“I’m on my way,” Taylor said.
Even with his help, Dom wasn’t sure how they’d manage, outnumbered as they were. Hell, Nate and Taylor were the ones experienced in infiltrations. Dom was just an ordinary firefighter. He hated that he wasn’t good with this.
“We’ll need you to stay out here,” Nate told Dom. “Gonna be a mess.”
Dom was about to agree, when a snarl ripped through the air. Sinclair. Relief seeped through Dom’s veins. He’s here.
Through an open window somewhere, Dom heard people shouting. Things crashed. And a bad feeling crushed his relief—Sinclair was only this way when he had an episode. “He might not be present right now,” Dom muttered. “Doubt he’ll recognize you.”
Nate’s lips thinned; he was familiar with Sinclair’s flashbacks. He radioed Taylor and repeated Dom’s words. Then he added, “Looks like we’re heading in now.”
Sinclair had bought them a distraction—Dom would hate to let the opportunity go to waste.
His heart pounding, he followed Nate through a side entrance, pressing himself against the wall. Someone stepped out of a doorway; Nate slipped behind the man and took him out, leaving him slumped on the floor.
Nate was efficient. Ruthless. Not for the first time, Dom was glad he’d hired this alpha.
Nate scoped out the room the man had vacated, before signaling Dom to follow him down the hallway, where the fight was still going on.
“Restrain him,” someone snapped. “Hand me the antidote!”
Down the corridor, in the very last room, Dom glimpsed Sinclair lunging at someone, punching people aside—all tan skin, scars, and blood. Chains rattled.
Then a scalpel flashed, and Sinclair froze. He bolted through the doorway, chains rattling, heading straight for Nate and Dom.
The moment he glimpsed them, Sinclair raised his fists, baring his teeth. He would crash into them, fight them tooth and nail like he thought they were enemies—and he would only hurt himself.
Dom stepped in front of Nate. “I’ll handle him.”
Nate nodded. Dom lunged at Sinclair; Sinclair snarled and slammed him into the wall, knocking Dom’s breath out of his lungs.
Further away, Sinclair’s captors shouted. Dom glimpsed Nate slipping away to deal with them. Then Sinclair rammed him against the wall, hard enough that the impact jolted through Dom’s skull. He hissed in pain. “Damn it, Sinclair!”
Dom shoved him off, hauling him through an open door. Then he slammed the door shut and locked it, a split second before Sinclair pummeled him into the wall, wrapping his hands around Dom’s neck.
“Sinclair,” Dom hissed. Sinclair wasn’t fucking around, his grip almost crushing Dom’s throat. No recognition in his eyes. “Jesse.”
Dom wrenched Sinclair’s hands off his neck, filling his lungs with air. Sinclair tried to punch him next. Dom dodged, heaving Sinclair backward. While Sinclair was off-balance, Dom slammed him against the wall. Then he pinned Sinclair with his own weight, and Sinclair thrashed, his expression going desperate.
“Jesse. Look at me.” Dom pressed their foreheads together, his heart pounding. Still no recognition. “Jesse!”
Sinclair punched the side of his head, sending an explosion of pain through Dom’s skull. Dom caught his hands. Then he brought their faces back together, so close that Sinclair’s eyes blurred into a mess of blue.
“Jesse,” Dom growled. “Breathe.”
Sinclair panted, glancing down. He shoved his hand into Dom’s pocket—where the gun was. Faster than Dom could stop him, he snatched the gun out and clicked off the safety.
He shoved the steel muzzle against Dom’s chest.
Dom stopped breathing. If Sinclair shot him now... Dom wouldn’t even be mad. “Don’t shoot,” Dom murmured. “At least, wait until you’re back. Then you can do anything you want.”
Sinclair panted, tightening his finger on the trigger. Dom waited for pain. He didn’t know what had happened to Sinclair, to send him into this state. But he didn’t break their stare. Violence wouldn’t solve this.
“Jesse,” Dom said gently. “I’m here to help. Let’s get you out of here. Breathe first.”
Sinclair looked into his eyes, hesitated, and breathed. Then he breathed again, like maybe Dom’s scent had an effect on him.
“I love you,” Dom said. “It’s not the best time to be saying it. But I thought you should know.”
