Reluctant Mate

by Diana Persaud

  She flipped a few pages.

  Formula 7-Alpha-9 is ready. Today I will inject three of the remaining test subjects.

  Formula 7-Alpha-9 is also a failure. The three test subjects retain their human shapes but are hirsute. They resemble our caveman ancestors more than they do wolves. Aside from the physical change, they seem unable to communicate.

  Will have to schedule CT scans to check for anomalies in their brains.

  Two test subjects left. Must inquire about getting more volunteers.

  She frowned.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to find in that hospital,” she said.

  “Something’s wrong,” Zane announced.

  He parked their SUV, leaving it idling in case they needed to flee.

  “Why are patients wandering around aimlessly?”she asked.

  Straining her neck, she glanced around.

  “I don’t see any orderlies or nurses. Do you?”

  “No. Doc, stay here until we make sure it’s safe,” Kane said, opening the door.

  A high pitched scream filled the air.

  ***

  Kane scanned the area as he ran toward the source of the scream.

  The front door of the hospital was ajar.

  Kicking it open with his foot, he crept into the hospital.

  The fresh stench of urine and feces assaulted their noses, as well as the unmistakable scent of death.

  He sniffed the air then balled his fists seconds before a large body slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

  His assailant growled, snapping as he tried to bite his neck.

  He rolled with him, wrestling until he was on top.

  Pinned down, the rabid man grunted inhumanly as he struggled to free himself.

  “Calm the fuck down,” he growled.

  The man sniffed him and growled louder.

  The scent of stale blood emanated from the man. Dried streaks of blood covered his chin.

  A cold chill ran down his spine.

  What the fuck did he do?

  ***

  “Oh my goodness!” Dr. Mallory exclaimed.

  Papers littered the floor.

  A pool of blood seeped out from under a door. A wild man grunted and bellowed like an animal as he resisted Kane.

  “I—I can tranquilize him. Hang on a minute,” she said.

  Pushing away her questions, she focused on her newest patient. Searching through her bag, she withdrew a hypodermic needle and a small vial. With an expert glance at her patient, she calculated how much tranquilizer she would need. She filled the needle then returned the vial to her medical bag.

  “Hold him still,” she ordered.

  After wiping his arm with an alcohol soaked pad, she injected him with the tranquilizer.

  Within thirty seconds, he began to falter. Within a minute, he was sound asleep.

  She sniffed the air.

  “What the fuck happened here?” Robert asked.

  Stepping around her, he glanced at the sleeping man.

  “Fuck. I think he’s one of the convicts I brought here. Although, I don’t remember him being so fucking hairy. Goddamn Bigfoot.”

  “We need to find the ten test subjects. Robert, can you help me round up the patients outside?”

  “Sure, Doc.”

  “Kane and I will search the rest of the hospital,” Zane said. “Kane, you take upstairs. I’m going to check this floor.”

  Kane nodded and cautiously went up the stairs.

  Robert followed her outside.

  With Robert’s help, she rounded up the wandering patients and returned to the hospital.

  “Doc, you can bring them in here,” Zane called out to her.

  They ushered four patients into a small conference room.

  “Can you two keep an eye on them while I search for records?” she asked.

  “Sure, Doc. Third door on the left is an office. No bodies in there,” Kane replied.

  She rushed up the stairwell, taking two steps at a time.

  She opened the third door on the left.

  At one point it had been an office, outfitted with the usual wooden desk and gray metal file cabinet.

  The desk was clear. The walls were bare.

  The small garbage can was tipped over.

  One of the desk drawers was partially open.

  She pulled it out.

  Empty.

  She checked the other drawers.

  Also empty.

  Someone cleaned out this desk. And in a hurry.

  I’m sure there’s nothing in the file cabinet, but may as well check.

  She pulled open the top drawer of the file cabinet and rifled through it. Finding nothing, she pushed it shut and reached for the second drawer.

  A loud metallic screech set her teeth on edge.

  Flipping through the hanging folders, she found a file labeled ‘Patient X-1’. She removed the file and read it.

  Bingo.

  She returned to the drawer and found more files labeled ‘Patient X’ and removed them. She gathered the files and examined each one.

  The files confirmed what she had read in his journal. The first three had died and two were comatose. She set those files aside and reached for the next set.

  Only one forgotten page remained in the file.

  Formula 8-Alpha-11 brings me one step closer to deciphering the secrets of wolf transformation. The last two test subjects transformed successfully into wolves. Now I must work with them to transform back into their human forms.

  Blood tests have been ordered.

  Will note their testosterone levels as well as any changes in their body chemistry.

  CT and PET scans are scheduled.

  Hmm. The rest of these men seemed to have survived but not intact according to these notes. They’re being held in a ‘special containment area’. What the hell does that mean?

  Arranging the folders in a neat stack, she left them on the desk and returned to the small conference room.

  “We’re missing some men,” she said.

  “I found two upstairs. They’re in a coma,” Kane said.

  Kane remained on guard outside the conference room.

