Page 16 of Feral, Part Two (Wolfscorge #2)
Malik
A few hours later, after that entire knotted scare, Slate has calmed down, the five of us sprawled out across the courtyard.
Thane mentioned something about fresh air and Kael agreed, Slate even becoming comfortable enough to shift back.
Which was just as well since Ulysses was coming back to the house to check on our Omegas.
I still feel awful about what happened earlier. The memory of Slate scrambling away from us, shifting immediately into his fox form because we overwhelmed him, sits heavily in my gut. The panic in Slate's eyes when it happened will haunt me for a while.
Despite that, Slate seems more receptive to all of us now.
The walls he usually keeps up are still there, but they're lower somehow.
He's quiet, no more of his usual snark or defensive quips, but when I helped him walk out here, he leaned into my chest instead of pulling away.
That small gesture of trust means more than he probably realizes.
Thane has Preston in his lap on one of the outdoor loungers, our pretty little Omega dressed in a sunburnt orange panty and shawl set that makes his skin glow in the afternoon light.
The fabric is sheer enough that I can see the outline of his swollen belly.
He shivers despite the warmth of the evening air, Thane holding him a little tighter as Preston's hands move in slow circles over his bump. It’s a gorgeous sight set against Thane’s dark skin, the Alpha I’m slowly becoming interested in, throwing me a smirk.
Slate sits a few feet away on another lounger, his dark eyes fixed on the entrance back into the house where Kael disappeared to grab Ulysses.
There's tension in every line of his body, that familiar coiled energy that tells me he's ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Not that I blame him. None of us particularly likes the council members, but Ulysses is one of the worst. He’s just so…
dry. I always wonder if he gets laid when he goes home.
I move closer to Slate, settling onto the edge of his lounge. "It'll be okay. Ulysses will come through, ask some questions, and then leave."
Slate's gaze doesn't shift from the doorway. "I'm not worried about that, not really. I just feel uncomfortable. Everything is changing so fast and I can't trust it."
The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. This is more open than he's been since arriving at Wolfscorge, more vulnerable than I've seen him outside of his most desperate moments.
I hum in acknowledgment. "I totally agree. Would it help to actually sit down and talk about it? Most of the time you've been here, it's either eating, fucking, or doing our own thing."
Between the constant crisis management, we haven't had much time for actual conversation or getting to know each other beyond the surface level.
"I have no fucking clue," Slate admits, defeat lacing his words. He huffs out a sigh and leans back against the cushions, his hands falling to either side of him.
I shift closer, close enough that our thighs are touching. "Well, I have a suspicion that everything you went through is all connected to the shit that got us locked up in here. Kael and Thane figured that bullshit out, and we're pretty sure it's bigger than just creating a feral pack."
Slate finally turns to look at me, his dark eyes searching my face. "Of course it is. No evil scientist stops at one experiment."
"You know what pisses me off the most?" I continue, needing to get this out.
"It's not even that they’re using us in a goddamn experiment.
It's that they made us believe we had choices when we never did.
Every decision we thought we were making, every path we thought we were choosing—It was all predetermined. "
Slate's expression darkens. "Welcome to my entire fucking life. You think this is the first time someone's manipulated me into thinking I had agency? At least you guys got to live free for a while before ending up here."
The bitterness in his voice is understandable, but it also makes me realize how different our experiences have been. We had years of freedom, of making our own choices, before The Collective destroyed our lives. Slate has been trapped in their system since he was barely an adult.
"That's exactly what I mean," I say. "They didn't just create you as a feral Omega. They systematically destroyed your ability to trust, to form healthy bonds, to believe you deserved better. All so you'd be the perfect test subject when they finally placed you with us."
Slate goes quiet for a long moment, his hands moving to fidget with the hem of his shirt. When he speaks again, there’s an uncertainty to his voice. "Do you think it's real? What's happening between all of us?"
"I think it doesn't matter," I tell him. "Real or manufactured, it's what we have. And what we have feels good in ways that go beyond just chemistry or programming. If we want it, I don’t know why we have to care how we got here."
