Alpha in Heat

by Anna Wineheart

  “No.” Sinclair shook his head, panic darting through his face. “Don’t. They’re worse than scum. Don’t—Don’t get involved.”

  And the words Sinclair didn’t say, but that Dom heard anyway: I wasn’t strong enough to beat them. They could just as easily kill you.

  “Besides, they’re in jail,” Sinclair said lamely.

  Not Dom’s choice, lying like that. But he understood Sinclair’s desire to keep them here, away from danger. Safe.

  “Good riddance,” Wayne growled.

  “But maybe you want to take some self-defense classes,” Sinclair blurted. “Or, you know. Have some pepper spray on you. That’s really important. Never hurts to be vigilant.”

  He was still protective of his folks. Just as fond of them as he’d been at his station interview. Yeah, Dom wanted to bring him home tonight.

  “You don’t smell like birch anymore,” Opal said, her face falling. “Is that... because of the experiments?”

  Sinclair rubbed the scent gland on his neck, flushing. “I... I don’t know. They did things to me. Things changed.”

  He reached up, almost touching his abdomen. Then he made himself put his hand down. His mom saw, though. She frowned, touching his waist. “Are the scars... all over you? Can we see them?”

  Sinclair hesitated, before pulling off his shirt. Dom expected the slew of lines and grooves and splotches all over his torso. Opal gasped. Wayne swore.

  “Baby. Oh, hon.” Opal traced the scars with her fingertips, her face falling. “Did it hurt?”

  Sinclair shrugged. “Some did.”

  He glanced at his dad, though, as though he was afraid. But Wayne only pulled him into a hug. “You’re a survivor,” Wayne told his son. “I’m proud of you.”

  Sinclair choked up, blinking hard.

  After this, Dom was going to treat him real nice. Nicer than before. So Sinclair didn’t have to be so surprised when people said good things to him.

  As though he’d felt Dom’s thoughts, Sinclair turned, meeting his eyes. He looked... Vulnerable. Relieved. Happy. “I can come back in a couple hours,” Dom said.

  Sinclair’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”

  “I don’t have to.” And maybe Dom liked that Sinclair wanted him here.

  “Who’s your friend, Jesse?” Opal asked.

  “That’s Dom. He’s, uh.” Sinclair wet his lips, a flush creeping up his neck.

  “His team deputy at the Meadowfall fire department.” Dom stepped into the house, holding his hand out to Wayne. “We’ve been coworkers for a while.”

  “Dom, huh?” Wayne shook Dom’s hand, surveying him. “That’s a name.”

  Dom almost felt embarrassed—mainly because he really liked dominating Wayne’s son in bed. The nickname fit almost too well. “My friends call me that. Short for Dominic McCoy.”

  “Well, it’s good to meet you, Mr. McCoy,” Wayne said. “And Jesse—you’re a firefighter now!” He puffed up his chest. “That’s great news.”

  Sinclair smiled, looking like a little boy who had received the best present ever.

  Opal beamed when Dom kissed the back of her hand. “Oh, you didn’t have to,” she said, but she was pleased anyway.

  “Jesse told me about you.” Dom gave her a smile. “He said you’re the best mom in the world. And that you invented the flower crown.”

  Opal seemed delighted. Dom turned, meeting Sinclair’s eyes. Just to check if he shouldn’t have introduced them as coworkers. But Sinclair seemed comfortable with that, so Dom was content to stand back, and let Sinclair continue with his reunion.

  “How did you get this scar?” Opal murmured, touching the large, silvery 301 on Sinclair’s shoulder. “Did they... cut your skin off?”

  Sinclair scowled. “That was from the forge. They had a row of iron numbers in the coals, just waiting for the new prisoners. I have one on my hip, too. Every test subject got them. Some of the guys with faded marks were brought back to the forge so they could be re-stamped again.”

  The sheer cruelty turned Dom’s stomach. “Red-hot iron?”

  “Yeah.” Sinclair looked away. “And I’d thought that was bad. That was the easiest part of it.”

  Dom really, really wanted to punch someone in the face. Sinclair had been fourteen. Dom didn’t know how he would’ve dealt with it, himself, at that kind of age. It would’ve fucked with his mind so bad. Hoping to escape, or be rescued. Only to have that hope dashed, over and over.

