His heart pounded, and he held still, wondering if Dom would judge him if he found Jesse like that. Just waiting.
Alphas weren’t supposed to want kisses from other alphas. They weren’t supposed to crave another alpha’s touch, they weren’t supposed to show up early for work, just so they could breathe in their deputy’s scent.
The grass rustled. One step, then another. Jesse heard it more vividly now—because they weren’t muffled by a corner anymore.
Dom paused for a moment. Jesse didn’t even dare breathe. He felt Dom’s stare heavy on his skin, he felt Dom’s sheer presence radiating between them.
Then Dom stepped closer yet, until he was beside Jesse and the sunlight bleeding through Jesse’s eyelids vanished. Because Dom’s shadow was on him. Dom’s breath feathered across Jesse’s jaw, his heat burned into Jesse’s arm.
He was so close, that Jesse only had to move to bump into him. But he didn’t want to shatter the illusion.
What did Dom see, when it was just him and Jesse alone? Was he looking at Jesse’s mouth? Did he... also want a kiss?
Jesse’s lips parted, tingling with anticipation. Dom sucked in a quick breath.
Just one kiss, Jesse thought. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Dom leaned over him, his coffee-tinted exhale rushing over Jesse’s mouth, an intimate touch. He was so close that Jesse grew dizzy; all Jesse had to do was tilt his head, and their lips would meet.
Please, he almost whispered.
Then Dom growled, “Damn you, Sinclair,” and the words vibrated through the tiny space between their mouths, like the ghost of a touch on Jesse’s lips.
Dom yanked himself away. Cool air rushed between them, shattering the moment. He strode away the next second, grass rustling beneath his boots.
Jesse tried to fight the wave of disappointment in his chest. When he opened his eyes, Dom was gone, leaving only his scent behind.
He rubbed his arms to erase the morning’s chill, his palms catching on the beads under his skin. Would Dom view him any differently, if Jesse had no scars at all?
Looking at them provided him with no new answers. Gradually, he made his way back into the station, avoiding Dom for as long as he could.
Later that day, chaos descended upon the station. The families of the other alphas had come to join them, and omegas and children had taken over. York and Alec’s sons were painting snake stripes onto an old water hose—they picked it up and began running, and crashed into Jesse.
Jesse wasn’t sure how to respond to them; he always felt awkward around the children he encountered on calls. The other guys were much better at interacting with kids. Little wonder, when they had families of their own.
So he grabbed his Santa outfit, heading to the locker room. At least it was quiet in there.
Jesse opened his locker and stared into its shadowy depths, his senses tingling when Dom walked by. Jesse didn’t even have to look at him—he listened to the thud of Dom’s footfalls, and the hint of blackwood that had permeated the locker room.
Was Dom still pissed about his coffee? Or was he thinking about that almost-kiss outside the station?
The one thing Jesse definitely knew, was that Dom wouldn’t speak to him unless he absolutely had to. So he poked around in his locker, trying to find peace amongst all the noise. Stuck on the back wall of his locker was a photo of his parents—one he’d stolen off his dad’s Facebook page.
Jesse still hadn’t been home to visit them. He wasn’t sure what his dad would say about his scars. He’d wanted to be an alpha his dad was proud of, not someone who had been trapped and beaten.
Every shift he completed at the station helped a little. It made him feel like he’d accomplished something with his life.
Vaguely, Jesse heard more voices behind him. Then came a tap on his shoulder that vaporized the entire locker room.
It felt like he’d been plunged into icy water—he was back at the Facility, closed in by the too-white walls of his cell. Fear closed his throat.
Jesse spun around, bringing his fists up.
Larson liked to unlock Jesse’s cell door when he was asleep. He liked grabbing Jesse’s shoulder to shake him awake. Then he’d jab Jesse with a tranq shot into his vein, have his men shoot more tranq darts, and when Jesse fell, Larson had his men drag Jesse down to the labs. Where the agony was.
Jesse didn’t want to suffer at his hands again.
Sniffing for that telltale bitterwood scent, he tightened his fists, ready to punch the nearest person who came close. That man backed away. Good.
Then someone else prowled closer, someone who grabbed Jesse and pinned him against the wall. Terror shot down his spine.
Jesse punched him, his gut roaring when his fist connected. He wouldn’t let them take him again, he wouldn’t let them open more holes in his flesh.
Except this man said something. Jesse refused to listen. He shoved at the man, needing to hurt them all.
The man leaned in close, so close that Jesse saw the whites of his eyes. “Look at me,” the man said.
Jesse struggled. The man held him down. Jesse thrashed, trying to free himself. He couldn’t. But there was no pain. The man’s face filled his vision, and all he saw was the piercing stare of copper-brown eyes. Eyes that felt familiar.
Deep down, Jesse knew that someone with those eyes wouldn’t hurt him.
But how was that possible in a place like the Facility?
He stared deeper into that gaze. At the back of his mind, he remembered a name: Dom.
Jesse blinked, trying to breathe. Those eyes didn’t disappear. And he singled out a blackwood scent that hadn’t been at the Facility, either.
He blinked again, trying to figure out that stare. Ever so slowly, the white walls faded away into
