Page 9 of His Mate

“We don’t have all day,” one of the women snapped, then reached out and slapped me across the face. I cried out, rushing to lower my panties and toss them aside with everything else, my cheek burning from the palm of her hand.

I blinked back tears.

Finally, I stood there, naked and shivering, the cold air prickling over my skin, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to cover what little I could, one arm around my breasts and the other covering my pussy.

“Come,” one of the women said, and they led me to a tiled alcove, an old, cracked tub set into the floor, filled with steaming water.I stared at it, at the grime and the rust that ringed the edges, and I felt something twist in my stomach.

They pushed me into the water, not waiting for me to move on my own, and I fell forward, my knees slamming into the bottom. The heat enveloped me, searing and stinging, and I hissed, trying to pull back, but hands gripped my shoulders, holding me in place.

“Stop moving,” one of them snapped, and I froze, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood.

They worked quickly, their hands rough and unkind, scrubbing at my skin with stiff-bristled brushes that tore at the dirt and grime, scraping until my flesh felt raw. They didn’t speak, didn’t look at me, just moved with that same eerie, mechanical precision, and all I could do was sit there, my fingers digging into the rim of the tub, every muscle in my body taut with tension.

One of them grabbed my arm, lifting it out of the water, and I watched as she dragged a blade over my skin, shaving away the fine hairs, moving up and down, methodical and unfeeling. The others did the same, working their way across my body, scraping and plucking until I felt like some kind of animal being prepared for slaughter. When they were done, I was as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

I wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, but my throat had closed up, and all I could do was breathe, shallow and ragged, the sound echoing off the tile.

“Stand up,” one of them ordered, and I obeyed, the water streaming off my body in rivulets, pooling at my feet. They handed me a thick towel, and I wrapped it around me, gratefulfor the chance to cover myself, my fingers numb, my skin stinging from the roughness of the fabric.

The two men entered the room again, and I felt my heart lurch, panic flooding through me as they nodded at the women, who stepped back, clearing a path for them to approach me.

“You’re ready,” the scarred man said, and I shook my head, backing up a step, but he was already reaching for me, his hand clamping around my arm.

“No,” I muttered, trying to pull away, but he didn’t even flinch, just started dragging me down another hallway, my feet slipping on the slick tile, the towel falling from my shoulders, exposing more of my skin with every step.

I was shoved through another door, and I stumbled into a cold, sterile room, the walls painted a dull, institutional white. There was a single steel table in the center, fitted with thick leather straps, and I knew—I knew—what they were going to do, but I couldn’t seem to make my legs move, couldn’t make myself run.

“Up,” the other man said, and when I didn’t move, he grabbed me by the back of my neck, forcing me forward, slamming me against the edge of the table. I cried out, the sound echoing in the small space, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

This was all going to happen whether I liked it or not.

They lifted me up onto the table, strapping my wrists and ankles down with brutal efficiency, the leather biting into my skin, and then they spread my legs, securing them to the stirrups at the end. I tried to fight, tried to kick, but it was useless, and I felt the first hot tears spill down my cheeks as I twisted, yanking against the restraints. In my struggle, the towel fell away, leaving me completely naked and exposed.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, barely more than a breath. “Please, don’t do this.”

But they ignored me, moving around the room with that same detached efficiency, setting up instruments on a tray beside me, the metal glinting in the harsh light.

And as I lay there, bound and exposed, waiting for whatever came next, I felt the crushing, suffocating weight of helplessness, the knowledge that I was nothing more than a body to them. Nothing more than a vessel for breeding. I closed my eyes and waited for what came next.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The door swung open, and a man and a woman stepped into the room, their expressions blank, clinical. The woman moved with a kind of brisk efficiency, her eyes never meeting mine, as if she’d done this a thousand times and had long since stopped seeing the people strapped to the table as people.

She was small, with thin, graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, and she wore a faded blue uniform, like the attendants who had bathed me. She went straight to the tray of instruments, adjusting them, her movements practiced and precise.

The man, however, was different. He was tall, lean, his dark hair swept back from a high forehead, and he wore a white coat that stood out starkly against the sterile room. His face was sharp, almost severe, and his eyes were pale yellow, almost gold, flicking over me with the detached curiosity of someone examining a specimen. There was no kindness there, no warmth, just the cold, unfeeling gaze of someone who saw me as nothing more than an object.

It was deeply unsettling.

“Let’s begin,” he said, and the woman nodded, moving to the end of the table where my feet were strapped down. She picked up a clipboard and a pen, ready to take notes.

The doctor looked down at me, and I felt a shiver run through my body, the leather straps digging into my wrists as I tried to shrink away from him.

I didn’t get far.

“We’re going to perform a routine examination,” he said, his tone flat, businesslike. “It’s important that you remain still. The less you resist, the easier this will be for both of us.”

“I… I don’t want this,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, and I saw something flicker in his eyes—annoyance, maybe, or impatience. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same cool indifference. I swallowed hard.

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