Page 35 of Feral

It was early morning the day after Dr. Axell had tortured 351 with electricity until he passed out. Twice.

At least, I thought it was early—it was impossible to tell for certain in the underground lab, but it had been many hours since our evening meal, and the silence from the other cells suggested most of the test subjects were asleep.

351 wasn’t. I could tell from his breathing. I didn’t know if he’d slept at all, or if he’d woken up when I did. He seemed so attuned to me, always aware of my every move. I wouldn’t have been surprised if just the change in my heart rate could bring him out of a dead sleep too.

“Alpha,” he grunted after a moment’s silence.

I lowered my lashes, letting my gaze rest on where his strong arm was wrapped around my midriff, pulling my back flush against his chest. It was better than when he was drug-addled and insisted on sleepingon topof me, but his possessive grip left no doubt as to his claim on me. In his mind, I was his mate, and he was my alpha.

My stepdad had insisted my mom call him that too.

“No. Your name,” I said, fighting the conflicting emotions in my gut. The fear that had seized from the moment I woke up in his cell was still there, still tearing at my painful memories and the horror of what had been done to us. But there was also something else—some instinctive comfort in the big alpha’s nearness, of his unquestioning protectiveness. He’d gone through hell to keep Dr. Axell from hurting me, and hadn’t forced himself on me since that first day. Not since the drugs had filtered out of his system enough to afford him some control. They gave him more every morning, but so far the physical strain they put him through seemed to burn them out of his system much faster than before.

If I had met him outside of this compound, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to fall into the biological lull of instincts murmuring that hewasmy alpha. That I should surrender to the pull of our bond hooked in my chest. But we weren’t out in the real world—I wasn’t free. I didn’t get a choice of whether I wanted to be mated to an alpha or not, but neither did he. And right now—in this shared nightmare—the only thing that kept me from losing the last shreds of my own humanity was the comfort of his embrace. The low hum in our bond when I accepted his nearness. The scent of his pheromones in my nostrils and the warmth of his skin against mine.

There was no point fighting him when he was the only source of comfort I would ever find in this cell. And the only one who cared if I lived or died.

351 didn’t answer, and I rested my hand against the back of his to urge him to speak. “Please. I can’t keep calling you 351 in my head.”

“Alpha,” he said again, voice gravelly and rough.

“I don’t want to call youAlpha.I know you are, but… I don’t even know your name, and God knows how long we’ll be locked up together in here. Please.”

He growled in response, but it wasn’t a threatening sound. Then, after another long pause, he said, “Zach. Barnes.”

It came haltingly, as if it’d been a long time since his lips had formed those words.

“Zach,” I repeated, tasting the name. I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotion saying it out loud filled me with. There was something profound about having a name for the man I’d only known as a test subject.“Zach.”

He shivered as I whispered his name into the emptiness of the cell, clutching me tighter.

“Don’t… let them hear. They will… hurt you.” It was a soft murmur, somehow more human than his usual rough voice. Or perhaps I was just imagining it, because he suddenly seemed so much more human to me, now that I knew his name.

Zach.

“I won’t,” I whispered. And then, before I could change my mind, I rolled around in his embrace so I was facing him, that place in my chest where our bond was rooted pressed tightly to his. The link between us hummed, sending pleasant shivers through me as I looked up into his eyes. Though his face was shrouded in darkness, knew he was watching me too.

Slowly, unsure of how he’d react, I reached up to brush my hand against the side of his face. He didn’t move, but his breath came out low and hoarse.

“Zach,” I murmured again. How long had it been since anyone called him by his name? Or touched him with gentleness? How much humanity wouldIhave left if I’d been treated like he had, for as long as he had, even without the drugs that stole his mind away?

Our bond hummed more insistently, pulling on me. My gaze flickered from the darkness to where I could just make out the outline of his lips from what little light was available in our cell.

The bond shuddered within, urging me onward, promising that everything would be better if I gave myself to him willingly. His hot breath gusted against my mouth, shooting tingles of anticipation through my body as I grabbed onto his shoulders.

Before I could lean in, something hard andhugerose between us, pressing insistently into my stomach.

Zach growled, a rich rumble that sent tendrils ofwantstraight to my pelvis, making slickness pool between my thighs. He leant in, but instead of pressing his lips to mine, he sniffed at my throat, scenting me for readiness to mate like his animal urges told him to.

I jerked back, my heart hammering in my chest both from the sudden onset of biologically forced desire—and from realization that despite the fact that I now knew his name and that the drugs weren’t as prominent in his system, he wasstilljust a feral alpha.

Whatever desperation-induced fantasies I had about this alpha being capable of something more than just base desire, it wasn’t my reality.

351—Zach—grunted at my sudden unwillingness, hands dropping to grab my hips to pull me back in close.

“No,” I croaked, shoving at his bulging body to put distance between us. “Please. Not that.”

“Youwant,”he growled, frustration and desire thick in his voice as he forced me back to his chest with a rough jerk on my hips. His cock, thick and hard andscary,pulsed against my stomach. “I smell you.”

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