Slick (The Grayverse #1)

CHAPTER TWO

To call Diana clueless is both painfully accurate and deeply unfair.

From the moment she was shipped here at sixteen, she ceased to be a person in the eyes of the people who run The Serenity Center. Not only did they erase her memories of her prior life, but they reduced her to a single purpose: the manufacture of omega secretions, known as slick. To the assholes who own the facility she’s just a juicy line on their spreadsheets, and to the collectors who milk her for all she’s worth, she’s just a job. A beautiful, needy omega fantasy – but still just a cog in the machine known as a slick collection facility.

Of course, to the rest of the world, we’re an omega rehabilitation center, since slick collection for any purposes other than research or therapy is illegal. Maybe there are a few traumatized omegas in the facility, trotted out when the government inspectors come to visit, but D-Block is all about milking as much product out of the inmates as possible.

I call them inmates, because the amount of lies I have to tell about this place makes me nauseous. There’s a euphemism for every procedure, a clinical veneer to their bullshit practices that horrifies the nurse in me. But losers are beggars, as I learned when my brother’s gambling debts were called in. Instead of breaking his kneecaps, the Carrillo Cartel made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Twelve months working as a caretender in their illegal facility, and Johnny’s very messy slate would be wiped clean.

It's so close to being over, I should be jumping for joy. Johnny has promised me he’s keeping his nose clean, and the registrar at St Luke’s Hospital said he’s ready to take me back as soon as I’m free. Technically, my life begins again next week, but I’m pretty sure it will be at the cost of my soul.

I should tell her…. And the struggle to stay silent is killing me, but the first thing they had me do when I started at The Serenity Center was sign an iron-clad NDA. I thought it was to keep their dirty dealings off the radar of the authorities, but it’s really just to keep Diana and the other inmates in the dark.

Because getting slick out of a distressed omega is harder than getting blood out of a stone.

As I run my hand gently over her damp hair, Diana makes a soft whimpering sound in her sleep. A puff of burned sugar reaches my nose, and I bite so hard on the edge of my tongue, my piercing clacks against my teeth. Not that you can hear it over the goddamn beeping coming from my facility-issue wristband. The fucking assholes track everything, always. There are cameras in every corner and sensors stuck to every surface, not just to record the interactions between workers and inmates, but to make sure not one drop of their precious product goes to waste.

We can kiss and cuddle, but exchanging fluids is strictly prohibited, something they like to remind me of at least once a week. If Diana wasn’t such a goldmine, they would have stuck me in a back room months ago, but a happy omega is a productive omega, and for some reason, Diana loves my cowardly ass.

A better man would have found a way to get her out. But all I’ve done is pay off enough of my debts so my contract can be renewed at the hospital. In less than a week, I’ll be back in the world of bedpans and bandages, while Diana will be assigned to some new caretender. Another fucking euphemism, since we’re really just the guys who mop up after collections.

I grab a few hours of sleep in the room I share with two other caretenders, then head down to the kitchen for breakfast. I’m looking for something sweet I can take back to Diana when Trevor, one of the senior collectors, steps up beside me. He’s been around so long most of the bullshit just slides right off, but I can tell by the pinched look on his face that the news is all bad.

“I just saw the paperwork for today’s D-Block deposits. They’re setting up something special for your girl, to try to give her production levels a boost.”

“Fuck.” I stare blankly at the frozen yogurt in my hand. “She told me you guys were talking about that.”

“Not my division,” Trevor says, plucking a fruit cup off the tray, “so I don’t know the specifics, but I thought you should get a heads up. According to the security update I saw, it’s all-hands-on-deck. Even the guys in the tower will be on call.”

The security guards rarely leave their posts on the tower, which is the outer perimeter of the facility, reinforced with electric fences and barbed wire. “Meaning…?”

Trevor ducks his head near mine, his coffee breath overpowering after Diana’s sweet scent. “A live specimen.”

Even though I suspected as much, it’s still a blow to the gut. The facility rarely involves alphas directly, since synthetic pheromones are readily available on the open market. Live harvesting is complicated, especially since alphas pheromones – which can be distilled into a cloudy liquid, similar to animal musk – are both a personal signature and a point of pride for them. The stuff you can buy as a health remedy or to boost your virility, is one-part alpha soup, three-parts bullshit chemicals. No self-respecting alpha would ever let a facility like this go anywhere near his glands.

Which means this guy probably didn’t volunteer for the honor.

