Page 3 of Protector (Alpha Ties)

THREE

AX2

There are five AX models in existence.

AX2 stares at the four men-that-aren’t in the training room.

The ever-present stench of bleach doesn’t hide the cocktail of alpha scent in the air, but even without it, he’d know what they are—or at least what the biological part of them is. They are all wide with muscle, and there’s a sharpness in their eyes as they watch one another, reading every movement to determine whether they are surrounded by enemies or allies. Alphas.

He suspects that if any of them had been given a choice, they would have opted to socialize with betas and women. He feels it too—the biological urge to assert his dominance over four powerful rivals—but fuck, it doesn’t matter. They’re here, he’s not alone, and the space in his gut he thought held nothing but despair is now tight with a tingling awareness that reaches all the way around to his tailbone.

Without a word, he crosses the floor to the nearest alpha—a young man with short, white-blond hair and ice-blue eyes first widening in surprise at his approach, then narrowing as he doesn’t stop. AX2 ignores the unspoken threat and reaches out, grabs the man by the shoulder, and pulls him to his chest with enough force to send a shockwave through him at the impact.

A growl escapes the other alpha at the uninvited touch, but quiets to a huff of surprised laughter when AX2 wraps both arms around him and hugs him tight.

Touch.

He’s touching another living, breathing being. Someone like him.

He’s not alone, after all.

Something he didn’t know still existed clicks into place in his brain, but he is too numb to do more than grunt as the sensation of humanity slowly filters through his consciousness.

Too late, he remembers why he can’t let them see this—the white-clad doctors no doubt observing them like the lab-rats they are—what will happen if she learns of the weakness he has kept hidden for so long. Swallowing a curse, he releases his hold on the other alpha, but before he can step back, the blond man mutters, “Oh, fuck it,” and wraps his own arms around AX2.

A bouquet of sensation slams through him: warmth, comfort, and relief drown out his momentary anger at another alpha constricting him. The fear of what she will do to him at this display of weakness lingers, but he can’t find the willpower to break away. For this one moment, he'll take whatever punishment she inflicts to erase his remaining shred of humanity.

Kinship. The word echoes in his mind, trickling through his veins and into his organs still made of flesh. Expanding until it hurts. These strangers are his kin; he is not alone.

Warm, solid muscle presses against his back as the others join them one by one. No one speaks for several long moments. The only sound is the slow, deep breathing of five sets of lungs, artificial and not.

“I’d still trade every single one of you for half an hour with a whore,” someone mutters from behind him, finally breaking the peaceful silence.

The young blond who has his arms around AX2 lets out a laugh. It rings in his ears and pierces his brain, alien in its genuineness.

“Half an hour? It’d take you twenty-eight minutes to find the hole? Shit, how long’s it been that you’d forget that? I haven’t been thinking about much else for the past six months.”

A guffaw. “See how much you remember after nearly two years, you little twat.”

AX2 remembers this—the jokes, the laughter, the sharing of words for no other reason than… than bonding. It’s like a lightning strike up his spine, only it isn’t a memory as such, it’s… it’s a whisper through the dark parts of his mind he can no longer access. A warm trickle through his blood. It feels… right in a way nothing else has since the cursed day he woke up in her lab.

This? This is what it feels like to be human.

A clank of metal sends a jerk through the group, each alpha pulling away and into straight-spined postures of attention before the door swings open.

AX2’s heart throbs too fast in his chest as General Thompson walks in, followed by Dr. Green, and a few moments later, her. The general’s gaze slides over them all, and with a jolt of surprise, AX2 realizes the fear making his heart pound against his ribs is not for himself—it’s for the strangers he's known for mere minutes.

He moves forward a single step, offering a mechanical salute. “General, I initiated any and all unapproved contact. The responsibility for any infractions is mine, and mine alone.”

The blond alpha by his side draws in a sharp breath, imperceptible to a regular human’s ears, but AX2 hears it. The gratitude he feels at that small suggestion that this stranger cares what consequences he might face for his admission is blinding. But the urge to shield these men from whatever punishment comes next is impossible to dismiss. They are his kin.

