Page 33 of Rejecting his Mate (The Wolves of Black Mountain #2)

I stare at the blocks in front of me. The bright colors seem offensive somehow, wrong when surrounded by all this white. The walls, the floor, and even the doctors’ coats are all pristine and stark.

“Try to move them,” the doctor tells me as if I have not been trying to do this from the moment I was brought into this room.

I stare at them, trying to reach the magic inside me, but it is not strong enough. I am not strong enough. My wolf growls in frustration. She is just as angry about this situation as I am, but I keep my features docile and placid. Fighting back is pointless.

When nothing happens, I start to feel a hint of panic. He’s watching on the other side of the mirrored window. I smell him, even if I can’t see him. I glance up at the camera in the corner, knowing every second of this interaction is being recorded for someone to watch.

“Make them move,” the doctor snaps, his patience wearing out.

I lash out with my hand, sending the blocks flying across the white tile floor, little bursts of color in a sterile space.

I glare up at him. “They moved.”

The doctor huffs out a breath as if I am a disobedient child, not a grown-ass woman. I watch his hand as he presses a device to my chest. As soon as it makes contact, pain ripples through me, agony making every muscle spasm and cramp. Heat spreads through my skin, and it doesn’t dissipate until he pulls it away.

My head sags forward, limp blonde strands curtaining my face as I suck a breath in and try to control the pain.

The doctor grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging my head back, and leans in to get in my face. “Do you think we will keep you here if you keep failing?” He hisses the words, anger making spit fly from his mouth. “You are only allowed to live because you're of some use to us.”

His words don’t surprise me. I have heard them before many times, but I just cannot tap into the magic that exists inside me.

My wolf urges me to set her free so she can teach this bastard a lesson, but whatever they inject into me every morning stops me from shifting. I hate them for that most of all. I feel empty and alone without her.

“I’m trying,” I spit the words out, but they sound tight because of the pain from the taser.

He releases his grip on my hair, shoving my head backward as he does. I watch as he recovers the blocks from the floor, stacking them back on the table in front of me. Then he grabs the back of my neck, pushing my face inches from the blocks. I want to fight him, but I am scared of being hurt again.

“Move the blocks.”

I concentrate on them, willing my brain to do as I command just for a moment of respite. But they don’t move. The power inside me is always out of reach, as if I am trying to grasp steam with my bare hands.

I brace, ready for the hit I know is coming. He raises his hand, but the door opens, and he steps in.

He’s dressed in black combat pants, a tight-fitting black-sleeved top, and a Taser on his hip. His shock of white hair is, as always, unruly, making him look like a mad scientist rather than the military man I know he is.

“Enough.”

The doctor lowers his hand and steps back from me, lowering his head in deference.

My mouth instantly dries, and my heart starts to thud. I don’t move or look up from the table as he moves. I don’t even flinch when he places both hands on the table in front of me.

“You have to try harder.” When I don’t look up, he grabs my chin between bruising fingers and lifts my head, forcing my gaze to his. “We are preparing for a war here, and you’re a key cog in it.”

I have no idea what he is talking about, but I do not want to be any part of the war.

“I want to go home,” I say, although home is starting to fade from my mind. I had a life before I came here, but I don’t remember all the details. Where did I live? And with whom ?

“Your mind is strong, wolf, but we will break it and reshape it into what we need. Why do you fight us?”

I know what he means when he says he will break it. I have seen the other women here. They are like robots, empty vessels that can be commanded to do whatever is asked of them. They are already breaking parts of my mind, piece by piece because I cannot remember a lot of things that used to seem important.

My name is—

Panic assails me. What is my name?

Clover.

It comes back to me in a rush. I have not yet forgotten who I am. Relief floods me until he grabs the back of my neck and slams me face-first into the table. The blocks scatter again, and pain explodes.

There's so much pressure on the back of my neck that I feel like my bones might snap. “You will learn to use your power, or I will kill you. Our very survival depends on what you can do, you little bitch.”

He releases his hold on me, and two guards rush into the room, grabbing an arm each and hoisting me out of the chair. I am pulled out of the room, my feet dragging behind me.

As we move deeper into the facility, I hear the screams and the cries punching the air. I try to ignore them, try to block them out, but it is impossible. There is so much suffering happening within these walls.

I’m pulled into my room and tossed onto the floor like a ragdoll. I hit the tile hard enough to bruise my knee and wind me, but I don’t look around as the doors slam shut behind me and the lock engages .

Carefully, I peel myself off the floor, noticing the trickle of red blood working down my bare legs. I use the edge of my gown to mop it up before I sit on the bed, bringing my knees to my chest. The space is small, confined, a cell. There is a toilet behind a half-wall and a basin opposite it. There is no other furniture in the room and no color either.

It is easy to get lost in a place like this, where time has no meaning, and everything is muted. But I will not get lost. I want my freedom. I cover my ears as the screams intensify, and I wonder who is being tortured today.

Rocking back and forth, I try to calm my mind and focus on my wolf and the comfort she offers me.

I am Clover, and I do not belong here.

The story continues in Denying Her Mate…