  “According to the files I found upstairs, three of the convicts are dead.”

  “So where are the others?” Zane asked.

  Her gaze landed on the drugged man.

  “Well, you captured one of them, so the rest must be here, right?”

  “They’re not upstairs,” Kane replied.

  “Not on this floor,” Zane said.

  “Is there a basement?” Robert asked.

  “Shit. I didn’t check the door by the front office,” Zane said. “That must lead to the basement.”

  ***

  Putrid, stale air filled the stairwell.

  “Breathe through your mouth, so you don’t gag,” Dr. Mallory suggested, following them down the stairs.

  Robert took deep breaths through his mouth, concentrating on anything but identifying the odors that wafted around him. He stood on the gray concrete floor next to Zane, wincing inwardly.

  Those cages look familiar. Just like the ones in the basement of Genesis 23.

  Two large men stood inside their cages, gripping the bars with hairy hands. They growled low, a warning. One man howled and pulled against the bars, screaming with futility as the bars remained in place.

  The other one grew silent as he stared at them, his wild eyes focusing with deadly intent.

  Their bodies were covered with fur and matted with waste.

  “So what do we do now, Doc?” Zane asked.

  “These conditions aren’t fit for animals let alone humans,” Doc said.

  She strode toward a supply cabinet.

  “We need to secure—oh!” she exclaimed.

  They whipped around to see another hairy man holding Dr. Mallory tight against him, his hand over her dainty neck.

  He was hiding under the stairwell. I must be slipping. Time to get your shit t
ogether, Roland. You fuck up again and Serena will pay for it.

  “Remember me, convict? I’m the one who brought you here,” he said.

  The convict’s eyes lit up with recognition and he growled. He squeezed Dr. Mallory’s throat and she clawed his hands, gasping for air.

  “Hiding behind a woman?” he taunted.

  The convict snarled, baring his teeth.

  He moved left, away from Zane and Kane.

  Although his heart pounded in his chest and his ears, he appeared calm.

  With an unnatural growl, the convict shoved Dr. Mallory away and pounced.

  Anticipating his rush, he lunged at the convict. Their bodies slammed together.

  Choking on his stench, he grabbed the convict’s hairy body. With a sharp twist, he flung him on the ground. Straddling his belly, he withdrew his knife and plunged it deep into his chest.

  The convict gurgled and twitched before his body went limp.

  Withdrawing his knife, he glanced around, searching for something to wipe off the blood. He found a rag and wiped his knife carefully before returning it to his boot.

  “I could scent your fear. Why didn’t you let us handle him?” Kane asked.

  He shrugged.

  “I brought him here. I figured he would recognize me and I could use his rage against him.”

  “It could have backfired. He could have killed Doc.”

  He shook his head.

  “We’re not that different, Kane. If it were me, I’d want to kill every one of the fuckers who did this to me.”

  Dr. Mallory assured Zane she was fine and stood, brushing off flecks of dirt from her clothes.

  “Seven cages,” she said then counted the men. “One upstairs. One dead. Three in cages. Damn it.”

  She pulled out her cell phone, called Lucien and filled him in.

  “Lucien, we have a problem,” Dr. Mallory said.

  “What’s wrong, Doc?”

  “Dr. Jessup experimented on more than ten convicts. At least two men are missing.”

  “Fuck. Do you know who they are?”

  “Yes. I have Jessup’s files. The ones that escaped killed the humans working here. Lucien, we have to call the police.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell them about the missing men. We’ll handle those men ourselves.”

  “I doubt the police could handle them anyway,” Dr. Mallory agreed.

  “See if you can find anything with their scent on it. Zane will need their scent to track them.”

  Zane was already in the last cell, sniffing its filthy contents. His nose wrinkled with disgust then he followed the scent, leaving them in the basement.

  “What about the others?” Lucien asked.

  Dr. Mallory filled him in on what they had found.

  “Take me off speaker and let me talk to Kane,” Lucien said.

  Dr. Mallory handed the phone to Kane. He listened for a minute then said, “Yes, Sir,” and hung up.

  He blocked Kane from going up the stairs.

  “This is my responsibility,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

  Kane considered his request then nodded.

  “I’ll help you upstairs, Robert,” Dr. Mallory said. “You have to shut off the machines manually so they don’t sound an alarm.”

  ***

  Muttering under his breath, Lucien dialed another number.

  “Aleksandr, I need your tracker.”

  “Can’t. Hunter is tracking a rapist. I know someone you can use. She’s not an official tracker but I would take her if I didn’t have Hunter.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Kai of the Tarchannen pack.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That going to be a problem?”

  “Remington won’t help. You know he doesn’t approve of Lanie. Fucking purist.”

  “What’s the problem?” Aleksandr asked.

  “We found the doctor responsible for kidnapping our wolves. He was experimenting on humans, hoping to give them our strengths. Two of his victims have escaped. Did I mention they were convicts?”

  “Fuck.”

  “You still recommend that tracker?”

  “Remington always puts wolves first. I’ll arrange for him to send Kai. Sounds like you have enough shit to deal with.”

