Claiming Dias (book 1 of Alpha claiming series)

Uncertain future

Chapter 3

Ana

As if on cue, three figures walked through the door. My heart raced as I felt sweat sliding along the back of my neck at the sight of the men walking casually into the room clad in white jackets.  They looked like they came from a totally different world than me.  The horrid smell that seeps into the room from the men is encrusted with malice.  Their intentions are focused on me, my blood seems to stop within my veins as I start to shiver under their scrutinizing gaze.  Everything about where I am and the things around me are new and much more advanced than what I grew up with.  I can’t understand the language they are speaking, which only adds to my anger and confusion. 

Their scent marks them as Beta males, but it is different from what I know.  I’ve never been around other beings before. It's too dangerous to let your guard down.  My father had always kept a close eye on our territory.  He was a beta and warned me about others of our kind, regardless of their status as an Alpha, Beta, or otherwise.  He said Alphas would steal me away from him and keep me locked away.  He warned me that Alphas could not be trusted as he did not know much about them.  I was never sure if that was because he didn’t want me around males or if they were truly dangerous. 

 None of that mattered now, I found myself at their mercy.  Raising my lips, showing my teeth, a menacing growl seeps through my bared teeth. If they come within reach, I will tear open their flesh with my teeth and bask in their screams. 

They stop in the back of the room, where black and white pictures are hanging on the walls. The pictures are masses of blank color swirled together and splatted within each other, no real shape being formed on the canvas.  The strange pictures only add to my conflicting emotions and uncertainty about the situation I have found myself in. They have seemingly forgotten that I exist, and it gives me a moment of reprieve.  I try to turn my head away from the men and find more pictures.  I did not notice them before and realized these pictures are of deformed bodies.  My body shivers uncontrollably as I take in the gruesome sights of the twisted limbs and enlarged features of what looks to be people. Bile rose into my throat as the disturbing sights, turning my head back to watch the men I can no longer at the pictures.

What have they done to me while I sleep?

Two of the men walk to the table with tools on it and stand together.  The scent of sickness engulfs my senses the closer they stand to me, causing my stomach to turn flips.  Swallowing profusely, I tried to keep down the bile threatening to spew out of me.

The hackles on the back of my neck rise as they start to pick up the tools from the table.  I need to find a way off this table and out of this room.   Closing my hands into tight fists, my nails dig into my wrist just short of the bindings.  The pain my nails caused was a blessing in a way, because I now had something else to concentrate on besides not throwing my guts up. If only they were a tad longer, I could use my nails to chip away at the bindings.  Groaning quietly, I try to yank my arms free or at least try to pull them loose.   One man, who looked to be the youngest, never took his eyes away from me.  His hair was a mucky brown like the mud after it rains. It even has a shimmer to it, as if he had just showered.  It's hard to believe that he had done just that, as he does not smell clean in the least bit.

He has a sunburn along his skin that has developed blisters of some sort, large puss-filled sacks litter his redden skin.  They are not normal burn blisters one would get from a fire.  No, these are much larger, stretching the skin to disgusting measures.  He is not as tall as the other two men, but the feeling I get from his stare sends chills up my spine.  His mouth splits, revealing his discolored teeth as he sneers at me.  He makes no noise, but the arousal wafting off him makes me squirm in discomfort. 

Narrowing my eyes into slits, putting as much venom into my stare as possible, a hair-raising growl rolls out of my throat.  I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to deter whatever plans they have for me.  They continue to ignore me and communicate among themselves.  They move their hands to their wrists as if mocking the way, I am tied down. 

My father never told me of other humans who spoke another dialect.  The Cursed Ones, he told me about, but he said they do not speak.  These men can’t be them.   The only other people I know of are the people that killed my mother.  That thought alone is enough to drain the blood from my skin.  That thought raises bile back into my throat, forcing me to swallow it back.  To think the same people could have caught me as well is a damning feeling.  Tears prickled the backs of my eyes as I remembered what my father told me.   Biting my lower lip, I seal away a sob wanting to escape. 

To show fear, would be to tarnish the memory of my mother.  My father made sure to include her in my life as a young girl.  He told me of her bravery, the years she spent caged away while they performed tests on her.  Is this the fate that is now mine?  Closing my eyes, I filled my lungs with strang sterile air to attempt to calm myself.  I need to get ahold of my emotions and tuck them away.  To show them any would be to give them some form of satisfaction. 

I’ll be damned if I give them that!

