Her breathing sped and her cellmate’s scent suddenly reached her nose. “He’s a wolf! Are you crazy? I will not breed with a wolf!”
“If you don’t let him fuck you, you’ll die. It’s as simple as that. Sex will allow him to maintain control of his animal. We want to see how mating affects—” His phone rang, interrupting his explanation. After glancing at the display to see who was calling, he raised the phone to his ear. “Pronto?”
Devon concentrated on the muffled voice coming through his cell phone but she couldn’t decipher the words.
“Are you sure it’s Osric? I’m not making the trip unless you’re positive—” The voice cut in, sounding impatient and angry. “Fine. I’m on my way.”
Osric? Osric was the traitorous tiger-shifter smack-dab in the middle of this mess. His relentless support of the antiquated customs outlined in the Charter had put him at odds with many in the Therian nation. The rebels were working hard to modernize the laws, yet Osric resisted change every step of the way.
His primary motivation was obviously greed, so Devon hadn’t been surprised to learn that he’d sold out his own people to these soulless human scientists. Had the backers finally tired of his double-dealing, or had his clan given him what he so richly deserved and left what remained for the backers to find?
The Italian slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked at her. “I need to leave for a few hours. The guards will be here to ensure your safety.”
“Yeah, right.” If the backers had found Osric’s body there would be no reason for the Italian to leave.
“If you cooperate, they have permission to move him to another cell. But they will only protect you if you are cooperating.”
“We are at war with the wolves!” She gripped the bars with both hands, determined not to beg. Fear and frustration tightened her chest until each breath was a painful effort. She could not go through this again. Her psyche couldn’t take it. “Please,” the word slipped out despite her pride, “don’t do this.”
He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Don’t fight him and it will be over quickly. It always is at that age.”
At what age? She glanced at the wolf but all she could see was a long, lean body and the back of his head. If the wolf had any control at all, he could fight the urges for a while. But she knew firsthand how rapidly instinct took over. And it wasn’t just the thought of having sex with a wolf, though that was horrifying enough. If he got her pregnant, they would both be outcasts, unwelcome by either cat or wolf.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing. This is not allowed.”
He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “You brought this on yourself. If you’d have been more reasonable, my partners would have been more indulgent. This is the last stop, Devon. If I can’t produce results you will be retired from the program.” He spun on the ball of his foot and strode down the hall. One of the guards took up a position beside the cell while the other followed the Italian from the room.
This couldn’t be happening. She clenched the bars until her fingers ached, staring off into nothingness. Mindless lust. All she had to do was stop fighting against the images and her mind was flooded with memories and echoes of sensation. Overwhelmed by carnal impulses, she’d had no control over her body or her mind. She’d been so damn helpless thanks to the mysterious formula. And now they expected her to close her eyes and let it happen again. If she had to endure the degradation one more time, her soul would shrivel up and die.
Intentionally releasing her hold on the bars, she slowly turned around. There had to be something she could do. She looked around, desperate for something with which to bind the wolf or at least slow him down.
There was nothing.
He groaned, rolling to his back as he scrubbed his hands over his face. His brown hair was streaked with gold, a common occurrence with Therian wolves. Then he pressed his palms against his temples and muttered, “What the hell… Where am I?”
Devon saw his face and took an automatic step back. This wasn’t just a wolf. This was Dhane Fitzroy, youngest son of Blue River Pack’s alpha.
“Lay still until your head clears or you’ll throw up all over yourself.” He was young, nineteen at the most. That must have been what the Italian meant about not lasting long. She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed back into the corner where the bars met the wall. Dhane’s arms and legs were long, but they lacked the defined musculature he would possess five years from now. “When did they catch you?” She needed to keep him talking, keep him distracted.