“Are you talking about… one of the basement guys?”

Trevor shoots me a hard look. “Lower your voice, Dex. You’re not even supposed to know they exist.”

‘Exist’ might be a stretch, given the conditions I saw in the basement. Cramped, filthy, and medieval are words that immediately spring to mind.

“One of the guards took me down there about a month ago,” I murmur, grabbing a juice and following Trevor over to a table. We’re early, so the cafeteria is mostly empty, but we still settle into the furthest corner. “His partner got too close to one of their cages and the alpha bit off his ear.”

“I heard about that,” Trevor grunts. “But why did they call you?”

“ER nurse,” I explain, shoving a fork into my eggs but unable to go any further. There’s no appetite suppressant like reliving memories in this shothole. “They had to transfer the guard for surgery, but at least I stemmed the bleeding and got his ear on ice.”

Trevor drops his own fork, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Jesus. This fucking place…”

We exchange a long look, and I don’t know whether to pity him or admire him. A year at the facility has nearly broken me, while Trevor is coming up on a decade working for these scumbags.

“Best advice I can offer is to see out your last few days and then scrub this place from your mind. You’re going to feel bad about leaving her behind, but there’s no point in getting killed over it.”

I scowl at my eggs, remembering why I hate Trevor. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if she’s getting a live specimen, I have to be in the collection room with her.”

Trevor sits back, his face shuttering. “Not a good idea.”

“You want your guys to keep hitting their quotas? That’s only going to happen if Diana keeps producing, and she won’t do that if she freaks out.” I lean across the table, stabbing the edge of his tray with my fork. “Put me in that room with her or miss your monthly target. Your choice.”

Trevor grinds his molars, but eventually tosses his fork on his tray and gives me a grim nod. “Just don’t fuck this up, or it will be both our asses in the basement.”

Everyone who works on D-Block is assigned a fake name starting with D, including Diana. It’s just another deception she doesn’t know about, designed to provide both anonymity and team cohesion, although the cynic in me says it’s so we don’t think of each other as real people. By coincidence, my name really is Dex, while I have no idea what Diana was called before she entered the facility. Sometimes I lie awake and try to guess, rolling names across my tongue to see which one matches her perfect scent. My favorites are Jasmine or Rose, but for all I know, she was named after her Great Aunt Gertrude.

The fact is, roses really do smell as sweet, even when you don’t know their name.

“I can’t believe you’re coming with me,” she says as we head to the collection room, her arm tucked tightly in mine. I’ve borrowed a collector’s uniform that’s disturbingly close to hospital scrubs, while Diana is dressed in a soft white jumpsuit and paper slippers, her long caramel hair twisted up into a tight bun. It gives me an unrestricted view of her long neck, but the real purpose is to put her throat glands on display.

I force a smile, even though the way her slippers dance over the scuffed linoleum makes me want to stuff my ears with medical-grade gauze. “This is a big day for you. I want to make sure I’m close by if you need me.”

“You mean it’s the last time I’ll make a deposit before you leave,” she says sadly, the excitement dimming in her eyes. “Is that why they let you come along?”

Diana knows as well as I do how tightly the facility monitors her deposits. Not only is the environment controlled to ensure optimal production, but everyone in her vicinity has to undergo regular checks. An unpleasant scent, a lingering cough, or even a shifty expression can make an omega uncomfortable. Face masks go some way to combating this, but the simplest form of control is elimination. No undesirables are allowed into the collection chamber, period.

“One of the collection supervisors thought it would be a good idea,” I tell her, and she studies my face for a moment before giving me one of her small, false smiles.

The truth is, Trevor only got me in because of my ER experience. There will be a doctor on call during the deposit, but my nursing experience is handy in case any issues crop up. How that might play out is something I can’t afford to think about too hard.

“New security measures,” a masked guard says at the door, holding out a scanner to read the chips in our wristbands. We pass the inspection, but he gives me a hard look. “If anything goes south, you stay out of the way unless otherwise instructed. Got it?”

I give him a stiff nod, but what I want to do is punch him in his face, especially when Diana clutches my arm. “What does he mean by south, Dex?”

Fuck me. I try to think of a way to comfort her without resorting to an outright lie, but she’s distracted by the guard as he points down the hall. “Not this room today, Omega. You need to be in there.”

Diana’s scent thickens as she peers past him, and I’ve got a sick feeling swirling in my stomach. “Why the change?”

