Page 8 of Feral

I blinked, not expecting that kind of language from a man with Dr. Axell’s academic achievements. He seemed to remember himself and cleared his throat. “Right. Well, I must apologize that we didn’t manage to show you the next step of the research. Clearly we’re still missing a key factor in making these alphas bond with the females we offer them. We will have to run some tests on her pheromone levels and perhaps look for more precise chemical markers.

“But before we get that far, I’d be interested in your observations of this experiment. Your analytical skills are without question.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It was what I’d always wanted—to be asked to contribute to the scientific method of a significant research study, but… the fact that they’d missed something that seemed so obvious to me made me kind of hesitant. “Well… I mean, aren’t pair bonds meant to be… very special? I’ve always heard how an alpha simply knows when his intended mate is near. It seems to me you’re trying to force a bond without taking into consideration what the subjects might want. Perhaps this is one thing nature never intended for us to replicate in a lab.”

Dr. Urwin scoffed. “My dear girl, an alpha’s urge to claim a mate is a purely biological response, nothing more. As such, all we need to reach our goal is to find the right triggers.”

I blinked, taken aback by the patronizing tone. But when I looked at Dr. Axell, expecting him to put his colleague in place, all I got from him was a small head shake and a wry smile. “I do think you’ve watched one too many romantic movies, Miss Dorne. Trust me—alpha instincts have nothing to do with love. They’re about possession, desire… procreation. A feral alpha will not be able to even play pretend when it comes to claiming a female.”

I dug my nails into my palms to force myself to return his gaze. There was something… different in it. As if there was just a glimmer of someone else behind his professional mask—someone who spoke about alpha instincts so confidently because perhaps, deep down, he also felt them. The thought made my stomach lurch, and I gave in to the instincts at the back of my consciousness murmuring about the dangers of provoking an alpha. I dropped my eyes and felt my shoulders slump forward without my conscious choice, displaying subservient body language even as my mind still seethed with the rude dismissal.

Dr. Axell patted my knee with a large hand, lingering for just a second before he pulled it back—but it was long enough for every muscle in my body to freeze.

He’d reacted to my body language like an alpha would—giving me silent praise for falling in line with a touch. It was so inappropriate and so far from anything I could ever have expected from a man with Dr. Axell’s reputation. I stared mutely at my now hand-free knee, halfway expecting an apology. Hoping for it with all I was.

It never came.

Seemingly happy with my submission, Dr. Axell turned to Dr. Urwin and began discussing parameters for a new line of tests as if I wasn’t even there.

I sat for a moment longer until the stinging in my eyes became too much to bear. Silently, I left the room and walked back to my empty work station.

It was silly to cry, I knew that, but no matter how many times I told myself that, I couldn’t will the tears away. Dr. Axell had been my idol for so many years. Working for him had been a lifelong dream of mine, and yet in the end…. In the end, he was just like the rest of them. An alpha. A ruthless man who sought to bend anyone who disagreed with him to his will.

And in my eagerness to please him, I’d pushed my own ethical objections to his methods aside, trusting that he knew best. I’d been so damn stupid. How hadI,of all people, let an alpha’s charm and dominance pull the wool over my eyes?

Christ, I’d… I’d watched a woman get violated right in front of me, and I’d done nothing to stop it.

* * *

I’d not been downin the section of the underground lab where the female subjects were kept. Most of my analysis was of the males’ data, and so there hadn’t been any reason to venture into that area.

There probably wasn’t any reason to tonight, either, I told myself as I walked along the empty corridors long after everyone else had gone home for the night. But despite the urge to turn around, go back to my work station, and—ideally—forget all about what I’d witnessed earlier today, I kept walking.

I needed to see that she was all right before I’d be able to sleep tonight for the guilt gnawing at my gut.

The female subjects were kept in a long cell block on the eastern side of the facility. They were locked in individual cells along a narrow hallway, but unlike the males, they weren’t separated from each other by thick concrete walls. They each had an area that was shielded from their fellow inmates, where a mattress and restroom facilities were located, but the rest of each small cell was only separated from their immediate neighbors by bars.

I found the female subject—A642, as the paperwork attached to the cell door revealed—curled up on her mattress, which had been dragged over to the bars between her cell and her neighbor to the left. The woman on the other side of the bars was stroking her still-messy hair and mumbling soothingly. She quieted when I stopped in front of the cell, shooting me a disgusted look.

“Is she all right?” I asked when A642 didn’t so much as move to acknowledge my presence.

“What do you care?” her neighbor spat.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What did I care—beyond making myself feel better? If she was okay—which so far not much pointed toward—then what? Could I really just be on my merry way, content in the knowledge that what I’d witnessed would happen to all of these women?

“I brought this,” I said, holding out a pack of ice wrapped in a towel. “For the…” No delicate way of saying it. “The swelling.”

A642’s neighbor begrudgingly accepted the offering. Once in her hand, she nudged gently at the curled-up woman. “Hey. Gloria. Take this. It’s for your pussy. It’ll make it feel better.”

I fought back a blush at the inmate’s candid language. We were so far past embarrassment over frank word choices.

I sat down on the concrete floor by the separation between the two women’s cells as Gloria sluggishly pushed the ice pack between her legs before curling back up again. But this time, she was looking at me from underneath her tangled hair.

Her dark eyes were red from crying, and I couldn’t blame her for the accusation I saw burning behind the dull look of despair.

“I saw you there. You are one ofthem,”she said, her voice not much more than a hoarse croak. “What do you want?”

“I… came to see how you were doing,” I said.

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