Sinclair sucked in another breath, then another. His eyes focused. He leaned back and frowned, as though he recognized Dom.
Then he saw the gun he was pointing at Dom, and he dropped it, shock darting through his face. The gun fired, loud and jarring, pointed away. “I didn’t—I, I...”
“Sinclair,” Dom murmured.
Sinclair wheezed, staring at the gun like he might go into another episode.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Dom took Sinclair’s hand, giving him a squeeze.
“But—” Sinclair squinted, searching Dom’s eyes. He was worried. Afraid. Did he think Dom would cast him aside because of that?
“I’m fine.” Dom cupped his jaw, brushing his thumb over Sinclair’s lips—a bit of intimacy he allowed himself. “You okay?”
Sinclair shook his head. “Baby,” he rasped. Then he rubbed the bump of his abdomen, smearing blood all over his skin. There was a long incision down his abs, next to a puncture wound. Dom hadn’t noticed them earlier. A chill shot down his spine. How deep were those wounds?
“Is the baby okay?” Dom ripped his shirt off and balled it up, pressing it against Sinclair’s wounds to stem the bleeding. He was almost afraid to hear the answer.
Sinclair shook his head, groaning. Dom’s heart sank. Had something happened to their baby? Had they... lost it? He felt helpless, raw—maybe the same sort of loss that had sent Sinclair into a rage.
He pulled Sinclair tight against himself, rubbing his back. There were patches of raw skin all over his alpha, lash marks, needle punctures. And Sinclair had only been missing for a few hours.
“Dom,” Sinclair breathed. He touched Dom’s waist uncertainly. Then he wobbled, shaking his head as though he was trying to clear his thoughts.
Sinclair threw up all over Dom’s chest, frothy bubbles that Dom had only rarely seen before. He’d been poisoned.
How long did he have without an antidote? His stomach clenching, Dom leaned Sinclair against the wall.
The door slammed open, splintering around the bolted lock.
Dom whirled around, placing himself between Sinclair and the intruder.
A man strode in, a gun pointed at them both. “I’ve had enough of you,” he snapped. Blood trickled down the side of his neck; his nose was broken. “I built you into the most powerful tool on the planet. And you attacked me.”
Behind Dom, Sinclair spat and coughed. “Fucker.”
“Maybe I won’t save you from the toxins this time,” the doctor said.
This was the monster who had tortured Sinclair. The monster who had cut into Sinclair, over and over, hundreds—if not thousands—of times. The monster who had experimented with Sinclair’s life, taking him to the brink of death and back. Sinclair had been a child.
Fury boiled through Dom’s veins; he snatched the gun off the floor and aimed it at the doctor. “Give him the antidote.”
The doctor scoffed. “Or else what? You’ll kill me?”
Then he pointed his gun at Sinclair, and Dom’s insides twisted. He darted in front of his alpha, just as a gunshot blasted through the room.
Agony lanced through his arm. He fired back, two shots. Then another.
It was only when the doctor collapsed with a heavy thump, that Dom looked back, checking Sinclair for any injuries. Their gazes locked; Sinclair wheezed, his expression disbelieving. He’d seen Dom take the shot for him.
But Dom didn’t have time to acknowledge it. He stalked over to the doctor, his gun trained on that monster. “What did you poison him with?”
He wasn’t fool enough to thin
k he had leverage on that bastard. He’d have to count on Nate—hopefully Nate was okay—and maybe Nate could save Sinclair. Whatever he had to do.
Because Dom couldn’t lose his alpha.
Dom was about to kick the doctor, when the doctor aimed his gun past Dom’s feet, at Sinclair. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Dom didn’t even think. He shot thrice at the doctor’s head, and then he kept on shooting, until he’d emptied every last bullet into that scum.
It was only when the roaring in his chest quieted, when his instincts said, No one will harm Sinclair again, that Dom dragged his stare away from the body.
Through the ringing in his ears, Dom heard Sinclair hit the floor. His stomach clenched. He darted back to Sinclair, heaving him upright. “Sinclair. Stay with me.”
Sinclair shook his head, throwing up again.
Dom yanked his radio out, his senses blaring with alarm. “Nate, are you there?”
“On my way. What’s your status?”
“Same place. He’s been poisoned. I need help.”
Nate swore. “Be right there.”