  And Sinclair just looked so hopeful, so pleased, whenever Dom kissed him.

  Dom regretted being such a jerk to him in their earlier years. If he’d just asked Nate what Sinclair had been through, if he’d just been a little kinder—he would’ve made Sinclair’s life so much easier.

  “Sinclair,” he blurted, not realizing that Sinclair was in the middle of a conversation with his parents.

  Sinclair looked up. And so did Opal and Wayne. Because they were all Sinclairs.

  “Ah, sorry.” Dom’s face heated. “I meant Jesse.”

  A small, delighted smile curved Sinclair’s lips. He looked like he wanted to step over to Dom, except he hesitated. Sinclair turned back to his parents. “Is my... Is my old room still there?”

  Opal smiled wryly. “It’s always been there, hon. Just the way you left it. But I did go in to clear out your empty bowls. And your dirty laundry.”

  Sinclair flushed, glancing at Dom. “I was fourteen, Mom!”

  He needed a kiss or five, whenever he was flustered like that.

  Opal grinned. “You’re not living in a sty anymore?”

  “No! I’m going to look at my room,” Sinclair muttered. “Be out soon.” He was about to turn away, when he frowned. “I love you, Mom and Dad, but don’t tell any more embarrassing stories about me, okay? Not in front of Dom.”

  Sinclair stalked over, grabbing Dom’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  Dom had just enough time to nod at Sinclair’s parents, before Sinclair dragged him down a hallway, opening a door with a computer game sign hanging on it. In pixelated, hand-drawn letters, it read, Jesse’s Room.

  Inside, the room was dusted, smelling faintly like lemon. Video games filled one shelf, and an outdated computer sat on a small desk. His bed was tiny. So was the one T-shirt hanging from the closet door.

  “You were a small kid,” Dom murmured.

  Sinclair rounded on him, scrutinizing Dom’s face. “What were you gonna say to me?”

  He looked so curious, so eager. Dom kissed him, tasting his lips, sliding into his mouth, groaning when Sinclair opened for him. Sinclair sighed, slipping his fingers into Dom’s hair.

  “Just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Dom murmured against his lips. “For being a jerk when we first met.”

  Sinclair blinked. Then he smiled crookedly, biting hard on Dom’s lip. He broke skin—with it came a jolt of pain—but Dom didn’t mind. “Yeah, you were a damn asshole,” Sinclair growled. “And I wanted to punch you and fuck you and make you eat your words.”

  “You’ve done all three,” Dom said, grinning.

  Sinclair grinned back. “Now I have.”

  Dom kissed him again. Then he paused, remembering the awkwardness from a few minutes ago. “Would you rather I call you by your name? Instead of Sinclair.”

  Surprise flickered through Sinclair’s face. But he shook his head.

  “Why?”

  Sinclair’s cheeks turned pink. “When you call me Sinclair... You aren’t saying something for someone else to hear. You’re talking to me alone. It’s like... you’re only paying attention to me.”

  Like I’m special, Sinclair didn’t say, but Dom heard it.

  Dom smiled, hauling him close. He sucked on Sinclair’s earlobe and growled, “Sinclair.” His alpha shivered, drawing a quick breath.

  Oh, Dom was going to have fun with that tonight.

  He kissed down Sinclair’s neck, then asked, “Was there something else you wanted to do in here? Aside from letting me kiss you?”
<
br />   Sinclair laughed, pushing him off. “I wanted to show you my favorite stuff! Like—Like all my games. And my toys. This was my favorite truck. And here’s Mr. Teddles, he’s a duck. But he’s not an ordinary duck, you know. He was an undercover police officer patrolling my closet.”

  He pulled out various toys, shoving them into Dom’s arms. Dom sat on Sinclair’s bed, just watching as cheerful enthusiasm took over him. More toys filled his lap—stuffed animals and plastic vehicles and old action figures—to the point where he was surrounded by Sinclair’s favorite things.

  Never in a million years, would Dom have expected to be here. Being nostalgic with this man.

  Sinclair turned, suddenly. And he stared at Dom with a warm, soft look in his eyes. Then he pulled his phone out, holding it carefully in front of Dom.

  “What’re you doing?” Dom stared suspiciously at him.