“It’s the closest room to the specimen holding chamber.”

We don’t say anything as we walk down the hall, but I can feel Diana’s scent prickling with unease. When we enter the room, she ignores the table where the collector is waiting, drifting over to the large glass wall. “Is that where he’ll be?”

I can’t blame her for sounding so subdued. The so-called ‘specimen holding chamber’ is little more than a padded box with a drain in the floor and a giant meat hook hanging from the ceiling.

“Yep, he’ll be right there,” the collector says in a clinical tone that grates on my nerves. “You’ll be able to see him, but he won’t see you. That vent above us will channel his pheromones directly towards you, Omega, so make sure you take lots of nice, deep breaths. Once he’s aroused, we’ll use the face mask to give you a full dose.” He impatiently pats the table in front of him. “Come on, it’s time to get you fitted into your suit.”

Diana nods, but when she turns away from the window, she’s biting her bottom lip. I can see the worry in her eyes, and I hold out my hands, my heart clenching as she hurries my way. I know she wants to throw herself into my arms, but the collector clears his throat. Jealous little prick. But Diana jerks back, limiting herself to a quick hand squeeze. “You’ll stay with me, Dex? Until it’s over, I mean?”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

I ignore the disapproving look the collector shoots me, helping Diana strip down before climbing into her slick suit. It’s a plastic body sleeve that collects her deposit, channeling her fluids through vacuum tubes to a collection system under the table. The suit covers her from temple, to ankle, to fingertips, with just a small window for her mouth and nose, although this will be covered by a mask during the session. The plastic sleeve is thick but transparent, and I have to fight the urge to shield her body from the collector’s gaze. It’s pointless; by this stage, he must know her better than I do, but it still feels like an invasion of privacy as he tightens the zips and smooths the suit over her chest and hips. There’s a bright flush in Diana’s cheeks, and her perfume is so thick in the air, I can feel my own body growing warm in response.

“We’ll start off by monitoring your vitals,” the collector tells her in his bored tone as he punches some buttons on his tablet. The setup is actually a lot more sophisticated than it looks, the sensors in the suit monitoring her body, while tiny vibration motors stimulate her skin. “Everything looks good, except for a slightly elevated heart rate. Feeling excited, Omega?”

“A little.” Her eyes cling to mine as she shifts in the tight suit. “Will he come in soon?”

“They’re bringing him through right now.” The collector nods towards the window. “I’m going to lift the table up so you can get a good look. Just lie still and focus on controlling your breathing, Omega.”

Diana squirms as the table starts to tilt, but my attention is fixed on the next room. I’m certain the shadow cast through the doorway can’t be real, except the pair of guards look like children next to the guy they drag into the room. He’s at least six-and-a-half feet tall, with shoulders like rocks and a neck as thick as a tree trunk beneath a black hood. The laces are so tight they’re digging into his neck, but his head is thrashing, and I’m not sure how long they’ll hold. He’s also naked, and the giant cock swinging between his legs looks like a battering ram as they wrestle him across the room.

“They should have sedated him…” the collector mutters behind me, his fingers tapping away on the screen. “Oh, they did .” He stands up straighter and makes an excited sound. “How extraordinary! He must be a lot more dominant than he tested on admission.”

Not a good sign, since their calculations would be based on whatever report was fed into their system when he was brought into the facility. If he’s more dominant than they think, their security measures might be inadequate, and the last thing Diana needs to witness is a raging, feral alpha. “Who is he? Do you have any information on his background?”

“Just an ID number and a note that says he was a vagrant before he volunteered for the program.”

Probably bullshit, especially given the way his muscles bulge as he tests the bindings on his wrists. They’re the zip tie kind we use in the ER for violent patients, and there’s no way a guy who’s been sleeping under a bridge could strain them to breaking point.

“You know, with that kind of muscle mass, he might be able to get out of those cuffs…”

My warning is lost in a roar of rage that has every hair standing on end. They’ve managed to connect the back of his hood to the hook hanging from the ceiling, but instead of flailing like a fish, he kicks the nearest guard in the stomach with a giant foot. As the other guard lunges towards him with an electric baton, the plastic cuffs give way, and the monster grabs him around the throat. The crack of his broken neck echoes sickeningly through the glass, but it’s the happy gasp from Diana that turns my blood to ice.

“My alpha,” she murmurs, her pupils so dilated it’s like gazing up at a pair of dark moons. “He’s finally come for me.”