“You’ve been shot,” Sinclair muttered, his gaze going unfocused. “You need help.”
“Shut up,” Dom hissed. “You don’t get to decide anything right now.”
“Fuck you.”
A tight, heavy emotion welled up in Dom’s throat. He pressed his shirt back against Sinclair’s middle, over the puncture wound. Then, carefully, he cradled Sinclair’s head, kissing his lips.
“Stay with me, all right?” Dom murmured. “I can’t lose you.”
Sinclair huffed weakly. “I don’t die so easy.”
But he was breathing harder, his face pale, sweat beading on his skin. Dom held him close, blood and vomit and all. Then he pressed a soft kiss to Sinclair’s temple and whispered, “I love you.”
Sinclair didn’t answer, though. When Dom pulled away, he found that Sinclair had passed out.
30
Jesse Wakes Up
When Jesse woke, he found himself surrounded by white walls and a sterile scent. His heart lodged in his throat.
“Easy there.” A familiar rumble slipped into his ears; callused fingers squeezed his hand. “You’re safe.”
The anxiety in Jesse’s chest eased a little. Then he noticed the blackwood scent, and the broad-shouldered figure in the chair next to his bed. Relief flooded through his chest. “Dom.”
“Still remember my name?” Dom cracked a smile. “Weren’t you supposed to call me a bastard?”
A low groan slipped out of Jesse’s throat. Dom was here. Everything would be fine. His entire body relaxed; he could breathe again.
The moment he focused on Dom, Jesse couldn’t look away.
Dom had a day’s growth of stubble on his jaw, his lips ever so kissable, his hair mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it. But his gaze—that was fixed on Jesse, looking so warm that Jesse’s heart skipped a beat. “How’re you feeling?” Dom asked.
Jesse hurt all over, but that was nothing new. “Fine.”
Dom frowned and leaned forward. “I need a better answer, Sinclair. You were shot, poisoned, stabbed, and who knows what else.”
Jesse shrugged. “What’s new?”
For a moment, Dom looked pissed. But that moment passed, and he breathed out his anger. “He’s dead. Larson.”
Jesse’s spirits lifted. “He is?”
“How much of your kidnapping do you remember?”
Jesse shook his head, riffling through his memories. Some of it was a blur. There were patches missing. He remembered Larson and the syringes, Larson stabbing Jesse with his scalpel. Jesse’s stomach shrank into a lump. “The baby.” Was it... gone?
Dom squeezed his hand, his expression unreadable. “Did you make a decision?”
Jesse nodded. “Yeah. I want it.”
And he hoped it wasn’t too late.
Surprise flickered through Dom’s face. Then he cracked a smile, pressing a kiss to Jesse’s knuckles. “Baby’s fine. He missed the uterus by half an inch.”
Jesse breathed out shakily, sagging back into the bed. It felt like all his muscles had decided to take a break at the same time. “Oh. What about—What about the poisons? Did they hurt it?”
“We gave you the antidotes in time. It’s really fine, Sinclair.” Dom stroked the back of his hand, waiting until Jesse relaxed again. After a pause, Dom asked, “What made you change your mind?”
Jesse remembered thinking about Dom, he remembered the connection he’d felt to that life inside him, right as Larson cut him open. “It’s yours,” he said.
Then he flushed. Dom wasn’t supposed to find out what Jesse felt for him.
But Dom frowned. “I won’t force you to keep it just because it’s mine.”
“No, it’s not that.” Jesse wet his lips. “I want it because it’s yours.”
His face grew hot. That was almost as good as a love declaration, wasn’t it? After he’d told Dom I hate you so many times, it wasn’t something he expected to say to this alpha.
Dom stared at him for a moment. Then he pulled his chair closer, his voice dropping low. “Yeah? You want to raise a family with me?”
How had a discussion about a baby turned into that? Jesse’s head grew so hot, it felt like he might pass out. “It’s too—too early to think about it,” he spluttered.
Dom’s smile didn’t even fade. In fact, he moved to sit on the mattress, linking their fingers together. There were bandages on his arm, a trace of blood soaking through the gauze.
Jesse remembered that, too. Dom taking the shot for him. Dom turning to make sure he was okay. In his heart, he thought... maybe that meant Dom loved him. But Dom would do the same for anyone else on their team. “You took a shot for me,” he said. And Dom had been lucky that bullet hadn’t hit his artery.
