they worked together Chris had made a point of humiliating him. Why would he come back for more of that?

  “Go away,” Chris said, turning his back on the shorter alpha.

  “Fuck, man. I was just asking…” Blaze grumbled, walking away.

  The rest of the day continued much in the same vein. Several of the alphas he worked with teased him about his poor taste, while two shook their heads and asked if he wasn’t worried about catching something. Patrick, a quiet alpha who mostly worked guard duty in the dorms, shook his head in disgust and walked away when Chris gave him a nod. Chris had never thought higher of him.

  When Marlow called him into his office, he was almost relieved.

  The Rover club and brothel was made up of three buildings on the outskirts of the city. The main building housed the club, brothel, and restaurant that brought in most of the money. A second, smaller building contained offices where all the administrative work was done. The third building was an old apartment building. Most of the Rover security staff lived there, but its main purpose was to house the omegas. They lived in three dorms in the basement, an underground tunnel connecting them to the club next door.

  Chris made his way out of the security control room where he’d been monitoring the movements of a guard suspected of taking advantage of the omegas, and into the office building where Marlow was waiting for him.

  He hoped that Marlow would be in a good mood so that he could get a few days off to go interrogate Vincent Conroy.

  “You wanted to see me, boss?” he asked, running his hand through his hair and brushing it out of his eyes.

  Marlow looked contemplative. “I have a job for you. I think Eric is working for someone who’s looking to move in on our territory. I need you to interrogate him, completely on the down-low, and then take him out. If he’s working for someone, I need to know who.”

  Chris was surprised, but not shocked. Marlow and Eric had seemed chummy the night before, but Chris knew better than anyone that people weren’t always what they seemed.

  This was the first time Marlow had outright asked him to kill someone, though.

  “I can do that,” he said. “He’s from out of town, right? When is he heading back?”

  In order to really have time to work on Eric, Chris would have to grab him and hold him somewhere until he had the answers he needed. It would be for the best if that place was as far away from Rover as possible. And who knew? If he was lucky, Eric might have information that Chris wanted, too.

  “He left this morning,” Marlow said. He was watching Chris carefully. “You don’t have a problem with this?”

  Chris shrugged and shook his head. “I did worse when I was active duty. Doesn’t bother me.”

  Marlow observed him, gauging the truth of his words, and in the end seemed to believe him. He nodded decisively.

  “Good. I’ll leave the details to you. Just make sure it can’t be traced back to us.”

  Chris nodded, unable to help the way his eyes lit up with excitement. If he’d been by himself he would have been grinning.

  If he planned things just right—and called in a few favors—he should be able to grab both Eric and Vincent and interrogate them both.

  In a few weeks, Chris just might have the name he was looking for.

  ***

  Chapter 10

  It had been over a week since Mason had removed his bonding implant, and he felt like he was going crazy. All the other omegas he’d woken up with had gone into heat within the first three days, and Mason was starting to worry that the shots they had given him wouldn’t work without the implant.

  Looking up at the ceiling, lying on his bed in the empty dorm with nothing to do, Mason couldn’t believe that he actually wanted to go into heat. Rolling over, he buried his face in his pillow.

  He was so bored. It felt wrong, knowing how much his mother must be missing him and how frantic she must be, but Mason couldn’t help it. The tedium was excruciating.

  Now that it was just him, his keepers didn’t even bother taking him out of the room. They brought him food three times a day, and Mason found himself daydreaming about breaking the no-talking rule and making conversation with them.

  He was lonely, and sad and—more than anything—frustrated.

  The sound of the lock turning in the door made Mason sit up and look alert. It was too early for lunch, and as the door pushed open he wondered what was happening now.

  “Come on,” John said, holding the door open and looking impatient. Mason stood up, wary, and walked toward the alpha. He obviously wasn’t moving fast enough, because John stepped forward and grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room.

  Mason wanted to ask where they were going, but out of all the alphas he’d met so far, John was the biggest proponent of the no-talking rule.

  Turning a corner, Mason suddenly realized where they were headed. The doctor. His heart sped up and he felt like he was going to hyperventilate. He couldn’t imagine what his captors would do to him if they found out that he’d removed his anti-bonding implant.

  He’d have to pretend he didn’t know it was gone. There was no scar where he’d pulled it out, and it wasn’t unheard of for implants to move from where they’d been deposited.

  John stopped, holding Mason’s arm higher than was comfortable, and gave him a stern look.

  “Are you going to make trouble?” His eyes were narrow. Mason shook his head, his lips pressed together. John looked at him, expression stern, before opening the door in front of them and pushing inside.

  “I brought the omega, doctor. You want him on the bench?”

  Mason tried to calm his panic. Dr. Bisol looked much the same as she had the last time he saw her, though this time she gave them her full attention when they entered the room.

  “That would be good. Hello, Mason. How are you doing?” she asked as John practically lifted him up on the bench. The alpha stepped away, but not before giving Mason a warning look. Mason turned his attention to the doctor.

  “Good, thank you. How are you?”

  “I’m very well, thank you. Can you tell me how you’ve been feeling over the last few days? Any hot flashes, sweating, or unusual feelings?”

  Dr. Bisol grabbed a box from the table next to her and pulled out a thin strip of paper as she waited for Mason to answer.

  “I’ve been feeling a little hot at night,” Mason said, knowing exactly what she was after, “and sometimes I get this weird feeling in the bottom of my belly.”

  Dr. Bisol looked pleased. “That’s nothing to worry about. If you would open your mouth?” She held out the strip of paper, and when Mason reluctantly parted his lips she held it down on his tongue.

  It tasted bitter and gross.

  Dr. Bisol removed the strip and put it down on a white sheet of paper next to him, staring at it as it changed color. It went from white to yellow, and after about a minute a hint of red started showing up near the top of the strip.

  “Okay, Mason. Everything looks good. John,” she turned to the alpha watching them, “You can take him back to the dorm now.”

  Mason was confused. He had no idea what kind of test Dr. Bisol had used, or if the results were good or bad.

  John took him back to the dorm, locking him inside without a word of explanation. Mason went back to his bed and lay down, wondering what the hell was going to happen to him now.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  Chris spent a week planning the kidnappings of Vincent Conroy and Eric Marshal, treating it like he would any other off-the-books mission. He knew where and how he was going to grab them, how he was going to transport them, and all that was left was finding somewhere secluded he could stash them while he interrogated them.

  In the end he decided to swallow his pride and call one of his old team members and ask for help.

  “Holy fuck, Chris! Where the fuck have you been, man?” Brandon asked two
seconds after picking up. “Mick is fucking pissed at you, man.”

  Chris’s mouth pulled down in a frown. If Mick was pissed he could have come and talked to him. He was a trained operative, and Chris hadn’t hidden his tracks so well that anyone on his team shouldn’t have been able to find him.

  Besides, he’d let command know he was okay, and they would have passed the message on.

  “I’m working on something, and I need some help. Do you have any secluded properties in northern California I could borrow on short notice?”