Page 122 of Unhinged Alphas

Her warmth.

The way she fits perfectly against me.

"Tell us about the Ghosts," one of the scientists demands. "What are Reinmich's defenses?"

I ignore them, lost in my own little world. And then I see her, looming over me, scalpel in hand. Her fierce gaze locks onto mine as she cuts into me, slow and deliberate.

I know it's a hallucination.

I don't fucking care.

"That's it, little omega," I growl, grinning up at her. "Cut me more. Make it count."

One of the other scientists looms over me, her eyes widening behind those stupid goggles they all like so much. Where aremyfucking safety goggles?

"He's hallucinating," she says, voice tight withfear. "Increase the dosage again. He's stronger when he gets like this."

Another needle slides into my arm. This time, ice races through my veins, but it does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside me. If anything, it only fuels it, stoking the flames higher. I laugh again, the sound raw and feral.

"You think this hurts?" I spit more blood onto the scientist's coat. "I've had worse paper cuts, you fucking amateur."

She stares at me in disgust. "You're a monster."

"Yes. The monster you created," I reply with a sardonic grin. "Remember that when I tear you apart."

The hallucination of Ivy flickers, then solidifies. She's straddling me now, scalpel glinting in her hand. Her wild auburn hair falls around her face like a curtain of fire, and those fierce aquamarine eyes bore into mine.

"That's it, little omega," I growl, grinning up at her. "Show me what you've got."

She leans in close, her summery honeysuckle scent overwhelming me. The scalpel traces a line down my chest, parting flesh with surgical precision. I arch into it, relishing the bite of the blade.

"Fuck," I hiss through clenched teeth. "More."

The scientists are talking, their voices a distant buzz. I don't give a shit what they're saying. All that matters is Ivy, perched atop me like some vengeful goddess carving into a sacrifice.

She cuts into me again, and this time, I can't hold back the moan that escapes my lips. My cock strains against the confines of my pants, rock-hard and aching. Wish they'd given me something more flattering than gray sweatpants.

"Subject is exhibiting signs of sexual arousal," one of the lab coats notes, his voice clinical and detached. "Fascinating. The pain seems to be acting as a stimulant."

I want to tell him to go fuck himself if he likes it so much, but Ivy chooses that moment to dig the scalpel in deeper. My back arches off the table again, a strangled cry tearing from my throat.

"Yes," I pant, locking eyes with her. "Yes. Make it hurt. Make me feel it."

She smiles, baring her pointed canines, eyes glinting with a greener light than usual. Like a fox in human form. The scalpel dances across my skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Each cut, each drop of blood spilled, only makes me harder. I strain against the restraints, desperate to touch her, to feel her skin against mine.

"More," I demand, voice rough with need. "Fucking cut me open, Ivy. Make me bleed for you."

She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. "You deserve this," she whispers, her voice a mix of honey and venom. "For what you've done to me. For trapping me here."

The scalpel bites into my flesh again, and I cry out, equal parts pain and ecstasy. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, seeking release.

"Yes," I hiss. "I deserve it all. Every fucking cut. Every drop of blood. It's yours, Ivy. Take it."

The scientists are in a frenzy now, scribbling notes and adjusting dials on their machines. I barely register their presence. All that matters is Ivy, her weight on top of me, the scalpel in her hand.

She traces the blade along my jawline, just hard enough to draw blood without slicing through anything vital. Even now, she shows me mercy. Mercy I do not deserve. "You're a monster," she says, her voice low and dangerous. "A killer. A psychopath."

I laugh, the sound harsh and guttural. "You're right, little omega. I am a monster.Yourmonster."