  “I’ll send you the directions.”

  ***

  Robert followed Dr. Mallory upstairs.

  Two frail men lay on identical hospital beds. Once large, muscular men, their skin now hung loosely on their frames. Clear, thin tubes disappeared into their noses. Their mouths were open, taped to a large opaque plastic tube he assumed was used for feeding.

  Machines hummed quietly, the only sound on this deserted floor.

  Dr. Mallory went to the machine near the first bed. She tapped on the screen for several minutes. Then she untaped the feeding tube and pulled it out of his mouth. His mouth remained stretched open.

  She turned a valve then removed the thin clear tubes by his nose.

  He watched the green line on the screen of the machine. His heart kept beating. Strong and regular.

  Dr. Mallory moved to the next bed.

  He stared at the screen, surprised that the heart was still beating. Weaker now, but still pumping away.

  The second patient’s monitor mirrored the first. Their hearts kept beating to the rhythm of the second hand.

  For thirty minutes they waited patiently.

  “Does it always take this long, Doc?” he asked.

  “Sometimes. As long as the heart keeps beating—”

  The first man sighed loudly. Then his body sagged.

  The line on his machine was finally flat.

  Dr. Mallory opened a window.

  He raised a brow.

  “Superstitious, I know, but ICU nurses always open the window after a death. To make sure the spirit doesn’t hang around.”

  He moved to stand closer to the second man.

  The monitor showed a weakening heartbeat.

  The patient’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at the ceiling. A moment later, his eyes closed for the last time.

  His machine flat lined.

  Dr. Mallory waited a few minutes then closed the window.

  With a heavy tread, he followed her down to the basement.

  A mangy gray wolf lay in the corner of its small cage, too weak to stand. The wolf sniffed the air then stared at him. Robert hunched down in front of the cage. The gray wolf whined then plopped its head on its paws.

  “Is there a key for this lock?” he asked.

  Dr. Mallory tumbled through a desk.

  A set of keys jangled.

  “Try these,” Dr. Mallory said, tossing him a set of keys.

  He caught it and tried each one. The third one opened the cage.

  The wolf eyed him suspiciously.

  “What did this one do?” he asked.

  Dr. Mallory thumbed through Dr. Jessup’s journal.

  “What’s his ID?”

  “The tag on the cage says 07503294,” he replied.

  She flipped through several pages.

  “3294?” she asked.

  “Yes, Doc.”

  “Murder. Hmmm.” She read for a minute then replied, “Flew into a jealous rage and killed the man he caught in bed with his wife.”

  “What happened to his wife?” Kane asked.

  “It appears she divorced him.”

  Dr. Mallory closed the journal.

  The wolf barked softly then laid his head on his paws.

  “He’s not like the others. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “We have our orders, Robert,” Kane said.

  He stood.

  “Look at him,” he said, pointing to the cage.

  The wolf’s ribs were visible through his matted fur.

  Kane sniffed loudly, swore, then stomped up the stairs.

  Chapter Eleven

  Remington Tarchannen paused by the door, staring at his father’s desk and chair. An image of his father’s b
ody flashed through his mind and he forced it away. Only the faint scent of lemon oil remained.

  He sat in his father’s chair and removed a thick journal from the bottom drawer.

  His fingers traced the soft supple leather, the snarling wolf stamped deep into the leather cover. With a heavy sigh, he untied the string and opened the book. Carefully he flipped through the book, searching for his father’s familiar script.

  Jordan had kept accurate records of everything.

  Births.

  Mating pairs.

  Deaths.

  He worked his way backward, finding his grandfather’s notes then his great-grandfather’s. He went back three hundred years, reading the records of the Alphas that came before him.

  Handwritten numbers showed a cold, harsh truth. Their population was steadily declining.

  Was there truth to Lucien’s claim? Are true mates the only ones capable of having offspring?

  Lucien and his human mate.

  Their mongrel child.

  Is that our future? To be weakened by humans?

  A soft rap on the office door drew his attention.

  “Come in.”

  One of the pack Elders, Gwendolyn, entered, followed by a woman and two children.

  “Remington, this is Allison and her two children,” Gwendolyn said.

  The short blondee bowed her head. Her children clung to her, their eyes wide with uncertainty. Under his gaze, they lowered their eyes in submission.

  The boy had a tiny splotch of ketchup on his cheek. He sniffed the air casually. They had fed recently, yet their skin hung loosely on their small frames.

  “Are you visiting someone in my pack?”

  “Allison has come seeking Sanctuary,” Gwendolyn said.

  “Sanctuary?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Sanctuary from whom?”

  She hung her head in shame. “We’ve been cast out,” she whispered.

  “What did you do?” Remington demanded.

  “My mate has been missing for two months now. My Alpha, Damian, requires us to work to earn our place within the pack. Without him there to support us, we no longer have a place in the Clodpoll pack.”

  “I’m sorry about your mate. What did the Tracker say?”

  “He wasn’t sent to find him, Sir.”