Alpha Curves (Paranormal BBW Shifter Romance): Wolf Clan Book 3 by Christa Wick Page B
Authors: Christa Wick
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The big wolf relented, letting himself be guided further down the hall so that only Cade remained at the window.
Ignoring him, Iris returned to Oscar. Clearly feeling the distance that had been added between him and his fiercest protector, the boy looked up at Iris with tears glittering in his dark eyes. She did something she hadn't done with the other two children, she scooped him up then sat down in the chair with him bundled on her lap.
"We're going to play a game," she said, keeping her tone light. Hopefully he was too young to detect the false cheer in which she dressed her words. "I want you to close your eyes and picture the color gray. Then, when I say a word or words, I want you to make a picture of them against the gray. Okay?"
Oscar nodded, his small frame relaxing in her arms and his head lulling back against her shoulder. Iris started easy, saying Dana's name.
"Gold," the boy said, joy lightening his tone.
"That's great," Iris continued, her eyes closed and her mind alert as the gray behind her own eyelids started to fill with Dana's image. Clearly, the cub viewed Dana as a giant because the image crowded the corners of Iris's vision. "How about Dana in his truck?"
A smaller version of Dana appeared, only his head and the top half of his upper chest visible through the vehicle's window. Lifting his hand, a small red fire engine appeared.
"And the first time you rode in Dana's truck, where the trip started."
The gray returned, the outline of dark slate bricks and black asphalt the only shapes discernible. The image matched the information in Oscar's file; Dana had found him in an alley on a cold, misty morning.
Oscar trembled against Iris. She wrapped her arms around him a little more tightly and urged warmth into his body in case he was merely remembering the damp chill of that place.
"Before the alley," she prodded.
Pure white, blinding in its brightness, filled her mind, the neurons of her brain momentarily seared. She slipped into the memory, living it in real time with Oscar as the unbearable brightness eased to show her the antiseptic walls of an operating room. In the center of the room stand two surgical tables. A pregnant woman is strapped down on the first table, her body seemingly nude but for restraints and a sheet that covers from just below the woman's collarbone to her ankles. The other table waits empty. A rolling tray separates the two tables, its contents covered with a thin, sterile fabric.
Carried by someone, Oscar approaches the empty table. Cold, naked, and shivering, the cub simultaneously clings to the person carrying him and tries to escape the strong arms.
The grip on him tightens, and a deep, masculine voice speaks. "You're going to be my brave boy."
Oscar makes a soft squeak of compliance as the man places him on the steel gurney. The cub looks up at his captor to find a man wearing clothing as white as the room and a paper mask over his mouth and nose. The man has black hair and a dark, volcanic gaze. The eyes scare the boy because the pupils are indistinguishable from the irises. Even the small veins that should be red against the white of the man's eyes are black as tar.
That's the Bogeyman...
Oscar strangles the name before it can escape his lips. Another cub called the dark man that -- once. No one has seen the boy again. The Bogeyman insists all the boys call him father. But Oscar is the only child with the same dark hair and black eyes and the realization makes his stomach churn.
The cub tries to move off the table, but other men have entered the room and one blocks him. This one wears clothes like the Bogeyman but colored green. The mask is green, too, with shaded goggles to cover the eyes. A second man just like him waits at the pregnant woman's table, standing at the end with his hands alongside her head.
"I want him on his stomach," the Bogeyman orders, removing the fabric covering the tray. Several scalpels and a row of five ametrine crystals lay beneath.
Ignoring him, Iris returned to Oscar. Clearly feeling the distance that had been added between him and his fiercest protector, the boy looked up at Iris with tears glittering in his dark eyes. She did something she hadn't done with the other two children, she scooped him up then sat down in the chair with him bundled on her lap.
"We're going to play a game," she said, keeping her tone light. Hopefully he was too young to detect the false cheer in which she dressed her words. "I want you to close your eyes and picture the color gray. Then, when I say a word or words, I want you to make a picture of them against the gray. Okay?"
Oscar nodded, his small frame relaxing in her arms and his head lulling back against her shoulder. Iris started easy, saying Dana's name.
"Gold," the boy said, joy lightening his tone.
"That's great," Iris continued, her eyes closed and her mind alert as the gray behind her own eyelids started to fill with Dana's image. Clearly, the cub viewed Dana as a giant because the image crowded the corners of Iris's vision. "How about Dana in his truck?"
A smaller version of Dana appeared, only his head and the top half of his upper chest visible through the vehicle's window. Lifting his hand, a small red fire engine appeared.
"And the first time you rode in Dana's truck, where the trip started."
The gray returned, the outline of dark slate bricks and black asphalt the only shapes discernible. The image matched the information in Oscar's file; Dana had found him in an alley on a cold, misty morning.
Oscar trembled against Iris. She wrapped her arms around him a little more tightly and urged warmth into his body in case he was merely remembering the damp chill of that place.
"Before the alley," she prodded.
Pure white, blinding in its brightness, filled her mind, the neurons of her brain momentarily seared. She slipped into the memory, living it in real time with Oscar as the unbearable brightness eased to show her the antiseptic walls of an operating room. In the center of the room stand two surgical tables. A pregnant woman is strapped down on the first table, her body seemingly nude but for restraints and a sheet that covers from just below the woman's collarbone to her ankles. The other table waits empty. A rolling tray separates the two tables, its contents covered with a thin, sterile fabric.
Carried by someone, Oscar approaches the empty table. Cold, naked, and shivering, the cub simultaneously clings to the person carrying him and tries to escape the strong arms.
The grip on him tightens, and a deep, masculine voice speaks. "You're going to be my brave boy."
Oscar makes a soft squeak of compliance as the man places him on the steel gurney. The cub looks up at his captor to find a man wearing clothing as white as the room and a paper mask over his mouth and nose. The man has black hair and a dark, volcanic gaze. The eyes scare the boy because the pupils are indistinguishable from the irises. Even the small veins that should be red against the white of the man's eyes are black as tar.
That's the Bogeyman...
Oscar strangles the name before it can escape his lips. Another cub called the dark man that -- once. No one has seen the boy again. The Bogeyman insists all the boys call him father. But Oscar is the only child with the same dark hair and black eyes and the realization makes his stomach churn.
The cub tries to move off the table, but other men have entered the room and one blocks him. This one wears clothes like the Bogeyman but colored green. The mask is green, too, with shaded goggles to cover the eyes. A second man just like him waits at the pregnant woman's table, standing at the end with his hands alongside her head.
"I want him on his stomach," the Bogeyman orders, removing the fabric covering the tray. Several scalpels and a row of five ametrine crystals lay beneath.
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