A tall man with veiny hands walks towards me with tools I’ve never seen in his hands.  The white coat swamps his body, his hair is gray with streaks of murky sunlight.  His eyes looked sunken into his skull with red blotches on his skin.  He looks unhealthy, to say the least, if not close to death.

The smell of soap and sickness wafts off him, causing my stomach to roll in protest.  He talks to me in a quiet voice, it could border on soft, reassuring whispers if not for the situation I was in.  I try to remember the words he speaks, but the meaning of them is beyond my knowledge.  His other hand is held in front of him like he is hushing me.

The gleam in his eyes tells me I’m in for more than a lullaby. 

Pulling my lips back, snapping my jaws at him, I tried to act as violent as possible.  One of the other men in the back of the large room laughed, folding his arms across his chest.  I only caught a glimpse of him before returning my eyes to the old wrinkly man closest to me.

Before I know it, the brown-haired man grabs my forehead with both of his red-scared hands.  The smell of rot quickly fills my nostrils and turns my stomach. He roughly presses my head back to the table, keeping my head still.  His thumbs press together on my nose, forcing me to either hold my breath or open my mouth.  Struggling in the bonds, I hold out until I knew I’ll pass out and crack my mouth open for a split moment.

The elderly man stands close to me, waiting for an opportunity to place a flat wooden stick into my mouth.  Pressing down on my tongue, he inspects my mouth.  Chomping my teeth on the stick, snapping it in two as he holds it in his hand.  I spit it out at him with the threat of a slow death should I escape.  Frustration wells up in my chest, violently shaking my body, screeching as loudly as I can. 

Get your hands off of my head!  

The white-haired man brings a small round object to my chest, pressing it over my chest in several areas. His voice turns into a hum as if he is taking a walk through the woods admiring the scenery, not inspecting me. 

The brown-haired man lets go of my head, finally.  Walking down the length of my body towards my stomach. His eyes follow the curves of my body.  The older man starts pressing into my stomach, moving his hands back and forth just below my belly button.  Too close to the apex of my legs. 

The older man nodded to the other before glancing down at me. “You have developed perfectly.”  His words were thick with an accent making his words difficult to understand.  I can tell he does not speak my language much, if often at all.  Shocked, I stare at him until my mind catches up with what is happening. 

“Release me now!” I demanded from them, not that they will follow it.  The older man smirks as he glances down my body. An adenoidal groan seeps from his lips.

 “We have plans for you.”  He assures me of my worst nightmare.

“What do you plan to do with me?”  My voice quivers. I don't know what the future holds for me.

 “Your chemical makeup is phenomenal, truly one of a kind.  You have made it to young adulthood, and soon your body will be ready.  We will run some tests soon.  Don’t worry, we have made this process easier as of late.  You will find that it is much easier when you don’t remember.”

 My eyes follow his hands as he grabs a tube of liquid off the rolling table.  Something tells me I don’t want what he has in his hand.  I kick my legs wildly about, pulling them up, trying with all my might to weaken the restraints.  Just to hear metal clanking from under the table that is connecting the restraints.  The old man grabs the tube from behind me that is coming from my arm.  I clutched my hands into fists, hoping to stop the shaking of my hands.  Closing my eyes tight, I silently wish my fear away.

Why am I here? What do they want with me?

  I heard one man walking around the room and recognized that it was not the one that had walked up to me.  This is one that drags the heels of his feet as he walks, he is one of the other men that was just watching.  I must face these men, for now, I chant to myself.  I open my eyes, staring at the man, hoping I’m portraying the anger I feel on the inside and not the fear I feel.  My eyes scan the tool he holds, my fear is true, it’s now empty.  I slid my gaze at the man now standing by my feet.

He isn’t as tall as the other one, but he has a broad chest, and his hair falls to his shoulders.  He seems just as old as the tall man, but he doesn’t look red, blotchy, or burned.

 What happened to the other two men to make them look like their skin could melt off at any moment? My mouth starts feeling dry as my limbs start feeling heavy.  Mentally, I can feel my thoughts slipping away and darkness trying to take over.

The man at my feet places a hand under my knee, lifting it, and a part of the table.  He locks it in place to hold my leg to the side, strapping it into a brace.  Growling, twisting, and pulling my leg, trying as hard as I can to move it. My vision starts to blur around the edges as my limbs feel like large tree trunks.  With no luck breaking free, I had no choice but to watch as he does the same with my other leg.  I recognize this feeling that is taking over my mind, it’s the same as when the feathered spike had hit my side.  My eyes refuse to stay open as my head bounces back against the table underneath me. I don’t want to remember what they are going to do to me.  For a second time, I allowed sleep to take me away.