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“If I put the cookies in the oven can we make out until they’re done?”
“Absolutely,” Dex promised. He sat enjoying the view of the sexy Therian prowling about the kitchen in only his tight black boxer briefs. It was astonishing how even in his Human form, Sloane moved like a powerful Felid. As Sloane bent over to pop the cookies in the oven, Dex jumped off the counter unable to resist doing some pouncing of his own.
WHAT WERE they going to do to him now?
Sloane was strapped to the chair. His ankles, wrists, waist, and head restrained. It always hurt. He’d wanted to hide when they came to his room, but he didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of Ash. Ash never looked scared when the nurses came for him. Now Sloane wished he had hidden. Not that they wouldn’t have found him. There were only the two beds in their room. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful. Dr. Shultzon was nice, and he brought them toys and ice cream, let them paint their room however they wanted. Sometimes when Sloane was playing with Ash, he would forget where they were, what they were. Until it was time for the tests.
This time he’d been stripped down to his underwear. The sticky little white pads were fixed to his skin all over his body, wires coming out of their centers. The pads were cold and sometimes sent little shocks through him. The wires led to different machines and monitors. One machine monitored his heartbeat, one his brain, and the others—He didn’t know what they did. They looked like the machines in those Sci-Fi movies Dr. Shultzon rented for them from the video store. If only Ash were here. Sloane might not feel so scared, then.
“All right, Sloane. Like I instructed. Ready?”
No. “Yes.”
“Okay. You may begin.”
Sloane closed his eyes and called upon the wild animal inside him. The Felid woke from its slumber and answered Sloane’s call. The transformation started, and Sloane gritted his teeth against the pain. The moment the first bone slipped out of place, Sloane pushed it back. His Felid side cried out, confused about why he was being shoved back when Sloane had called for him. The machines around them beeped wildly, and Sloane cried out, his body telling him h
e shouldn’t try to stop the transformation so suddenly once it started. Doctor Shultzon pressed a button, and the pads stuck to Sloane’s body sent pulses through him.
“It hurts! Please, stop. Please,” Sloane begged. The pulses hurt. They curdled his blood and angered his Felid half. Sloane hissed, his fangs starting to elongate. He fought desperately, pushing the Felid back.
“It’s okay, Sloane. You’re a very brave boy. You can do this.”
“I can’t,” Sloane cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It hurts so bad.” Whatever they were doing to him, it made his other half very angry. It wanted to come out and hurt them. Sloane arched up violently, his whole body convulsing as the Felid tore through him. His vision sharpened, and his claws started to pierce the tips of his fingers. Sloane couldn’t stop crying.
“I know it hurts. Just a little longer.”
“I can’t hold him back!”
“You can. Your Human side is the dominant species, Sloane. You tell him what to do, not the other way around.”
They didn’t understand. Sloane shook his head, his body slammed down against the chair as if by some unknown force. “It’s not like that,” Sloane blubbered, his nose running and sweat dripping down his face. Sloane didn’t know what he was, but he did know he wasn’t Human. Dr. Shultzon had told him he was a Therian when he’d first brought Sloane here from the hospital where they’d locked him up for being a freak.
Shultzon put his hand to Sloane’s head, tenderly stroking his hair. “It’s all right. Tell him you’re okay. It’s over.”
Sloane did. He tried to soothe the beast inside him. Told him it was okay. The worst was over, even if only for today. The Felid protested but slinked back into the shadows. Sloane clenched his jaw, his eyes shut tight against the sting and pain of his claws and fangs retracting. A few heartbeats later, the Felid slumbered once again. Shultzon wiped Sloane’s nose with a tissue, then ran a damp cloth tenderly over Sloane’s face before he undid the straps restraining him. Sloane’s bottom lip trembled, and big, fat tears rolled down his flushed cheeks.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Shultzon put a hand under his chin and tilted his face up so he could look into Sloane’s eyes. “You’re not a monster. Just a regular thirteen-year-old boy like any other. Maybe a little different, but that’s not a bad thing.”
Sloane nodded even if he didn’t agree. Maybe he wasn’t a monster, but he was a freak and a killer. He’d killed his mom. His dad hurt him and then killed himself. They’d thrown him away. Locked him up and told him he was… an abomination. Sometimes he felt so alone, he wished….
“Sloane, that’s enough!”
The harsh tone startled Sloane, and a sudden sharp pain drew his gaze down to his wrist where he’d dug his nails. Eyes wide, he shook his head frantically. “I didn’t mean to!” He didn’t want to go back into observation. What if they tied him to the bed again? “I swear!”
“Hush. It’s okay.” Shultzon sat next to him and drew him into his arms, rocking him gently like his mother used to do when there was a bad thunderstorm and the lightning scared him. “I know you didn’t mean to. But you have to be more careful, or I won’t have a choice.”
Sloane nodded. “I promise.” He didn’t want to hurt anymore. Everything always hurt. His head, his body, his heart. A shuddered breath escaped him, and his voice sounded so small when he spoke. “I want to go back to my room.”
“Okay.”
Shultzon led him down the bright white halls and into the elevator where they soon stepped out into another white hall. Every floor looked the same, always white and far too bright. The door to his room opened, and Ash stepped out. As if he’d known Sloane was near. Without waiting for the doctor’s okay, Sloane took off down the hall and threw himself into Ash’s arms. Despite being the same age, Ash was bigger, and when his strong arms squeezed Sloane, the tears started once again. He hated crying so much, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“It’s okay,” Ash said gruffly, leading Sloane inside and shutting the door behind him. He walked Sloane over to his bed and sat down with him, holding him while he cried. When Sloane’s eyes and head hurt from crying so much, his nose stuffed and his throat sore, he pulled back and wiped his face with his sleeve.
“I’m sorry. I’m such a wuss.”
“You’re not a wuss.”
