Page 9 of The Beast's Baby
Only, she didn’t want to make him smile. She wanted to make him tell her how to get out of there. She wanted him to bring her out of there. The solution to her current problem seemed lit up in neon lights once it came to her and there it was, shining its light all around her. Either she seduced him or she tapped into his compassion storage but, either way, what she needed most was to make him see the error of his ways. If she could un-fuck his brain then he’d get her out of there. She was sure of it. He believed in working for the greater good; there was no way he wouldn’t react if he realized the greater good was screwing them both over.
But how the fuck was she supposed to manage it?
He removed the second needle, put it aside, reached for the third.
“You’re good at your job,” she said, and she meant it. “No, really,” she added when he looked up at her with a slightly questioning frown. “I can’t even feel the needle. It’s like… nothing. Like you’re handling air or something. Are you human?”
His eyes widened, though his hands remained steady. “Excuse me, what?” he asked, sounding truly flabbergasted by the question.
“Are you human?” she repeated. “You know I’m not, right?”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “And, yes, I am.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Is this whole lab run by humans, then? I mean, is that why it's shifters who are the focus of the trial? You want our healing powers for yourselves?”
“It’s not like that,” he said.
There was that conviction again, and she had the soft dreaded realization that she probably wouldn’t be able to make it budge. She had no stronger counter-argument than the one she’d already made, and he seemed to think it was fine that she was trapped in a cell against her will. He didn’t look at her as a prisoner; he looked at her as a commodity. All she knew was that he was clearly fucking wrong. What they were doing in the lab was wrong. No matter how right he tried to make it sound, and no matter how right it must sound in his head.
She had always trusted her gut, and yet she hadn’t listened to it when it came time to sign the slip of paper because she had so desperately needed money—still did—but now that very gut kept screaming at herdanger, danger, danger.
Shehadto get out of there.
Shehadto find a counter-argument and she had to find it now.
“Right,” she said. “Sorry, of course. This is for the greater good, and I should be happy and grateful, right?”
“Something like that.”
She wanted to punch him again. Kick him. Flip the silver dish over and stomp on the vials of blood. Stomp the red right into the light pink and fluffy carpet. But she couldn’t do that. She was going to have to be smooth about it.
“Is Phase Two more tests?” she asked.
“No, you’ll be paired with another subject,” he replied, eyes darting to hers and away.
Was he actually self-conscious about it?
“What does ‘paired’ mean?” she asked.
“There’s another subject that has been selected as your most fertile partner,” he replied, putting pressure on the puncture mark on her arm and having her fold it to help stave off any spillage.
“A subject?” she asked. “What, like math? Was never my strong suit, I’m afraid.”
“No,” he said, gathering the needles into the silver dish before he added, “A male counterpart whose genes appear to least resemble yours. We want that mirror effect. We have found there’s a greater chance of a successful outcome.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. Didn’t like it one single bit. Or paired bit. What the fuck was he talking about a ‘male counterpart’? That made it sound like… Like she’d be expected to…
She almost didn’t want to know. Almost wanted to protect her mind so that she could find some way to hold herself together and scheme her way out. But she had to have all the facts, or she would lose the mind she so wanted to protect. So, she asked, “And what is that outcome?”
“For you to become pregnant,” he replied.
She stared at him. This time she didn’t laugh.
“What?” she asked.
He kept calm, his face as expressionless as ever. As though he slipped it on every morning after having it rest on a stand next to his bed all night. Not a single muscle moved to show her what he was thinking. And suddenly, the month they had spent seeing each other every day felt like a lie. Even though there had been no honesty between them at all. They had simply been two people in a room together.
Had she thought otherwise? When had she begun to see him as someone who was on her side? He’d never given her the tiniest hint that he was and yet she understood that her subconscious had latched onto him like the one single thing in the place that made even a lick of sense to her. The scientist doing science.
