Page 8 of Sweet Torment

I blink, momentarily stunned into silence. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t even on the list.

“But she met my dad in college...” The words come out slowly as my brain tries to connect dots I never knew existed.

“Yes.” His voice is emotionless and flat as he adjusts his coat. “She did.”

The pieces click together like a fucked-up jigsaw puzzle. Dr. Montgomery is a beta. “Oh my god. She met her scent match and left you?” I sound hysterical. “You’re torturing me because you’re bitter? Because my mom chose her scent match over you?”

“Nothing quite so dramatic. And I’ve never hurt you. Your mother signed consent forms for a breakthrough birth control, new to the market, with the added benefit of preventing various diseases that typically develop in an omega’s teenage years.”

My blood goes cold, turning to slush in my veins. “And this birth control is what prevented me from awakening?”

Silence hangs between us.

“You’ve been experimenting on me since I was a child.” My voice drops to barely above a whisper, the kind of quiet that comes before a storm. “You’re a monster.”

“No, Ms. Quinn. I’m a scientist, and I had consent.”

“Sure thing.” I roll my eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head. “So now you want to watch me go through heat as the next phase of your unauthorized experiment? That’s sick, even for you.”

“Not watch. Study. Due to your unique skill set, it would be conducted outdoors, in a more... primitive setting. Natural, if you will.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “You would be released on a preserve during your heat. Three thousand acres of wilderness.”

I stare at him like he’s grown six heads. My brain struggles to process what he’s suggesting. “You want to dump me in the woods by myself during my heat?”

“With participating alphas, of course.” His tone is so matter-of-fact he might as well be discussing what he had for breakfast. “The study would be to see how you respond to them. You’ll have the opportunity to evade them and even fight back. Or refuse altogether.”

“You mean I’ll be hunted like an animal. And raped by strangers.”

He actually flinches like that’s preposterous.

“Consent is required for participation. Your safety will be taken seriously. You’ll be given basic hunting gear—knife, supplies, everything you need. The alphas will have to find you, and you can run, hide, or fight back. Whatever your instincts tell you.”

“Jesus Christ. Do you just sit up in your office and jerk off to this shit?”

Montgomery’s face actually turns red, a flush creeping up from his collar to his cheeks. I’ve managed to embarrass him.

“I study outcomes and behavior patterns,” he says stiffly, shoulders going rigid. “This is purely scientific.”

“And if I tell you to eat shit? What happens then?” I lean forward, ignoring how my muscles protest the movement. “You just... let me go? Or keep me here under the false pretense that I’ve lost my mind?”

Montgomery’s eyes narrow slightly. “Well, Mr. Dashwood’s father has asked me to explore options for medically breaking your bond with his son. It goes against the contract we have in place.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “And for the others who remain bonded to Whitney, we have promising new bond compounds in the works. Due to recent data about natural bonds overlaying chemical ones, we can make them much stronger than before.”

The threat is clear as day. Cooperate and get fucked or don’t cooperate and get fucked.

“And are you saying that if I agree, that won’t happen?”

Montgomery steeples his fingers. “I’m open to negotiation, Ms. Quinn. I’m not unsympathetic to your situation.” His lips curve into what I think is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “If you are agreeable, I will not tamper with your bond, and the remaining three will be released from Whitney.”

Released from Whitney? Permanently? As in Whitney and her trolls can’t touch them ever again?

I stare at the ceiling. The impulse to scream is so strong. “So let me get this straight. If I play along with your sick little Hunger Games scenario, they’ll be free for good?”

“Entrusted to their fathers’ secure care, but essentially, yes. Our contract will be considered complete.”

I let my head fall back against the pillow, the thin fabric doing nothing to cushion my skull. A year ago, I would have laughed at the threat of being dumped in a forest with a bunch of horny alphas. Now, I’m thinking about it like a calculus problem: what are the odds I walk away without doing something I can’t take back?

I’m no stranger to surviving in the wild, but I’ve never done it while my own body is actively trying to sabotage me. I’ve never tried to survive a heat while resisting the urge to jump on the nearest available cock.

The way my heat will hit me after years of being denied, after years of training my body to ignore every biological impulse and everything that made me soft or vulnerable or anything less than lethal is unknown. I don’t know what to expect. I studied heat cycles in school when I was younger—hell, I’ve had to help omegas through it at the refuge, seen them writhing in their bunks with glazed eyes and sweat-drenched hair, clutching at the walls and each other, begging or screaming or both. The toys offered never seeming like enough.