And he is not alone.

But instead of anger or disapproval, the general’s face cracks in a wide grin.

“Ha! Do you see this?” He turns to look over his shoulder at the two doctors. “Five minutes together, and they are already displaying unit loyalty. Machines.” His focus returns to AX2, the triumphant smile still in place. “Step back, soldier. No infractions have taken place.”

This… is new. AX2 obeys, unease clenching in his gut as he flicks his gaze to her. New is dangerous with her. And judging by the murderous look in her pale gray eyes, she does not agree with the general’s assessment. Her father’s assessment.

It is… odd to think of her as having a father. Unpleasant. Addie, he’d called her. The same, shortened name the woman on the phone had used for her. The doctor hadn’t liked it, hadn’t liked being undermined in front of him, the look of anger on her face as prominent then as it is now.

“You may be wondering why we have gathered you together,” General Thompson says, his focus widening to include the other soldiers. “Through the hard work of the scientists working on Project Fireshield, the U.S. Military now has five soldiers amongst its ranks with unprecedented strength. You have all been tested through a series of complex missions, and we are most impressed with your combat abilities. Your unique qualities have ensured success where drones would have lacked finesse, and regular troops strength. Your victories have not gone unnoticed. The Pentagon has tasked me with taking your training in a new direction, and that, men, is why we are here today.

“For the past four decades, I have served our country, and the number-one lesson I have learned is that a man needs his unit. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, soldiers.; without brothers in arms, you are vulnerable. Weak. It is my wish, and the wish of the U.S. Government, that you integrate into the general military population. The eventual goal is that you form a special unit that can assist every branch of the defensive services as needed.

“Your combat prowess is impeccable, so going forward, you’ll be developing skills of a more social nature. Step one is to bring you together, like we have today, and to assess how you might operate as a unit. I have already provided Dr. Green and Dr. Thompson with your new regimen, and they will be overseeing your progress and reporting back to me.

“I have great expectations of you, men. Each of you has already shown how seriously you take this second chance you have been given to serve your country, and I expect nothing less as we move forward together. Now, I have duties to return to, so I will leave you with your capable team to get on with it. Good luck, soldiers. Do me proud.”

No one speaks as General Thompson nods at the two doctors, then turns to exit the room.

A vein throbs in AX2’s temple, one of his body parts untouched by engineering. He saw the people with the general yesterday: sleek suits and bland faces with cunning eyes. The kind of people at home in the shadows. Intelligence.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out why they were watching a demonstration of his abilities, not when it is immediately followed by orders to learn to socialize.

He dares a glance at her again, at her flatly pressed lips and darkened eyes, and remembers how she all but snarled that she could get him to follow any instructions necessary.

The thought has barely entered his brain when she lifts her gaze, catching his.

Addie.

Her much-too-sweet name flickers through his mind before he can stop it, followed by the memory of her floral shampoo in his nostrils. Her fingertips on his chest. In the breath their eyes are locked, something dark and needy coils in his abdomen. Then her eyes widen, outrage flashing over her face before she rips her gaze from him and turns to the other soldiers.

“You know your orders: socialize. We will be observing your efforts. Noncompliance will not be accepted. Commence.”

“Speaking of whores,” the man to his left mutters under his breath, low enough that neither doctor hears.

AX2 blinks, the rushing sound in his ears making it hard to focus on the other soldiers hesitantly relaxing. The knot in his abdomen is still hot and tight, and he feels… empty. Hungering.

What is this?

“AX2.” Dr. Green snaps his fingers. “Join the others.”

He jerks once, finally managing to pull his focus from the disturbing sensations of his biological body. “Yes, sir.”

The others watch him, faces blank from what he assumes is the same sort of training that has taught him to keep his emotions hidden. But when he joins the loose circle of men, a dark-haired alpha with olive skin asks, “AX2?”

AX2 grunts, offering a nod. “You?”

