Page 42 of The Beast's Betrayed Mate
“What is this?” she asked.
“Well, you asked for answers, didn’t you? You’ve already seen the basic trials we’ve been running and drawn conclusions based on the information you’ve gathered,” Cora said. “But what you couldn’t see was the end goal.”
“To get rich,” Olive said.
Cora laughed. “No.” She shook her head. “That’s a perk, of course, but the end goal is to breed a race that fights the viruses before they can even get a chance to multiply. Immune systems that are so strong that medicine will be rendered obsolete. Hospitals will shut down, ‘doctor’ will be a word of the past, and we will all live long and healthy lives. Only, to create such a utopia there must first be balance.”
“What sort of balance?” Peter asked.
“Between human and wolf, of course,” Cora said. “And what better place to strike that balance than in a Petrie dish?”
Olive looked around at the rooms, noting that they were comfortably furnished. There was a large bed in each of them. But it couldn’t be possible that they were planning something so diabolical.
“What are you talking about?” Peter demanded.
“A breeding program,” Olive murmured.
Cora’s wide smile was back. “I knew I hired you for a reason,” she said. “Brains and beauty. And a long-running connection, albeit shaky, with someone who seemed ripe for transitioning.”
Peter took a step forward, but Olive grabbed his arm, holding him back as Cora’s eyes glowed red in response to his flashing golden.
“You did this to me,” he said.
“Well, yes and no,” Cora admitted. “We weren’t expecting you to go poking after Michael. We couldn’t predict that Michael would be so… uncooperative. He is strong of mind. He can be…dominant. Like an alpha.”
Olive looked to Peter as the news hit.
“So, he did run?” Peter asked.
Cora merely smiled that infuriating smile. “Let’s stick to the subject at hand, shall we? You had already been chosen, Peter. It was inevitable that you would end up here. Your genes were too perfectly geared toward a shifter life. Not all humans are, you see. Some lose their minds, some don’t even survive their first transition. But you… I knew you had it in you. Your offspring will be strong, like their father.”
“Shut your mouth,” he growled.
She made a hurt face. “I only want what’s best for you,” she said. “You can’t see it yet, but I promise someday you’ll want to thank me. You’re on the frontier, my dears. The first wave. The light right before the dawn.”
“And who is the sun?” Olive challenged.
Cora smiled sweetly, turning her gaze to Peter’s. “You have something I want, that much is safe to say. But you’re not getting out of here so why don’t we strike a deal?”
“How the fuck are you going to just keep us here?” Peter asked. “Is this the sort of operation you’re running?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” Cora said with a slight pout. “I know it’s unfair, but we’re dealing in genetics that isn’t meant for the greater population to know about. There could be a war, you know? The shifter community against the human society. The oppressed rising up against their oppressor. That sort of thing.”
“How the hell is humanity the oppressor?” Peter spat.
“That’s for your children to learn about,” Cora replied softly. “You’re already fucking. Why not do it for science?”
“I can’t see the link between balance and the Petrie dish. And what do we fucking have anything to do with it?” Peter asked.
Olive’s hold on his arm tightened as she took a step forward, getting herself closer to him as she replied in Cora’s stead, saying, “A wolf pup in a human womb.”
Peter’s disgust was unmistakable, and Olive felt it, too. She let go of him, glaring at the woman who had brought her into the middle of it.
“The pills prime the female’s reproductive system to carry a pup to term. Typically, it dies because the human womb is too… weak, I’d say, but inhospitable is another good word for it. With our medication in her system, though, we’ve begun to see human women carry pups well into the third trimester.”
“But the trials have all failed,” Olive said.
“Most of the pups have been stillborn,” Cora said.
