by V T Bonds
My heart begins to pick up its pace, worry sliding into my veins. This position leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable, and I don’t like it.
The door opens, but my gaze stays trained on the wall. Another memory murmurs through me, and I realize this was the last thing commanded of me: Keep still during your inspection.
A woman in a grey dress enters my vision, and I allow my eyes to roam her form. She doesn’t strike any recollection in my brain, so I think this is the first time I’ve seen her.
Her sweet scent wafts into my sinuses, and tears prick my eyes. The last time I enjoyed a similar smell, I died. Shya’s tiny outstretched digits fill my memory, her beautiful aura ruined by fear and pain.
Did she survive?
The woman in front of me steals my attention, the light orange of her irises profound in a sea of white and grey. With her hair pulled back, the lines around her eyes seem soft, but her neutral expression and economical actions can’t hide the weariness emanating off her in waves. She places a tray on the bed behind me, then returns to where I can see her. As she shakes the canister in her hand, she glances up. She startles as she sees me watching her, but schools her reaction and continues her task. Beginning at my right elbow, she sprays whatever is in the canister on every inch of my flesh. It has no smell, but I flinch when it first touches my skin, not knowing what to expect. At first it is almost too warm for comfort as my pores dilate to accommodate the heat, but then a flash of iciness makes me feel like my skin has shrunk two times too small. The cold gives way to comfort and my muscles loosen, so I swallow the lump of fear in my throat.
Her brows furrow such a small amount I almost don’t catch it, but she meets my eyes as she finishes the spray. Flipping a cap onto the canister, she sends me a worried yet stern expression.
I can’t help what happens next. As she steps closer to put the spray bottle on the tray, the new woman inside me reacts. My body doesn’t move, but she stretches out and delves inside the dark-haired omega.
Not expecting the attack, the Omega gasps, but I feel her attempt to hide her reaction. The canister rattles as she places it on the tray. My wayward senses try to pilfer whatever I can from her, but with an ease that embarrasses my untested abilities, she contains my attention.
Other than a glimpse of one memory, I get nothing from her.
How I wish I could undo the last two seconds. I want to give the vision back, the scene so laced with misery I fight the urge to break down in sobs.
A wall covered with different sizes of test tubes, with contents I can’t make out, cause her such sorrow that it fills her every moment. I cannot fathom how she manages to keep living with such emotional trauma. I don’t want to guess what was in the tubes, so I try to pull my senses back.
Warmth envelopes my invading tendrils. She soothes my instincts, the gentle strength so much like my mother a tear escapes from my eye.
I feel like a blank slate, a newborn, compared to her. My suffering is new, hers is decades long.
She picks something off the tray and steps in front of me. I now feel the restraint in each of her movements, the glimpse into her psyche revealing how much effort it takes her to continue.
Her gaze meets mine as she releases my invisible strands with a soft caress. Her eyes apologize as her lips tighten. With her rich brown hair loosely pulled back in a meticulous updo and her peach colored lips set in a stern line, she looks formidable despite her reluctance to perform her tasks. As she lifts an object the size of a pencil, I notice the gloves she’s wearing. They are the same color as blue medical gloves, but are made of a soft-looking fabric and fit her hands like they were made for her. She wears sleeves that end below her bicep, but the gloves extend higher, so none of her arms are visible.
Holding the object up and down in one hand, she rotates it until a tiny black dot points at me. With a pointed look in my eyes, she moves her thumb and compresses a button on top of the pencil-like thing.
My skin has already absorbed the substance she sprayed on me, so I thought it was nothing to worry about.
I was wrong.
It comes to life, terrorizing my nerves, burrowing deeper into my body, and infiltrating my system. Every inch of me feels violated, the spray uncaring about sensitivity. It barges where it will, and I sense it cataloguing and reporting the information.
It’s hard to explain how I can tell what it’s doing, but the knowledge is there. Almost as though I can read the programming in these tiny little organisms running rampant in my cells.
Sorrowful pale orange eyes soak in my pain, and I latch onto the sight, using her as an anchor in the storm.
She accepts the burden, never taking her attention away from me.
The pain and violation ends as suddenly as it began—her thumb releases the button and kills the intruding substance.
I shudder in relief and fear, not knowing what else will be done to me. Trying to move, the Alpha's orders hold me still, so I know the inspection is not complete.
She lowers the implement of my torture, pulls in a breath, and hides the invisible comfort she sends me by moving towards the tray.
I swallow around the lump in my throat, allowing her to soothe and stroke my terrified emotions, even as I understand her message.
This is not done. Worse is to come.
Chapter Eight
Kwame
Too long. We’ve taken too long to find them. The pain coming from the link has changed, and emotions whiplash through me.
The scariest thing is the lack of urgency. My drive to find her and save her is there, but now that the pain has lessened, the all-consuming need to be with her right now has grown smaller. It’s almost as though she’s pushed me away. Whether she’s done it on purpose or instinctively, I can’t say.