Slate looks skeptical. "Easy for you to say. You've been with them for years. You know what genuine connection feels like."
"Do I?" I challenge. "Because looking back now, I'm not sure how much of our original pack formation was organic and how much was engineered.
The timing of when we all met, the circumstances that brought us together, the way everything fell into place so perfectly - it's suspicious as fuck when you really think about it. "
The realization has been building for days, but saying it out loud makes it feel more real.
What if our entire relationship history has been guided by unseen hands?
What if even our love for Preston, our bond with each other, has been part of some grand design?
Granted, I fucking love my mates and I’m slowly falling in love with Slate and Thane isn’t far behind, but that doesn’t mean we were put into a situation where love was possible.
"Fuck," Slate breathes out, the Omega processing the same uncomfortable possibilities.
"But here's the thing," I continue. "Even if it started as manipulation, what we feel now is real. The way you look at Preston, the way you've started trusting Kael and Thane, the way my heart races when you lean into me—that's not programming. That's choice."
Slate's eyes meet mine again, and for a moment I see past all his defenses to the scared, hopeful person underneath. "You really believe that?"
"I have to," I admit. "Because the alternative is that nothing we feel or choose matters, and I refuse to live like that."
Slate searches my expression for a few more seconds before I lean in to kiss him, tasting the sweetness of his scent on his lips.
He groans into the embrace as I place a gentle hand on his belly, Slate melting against me.
When he pulls back, his expression is much softer, a small smile playing on his lips that disappears almost as quickly when the back door to the house opens.
Ulysses steps out onto the concrete, wearing an amused smile on his face that immediately sets my teeth on edge. There's something predatory about his expression, Kael stepping into the courtyard behind him. “See? All here, Ulysses.”
"You didn't tell me that Slate was heavily pregnant," Ulysses observes, his eyes fixed on Slate's swollen belly.
"He was not when he walked in here not too long ago.
" There’s a spark of interest in his expression that just as quickly disappears, but I already know that the council is catching onto our feral pack status.
How else would Slate be this close to having his babies?
Kael shrugs with practiced nonchalance. "I thought the doctor would have kept you updated. Slate isn't really fond of going out and doing anything yet."
The casual dismissal seems to work, but I can see Ulysse’s mind working, processing the timeline and trying to make sense of how rapidly things have progressed.
His eyes narrow slightly as he calculates dates and possibilities.
He moves toward Slate, our Omega, immediately wrapping his hands around his belly in a protective gesture, eyeing the approaching figure with suspicion.
"It seems that your newest Omega has been faring well," Ulysses muses, his tone carrying false warmth.
"And you all seem much closer than during the first mating bite.
" Then his expression shifts to something all business, his Alpha voice on display.
"Kael, if you would please hold your Omega. It is not the Beta's job."
I frown at the dismissive way he refers to me, the casual assumption that my presence beside Slate is somehow inappropriate or insufficient. The hierarchical bullshit they enforce here has always grated on me, but this feels particularly pointed.
Slate just stares at the council member, obviously uncomfortable with the attention and the implied command.
His dark eyes flick between Ulysses and Kael, uncertainty and defiance warring in his expression.
However, Kael isn’t as offput with the demand, taking the few long strides to us and scooping Slate up.
He settles into the lounge and places Slate in his lap, the performance specifically for the council member's benefit, a display of Alpha dominance that makes my stomach turn even though I understand the necessity.
Slate stiffens initially at the contact, his body going rigid with tension. But then he relaxes, accepting Kael's position behind him. I place a soft hand on Slate's arm, offering what comfort I can while maintaining the facade we need to survive this inspection.
"This is definitely progress and I'm very proud to see it," Ulysses says, clapping his hands together. "You’ve definitely never afforded any of the other Omegas this kind of attention, so I’m happy to see it.
In the next few days, we'll be stopping through more often to ensure that the progress stays on track. "