  “Taking a picture. I’m showing the rest.” Sinclair tapped on his screen.

  He turned the phone around a moment later, and there was Dom with a toy turtle on his head, stuffed zebras on his shoulders, and a pile of other animals on his lap... in their team chat.

  If this is supposed to be kinky, show it to someone else, Gareth wrote.

  Aw, you guys are so cute, Alec added.

  I hope you’re running. York threw in a fearful emoji. Dom looks like he might murder you.

  Harris only laughed. You’ll never live this down, Dom. Congrats from V and me.

  This wasn’t anything like what Harris and Valen had, but... Dom brushed that thought aside. He didn’t want to think about it right now. “You know they’ll rib us about it tomorrow, right?”

  “Like they aren’t gonna rib us already.” Sinclair tucked his phone away, bracing his knee on the mattress next to Dom. “You went and kissed me in front of them.”

  That had been so satisfying. Dom growled, flopping backward onto the bed. He hauled Sinclair down with him, stifling his groan when Sinclair’s body pressed flush against his own, a few stuffed toys squished between their legs. The bed creaked.

  “I was staking my claim,” Dom whispered. “Mine.”

  Sinclair brightened. “You can’t be for real.”

  “Hell yeah, I am.” Dom touched the bite mark on Sinclair’s neck. Then he crashed their lips together, and Sinclair groaned, grinding closer, pushing his tongue into Dom’s mouth. All Dom could smell was cinnamon and honey. It was the best scent in the world.

  “I’m gonna claim you,” Sinclair growled. “Gonna teach you what my cock feels like.”

  Dom smiled wide—Sinclair was adorable when he thought he’d win. “Yeah? You think you’ll be on top this time?”

  “I know I’m gonna be.” Sinclair thrust his hips viciously against Dom’s, sucking Dom’s lower lip into his mouth. Dom wasn’t prepared to mark this bed with their musk, but if Sinclair insisted...

  Someone knocked on the door, two light, quick taps. Dom barely registered it. Sinclair broke the kiss, glancing up.

  The door opened, Opal peeking in.

  Sinclair froze. Then he swore and scrambled off Dom, his entire face turning red.

  “Oh.” His mom looked just as taken aback. “I’ll be back later.”

  “No, no.” Sinclair squirmed; he looked like he wanted to hide somewhere. “We were, um. We were fighting. We’re done now.”

  “He was winning,” Dom offered, sitting up. Maybe he’d underestimated exactly how flustered this alpha could get. Sinclair looked like he wanted to bolt—and it was only his mom walking in on them.

  Opal hesitated, glancing at the stuffed toys strewn around Dom. Dom thought maybe he should’ve been a bit more cautious. Opal was his age. He shouldn’t be putting his hands inappropriately on her son. At least, in front of her.

  “We should go,” Sinclair blurted. “I shouldn’t have, um.”

  “Wait, no.” Opal looked dismayed. “I wanted to ask if you and Dom would stay for lunch. And dinner. We haven’t seen you in so long, hon.”

  Sinclair turned even redder—gods, Dom wanted to pin him, and kiss him senseless. “Maybe just lunch,” Sinclair blurted.

  Opal cheered up. “I’ll make your favorite sandwich. Chicken with mayo, right?”

  Sinclair nodded hurriedly, as though he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. “Yeah. I make that all the time. Even at the station. The others love it. I just tell them it’s your recipe.”

  “That’s great.” Opal beamed, looking less awkward. Then she stepped into the room and touched her son’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be shy if you like another alpha, hon. It’s completely fine.”

  “I don’t even like alphas,” Sinclair mumbled, turning redder.

  “Well, you can enjoy ‘fighting’ with them, I guess,” Opal said dryly, glancing at Dom.

  “Sorry we didn’t mention it earlier.” Dom stood and slipped his arm around Sinclair’s back. “It’s a bit of a surprise.”

  Hell, it wasn’t even the last surprise.

  “No worries. I’m happy that Jesse brought you to meet us, Dom.” Opal gave Dom a hug and smile, before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

  Sinclair groaned, rubbing his face. “I wasn’t... I wasn’t planning on this.”

  “But you wanted me to be here.”

  Sinclair thumped his forehead against Dom’s shoulder, his ears still red. Dom smiled and kissed his neck. Then he brushed his knuckles over Sinclair’s bare abdomen, where the scar was. “Are you planning to tell them today?”