“AX6.” He reaches out a hand. The movement is a little stilted, like he’s forgotten how to move his muscles for the gesture. “Dwayne.”

AX2 blinks, hesitating a long second before he puts his palm to AX6’s— Dwayne’s. It’s warm and dry, and the sensation blinds him for a heartbeat.

The others mirror them, murmuring introductions. The young, blond alpha he hugged is AX23. He calls himself Jack.

AX2 blinks as every man offers a name to go along with his serial number. AX9 is Sean. AX21 is Simon.

“Shit, they must have lost a lot of us, eh?” Sean, the man who called her a whore, says, shaking his head once as he looks them all over. His eyes land on AX2. “I didn’t catch your name, bud.”

His name. The concept seems so ludicrous—the mere thought that she would grant him humanity in the form of a name is enough to make him scoff. “The only designation I’ve been given is AX2.”

“No, I mean—your name. You have to have had one before, right?” Sean insists, furrowing his auburn brows.

Before? AX2 opens his mouth, but no words come out. They… They remember what was before?

“They took your memories?” Dwayne murmurs, his voice too quiet to project back to where the doctors stand with clipboards, observing them. “Dr. Green once mentioned… He said I was the first to retain ‘em. Something about not being able to keep us stable without them. But you’re okay?”

Okay. Something bubbles AX2’s his gut—a wild urge to laugh, perhaps. Or cry; he can’t tell which.

In the end, he does neither. “I’m alive.”

“I guess that’s better than it could have been,” Simon says. “I’d have died without this… procedure. Shot in action. I assume it’s the same for the rest of you?”

Murmurs of agreement. AX2 stays silent. He was told he was dying—beyond medical help. That this was the only thing that could have saved his life.

That he should be grateful.

Yet since the day he awoke in this cursed place, gratitude has been the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbidden, his gaze slips back to her. In those first, confused moments after waking, he’d thought her an angel, her pale face outlined by the fluorescent lights of her lab, her voice soft and pulling on the very fabric of his being.

He’d soon learned the truth.

Hatred churns in his gut as he stares at her, the voices of the others fading to a murmur. They are exchanging stories of their deaths, of their memories from before. But she took his. Even now, among peers he didn’t know he had, but has yearned for for so long, she has ensured he's alone.

The urge to close his hands around her throat makes his fingers twitch. He can almost feel her warm skin under his palms, the frantic jump of her pulse. See her eyes widen and naked fear take the place of haughty disdain. He has killed before—every mission has resulted in the loss of at least one life. None of them gave him any satisfaction, but her… Just the thought of her fragile little neck in his grasp heats his body and makes his skin prickle with pleasure.

As if she senses the intensity in his stare, she looks up from her notes, once more catching his eyes. Anger flares in hers at his second transgression within mere minutes, her knuckles whitening around her clipboard. She parts her lips, and he braces for the pain of his chip responding to whatever order she’s about to bark at him—but instead she hisses something he can’t hear to the other scientist.

Dr. Green looks up, focus narrowing in on AX2 before his mouth hikes up in a lopsided grin. “It’s to be expected, Thompson. Their biological side will be running rampant after being deprived for so long. Maybe it’s best if you skip out, hmm?”

Bright pink splotches color her cheeks, and this time AX2 hears her clearly: “This is my project, Green. I am not about to abandon it because of this… folly!”

Dr. Green shrugs and returns his focus to his own clipboard. “Suit yourself. But if the others get the same idea, there’s a good chance this little bonding exercise will turn into a bid for dominance. And if you ruin the Pentagon’s plans for the AX class, I don’t think you’ll get the chance to so much as cry ‘sexism’ before your ass is permanently booted off the project.”

She doesn’t respond, and for the longest moment she just stands there, fingers clenched so tight around her clipboard the stiff plastic bows under the pressure. Then she turns her head and stares again at AX2, and the sheer amount of hatred in her eyes makes his own flicker away.

When she spins on her heel and stomps out of the room, he can still feel the sear of that hatred, a warm spike all the way down his spine and into his pelvis.