Slick (The Grayverse #1)

CHAPTER ONE

“I must be close now,” I murmur as I lean against Dex, my caretender and best friend in the world. Like most of the people who work at the facility, he’s a beta, but his job is to take care of me both before and after deposits. He rarely accompanies me into the slick room, but waits for me back here in my chamber, always ready with a cold drink, a cool washcloth, and a joke to wipe the grimace off my face. Today it’s cranberry juice – not my favorite – and a joke about three men in a bar that goes right over my head. But given I’ve spent the last eight years in the walls of The Serenity Center, is it any wonder that I miss the punchline now and then?

“How close do you think I am?” Dex is running the washcloth over my back, so I have to twist to catch his gaze. “I heard Dean say I’m one of the lifers now. It must be soon then, right?”

“Soon,” he echoes, smiling with his mouth more than his eyes. He does that sometimes, usually when I’m asking a question he doesn’t have the answers to. Dex has a pretty mouth, but I like his eyes the best. In my opinion, getting them to twinkle at me is better than a strawberry smoothie with extra syrup. “You just have to be patient. Your alpha is out there, okay? It’s only a matter of time before we find him and you can retire.”

Retire . The magic word for all omegas in the center, conjuring images of cozy nests, alpha purrs, and thick knots. Only when our deposits reach premium status are they entered into the scent match database, and for most of us, that takes years and years.

I give a weary nod at Dex’s reassurances, but as he runs the washcloth over my chest, I take it out of his hand. The aftercare he gives me is by far the best part of the whole deposit process, but today I feel too raw even for his gentle touch. Instead, I drop the cloth into the wall chute and crawl into bed. It’s narrow and hard, but the sheets are clean and cool, and after the sticky heat of the slick suit, it feels heavenly against my skin.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Dex says, perching on the bed by my hip. I’m so wrung out, I didn’t even feel the tear that’s trickling down my cheek. He swipes it up with a thumb and sucks it clean, since every drop of moisture from my body has to be savored. “Want me to go down to the kitchen and get you something sweet?”

He’s running his fingers through my damp hair, but I pull away, pressing my head into the unforgiving pillow. “Sweets won’t fix this, Dex. If I’m drying out, how will any alpha ever want me, let alone my scent match?”

His jaw sets as he strokes my damp cheek, his eyes flashing with green fire. I don’t see it often, but I like this side of him. Fire is better than false smiles, and I wrap my knees around him, cradling his body with mine. “I just want to retire, but I’m scared I’ve missed my chance. Can you talk to the collectors? Maybe see if there’s some other therapy I could try?”

Dex is off the bed so fast, I think he’s going to march up to their offices right now. But he just grabs a glass of water off the counter, his broad back flexing as he chugs it dry. When he’s finished, he slams it down, his fingers clenching the molded plastic of the counter edge. Everything in the room is hard and white, but all I can see are the pale rings on his knuckles. “I need to tell you something, Diana.”

“What?” I sit up despite the ache in my limbs and the hollow feeling in my chest. I’m always emptied out after a deposit, but today I feel drained right down to the roots of my hair. “Is everything okay?”

“No, not really.” He doesn’t turn to face me, and I think about getting off the bed to stroke my hand down his spine. Dex is the only gentle thing in my life, but sometimes he comes to my chamber looking as if the whole world is perched on his shoulders. I think of the kisses and cuddles I give him during these moments as my own form of aftercare, but there’s something about the rigid line of his shoulders that holds me back. I wrap my arms tight around my knees as he says in a low, hard voice, “You know I told you I was making deposits too? Well, I’ve finally saved up enough and paid them off. Tomorrow I’m going back to my old job at the hospital.”

Dex is a nurse, which is why he makes such a good caretender. His deposits, he’s explained, are called debts, and he’s been giving them to the facility owners ever since he started working here a year ago. I know he misses the hospital. It’s so special, it’s named after a saint, but more importantly, his best friend is a doctor there. I know Dex deserves to work in such a wonderful place, but I hoped he was happy here with me .

It’s hard to keep the tears back now, even though I know I’ll set the sensors off.

“Fuck,” he curses, turning to show me the anguish in his eyes. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.”

There’s such despair in his voice, I have to wonder if we aren’t mates, after all. I know only alphas can mate omegas, but if this isn’t a bond in my chest, what is it? Nothing has ever felt as bad as witnessing the misery in his face as he slumps beside me on the bed.

“Do you have to go?” I hate how small my voice sounds, but it’s exactly how I feel. Small and alone, and ready to beg. “Can’t you stay one more week? Maybe I’ll have a breakthrough. You can even tell them I’ll take the jumpstart, to see if that makes a difference.”

He looks at me with a wrinkle between his sad eyes. “What are you talking about? What jumpstart?”

I bite my lip, panic squeezing my chest as I recall the conversation I heard while I was in the slick room. “The collectors think I might be drying out. One of them said they needed to give me something organic, because the neuroblockers aren’t working. He thought that if I sniff a real knot, it might give my system a jumpstart. It could give me my best deposit yet.”

“They said all that?” Dex breathes so hard through his nose, his nostrils go as white as his knuckles. “Those fuckers have big mouths.”

I gape at the ugly word coming out of his pretty lips. “Are they wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly…” He shifts uneasily, but then takes my hands, brushing the backs with his thumbs. I shiver at the gentle touch, my insides going all soft and warm, but I’m too excited to crawl into his lap. I need to hear this. I need to know . “By organic, they mean an alpha, Diana. Not a mate,” he hurries to add when my eyes get even wider, “but a real, live specimen. He’ll probably be gagged and hooded, but just being in his presence will be a lot more intense than you’re used to.”

“ A real alpha. ” I can barely form the words, I’m so astonished. Other than the Director, I haven’t seen an alpha in the flesh for at least a year. Once in a blue moon, one will walk through the center, leaving the scent of smoky almonds in the air, but they never stop, and I’m never near enough to speak to them. A sudden thought strikes me, and I squirm closer to Dex. “With a thick knot?”

Dex scratches a hand over the faint stubble on his chin and makes a strangled sound. “Yeah, I guess. But they won’t let you touch him, Diana, and you might not even see him all that well. There will be a wall of glass between you, plus they might have him masked, as well.” At my crestfallen expression, he squeezes my hand tighter. “The only alphas they can pick from are dangerous, sweetheart. They might smell good, but they’re not good people. And if they think he’s dominant enough to trigger you, he’ll be in chains, maybe even under sedation…”

His words die off at the look on my face. Why would the collectors ever have to chain and drug an alpha? They’re the center of our world; the reason we exist. Our reason and our reward, like the tattoo on my lower back, that when complete, will mark me as the property of my future mate.

What will his name be?

I’ve never seen a completed tattoo, even though I’ve overheard collectors joking about putting their names there. They never would – their job is to help us find our scent matches, and they know better than to treat us like their property.

“If they’re giving me a real alpha, you have to stay, Dex. I won’t be at my best if you’re not here.”

The wrinkle between his eyes grows deeper, but he blows out a breath and gives a slow nod. I should feel guilty keeping him from his saintly hospital, but I’m too excited to do anything but hug him. He lets me coax him into bed with me, even though the sensor on his wristband is beeping. We have sensors for everything, including how close we get to each other, but Dex doesn’t seem to mind the persistent noise. Or maybe he just doesn’t hear it, because as I drift off to sleep, he’s grinding his teeth so loud I can feel the vibration in my bones.