Dirk’s eyes reflect the moon’s rays as we stand in the darkened room. The cold light shimmers through the window, casting enough shadow for me to see everyone’s silhouettes. Seeck sits in the armchair with Nova sleeping in his lap. Vander stands with his shoulders leaning against the furthest wall and his ankles crossed in a stance that seems relaxed, despite us all knowing how deadly his reflexes are. Jumoke sits on the couch I’m standing next to, the minimalistic style looking like it can barely hold his weight. I’d stood as he plopped down, knowing he’d done so to see if I’d react. If I had waited another second to relieve the couch of my weight, it would have crashed to the ground, unable to support both of us.
That’s Jumoke, though. I’d expect nothing different from him. His smirk stays on his lips, but worry clouds his eyes.
Dirk stands like a sentinel on the other side of the window, feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his chest, and his back straight. Every now and then his expression closes down, his focus veering inward. There are creases around his eyes that weren’t there a week and a half ago, and without looking in a mirror, I know I sport the same signs of exhaustion and fear.
Ten days ago we watched as our lifemates’ transporter had a reactor malfunction. Nine days ago we lost all leads of their whereabouts. Eight days ago Jumoke began his electronic infiltration into Baseon's database. Seven days ago, following my gut's insistence and Jumoke's findings, we left Baseon and headed back towards Embilte. Embilte is the closest city to Command’s base and has the most advanced technology in this sector.
We arrived here four days ago since we travelled separately and at Nova's pace. During that time, Jumoke continued his electronic hacking, following several leads and reaching a few dead ends.
With each failure I fought the encroaching panic by preparing for the worst, supporting Jumoke, and manipulating my rope. Seeck has even allowed me to give Nova a few lessons on basic knot tying.
I suppose my toxic pain and misery is perceivable by my teammates. They’ve all done things to ease my troubles.
Dirk’s jaw tightens before he pulls his attention to the room. He’s been torn between two worlds; the mission we work towards, and his omega's life force.
/> The black cloud of premonition has never left, but it no longer consumes my entire chest. It sits like a tiny dense tumor behind my sternum.
Jumoke sighs, breaking my ruminations.
“We're in deep shit,” he says.
All eyes snap to him. Despite the war inside me, I feel the barrier around the room. When the last person shut the door behind them, Dirk activated a device that blocks all communication. The room is a dark void, but gives off mock information, making us invisible to all trackers. Anyone passing by wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Dirk’s rumbled warning shows his lack of patience.
“I’ve been following false leads. They’ve been playing with me. They think I’m still looking, but I’ve found them. I have them fooled for now with a remote access controller—I programmed it for this specific case and attached it to a privately owned Space-Flyer. The reason I couldn’t pinpoint them before is because they aren’t on any listed database. They aren’t even on the secret servers. They have their own separate database with servers I’ve never seen before. It took forever to hack not only because their security is ridiculous, but I also had to basically learn a different language to communicate with the system.”
Jumoke scratches the back of his neck, his tension rising with every word he’s spoken. He’s giving us good news, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“These aren’t good people. I found… we can’t trust them. In fact, I’m skeptical that my attempt to mislead them will last longer than a few hours. They'll know we’re coming, and although they don’t seem to be militaristic, they can defend themselves. This is a powerful organization, and I don’t know what kind of monster we'll be unleashing,” Jumoke confides.
A wave of emotion nearly knocks me over, the surge of negative emotions from the link with my omega filling my heart so rapidly my hands tighten on the rope I’m holding.
“What did you find?” Dirk growls. Coming from his mouth, it sounds like a challenge, but the desperation rolling off him is almost palpable.
Out of all the information Jumoke just dumped on us, that’s where Dirk’s mind has focused. He needs this answer—the words will solidify what we already suspect, and he'll have an explanation as to what he’s fighting.
Jumoke swallows, clears his throat, and fidgets. Instead of speaking, he leans forward, propping both elbows on his knees, and hanging his head. Watching his attempt at composure makes me feel as though I’ve fallen into the chasm of death again, everything wavering in and out of focus.
He picks his head up, sweeping the room and making eye contact with each of us. Settling on the only other person in the room without a realized lifemate, he speaks to Vander.
“Experiments. All kinds of experiments. The kind that would curdle even our stomachs. They specialize in dynamics research.”
My fingers fly over the rope in my hands, the affirmation of my suspicions flowing like acid in my veins needing an outlet.
Chapter Nine
Britani
The tiny cot stays firm under my back, even as I shake in misery. It doesn’t release a single squeak or wobble, my trembling not affecting it. It’s bolted to the ground.
I want to cry, but I’m too numb.
The exam is over and I have been left alone with orders to sleep.
I still have not seen the Alpha responsible for my obedience. He stood right inside the door, out of my field of vision the entire time. Deep in my marrow, I know he did it on purpose. Everything here is done with intent, even if I don’t understand the reasoning behind it.
Before he arrived, the Omega coated my skin with a different spray, moved things around near the tray behind me, and left the room.
Still I stood, my hands locked behind my head and my thighs straining from the stance.