“Yeah, well.” Dom shrugged, the movement causing him to wince a little. “You took a shot for me, so we’re even.”
That wasn’t what Jesse wanted to hear. He looked away, trying to hide his disappointment.
Except Dom leaned in, bracing his good arm against Jesse’s pillow. And now their faces were inches apart. “Did you want me to say something else?” Dom murmured.
Jesse’s heart squeezed tight. Had Dom read him? “No,” he mumbled.
Dom brought their faces closer, his lips brushing Jesse’s cheek. “I told you,” he whispered. “You don’t lie so well, Sinclair.”
Jesse couldn’t breathe. Dom was pressed up against him. They’d been close before, but this... It felt like Dom knew his last secret. And Jesse wanted him to know, at the same time he was afraid of it. What would Dom do with that knowledge? It wasn’t like Dom loved him back.
Dom cupped Jesse’s face with his other hand, pressing their foreheads together. And suddenly there was only Dom and nothing else, and all he could breathe was Dom’s scent. Jesse’s heart pounded so fervently, he thought it might burst.
“I love you,” Dom whispered, his breath hot on Jesse’s lips.
Jesse froze, the words ringing in his ears. He’d thought he’d heard it, back when he was coming down from his episode. He thought he’d heard it again, later on, but he’d dismissed it as a fever dream.
He stared at Dom now, hardly daring to believe it. They were teammates. They were alphas. They weren’t supposed to fall in love. Except he’d heard Dom’s words, clear as anything.
It was what he’d wanted for a long time. His throat grew so tight, he couldn’t speak. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I ever joke?” Dom brushed his cheek, his gaze never once leaving Jesse’s face. “Want me to say it again?”
Jesse nodded. He still couldn’t breathe.
Dom dropped trailing kisses down Jesse’s cheek, to his ear. Then he growled, “I love you, Sinclair.”
Jesse’s heart squeezed tight. Dom loves me. “But—But why?”
Dom huffed. “That’s not good enough for you?”
“No,” Jesse
said, because he needed to believe it. “You know me better than anyone else. I’ve been captured, Dom. I’ve been tied down and—” He looked at the bump of his abdomen. “I couldn’t stop a lot of the things Larson did. I tried. I wasn’t strong enough.”
He was still ashamed of it, even now. Even though his mom and dad had accepted him. But they were his parents. Maybe they were supposed to.
Dom was different. Dom was an alpha. Someone who didn’t need another alpha. Much less one who was fractured like Jesse was. Dom could have his own standards of what an alpha should be, and... Jesse was always afraid to ask if he met those standards.
Dom cradled his head, looking into his eyes. “You’re strong.”
“All alphas are supposed to be strong.”
Dom huffed and kissed him. “You’ve been through a lot more than most alphas. I can’t say I could undergo what you have, and come out nearly as intact.”
“But you’re a dom.”
Dom smiled wryly. “And it’d be a great honor for you to be my alpha.”
Jesse’s heart tumbled. Dom accepted him for who he was. “You haven’t given me enough proof yet.”
Dom laughed. “You’re not bitter about your past. At least, not as bitter as I’d expect you to be.”
“I just want it behind me.” Jesse scowled.
“Yeah. Not everyone can do that.” Dom kissed his jaw. “You’re kind—”
“So’s everyone else on the team. You aren’t sleeping with them.”
“Nor do I want to.”
“Why not?”
Dom grinned. “Do you want to, then? Sleep with Gareth or York or—”
That was a horrible thought. “Shut up.” But it wouldn’t get his question answered. “Forget it. Just answer this one. You could’ve fallen for them anyway.”
Dom looked thoughtful. “But they’re not you. They don’t need me. They don’t eat my donuts, or fight with me. No one has challenged me like you do,” Dom growled, biting Jesse’s lip so hard, he broke skin. “I fucking love it.”
Pain throbbed lightly on Jesse’s lip, but it was a welcome sensation. Because Dom was marking him again. Because Dom was giving him a fierce look, and he was smiling, all but wrapped around Jesse, his lips and his scent and his touch on Jesse’s skin. Jesse’s heart swelled so full, he couldn’t speak.
Alpha in Heat Page 24