  “I don’t know.” Sinclair sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t know how—how Dad’s gonna react.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “But I went into heat. And—And I spread for you.” Sinclair squirmed harder. “They’re gonna imagine it when I say that, won’t they? And Dad will just...”

  Dom thought about it. “Well... When most couples say they’re expecting, no one imagines how they went about doing it.”

  “How are you so sure?” Sinclair frowned. “Say if Harris knocks Valen up, wouldn’t you want to know how they did it?”

  “Well... maybe.” Because Dom would be curious, even if he knew he shouldn’t think about it. “Just tell them about the uterus. It’s not like they haven’t conceived before.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Sinclair muttered.

  “I could tell them on your behalf.”

  “No!” Sinclair scowled. “Besides, I still might not keep it.”

  Dom’s stomach twisted. Yeah, there was that. He fought down the urge to stroke Sinclair’s abdomen, to lean in and say hello. He’d already nuzzled it last night, when he’d made sure Sinclair was asleep.

  But the possibility always hung between them, that Sinclair might terminate the pregnancy. And the more Dom bonded with that baby, the worse his heart would break.

  He knew the risk. He’d known that Sinclair could shatter his life, and here he was, giving Sinclair his marking, his promises, his everything.

  What if he woke up one day, and found Sinclair gone? What would he do, then?

  I love him, Dom thought, the words heavy like shackles around his heart. And yet he couldn’t stop. He’d been drawn like a moth to flame, and Sinclair would raze him to ashes, just like Mal had.

  Dom sighed, pulling Sinclair against his chest. I’m such an idiot.

  -

  26

  The Little Things

  Jesse followed his dad out onto the back porch. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Wayne Sinclair fixed him with a solemn look. And Jesse knew this was about Dom, even before his dad had said a word. “That deputy of yours. Is he treating you right?”

  Jesse’s heart thumped. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re young, son.” Wayne clapped Jesse on the shoulder, his palm heavy. He’d aged so much since Jesse last saw him—he’d grown thinner, his hair grayer. “You don’t know so much about the world.”

  Jesse sighed. “I’ve been through enough for several lifetimes, Dad.”
He turned his arms over, showing Dad his scars. “I’m not right in the head anymore.”

  Dad’s face fell. “You mean the thing about slamming doors? Your... flashbacks?”

  “Yeah. Dom helps me get out of them.”

  Dad was quiet for a moment. “He’s a lot older than you.”

  Jesse shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “You don’t want someone that’s more your age? An omega, maybe?”

  Jesse had thought about that, on and off. He’d thought about how easily he went into panic attacks, how easily he jumped when someone accidentally touched him. “Honestly, I don’t think I want an omega to put up with this. I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone. I’ve already punched Dom a lot of times, thinking he was trying to take me down.”

  An omega probably wouldn’t approach him like Dom did—but then what sort of relationship would that become? When Jesse scared off people who couldn’t handle him?

  And maybe... he’d grown far too comfortable around Dom. Enough to forget that there was a threat lurking nearby, just waiting for him to slip up.

  He palmed the holster at his hip, glancing at the deepening shadows around the house. The sun had set, the sky fading from salmon-pink to a rich purple hue. It had been a good afternoon with his parents.

  After that initial awkwardness, Jesse had emerged from his bedroom. His mom and dad had welcomed Dom anyway. Even though they knew what sort of relationship he and Jesse shared. Then Kelly had come home, and she’d hugged Jesse and told him how cool his scars were.

  “He was looking at you strange over dinner,” Dad said.

  Had Dom? “He always looks at me strange.”

  Dad shook his head. “No, different from before. Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

  Jesse stared blankly at him.

  Dad sighed. “When you first showed up with him. After he called you Sinclair. The way he looked at you... I’d say it was gentle. Warm. Like—you know how I look at your mom and think she’s the best thing that ever happened to me?”

  “But that’s what you think of Mom. Not what Dom thinks of me.”

  Dad looked pointedly at him.

  “Can’t be,” Jesse said. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what Dom thought of him, aside from Dom really liked having him in bed. Dom also liked saying sappy shit sometimes. “He just likes giving me donuts and pounding m—No, forget I said that.”