Two Beta men, dressed in white scrubs, came in and ran their gloved hands all over me. They checked every crevice they could without me moving—my ears, armpits, navel, toes, and all the flesh in between. The plastic rubbed along sensitive underarms and nipples with such clinical detachment that I almost believed their lack of interest.
Their eyes gave them away. Lust shone from them, but they didn’t act on it. They spoke in terms I didn’t understand, quantities that made no sense, but a microphone hummed for a few seconds after each of their words.
I could do nothing but let them explore me, the demand of the Alpha too strong to break.
They both stepped back with an air of expectation, and for an awkward moment, I stood staring at my violators.
An Alpha voice, scratchy and controlling, spoke from the doorway.
“Open your mouth as big as it will go.”
I fought. I did not want to comply, the thought of them entering such a crucial part of me causing streaks of panic to course through my veins.
My jaw slowly opened, giving away my reluctance. The mood of the room shifted—all males aware of the change within me. A creeping maliciousness stole my breath as they continued their façade of professionalism.
“Mental clarity 100%. Personal will apparent. Compliance 99%.” The overbearing Alpha noted, and when the hum of the microphone cut off, silence reigned.
As one of the Betas stepped forward and ran a finger along my lips, the Alpha’s inspection of my mind began.
I resisted, but his presence left a greasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. His senses poked at my thoughts as the Beta’s fingers explored the recesses of my mouth, and both male voices noted their findings.
I focused on my mental barriers, trying to ignore the physical invasion and degrading words. Even with new orders, I kept my defenses firm, letting my body follow his commands but keeping my mind and soul locked away.
He made me lay on the bed, one knee stretched to the side and touching the wall, while the sole of my other foot stayed glued to the floor. My palms stuck to the wall above my head, his commands holding me hostage, exposing my body in an even more lewd position.
When the Beta checked my intimate folds and found me dry, the Alpha growled. My body responded, my core hurting as it tightened and slick seeped from me. A tear tracked down my temple, but I ignored it, fighting the invisible attack on my brain.
Gloved digits ran along my intimates, smearing my slick over the area. A swipe of firm cotton accompanied words of a confirmed sample retrieval.
Worms crawled in my belly as their inspection turned internal. Eager fingers slipped in and out of my tightness, then a cold instrument pressed against my entrance. The Alpha increased his attempt to break into my soul, hoping the situation would weaken my defenses.
I let go of my physical awareness and concentrated on blocking him.
Now that I am alone, my subconscious replays the events I refused to let distract me. They’d inserted the speculum, trained handheld lights on my womanhood, and used a myriad of instruments to measure, take samples, and catalogue my reproductive organs.
I’ve never experienced something so degrading. If only they’d stopped there, I could have closed the experience away and moved on, but they hadn’t.
Using commands, the Alpha forced me to reposition myself until my shoulders and knees supported me on the bed. Somehow, he managed to manipulate me so I never had a chance to glimpse toward the door, even though my eyes remained open. With my rear sticking in the air, his demand for me to reach back and pull apart my butt cheeks was almost too much.
He almost snuck through my mental shield.
I pushed away what was happening and hid inside my head, imagining myself constructing an unbreakable shelter. For some reason, the materials I chose to build with were soft blankets and fluffy pillows, but they effectively cocooned me away from the world.
Now my body shakes as I remember their defilement of my back passage. Even as a Beta, I never let anyone near there, and my animalistic side views their actions as vile and unnatural.
They’d used more instruments to collect data, and now fear leaks into my soul.
Why would the
y need information about that area? What do they plan to do with me?
I let my tears wet the hair beside my temples, crying silently in the dim room. I thought I was too numb to cry, but these memories are too fresh.
Even when they cleaned my intimate areas and raked their hungry eyes over my naked flesh, I stayed closed away in my cocoon. The Beta that had taken the initiative during the exam raised another pencil-shaped object, making sure I saw it before he pressed the button.
Bees had stung me, their poison eating away at me, but I refused to let the Alpha into my mind. My body writhed in agony as he gave curt orders to sleep. They dimmed the lights and left the room.
Here I lay, replaying the scene over and over, unsure what to do. I shake harder as the fear settles in—my numbness overridden by the nasty memories.
I wail on the inside, wanting to escape, wishing I were still dead. The feeling of my mother’s arms wrapped around me has already faded—the orange-eyed Omega’s comfort springs to the forefront of my mind. I latch onto it, the tiny snippets of gentle caresses the only good thing I have to hold on to.
Even if she was the precursor to the horrible ordeal, she wasn’t a willing participant. She’s the only one that saw me as something other than an experiment.
Reaching into the depths of my heart, searching for anything she may have left behind, surprise stops me. I hover, suspended over my discovery in shock.
There is something here that I didn’t notice. The entire time I was defending myself, I thought I was a closed circuit, a self-contained box with no connection to the outside world.
I was wrong.
A thin, almost imperceptible line leads from my heart to someone I’ve never met before. My instincts perk up, zeroing in on the revelation.
After letting my new abilities inspect it, I come to two conclusions about the heart on the other side of the connection.
It is male.
It is mine.
I will protect it. My tormentors must never know.