Page 23 of Feral

It looked like a hefty portion of some form of stew, and next to it was an empty plastic cup.

351 took the tray and placed it next to the mattress. He grabbed the cup, along with one he had stashed by the concrete wall, went over to the small stainless steel sink next to the toilet, and filled both.

I watched him quietly as he set up, surprised he remembered the function of such thingsandthat he was setting a place for me as well, a gesture made all the more clear when he finally crouched next to the tray of food and looked up at me expectantly.

A small part of my mind was too busy having a breakdown to contemplate such things as food, but the larger—and more rational part—was starving.

“So we’re just gonna sit here, butt-naked, and eat stew with our hands, then?” I said as I reluctantly knelt down on the mattress by his side. “But I guess this isn’t the sort of establishment to provide silverware, huh?” Or pants.

I drew in a deep breath as I looked at the food. It didn’t smell overly appealing, and I wasn’t keen on lowering my arms from my naked body to start eating with my fingers… but then, I’d already had to pee while being ogled like a zoo exhibit, so what did it matter if he saw my breasts while I ate? It was quite clear that the sooner I gave up on my dreams of humane treatment, the sooner I’d be able to get my bearings back and perhaps try to find a way out of this mess.

Only that thought—the faint hope that I’d be able to find a way out somehow—allowed me to push down the panic attack that kept trying to take over. With a deep breath, I moved my hand from my chest and reached for the tray.

351’s immediate growl made me snap it back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—do you want to eat first?”

He huffed as if irritated with my question and reached for the food himself. Only instead of scooping it to his own mouth, he offered me not only his now food-laden fingers, but also the first bite.

“No, that’s okay, I can eat on my—” Another growl, angrier this time, shut me right up. I glanced up at him and gulped at the impatience painted across his ruthlessly handsome face.

Apparently, I was getting hand-fed.

Hesitantly, I parted my lips.

His growl quieted, and then he more or less shoved his fingers into my mouth.

I did my best not to gag, partly from the force of it, and partly from the gross taste of unseasoned mush violating my tongue.

“Thanks,” I choked out. “I can take it from here, though—you need to eat too.”

Another growl made me grimace and obediently open my mouth for a second scoop of stew.

351 fed me until I was well and truly full—nearly half the portion of the giant mountain of food—and my gag reflex was threatening rebellion. Only then did he relent, turning his attention to his own hunger as I sagged on the mattress in faint relief. I didn’t know much about alpha mating rituals, but clearly he had some dumb animal instinct to feed what he considered his female.

I curled up in fetal position with my back to 351 and let my fingertips ghost over the still-sore bite on my nape. From what little I knew about alpha matings, they were supposed to be very special. Like… gaining a soulmate. At least, for the couples entering into it voluntarily. I’d heard a few rumors, urban legends, really, about alphas forcing a mating bond on a woman after raping them. But I’d never put much stock into such gossip—it seemed so far-fetched that anyone, even the most vicious of alphas, would corrupt a bond meant to be so pure.

As I touched my own claiming mark, it dawned on me that perhaps what alphas had told us about their claims wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t feel my soul singing, nor did I feel any special bond to the alpha who’d fucked me raw while I’d been tied down. I just felt…

I cut myself off before I delved into the emotions welling behind the thin veil of willpower I was currently using to keep myself together. If I started delving into my emotions, I’d lose the grasp on my sanity.

I lay in silence, doing my best to think of absolutely nothing until 351 was finally done eating. He pushed away the tray with a shriek of metal on concrete, and then the mattress dipped as he lay down behind me. He curved his body against my back and slung one of his huge arms around my midriff.

I closed my eyes as I involuntarily relaxed upon making contact with his warmth. Clearly the lab was kept at a comfortable temperature for alphas, as they ran hotter than the rest of us.

He wrapped me up in the cocoon of his warmth and bulky protection, and I couldn’t help my amused snort at the fact that the feral alpha locked away for treason and murder was apparently a big cuddler.

351 rumbled in response and buried his face in my hair.

I tried to ignore the way he sniffed at me, drawing in lungfuls of my scent, and focused on the warmth of his embrace instead. Like before, I knew that as long as I didn’t think—as long as I just focused on the comfort of his heat, I’d be able to keep it together until I was able to process what had happened to me.

Only that wasn’t what the alpha had in mind.

I’d managed to doze off into light sleep when 351 cupped one of my breasts, startling me awake.

I bit my lip as his thick fingers brushed over my nipple, shooting sensation through my body as his hard pole of flesh rose against my back.

I thought about pushing him away, but knew I’d never be able to fight him off if he was determined.

It took everything I had to keep my breathing slow and steady as he plucked at my nipple. I pretended I was still sleeping, knowing that was the only defense I had.

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