Alpha Pack 02 - Savage Awakening by J.D. Tyler Read Free Book Online

retorted with a self-satisfied smirk. “And see who he blames. You’re the employee, not me. You’ll face his wrath for letting a test subject get away.”
    Dr. Gene Bowman of NewLife Technology. The former supervisor of Jaxon Law’s new mate, Kira Locke. Sweat rolled down Aric’s face.
    Bowman remained unmoved. “If you honestly think spreading your legs for some demon is going to protect you from any fallout from what you’ve done, you’re sadly deluded. This project is much bigger and more significant than your petty games. What we’re on the verge of accomplishing is huge, and he’ll let nothing get in the way—especially not a slutty, mediocre witch who’s easily replaced in his bed.”
    Aric missed Beryl’s pissed-off retort. His brain was too busy reeling at the overload of information.
Demon?
Was that a slur against Orson Chappell, or had Bowman meant “demon” in the literal sense? Anything was possible—including the idea that Chappell was
not
the head of the snake, something Nick and the team had feared. Whoever the head slimeball might be, Beryl was sleeping with him.
    Bowman turned to the muscleman and the otherguy in the lab coat. “Get him down from there and take him to the lab for prep.”
    Before that moment, he’d only
thought
he’d known fear.
    The taller doctor and the meathead released his wrists, allowing him to drop. Arms dead from little circulation, limp as cooked noodles, he face-planted on the dirty concrete floor with his legs still attached to the wall, spread-eagle.
    It was the single most degrading moment of his life.
    Then the doc and the muscle guy hauled him up, easy as pie considering all the weight he’d lost, one taking him under the arms, one getting his ankles. Carried faceup, naked body on display and nobody caring, his carcass no better than a number to write down in their sordid files.
    After an ascent in an elevator, he tried to keep track of the twists and turns they made, but he was simply too exhausted. Disheartened. Several minutes later, he found himself in a stark space that distinctly resembled an operating room.
    It was then he noticed the drain in the tiled floor.
    When they placed him on his back on a steel table, he began to struggle, attempted to call his fire or his wolf. Anything. But the “gifts” he usually cursed had deserted him when they counted most, and his rebellion was short-lived. A needle slid into the crook of his right arm and a cold burn seeped through the limb, stretched icy fingers across his chest. Suddenly he had trouble breathing, whether from the medication or sheer panic he didn’t know.
    The freeze slowly crept across his stomach, to his groin and legs. With the cold was the realization that hecouldn’t move at all—though his mind remained aware.
    Bowman’s hated, innocuous face appeared over him, smiling faintly. “Console yourself with the thought that this is for the greater triumph of mankind. Now relax.” To the other doctor, he said, “Note that the experimentation on number five fifty-two has commenced.”
    “Wh-what’re you doin’ to me?” he slurred. His tongue felt heavy as a wet blanket, his thoughts growing sluggish. He peered at a bright light overhead and it quadrupled, as did the faces above him.
    No one answered his question. His legs were spread and fastened with restraints, and so were his wrists at his sides.
    A scalpel appeared in Bowman’s hand as he continued to dictate the procedure and findings to someone Aric couldn’t see. “Subject is malnourished and dehydrated, with cuts and lesions in the late stages of infection over forty percent of his body. Taking samples of the subject’s DNA and semen to determine their viability to our cause.”
    Semen? What the fuck?
    “Percentage of probability of scheduling subject five fifty-two for termination?” a robotlike voice intoned.
    “Will advise.”
    “Thank you, doctor.”
    Yeah? Fuck you very much, doc.
    Focused on his task, Bowman