CHAPTER ONE - BIRDIE #2
“Nothing quite so barbaric.” Despite the claim, Reeves taps the side of my neck again, clearly enjoying my flinch. “There’s a speech inhibitor implanted in her scent gland. Every time she makes a sound, it sends a brief electrical pulse into her brain.”
“Hmm.” It’s hard to tell if the general is impressed or disappointed. “Shock therapy?”
“Without the seizure. Or anesthesia, for that matter.” The doctor’s shoe suddenly presses down on my fingers, which are flat on the floor in the acceptable resting position.
He’s sitting down, so he can’t get enough leverage to crush them, but he grinds his heel for good measure.
“This is definitely a case where she benefits if she’s seen but not heard. ”
It's a test, like nearly everything in the lab. I keep my mouth shut, not so much out of obedience but because any sound I make can trigger the fucking zapper in my throat. And how do I know that Reeves isn’t just bluffing me?
Because he’s been trying it out almost non-stop for the past two days, and even though I’ve been silent for hours, I still can’t control the faint tremors in my hands.
Booth just shakes his head, reaching to top up his whiskey glass.
His grip, by comparison, is steady, although there’s a musty, sour scent about him that makes me wonder how often he has to refill the decanter.
After a long, slow sip, he swirls the glass, the liquor dancing in the firelight.
I can’t help but wonder how it would feel on my abused throat.
Even water burns like I’ve swallowed a razorblade, but alcohol, if you get the quantities right, has a blissful numbing effect.
It seems to be working on the General, because some of his sternness melts into his chair, the glass coming to rest on his slight belly as he stares into the flames. “You really think you can rehabilitate a broken pack with a damaged omega?”
The doctor gives a smug chuckle. “I’ve found that with the right training and motivation, omegas will do just about anything to please their alphas.
” He brushes a thumb over my cheek, the scent of sterile blades swimming through my mind.
“Birdie, crawl forward and suck the general’s cock like a good omega. ”
I jerk, my spine suddenly as slack as a severed string.
I want to curl in on myself, but the doctor clicks his fingers impatiently.
The sound works on me like it would on a beaten dog, and I crawl forward, my head tucked low.
I can’t get between the general’s knees, but I stop at his side, within touching distance of his polished shoe.
Up close, the musty smell is so much worse, and my empty stomach squeezes in protest.
A hand appears in the corner of my vision, but instead of jerking me forward into his crotch, Booth thrusts me back. “Doctor,” he growls, raising the hairs on my nape, “you will rescind that order before I put my fist in your goddamn face!”
I freeze, not believing my ears. Alphas don’t turn omegas away when sex is on the table. The doctor also hesitates, but then gives an uncomfortable chuckle. “It was just a little demonstration, General. Birdie is the definition of eager to please.”
Lies, lies, lies.
I’m rebellion given flesh.
A knife in the back, if I only had a blade.
In fact, if I could just reach that poker by the fireplace, they'd see a whole different side to their little pet omega.
But Reeves’ reassurance makes the general pause, his pouchy eyes crawling over me more slowly this time. “She doesn’t look very eager.”
“She’s shy. If it helps,” the doctor purrs, leaning closer, “you’d actually be doing her a favor. The speech inhibitor has been programmed to respond favorably to alpha lubrication. It won’t be long before she’s begging for a thick knot in her mouth.”
Booth jerks, his lips pulling into a grimace. “You’re a sick man, Reeves.”
“Just in it for the science, General.”
“Sure, sure.” The general stands up, empty glass in hand.
He has to cross to the sideboard for a new bottle, and I almost sink into the rug in relief.
There’s no way in hell I’ll ever beg for his cock - or any alpha’s, for that matter - but another little nudge from the doctor, and he might convince himself he really is doing me a favor.
I watch warily as Booth splashes a generous amount into his glass, drinking half before he asks, “So, what’s her cover story? ”
Reeves clicks his fingers, and I crawl backwards, stopping by his chair.
He waits until I’m settled before gripping the back of my neck, his thumb close to my abused gland.
“She’s Charles Wallace’s runaway sister,” he explains.
“Beatrice, or Birdie for short. She left home at fifteen and lived on the streets for half a dozen years, with frequent arrests for prostitution and addiction.”
“It’ll hold up?”
“The Lawson Pack never met her, and her brother was never notified of her death two years ago. She’s the prodigal ghost, so to speak.”
I wrinkle my nose and the general scowls into his glass. “And you really don’t think this will trigger them more? Meeting a ghost, to use your metaphor, isn’t exactly a healthy psychological encounter.”
The doctor shrugs, his fingers tightening on my nape.
I’m certain he doesn’t give two shits about this Lawson Pack; all he wants is the general’s blessing to set me amongst them like a rat in a foxes’ den.
Why, exactly, I don’t know, unless he wants to see how one of his broken omegas operates in the wild.
“Given how fragmented the pack is,” he tells the general, “it’s important they form a connection with her quickly. A sibling bond with their beloved omega seems to be the best approach.”
The general grunts, but I can see a slight sway in his stance now.
No doubt he’s thinking of his bed, or maybe how he plans to finish the whiskey bottle in private.
Either way, he’s quickly losing interest in the conversation.
He gives a slow nod, then says in a slurred voice, “I’ll need to make a few notes.
What are we calling this operation, Reeves? ”
The doctor jerks me towards him, his sterile scent burning my nose as I’m pressed against his thigh.
“I considered Bleeding Heart but thought that might get a little too much attention if it comes to light. So, in the end, I settled on Broken Wing.” He squeezes the delicate bones of my upper arm for emphasis.
“After all, what pack of fine, upstanding alphas could resist trying to heal such a pathetic little thing?”